Chapter 1

My dick had gotten me in trouble before, but it had never before brought me to the edge of disaster. And disaster is just what I was seeing as I listened to the black woman who was planning on making it happen.

It had started four months ago. I had just started a new job and on my third day at work I was walking down a hallway and I tripped and stumbled into a woman coming from the other direction. The collision had caused her to drop the papers that she was carrying. As I tried to help her pick them up she was muttering, more to herself than me, "Stupid, clumsy honky asshole." Until she said that I hadn't even paid any attention to the fact that she was black. I had grown up in a fairly cosmopolitan neighborhood and I had learned at an early age that skin color didn't mean diddily squat — it was the person inside the skin that mattered. I handed her the papers I'd picked up, apologized and then said, "I don't mind the honky part, and I may be a bit clumsy, but I am not stupid and I am not an asshole. However, even if I was I would prefer it to being a racist like you" and I walked off and left her standing there.

Two days later I was sitting in the company cafeteria having lunch and reading the latest issue of Newsweek when out of the corner of my eye I noticed someone come up and stand by my table. I looked up and saw that it was the black woman that I had stumbled into. She said, "Why did you call me a racist?"

"Because you are one."

"What gives you the right to make a statement like that?"

"Your actions."

"My actions? That's bullshit, you don't even know me so how can you say that?"

"I'll answer your question with a question. When I helped you pick up your papers and then handed them to you what if instead of apologizing I'd have said, "Here's your papers nigger." Would you have taken that as a racist remark?"

I saw anger flash in her eyes and I said, "Damned straight you would have and I took your honky remark the same way. You could have said, "Clumsy oaf" or you might have said, "Clumsy clod", but you didn't. There was no hesitation on your part, you went right to "honky" because that is your mind set."

She stared at me for a second or two and then she said, "Okay, I'm a racist, but it wasn't very gentlemanly of you to point it out" and she turned and walked away.

One of the guys in my department had witnessed that little scene and after she had gone he had come up to me and said, "You had best watch yourself around that one. She is trouble with a capital "T". I thanked him for his warning and went back to reading my magazine.

To understand what happened next you have to understand a little about me. I am what some would call a cockhound, a man of loose morals, a pussy lover, or a lying cheat and an unfaithful bastard. All too true I'm sad to say. I'm married to a great woman and I love her to death, but if I see a chance for some pussy on the side I'm after it in a flash. True to my nature I was sniffing after half of the women in the office with varying degrees of success and one miserable failure — my teeth were still rattling from the slap I got. I'd been there just over three months and one day I was sitting in the cafeteria when the black woman (I still didn't know her name) sat down on the chair opposite me. I looked over at her and said, "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Nothing important. I just wanted to give everyone else in here to see two sides of the same coin."

"I'm afraid you lost me on that one."

"It is really quite simple. A coin has two sides, but there is something different on each side. Take a dime for instance. On one side you have Roosevelt's head and on the other you have the Torch of Liberty, but it doesn't matter which side you are looking at, it is still a dime."

"And your point?"

"Imagine this table is a coin, you on one side and me on the other. Black on one side white on the other, but it doesn't matter which side you are looking at you are still seeing the same thing."

"And that is?"

"Racists — one black and one white, but racists just the same" and she got up and walked away.

Now I don't have a racist bone in my body. I may be a lot of things, but a racist isn't one of them. I stewed over what she'd said for the rest of the day and most of the evening. The next day I didn't wait for lunchtime to come around, but I went straight to her office when I got to work. Fortunately she was alone and I got right to it. "I am not now, nor have I ever been a racist."

"Of course you are."

"And just how do you arrive at that conclusion?"

"Simple really. You have chased after every woman that works here except me."

"Of course I haven't made a move on you for Christ's sake. You are prejudiced against whites and by your actions you have shown that you don't even like me. Why would you expect me to take a run at you?"

"Bullshit! You avoid me because I'm black and that makes you just as much a racist as I am."

"Your skin color has nothing to do with it and you know it."

"What I know is that you avoid me and so I have to assume that you are afraid that the color will rub off."

Suddenly the light bulb went off over my head. "I see what is going on here. I was warned that you are trouble just looking to happen and I think I've just figured it out. Goad the white boy into making a pass at you so you can turn him in for sexual harassment. Well this boy ain't biting lady" and I turned to leave.

She laughed and said, "That's it closet bigot, run away."

I turned back to her, "Closet bigot? Okay sweetie, I'm calling your bluff. I'm stopping at the Rockyard for a beer after work. Be there and let's just see if I'm a bigot. But you won't be there will you. Wouldn't do for Little Miss Racist to be seen out in public with the white oppressor, now would it?' I turned and left her office.

I was as surprised as hell when she walked into the Rockyard, looked around until she spotted me, and then headed for my table. I hadn't really expected to see her, but I had already made up my mind as to what to do if she did show. As she approached the table I stood up and did the gentlemanly thing with the chair, waived the waitress over and ordered her a drink and then I waited to see what she would say.

"Okay I'm here, now what?"

"I'm calling your bluff. You are saying that your proof that I'm a racist is the fact that I am chasing after every woman I work with except you and you maintain that I avoid you strictly because you are black. Well sweetie, to answer your statement of this morning I am not afraid that it will rub off. So my question for you is do you want to waste a week or so playing the game, or do you want to get right down to it?"

"Get right to what?"

"You know why I chase those other women; you know what I'm after, do you want to skip the bullshit and get right to bed or not?"

"I'm not sure that my husband would approve."

"I'm not the least bit interested in sex with your husband. Do you want the closet bigot between your legs or not?"

"That doesn't prove that you aren't a bigot; anyone can take a dare."

"Ooh, listen to the lady racist try to wiggle away now that her bluff has been called. Tell you what sweetie, how about I do what no racist would ever do with a nigger. How about I eat your pussy. You don't have to suck my cock or fuck me, just raise your skirt, pull down your panties, spread your legs and let me get down there and munch away. I'll even go you one better than that. I'll eat your pussy tonight and then you can go home and fuck your hubby. Do him tonight and then again in the morning and at lunch I'll eat you out again. There isn't a racist in the world who would do that. The up side for you is that the Oppressive White Man's" cock will never despoil your black body -—unless of course you want it to. There it is sweetie, call me on it or get up and leave."

"Where?"

"Where do you want it? The comfort of a hotel room, or the feeling of delicious illicit sex on the back seat of a car?"

"Neither. My husband is out of town on business, but I will take you up on eating me after he makes love to me. It will just have to wait until he gets home day after tomorrow." She stood up, "Come on honky, this time I'm calling your bluff. You can follow me home and if, when I get there, you don't pull into the driveway behind me we'll both know who the bullshit artist and closet bigot is, won't we?"

I took out my cell phone and called my wife and told her I had to work late and the I stood up and said, "Lead the way my Nubian Princess."

She hadn't pulled to a complete stop in the driveway of her ranch style home when I pulled up behind her and cut my lights. I followed her into the house and then said, "Where do you want it, living room couch or the bedroom?"

"In the bedroom."

She led me down a hall to the bedroom and walked to the bed. She lifted her skirt, took off her panties and then sat down on the side of the bed and spread her legs. I undid my tie and started taking off my shirt and she said, "You don't need to get undressed to eat pussy."

"No, but I don't intend to go home with my shirt and tie smelling of Eau de Cunt."

Then I pointed at the open blinds on her window, "You going to close them?"

She laughed and said, "No way. There are three college kids renting the place and I get a kick out of making their day" and then she giggled and said, "And their nights."

Well, if she didn't care I sure didn't and I took my place between her legs and started munching. It only took me a minute until she was moaning and shortly after that her hands were on the back of my head and pulling me to her. And I smiled to myself because I knew what was coming next. I like eating pussy. I'm good at it and I knew damned well that I would have her so hot that she would want to fuck. Even though I told her that I wouldn't fuck her I knew that she would be begging me before I was done. She held out longer than most, but after almost five minutes she was saying, "Fuck me, please fuck me."