"Bye," I say while hanging up.
Before going home I grab a cup of coffee and drink it in the coffee house. I must look like shit, I haven't showered and I probably look like a whore wearing the thigh high boots. I take a few minutes to drink it and read today's newspaper. I see an article about my office and how we've become a model for workplace efficiency. I would seriously doubt that. The coffee helps me relax and get my senses back, I feel much better. After I drink my coffee I leave abruptly and speed out of the parking lot.
I speed back to 2295 Noreen road, which is my address if you couldn't figure it out. I get out of the car and notice that Tyler isn't home. I head straight for our room and find that some of his clothes are missing. Which makes me realize that he's probably went out of town. Hopefully it'll be for a while. I take off my thigh high boots and the clothes from the night prior and take a long hot shower. After the shower I make a bagel and cream cheese. It tastes so good after the romp Tyler and I had the night before. I realize that it's only the early afternoon. I can't believe it's that early. I have a few hours to get ready for my date or lack there of.
I sleaze around the house for a while, not doing anything. I just watch some TV and think about what I'm going to do tonight. I can't believe that I'm going to fuck a black guy. I've never done it before and really wanted to for a while. I mean I sucked a few off back in college and high school but never gone all the way. I've heard too many nasty rumors about fucking a black man. I know how big their dicks are but other things like they don't like to wear condoms and things like that. I seriously don't care if he fucks me without one, but I don't want him to nut in me. A black guy knocked up my friend in college and her parents almost disowned her, until she got an abortion. Why am I thinking about this? I should be thinking about how great tonight is and how I'm going to exact revenge on both Robert and Tyler. Robert wants me so bad and now he's going to have me. And Tyler was a slave to that strap on, and now he doesn't have it. Let's see how much they enjoy what I'm gong to do.
Around six o'clock I finally get ready. I take a shower and fix my hair the way that I want it. I throw on some make up, which makes me look like a whore, even though I'm slowly becoming one. Why did I say that? I find some nice thigh high pantyhose and put them on. I find a bra that makes my tits look fucking huger than what they actually are. I don't think Robert will notice, since black guys like Asses and not tits. Was that racist or stereotypical? Probably. I find a new pair of panties that I haven't worn in a while. I slink around the room and find my designer shoes; I don't even wear these for Tyler. I barely wear them; I think I wore them when I graduated college. I find a black dress I haven't worn in a while either. I can't believe that I am getting ready for the man who tried to rape me. I'm wearing all my best things for him and not Tyler. I feel bad for a second, but then again, what I am going to do to him isn't even going to be funny. So I should at least give him one night of sheer class and the rest of our encounter to be a complete nightmare. Once I'm through with him he won't be working with our company ever again. He'll pay for that incident in the bar.
And the door bell rings! I can't believe it's eight o'clock. I run to the front door and see Robert standing there in normal clothing, not a suit or tie, but a typical hip-hop shirt and some baggy jeans. I open the door and give him a big hug.
"Good to see you again," I say as I let him in the door.
"You look great," he replies, as he looks me over, "I like your shoes."
"Thanks," I say, "I rarely wear them, I think my parents got them for me."
"So," he says, his voice cracks briefly, as he walks into my house.
"Yes," I reply as I shut the door behind him.
"What do you want to do," he asks as he walks into the kitchen.
"What do you think," I reply, "fucking play tiddlywinks!"
"What," he says in disbelief.
"You know what I want to do," I say in very stern voice.
"Oh," he says in a relived voice.
I lead him to our liquor cabinet. I pull out a bottle of Grey Goose, and set in on the table. I pull out a couple of glasses.
"Um," I start, "you like Grey Goose?"
"Yeah," he says in a strange voice.
"I heard about it in a rap song," I laugh.
"What," he says sounding even stranger.
"I'm kidding," I laugh, "I like Grey Goose, and whatever."
I pour him a quick glass of vodka and place some ice in them after pouring the vodka. I hand it to him and kind of touch his hand as I hand it to him. He takes a sip and smiles in approval. He places it down on the counter.
"It is good," he says, "so why don't you give me a tour of your house."
"Maybe," I say, "I think the only thing we need to see now is the bedroom."
"What," he says again in disbelief.
"Listen," I start, "you know what we both want. We want what's between our legs. You've wanted me ever since that day in the bar. You wanted me and I'm giving you what you want. Unless..."
"Unless what," he asks as he takes a gulp of the vodka.
"I'm sure that the police department would love to hear about what you did to me," I say in complete seriousness.
"And you want to black mail me," he says while taking another gulp of the vodka.
"Maybe," I say in a very serious voice, "you think that racism doesn't exist, but when I tell the law what you did you'll look like a complete moron and as a sexual predator."
"You are serious," he says while finishing his drink.
"Damn right," I say while walking up to him, "damn right."
