As far back as I can remember, being born a black boy in the United States of America was only a handicap if you let it my Dad reminded me at least once week. Work hard, treat people well and do your very best was the only way to get ahead. We never had a TV when we were young, and even when we did get one, my older sisters and I were restricted to an hour a night. The dinner table was always our talking time, eating our evening meal was for all the family, and no exceptions. My Dad was a great debater, and he would often take the high road against public opinion and common sense to encourage us to reason and argue our points of view. And as we got older we held our own against him, and our mother would just sit back and smile while we took our much loved father to task. Looking back, I realise how those conversations moulded my brain to think outside the square, to challenge others as well as myself. By the time I got to college, my mind was as sharp as a razor, my confidence and self esteem could not be dented. But with that I learned to put myself in other people's shoes before judging opinions I might not necessarily agree with. There is no doubt I owe this outward and forward thinking to my dad, and something that would help me through life.
My dad was ex-army, and it was the army where he learnt logistics, which was the career he headed when he eventually returned to private life. Through hard work he got promoted into management and his reputation led him to be head hunted by other companies more than once. I always considered my Dad a lover and not a fighter, but when, fifteen I was getting a hard time to join one of the burgeoning street gangs. When I refused their kind invitation more than once, they turned on me and began giving me a hard time. Because it wasn't in my nature to back down, it was inevitable that I was in for a beating from the half a dozen aspiring gang members rounded me up one evening. To this day I don't know how my dad knew I was in trouble. He ambled along our street and joined me in the middle, he stripped off his shirt displaying his powerful tattooed chest and told them that we were a gang of two and with his hammed sized fists he beckoned them onwards. When one pulled a knife, my smiling dad fearlessly stepped up to him and threatened to stick it where the sun doesn't shine. Thankfully, they all backed down and no blood was drawn. As they were leaving, one of them turned to me and commented that he wished he had a father like that; it was one of those moments in time that you never forget.
While as a family we were financially secure, my parents would help out one Sunday a month at a local soup kitchen which fed the homeless, and as we their teenage children were still operating under the US Army volunteer system, we had no choice but to accompany them. This was another lesson in life, as time went on I got to know those in need and learned of stories of their journey through hardship. Some had been successful in their own way but had fallen on hard times; others had simply always been there. I enjoyed those afternoons, I treated them all with dignity and their smiles and gratitude were all the thanks I ever needed for my efforts. I'll never forget one of my father's comments as we drove home one day after the soup kitchen. He suggested that life was all about choices, and the choices that we make will take us on our own life journey. Which side of the soup kitchen counter did we want to be on, he challenged us. The giving or the receiving? It was just another thing on which for my sisters and I to ponder. Why am I telling you all this, you might ask. The truth is that as I continue with my story, I want you to know that I came from a good family, with strong beliefs and morals.
I lost my virginity at a young age to what you might call the local bike, a girl a few years older than I who took pity and advantage of my sweet innocence. It was her and a few subsequent girls who taught me how to fuck, but it was Christina who taught me how to make love. By this time I was living away from home studying for my degree, and being tall, toned, fit and deemed good looking I had no trouble luring the opposite sex into my welcoming bed. Christina was a good looking girl; her dark skin and lithe body were like a magnet to every red blooded male around. But her savage eyes kept most at bay and it was clear she wasn't one to anger. Christina was two years ahead of me in our chosen course and would sometimes be asked to mentor us lesser educated. Over time we became friends and then lovers. Even though I was sexually experienced, that girl took me to places I never knew existed. She was multi-orgasmic and would exhaust with her needs, afterwards our tangled bed sheets would be soaked from our vigorous activities. Although there were plenty of opportunities to bed other girls, Christina kept me intrigued and well satisfied and I never had the urge to stray. When Christina eventually completed her degree and left for home, she left a huge void in my heart. On the plus side, I was a much better lover.
It wasn't much later after Christina's departure that my dad asked me what I was doing for the community on one of our regular e-mails, in other words was I looking after the less privileged around me. It was my guilt that drove me the next Sunday to the local community soup kitchen which was well hidden away from unseeing eyes. The smiles of friendship when I offered my services from the workers were instant, and I was accepted into their fold without question. I had forgotten how satisfying it was to do good, and again I was soon overwhelmed by the gratitude of those we fed and helped. At first some were standoffish and uncertain by my presence, but I quickly overcame there nervousness with my easy going manner. As for the other volunteers, my commitment and hard work cemented me into their family.
The volunteers came from all walks of life, but their community spirit had pulled them together. There were young and old, multi racial with blacks and whites, Hispanic's and Puerto Rican's, a fair spread of from the wealthy to those who were obviously not. There were slightly more females than males, a lot of married couples. But in all, those things didn't matter, for we were there to help.
It was my third week I met Laura for the first time, we were on the cooking roster and quickly became acquainted as we chopped vegetables and dissected donated chicken and other meats. Laura was one of those people you warm instantly to. She was friendly and chatty with a ready smile mixed with a little shyness. We learnt about each other as we worked efficiently to our timetable. Laura was a full time teacher, a mother of two teenagers, divorced and most content in life. I in turn told my story, my family and my studies. While we didn't discuss my love life, she would have deduced that I was unattached. It was soon obvious to our supervisor that Laura and I were a good team and it wasn't a coincident that we were teamed together most weeks, either on preparation, serving or cleaning up. While we joked and kidded around, there was nothing flirtatious in our interactions, it was that we just enjoyed each other's company. Did I not consider Laura attractive, you might ask. I did, but my upbringing was to be respectful at all times, especially a woman, and more especially a white woman. But that did not stop me thinking of her while alone in my bed, which I confess that I often did. I confess the more time I spent with Laura, the more desirable she became to me.
Laura was not beautiful by any means, not like those women that you always see on TV or the movies and magazines. But she had natural good looks that didn't need to be enhanced by copious amounts of make up. Her thick sandy hair was cut short just above her shoulders. Her face was oval with big green eyes and usually accompanied by a nice smile; a few freckles adorned her button nose. She often wore baggy tops to try and hide substantial breasts, the jeans she mostly wore jeans stretched tightly over nicely rounded buttocks and strong thighs. She always wore flat comfortable shoes leaving her head just level with my chin.
Our roster included sort of a late shift involved serving and cleaning up, this suited me because it left the earlier part of the day to do other things. It also suited Laura with family and other commitments. We agreed to ask for that roster on a permanent basis, and other volunteers were happy for us to take it which in turn allowed them to leave earlier. We also volunteered to do the lock up of the premises, which was the only time that we were ever alone together. It soon became a habit to have a last coffee before we departed to go our separate ways. We would perch ourselves on a couple of donated old arm chairs, put our feet up and relax for a few minutes, which would soon stretch out to thirty minutes and then close to an hour as we chatted. As time went on, those discussions became more familiar and we got to know each other better, there was a genuine friendship developing between us even though we came from different walks of life.
It was a cold wet Sunday night that things changed between us. We were again sprawled out on our arm chairs with hot coffees, both not willing to leave the warmth of the room for the cold run to our cars. All the other volunteers and bolted for parts unknown leaving Laura and I alone.
"So, no lady in your life at the moment?" Laura asked.
"Nope, still unattached." I replied.
I had told Laura about the split up with my most recent girlfriend which hadn't worked out for a number of reasons, mainly because she was a little too possessive of my time.
"Oh well." Laura commented with a wry smile, "You'll just have to find another girl to take pity on you."
"Pity's got nothing to do with it." I replied with mock offence. "I treat my ladies very well, fine company and lots of loving."
"Ooop, too much information." she replied humorously. "I don't need to know about the loving. I'm way too old for that sort of thing."
"Really, too old? No one's too old for loving."
Laura shook her head, "When you get to my age and you're still single, things become a little more complicated. Most of the single men are either weird or second hand and come with too much baggage. I'm too stuck in my ways to put up with all that shit. I'll just stay free and single thank you."
"And celibate too." I joked.
I smiled as Laura blushed as I knew she would, a little victory for me.
"I'm on the wrong side of forty, short, fat, frumpy and undesirable. What man in his right mind would want to do it with me?"
I roared with laughter at her audacity, her reaction was to scowl at me.
"What makes you think that you're unattractive? Haven't you noticed the way that the guys around here look at you? Cheez, most of them would race you off to bed in an instant if they had half a chance."
Laura folded her arms across her substantial chest and pretended to sulk, "Don't make fun of me."
