Black Magic Man

by Ju Ephraime

  That had been eighteen months ago. They had a brief courtship and were married within four months of meeting each other. Two months ago they had celebrated their one-year anniversary, and it still felt as if she was on her honeymoon. Rupert never ceased to surprise her with his thoughtfulness and his attention to her comfort in every little way. She could not have asked for a better husband, attentive, passionate, and generous to a fault.

  She had never gotten her hair cut and was still wearing the heavy weight on her head. She didn’t mind the weight now because it gave Rupert pleasure. He’d told her he loved her hair, and he was forever running his fingers through it. She, on the other hand, had not realized how much she would enjoy his enjoyment of her hair. She’d discovered nerve-endings she didn’t know she had in her hair. Often times, she would find his hand playing lightly in her hair, pushing the thick curls aside to bare her neck to his touch.

  Lange shivered as she remembered the first time he’d kissed her. They had been seeing each other for an entire week before he made a move on her. She was beginning to think he was queer that way when he’d surprised her with their first kiss.

  They had just attended a musical and were waiting for his car to be brought to them by the valet. She’d felt his hand in her hair, and the next thing she knew, his mouth had moved softly over her neck, where his hand had been, as he left a trail of heat from her neck to her shoulder, exciting her nerves before claiming her mouth in a kiss that could not be denied. She’d lifted her arms around his neck, holding him to her. Ordinarily, she would have protested the public display of affection, but she was beyond all reasoning. Never in her life had she been so aware of a man, the hard body beneath the silk shirt, the muscles that played under her hands as she’d rubbed and caressed those muscles, wanting more.

  She knew it was wrong to let him see how much she wanted him—to let him see that she was willing to have him take her there and then. Perhaps this showed her as a woman of low morals, but there was no denying the pleasure she was experiencing with his mouth on hers. If this was wrong, then she had no desire to be right.

  It took Rupert breaking the kiss at the sound of the valet dangling the keys to bring her rudely back to the present, and to this day, all he had to do was rub his hand at the base of her neck and her body temperature would change in readiness for him. He knew her body better than she knew it herself. She was still trying to get to know him the way he evidently knew her, but she was a novice compared to him.

  She knew he would not take kindly to the man talking to her, so she kept the incident to herself and went about her daily chores until it was time to walk to town to meet Rupert. She would avoid the shaded areas of the park and wait, instead, in the open, where she could see anyone who approached her from all sides. She would try to bring up the topic of her getting a part-time job again to see if Rupert would go for it. She’d bring it up right before they made love. The old adage, “Chinese man cock hard, Chinese man heart soft,” should work here.

  Left to her own devices after Rupert left for work, Lange wandered over the house, moving from one room to the next. She sighed fretfully, wishing she could leave and return to her old job. She’d done all she could do the house. It was beautifully decorated, even if she said so herself. Most of the pieces had been given to them by Rupert’s mom, who came from old money. Her ancestors had arrived on the island from France with the French Officer, Rousselan, who married a Carib woman, one of the warlike tribes native to the island.

  Traces of Rupert’s ancestors were still visible in his looks, his height, the golden tone of his skin, the shaggy hair, and the very light brown eyes. Lange owed her long, luscious hair to her Indo-Caribbean ancestors who were originally brought to the island as indentured workers by the British. Over the centuries there had been a lot of inter-marrying, and she was the product of that mixing of races. She had inherited her indo-Caribbean dark chocolate skin and the unusual golden eyes of her European ancestors. The effect was unusual and exotic. But sometimes the hair was too much for her because it gave away her roots, which she was tired of explaining to anyone who met her for the first time. Looking back, she was happy she’d wanted to cut it off because, indirectly, it had brought her the love of her life—it had brought her Rupert.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Rupert left for work after kissing his wife goodbye. He was usually not troubled leaving her alone at home, but lately he had been sensing a restlessness in her that had not been there before. She was beginning to get bored staying at home. He had to get busier giving her that baby she’d been asking for. He’d tried holding back because he wanted to enjoy his wife for a couple more years, but maybe it was too selfish of him. He’d talk with her about it this evening.

  He was the managing director of a chain of jewelry stores, and his days were always jam-packed. He was always in meetings with clients, examining merchandise, or on the phone with the managers of one of his overseas establishments. Sometimes, he stopped at the barbershop he owned with his brother. They were both licensed barbers and had been doing it while attending university. He’d moved away from it, but his brother loved the work, so five years ago, Rupert had financed him when he wanted to purchase the top-rated barbershop in town, Delfoni. It had proven to be a sound business venture because, from the day they opened the doors under their management, business had been booming.

  It was true he was responsible for a large portion of the customers who visited the shop because he sent all his clients who asked him to Delfoni, and given that his brother was a master barber, they became repeat customers.

  Looking back, he was happy he went to the shop every chance he got. Otherwise, he would not have met Lange and stopped her from cutting off her beautiful hair. He understood why she wanted to cut the hair off. The hair identified her as Indo-Caribbean, and she evidently was trying to change that. Even though it was a small island, there was still a class system going on there, and one class was not as accepting of the other. Thank God, he’d been able to stop her from changing her looks. He loved her just the way she was. In his opinion, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Corny as that might sound, it was how he felt.

  He was so deep in thought he had arrived at his office without noticing. He parked his vehicle, and no sooner had he entered the establishment than he was caught up in the bustle and did not have a moment to spare until it was quitting time. He did not even have a break for lunch. That was one of the reasons he always prepared a substantial, healthy breakfast at home. Most days were like a carbon copy of this one. But now that he was going home to his wife, suddenly, he was back to breathing normally again. She had that effect on him. Just thinking about her grounded him and brought him contentment.

  ****

  The air was hot and heavy as he walked to the parking lot. It was almost twilight, and the heat of the day was still intense. He had never gotten used to the heat. He supposed it was because he spent most of his time in an air-conditioned environment, and walking out from the cold air into the humid heat always struck him as extreme.

  Today, he was not meeting Lange. That was why he’d driven to work. On the days when he had to meet her, he walked to work. That way he could meet her, and they could have a leisurely walk home. Today he had to stop at Delfoni to get a haircut and complete some paperwork with Desmond. Desmond was not good at paperwork, so Rupert had taken on the task.

  As usual, the place was packed. He had to talk with Desmond about bringing on another barber, even if only on commission. It was true he was single, but at this rate, he wouldn’t have a life, and Rupert wanted Desmond to meet someone to have what he had with Lange.

  If someone had told him prior to his meeting Lange that married life was the way to go, he would have blown him/her off, but being married to Lange was the best thing that could have happened to him.

  He remembered it as if it was yesterday when he’d first set eyes on her. He’d known almost immediately that she would have a big impact on his life.
He had no idea the extent of that impact. After he’d talked her into having coffee with him, he did every conniving trick in the world just to see her. When he’d begun appearing just when she was leaving work, she’d accused him of stalking her, so he’d stopped, but after two whole weeks of not seeing her because he forced himself to stay away, he ran into her at the local supermarket. This time he seized the opportunity and did not let up until she’d agreed to go out with him. They were married within four months of their first meeting.

  His family was thrilled with her, although he couldn’t say the same for her family. Her parents thought she should marry within the caste, with a traditional Indian ceremony. Lange wanted none of it. It had taken her parents several months to accept the fact that she had no intention of changing her mind about him.

  It had surprised Rupert how much her family argued with her about her betrothal to him. They certainly made several attempts to “talk sense” into her, which she met with stony silence. In retrospect, he saw, had she given in an inch, it would be an invitation for them to bully her into doing what they wanted. Her stubbornness must have worked because her mom and dad seemed to accept that she would not settle for anything less than marrying him.

  “Why do you have to marry him?” he’d overheard her mom asking her one day in one of her many fits of rage. “Couldn’t you just have an affair with him? Why marry him?”

  “Because I love him,” he’d heard Lange reply. He’d moved away after that. He was satisfied.

  ****

  The morning of the wedding, Rupert was tense and terrified. He wanted everything to go as planned. He would not relax until the priest had pronounced them man and wife. Unwittingly, her father provided the final impetus that convinced her irrevocably that she was doing the right thing. He came to her room after she was fully dressed in her bridal attire.

  “Lange,” Rupert heard her father say quietly, “if you ever have any regrets…if the time comes when you decide this was a mistake, you can always seek a divorce, and your mom and I will see to it that you are accepted back into the caste.”

  “You are expecting me to regret this, aren’t you?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “My marriage will be fine, Dad,” Lange had told him coolly. But Rupert could see she was close to tears. He was just about to walk in and rescue his wife when she turned and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a decisive bang.

  They had married in a small, quiet ceremony, with only close friends and family. Her parents wanted every distant relative invited, but Lange was having none of it, and since she was twenty-five, there was nothing they could do about it, so in the end, they acquiesced. The ceremony went on as Lange wanted it. He had only his brother and his parents and a few close friends. He was careful to keep the entire thing hush-hush at work. He didn’t want to be forced to pick who he’d invite among his staff. That would show favoritism, and he didn’t want that. It would be easier to explain it was a small, intimate affair than to set in motion the favoritism card.

  He could still remember the beautiful bride she made as she stood, holding her father’s arm as they walked up the aisle. She was tall and slender in the white gown, her hair gathered in a sort of up style and adorned with white and blue flowers to match his shirt and waistcoat. She had a bouquet of the same color in her hand. She wore a single strand of pearls around her throat. Her dad appeared to swallow hard, as if there were a lump in his throat.

  “You look very beautiful, Lange,” her dad said.

  “Thank you, Dad” was all she said, her voice almost inaudible.

  There was much forced cheerfulness at the reception afterward. He began to breathe a little easier when he saw everyone partaking of the feast her parents had put on. There was much toasting and dancing and a feast of creole foods and Indo-Caribbean dishes. The cake was a work of art, a towering five layers all made from starch sugar and sparkling icing. Finally, as the evening wore on, it was time for the newlyweds to leave. He had taken Lange’s hand, and they had rushed to a waiting limousine, the stings of rice and heart-felt congratulations following them as they entered the vehicle breathlessly.

  Once in the vehicle, they tried unsuccessfully to comb the rice out of each other’s hair.

  “I guess this means we will have a large family, if the grains of rice are any indication,” she said to him, laughing.

  “I don’t doubt it for a moment,” he’d admitted. “Come here so we can start on it right away.”

  “Behave yourself, Rupert,” she’d said, laughing. “I’m not walking out of this vehicle all disheveled; you’ll just have to control yourself.”

  He had given in, but only until they arrived at the hotel where they were honeymooning, and then he had wasted no time in making love to her until they were too exhausted to leave the bed. They had not let up and had been at it ever since.

  All at once, he had an urgent need to be with his wife, thrusting inside the sweet tightness of her pussy. He needed to be home. He was walking out to his car before he realized he had not told Desmond he was leaving. Oh well, he’d have to get over it.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lange was bending over the oven to remove the meat pie she’d made for dinner when she felt a presence behind her. She took a deep breath without turning, taking her husband’s familiar scent deep into her nostrils.

  She’d turned to greet him when she felt his large hands caressing her hips through the soft fabric of the cotton dress she was wearing. Lange watched him, transfixed. She knew he’d come home in a frisky mood, and she was willing to go wherever he led. She didn’t move as he touched the soft skin of her lower lip before sealing his mouth over hers. He kissed and licked in deepening forays ... until Lange trembled and reached for him. Her hands slipped through the thick texture of his hair, keeping his head in place as she returned the kiss with the same intensity. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her steady against him.

  Lange relaxed into him, dizzy with excitement and pleasure, while his lips moved over hers. It had been only eight hours since he’d kissed her like this, yet it seemed like forever. She was always hungry for him. It felt so good to be held in his arms this way. Suddenly she was hollow with need, wanting to be taken and filled, wanting the magic that only he could give her.

  He took one of her hands and slipped it down between their bodies. Feeling the heat from his erection, she rubbed her fingers over the head until he grunted his approval and began walking backward with her. He came to a stop at the kitchen table. Her body was willowy and warm beneath the thin cotton. He palmed the weight of her breasts through the thin fabric, feeling her nipples pushing at his hand, as if demanding attention. Pushing them together, he reached down and took them into his mouth through the fabric, sucking on them, until he had her moaning his name.

  He felt her hands on his pants, and before he could react, she had released the zipper of his fly and was pushing his pants along with his boxers down, so he was standing with them around his legs, naked to her touch. She then proceeded to wrap her hands around the hard, silken-skinned length of him, spreading the pre-lubricant that coated her fingers. She was busy, stroking and caressing him to the point that he almost lost it. He had to quickly grab her hand, and remove it from his cock, so he could regain control of the situation.

  Rupert buried his face in her hair, dragging the soft curls across his face, winding his fingers tightly in the gleaming fall. He had to do something to stop himself from whimpering like a baby. He didn’t know why it should be like this with her when he had known so many women. None of them had ever affected him as Lange did.

  Wrapping his fingers around her wrist, he removed her hand from his cock and eased the dress from her shoulders and arms and dropped it to the floor. As he’d guess, she was wearing nothing underneath. His cock got even harder. Lightly, he slid his hand down her front.

  “Lange… darling…” Words failed him, and he buried his tongue into her mouth, doing with his
tongue what he would soon be doing with another part of his body.

  Stepping out of the clothes still around his legs, and removing his shirt, he turned her around, bending her forward onto the table. Stepping into her, he brought her body against his engorged penis, fitting it against her butt as it pulsed in anticipation.

  He loved the texture of her skin; it was like warm silk. He couldn’t resist running his tongue down the small of her back, getting to the indentation of her butt that he couldn’t resist and giving her a quick bite. Hearing her plaintive cry was his reward. Spreading her knees, he palmed her hot pussy and found it wet and ready for him. He dragged his mouth up her back, his tongue skimming until he got to her neck and the pulse beating there. He took the weight of her breast in his hand, squeezing the nipple until she was pushing against him in ardent surges, making the breathless, needy cries that were music to his ears. He wanted her as hungry for him as he was for her.

  Turning her head to the side, he took her mouth in a deep kiss, entering her from behind, pushing slowly until he was buried to the hilt. They began an unhurried rhythm—he pushing forward as she pressed back. It was a dance they were both familiar with. He loved taking her this way, and he loved the way her body caressed and milked his cock until he felt the top of his head ready to explode from the sensation. He kissed her shoulders, giving her soft bites, stopping just short of causing her pain.

  Feeling her gripping him, he knew she was nearing her release, which was the cue he’d been waiting for. He increased the movement of his hips, setting up a furious pace that had him slamming into her. The only thing stopping her from ramming into the table was his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her away from the edge and back into him. They strove for a release, muscles flexing and gripping in ecstasy, hovering on the edge just out of reach, until they crested and went tumbling into a sweet convulsion of sensation. He thrust deeply into her one last time and held himself buried tightly within her while she shuddered, sucking air through her teeth until the fierce pumping of his blood had subsided. Rupert lifted her against his body, still buried inside her, and walked to the bathroom. Stepping into the shower, which was programed to come on once you stepped into it, he did not have to release her until they were both wet from the first initial blast.