Love Thy Neighbor

by Bobbie Sue Ellison

  I shut the door and retreat to my bedroom. I lie down on the bed, still warm from our frenetic love-making session.

  But was it love-making or just good sex?

  Are we entering into a true relationship or just friends with benefits?

  Do I really care?

  Yes, I think I do.

  I’m not sure about my feelings for him and totally in the dark about his feelings for me.

  How can I find out? That’s the sixty-four dollar question.

  I would really like someone to talk to, to get advice, but who? Janice and the rest of the Coven are out, I don’t know how they feel about interracial relationships. Mom is out also for the same reason and I know that my brother would definitely not approve even though Brad is a combat veteran also.

  So I’m alone in that too…

  I decide that my best advice will come from the Coven but first I have to find out their feelings in general. I resolve to somehow bring up the subject at our next club outing.

  Wondering if Brad has returned I walk out to the parking lot. His car is not there so I return to my apartment in search for something for dinner. My preparations are quick and I eat just as quickly.

  Alone…

  * * *

  By eight o’clock Brad has still not returned so I decide on an early night. I undress, take off my makeup and crawl into bed.

  The pleasant smells of our love-making are still there and I fall asleep surrounded by pleasant memories.

  * * *

  Monday morning arrives and another workweek begins. Brad’s car isn’t in its usual spot, did he already leave for work or didn’t he come home last night.

  Why do I care?

  But I do…

  * * *

  My day at work is busy as usual. I circulate among the staff constantly but always leave my phone on my desk. Personal calls while not frowned on but are difficult so I am not near my phone when Brad calls. He leaves a message that I quickly listen to.

  He thanks me for yesterday afternoon and apologizes for not seeing me that night but he was stuck at the VA until late. He would like to see me tonight but he has to work late, how about Tuesday night?

  I call him back and get his voice mail.

  I accept his apology and agree to Tuesday night.

  My day is complete.

  I’m happy.

  Am I still alone?

  I really don’t know.

  * * *

  Monday drags by slowly as does Monday night and Tuesday. I sneak out of work a few minutes early and rush home. I eat a quick dinner, take an even quicker bath and dress casually but carefully. This is our first planned date and I want it to be perfect.

  The cookies are almost gone but somehow that doesn’t seem important.

  Brad said that he’d drop by at seven and the knock on the door comes precisely on time, military efficiency I presume.

  I open the door and he enters. Without a word he takes me in his arms and we share a passionate kiss.

  “The coffee is on and the cookies are on the table,” I say but he doesn’t respond.

  Instead he picks me up and carries me into the bedroom and deposits me on the bed. He stands and begins to take off his clothes, first his slacks, then his shirt and finally his briefs and socks.

  As I watch him I become aware of his body for the first time. He is not hugely muscular but well-built. I guess him to be nearly six feet tall and his weight about average. He is well developed with a flat stomach and strong arms and legs. He has some hair on his chest but it’s somewhat scraggly.

  Looking closer I see some marks on his left shoulder and chest and a long scar on one hip. Bullet wounds? He said he was in combat and I guess the scar is from the broken hip.

  I suddenly remember that I’m still fully clothed so I jump up to undress. Brad grabs me in a passionate embrace and I feel him fumbling with my clothes. I’ve never really been undressed by a man and I find the sensation to be exciting me. I assist him a bit but he seems competent so I just relax and enjoy what he’s doing.

  As he deftly removes by bra he moves he head to my check and licks and sucks each nipple.

  It’s wonderful. I nearly collapse but he is holding me.

  When I’m wearing nothing but my panties he gently pushes me down on the bed and pulls them off revealing my bush. I’m not shaved – Ethan wanted me to shave it but I never did – but it is carefully trimmed.

  Brad kneels down by the bed and as he massages my nipples with his fingers he spreads my legs to find my clit with his tongue.

  The combination of the two sensations quickly brings me to a screaming climax.

  When my orgasm subsides Brad gets to his feet and starts to climb onto the bed.

  “I want to suck you,” I moan and take his cock in my hand to guide it to my mouth.

  He was already hard but his hardness increases as I work my lips and tongue around his shaft. When he can take no more he pulls his cock out of my mouth and pushing me flat on the bed mounts me.

  The feeling of his cock in my pussy is exquisite and I moan and shake in pure delight. After a few minutes in the missionary position he rolls me on my belly and pulling me to my knees begins to fuck me in doggy style.

  He reaches around me to play with my nipples as he fucks me and that brings on another screaming climax. I feel him come too and when we are both spent we fall together on the bed.

  “That’s how I like to spend Tuesday night,” he jokes and we both laugh.

  We lie together in silence for what seems to be hours but is really just a few minutes. After a while Brad pulls away and looks at me, a serious expression on his face.

  “Tonya, I think that I love you,” he says and without waiting for me to respond takes me in another passionate kiss.

  They were words that I want to hear but I am shocked and surprised. Am I hearing him correctly?

  When he releases me I stare at him. The look on his face tells me that I did hear correctly, he did use the love word.

  What do I say?

  How do I respond?

  How do I feel about him?

  I do have strong feelings, is it love?

  “Oh Brad, I love you too,” I whisper as I return his passionate kiss.

  I guess it’s love…

  Am I no longer alone?

  We continue to lie together on the bed, the euphoria of our joint admissions wafting over us.

  I have an analytical mind which makes me good at my job, I excel at problem solving and coming up with quick solutions. That ability kicks in now.

  Where do we go from here?

  How did we get here in the first place?

  From a casual meeting only a couple of weeks ago to mutual declarations of love after a couple of passionate sessions in bed? We are not two oversexed teenagers, but two mature adults. Two horny mature adults it would appear.

  We need to rethink this…

  Maybe I am still alone…

  I’m so confused…

  Chapter Eleven

  We finally separate and crawl out of bed. We embrace and then Brad dresses.

  “I have an early day,” he says, a sad look in his eye, “I have to go.”

  “The day comes early for me too,” I agree as I pull on a robe.

  We walk to the door and share one last passionate kiss. We reluctantly separate and Brad leaves, pulling the door shut behind him.

  I listen to him walk down the hall and then go back into my bedroom. I get ready for bed and climb in. Savoring the ambiance of our passion I close my eyes and instantly fall asleep.

  I sleep fitfully. I dream of being with a man. We are in a strange bed in a strange place. I can’t see his face or anything about him. Is he black or white? Is it Ethan or Brad or someone else? We make love but it’s mechanical, there is no passion. He just fucks me, hard, in the missionary position. He doesn’t kiss me or touch me in any way, just his cock thrusting away in me. Suddenly he stops and my dream ends and I awake.

&
nbsp; Is there a meaning to the dream? Is it a warning of some kind? Am I being told to stay away from white men in general or Brad specifically?

  I am worried and have a hard time getting back to sleep.

  * * *

  I never really get back to sleep but toss and turn for the remainder of the night. I wake still feeling very tired and still worried about the dream.

  I really need to think and decide to take a day off. I have a lot of unused personal days so I call in to say that I won’t be in. My assistant is very capable and can handle any issues that arise.

  I shower and dress casually, jeans and a cotton shirt and make coffee and some breakfast. I’m not really hungry but know that I must eat.

  My plan is to just lie on my couch and think. Think about Brad, what we are doing and what we have done, and where we go from here.

  I suddenly realize that if Brad sees my car in the parking lot he is liable to knock on my door and then what do I tell him? I grab my purse and keys and run out to my car. He is already gone and I nearly go back inside but what if he comes home early and sees my car?

  I drive to a coffee shop about two miles away where no one knows me and Brad is unlikely to see me. I buy a cup of coffee and sink into a comfortable club chair.

  Interracial couples are far more prevalent than just a few years ago and hardly anyone bats an eye now. Anyone except friends and family that is. How would my family react if they knew that I was even dating a white man much less in a relationship with the possibility of marriage on the horizon? The subject has never come up so I have no idea.

  The same with the Coven. We have been friends for ages but I have no idea how they would react. Would we still be friends or would I have to give up a valuable friendship for a white man? Or give up a white man that I think that I love for my friends?

  How can I get answers to these questions without revealing my reason?

  I don’t know.

  I’m very confused…

  Alone…

  * * *

  The time alone has calmed me down and I drive home. On the way I stop at the supermarket and pick up a few things.

  Just as I walk in the apartment door my phone rings. It’s Brad, he’s working late again tonight and will probably be late so I shouldn’t wait up. I am at once relieved and sad and I can’t really explain my emotions.

  * * *

  I sleep well that night with no dreams. I wake Thursday morning and go to work as usual.

  Later in the day Brad calls. I am in my office so I can answer.

  “Hi honey,” he says happily, “how are you?”

  “Fine honey,” I reply happy to hear his voice.

  “How about dinner with me in my apartment tonight? I’m really not a bad cook.”

  “Sure,” I instantly accept, I’ve never been in his apartment and my female curiosity is aroused. And I want to be with him too.

  “Okay, seven?”

  “Yes, seven. What can I bring?”

  “Nothing, just your beautiful face and body.”

  The compliment excites me and I can’t wait.

  * * *

  At seven on the dot I knock on his door. He must have been waiting as the door opens instantly and he grabs me to pull me into a passionate embrace. I nearly drop the box of desert pastries I bought on the way home but I manage to hang on to it.

  We kiss as though we had been separated for months instead of just a couple of days. Finally he releases me and taking me by the hand leads me into his apartment.

  As I expected it’s the same size and layout as mine. He has more furniture than me but in the style of what I might expect of an army barracks. A couch, several tables, a couple of chairs, one a recliner, grace the living room. The kitchen is nearly identical to mine, a toaster oven and microwave the only items on the counter.

  He has a slightly larger dinette table and I notice that it’s set for two with a vase of flowers in the center. They are just for me, I’m sure, I can’t see a man like Brad normally having flowers on his table.

  The few pictures on his wall seem to be from his army days, I recognize a picture of West Point with a group of cadets in neat uniforms in front of a building. I imagine that he is one of them but in their uniforms with hats low on their heads I can’t pick him out. Other photos seem to be from his combat days, pictures of other groups of soldiers this time wearing what are probably combat uniforms and holding guns.

  Brad leads me into his bedroom and I expect to be stripped and thrown on his bed but instead he simply points out the furniture. I see a large bed, a dresser, a large chest of drawers, an armoire and a couple of small tables. One, the nightstand I guess, holds a lamp and clock radio. The surface of the dresser contains an assorted mix of pocket change, pens, pencils, and other male trinkets. Framed photographs of what I assume are his parents are on one chest of drawers, a number of trophies line the top of the other.

  The bed is nicely made and I can imagine that his army discipline requires him to make his bed every day. I certainly don’t have that discipline.

  He leads me back to the living room and holds my chair as I sit at the table.

  “I forgot to ask what you like to eat so I made an executive decision and got mushroom stuffed ravioli, is that okay? If not we can always send out for pizza or something.”

  “Ravioli is fine, did you make them yourself?”

  “Well, I opened the package and boiled the water, does that count?”

  “That’s just about what I do. Cooking for just one person is no fun.”

  “What would you like to drink? I have a nice white wine or soda if you prefer.”

  “Wine please,” and he pours.

  He hands me a glass and raises his in a toast.

  “To us,” he says and we clink glasses.

  “To us,” I agree and we drink.

  I am so confused…

  But I’m in love…

  “I got these at a little Italian deli that prepares meals to go just for people like me,” Brad says as he serves, “You can get any amount you want whether you’re serving a large party or just yourself.”

  “They’re delicious,” I exclaim as I take a bite of one.

  “Yes they are,” he agrees and we eat in silence.

  We finish eating. I stand to help clear the dishes but Brad firmly pushes me back down to my chair.

  “You’re my guest,” he says, “I’ll take care of this stuff.”

  He clears the table quickly and efficiently.

  “Coffee?”

  “Yes please and I brought some desert.”

  “Yes, I noticed, I’ll put them on a plate” he says as he opens the box and examines the contents.

  “Italian pastries,” he exclaims, “how did you know I was serving ravioli?”

  “I didn’t,” I exclaim, “there’s an Italian bakery near my office.”

  “The wine is German otherwise the dinner would be complete.”

  “As far as I’m concerned,” I say seriously, “the dinner is very much complete.”

  “Not quite yet,” he counters, and taking me by the hand leads me into his bedroom.

  Tonight is a repeat of Monday night. If anything our love making is even more intense and more passionate. Our moans of delight and pleasure are frequently broken by heated whispers of ‘I love you’ into each other’s ears which only serves to heighten our love making.

  During one rest break I notice the time on his clock radio.

  “I have to go to work tomorrow,” I say sadly.

  “Stay with me tonight,” he invites and after less than a moment thought I agree.

  “I’ll need my nightgown,” I say as I start to get out of bed and search for my clothes.

  “Why,” he asks and pulls me back down.

  * * *

  Neither of us gets much sleep but there are no complaints. We have coffee and Italian pastries for breakfast and then I sneak back to my apartment to prepare for work. Brad is gone by time I’m ready
to leave for work but I find a note under my door.

  Thanks for a wonderful night… I love you!!!

  Brad

  I’m so confused…

  Chapter Twelve

  Friday is normally a fairly slow day at work, people seem to have fewer problems leading up to a weekend. Over the years I have formed friendships with several of my longer-term staff and we have time to chat.

  Our friendships are not close, barely more than professional relationships but we have gotten to know a fair amount of each other’s private lives.

  My marital situation is known as is the fact that I’m not currently dating. On the spur of the moment, while chatting with a few girls, black and white, that I bring up the issue of interracial dating.

  To my surprise the white girls have no problem with either white men dating black women or the reverse, I expected a more bigoted approach. The black women are fine with white men dating black women – after all, we’re something special they state quite forcibly – but black men should stay with black women for much the same reason. White women just can’t compare.

  I wonder if my Coven would feel the same way?

  * * *

  Brad and I have dinner again tonight but this time I cook in my apartment and then he spends the night in my bed. And I have another dream.

  I dream that I am in bed with Brad on my right and Ethan on my left, we are all stark naked. I am flat on my back, Ethan is sucking and licking one nipple and Brad the other and I am stroking both of their cocks. Suddenly I feel a finger move down to my pussy and find my clit. Who is it I wonder but I am enjoying the sensation too much to actually care.

  I shift my body and move my head down. I find a cock and immediately take it in my mouth, not knowing at first or even caring whose cock it is. But the sounds I soon hear tells me that I am sucking Ethan and he reacts just like old times. His hips begin bucking and I know that he is ready to fuck me.

  But I don’t let him. Instead I shift to Brad’s cock and begin sucking him. He soon makes his usual noises and I know that soon he will want to fuck me too.