by Lyn, K.
As they lay together in the afterglow, Vicki thought that Wilson was the perfect man. It was not until the light shone through the window the following morning that she realized what she had done. She had slept in the arms of a black man. That was taboo in her world, something so forbidden that women who were seen with men such as Wilson were often shunned in public places. “Mornin’,” he said as he kissed her on the mouth. Vicki smiled sweetly and told him that she needed to go home. “See you around, Vicki.” Wilson turned on the shower and closed the bathroom door. With the water streaming down his face, he could almost ignore the tears that were mixed with it. Vicki was just like all of the other white girls. To them he was a good lay and nothing more.
Vicki filled her bathtub with warm water and bubble bath and tried to sink away her shame. When the bubbles reached her chin, she laid her head back and closed her eyes. She should never have run out of there the way she had. What must Wilson think of her? She tried to reason away her actions by telling herself that it was only sex and that was all that either of them had wanted last night. But Vicki knew it was more than that. She and Wilson had a connection, a spark, electricity which they had not expected. She was sure she had seen something in his eyes.
After nearly falling asleep in the cooling water, she wrapped a towel around her and began sifting through the clothes she had not yet unpacked. Pulling on a pair of jeans and a shirt, she shoved one of the boxes into the closet and pulled at a piece of old newspaper that seemed to have caught on something. She was determined to clean the old house from top to bottom if she ever had any time off from her mundane job. Who knew what she might find in here? The old newspaper was yellowed and very worn, but still readable. Vicki sat down on the floor and looked at the photograph. A very distinguished looking gentleman was accepting an honor of some kind. As Vicki read, she was shocked at the words. The gentleman was the owner of this very house, and his fellow club members were celebrating his achievement in transporting runaway slaves to other slave owners under the guise of promising freedom. His name of Jones was more than a last name. It was a brand of sorts, not uncommon among fellow so-called freedom runners. Vicki was stunned. Wilson had been right about the owners of the homes in the neighborhood. They didn’t care about the runaway slaves. All they cared about was money or whatever they exchanged back then. That was how all of those men became wealthy and remained wealthy. Vicki wondered why Wilson had chosen to live in one of the houses in the neighborhood knowing what he did about their previous owners. If I were him, Vicki thought, I would go as far away from this place as I could. She flipped through the old newspaper, reading as much as she could, and then she crawled back into the closet to search for more information. The closet was dusty and Vicki wheezed and coughed as she rummaged through old papers. None of the parchments seemed of much significance, until she pulled out a deed. It wasn’t a deed to a house. It was a deed to people. Buying and selling slaves was human trafficking before it was given its present day name. Vicki had never before thought of it that way. The owner of this house would have been arrested for what he had done if he were caught doing it today, but years ago slaves were not considered people. Slaves were property.
Vicki scooted backward out of the closet, sliding the weathered paper across the floor. She had moved into the bedroom when her butt hit something hard. She turned around and screamed in alarm. “What the fuck! Wilson, what are you doing here?”
He stood there drinking a cup of coffee, smiling down at her. “What are you doing down there?”
“Cleaning out the closet.” It wasn’t a complete lie.
“What’s that?”
Vicki handed him the deed. “Hmmm, seems as though the old man was proud of his purchase.”
“Stop it.”
Wilson sat down on the floor beside her. “Stop what? Seems to me you were pretty happy with that same purchase last night.”
“That’s not fair!”
“It’s not? Then why did you sleep with me last night?”
“I wanted you.”
“Are you sure it was me you wanted? Perhaps you were curious about the black man.” He winked at her and Vicki blushed.
“No,” she answered weakly.
“Were you disappointed?”
“No,” she said, looking up. “But that wasn’t why I did it.”
“You felt sorry for me, right?”
“No. I’m not your enemy, but what about you? Maybe you wanted to sleep with a white woman.”
Wilson laughed a hearty laugh that annoyed Vicki. “Honey, don’t flatter yourself. I’m not a racist, and you were not my first taste of vanilla.”
Vicki stood up. “I’m not a racist, either, Wilson. Don’t ever call me that!”
Wilson pulled her down onto his lap. At less than half his size, Vicki fell easily into his arms. He pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the mouth, feeling her give in to his demands. He left her breathless as he let her head fall over his leg and kissed her neck. Her nipples were hard and his fingertips sweeping across them drove her crazy with desire. Wilson watched her, studying her response, and he became aroused as he thought of taking her again. With her blouse open, Vicki waited impatiently for Wilson to claim her breasts with his mouth, to feast upon them with his full thick lips. When she felt his heated breath on her flesh, she gasped and felt the wetness begin to form deep inside of her. She went limp in his arms as her breasts were taken by this sensual man. He aroused and satisfied her like no other man, and when she felt the zipper being lowered in her jeans, she tried desperately to wriggle out of them. A thick finger slid between her lips and stroked her awakened clitoris. Wilson smoothed a hand along Vicki’s flat stomach and pushed her jeans down and onto the floor. The long soft legs parted instantly and the finger inside of her made her ache for more. Vicki opened her eyes and looked into the dark brown eyes of her lover. He began to lift her into his arms, but Vicki grabbed his arm. “Take me here,” she whispered. The thick hard cock was at her ready entrance and she looked into the eyes of her lover once again. Wilson entered her slowly, satisfying every contour, until he had filled her completely. Vicki rested her legs on the back of her lover as they rocked back and forth, the floorboards creaking beneath them to the tune of their lovemaking. Neither of them closed their eyes. They wanted to see ecstasy in the eyes of each other. Vicki had never felt so free. She moaned and gasped as her lover gave her body what it desperately needed. She wanted this man to know how he made her feel. Wilson had never known a lover like Vicki. She was uninhibited and she wanted him. He lifted his young lover and stood up. As he did, Vicki squeezed hard around his cock, but Wilson had no intentions of taking it from her. Vicki kissed his mouth and laid her arms loosely around his neck, relinquishing all control. As Wilson laid her down in the warmth of her bed, he pulled out just long enough to flip her beautiful body over. Pushing her knees underneath her and spreading her legs, he entered her again and watched as Vicki grasped the bed sheets. He lay over her, grasping her breasts, as he plunged into her depths. “Wilson!” she screamed. She had never felt anything like it. She backed up as he entered her, riding the man as she climaxed. The expert lover pinched her nipples, causing her orgasms to grow stronger. Wilson pulled Vicki’s legs flat as he filled her with his seed. Vicki let out a grunt-like sound as she spread her arms across the bed. She felt the warm body on top of her and the steady breathing of the man she could no longer live without.
“Wilson, I…”
With his heated breath over her ear, he hoarsely said, “What is it, baby?”
Vicki stopped short of finishing her thought. Wilson had called her baby, something her husband had never done. “I…I’ve never done it that way.”
Wilson smiled to himself. “Good, isn’t it?”
“Mmm.” Vicki’s head was spinning. Thoughts and feelings swirled together and she had trouble sorting them out. The man who lay over her confused her. She couldn’t deny her feelings for him, but she knew that in this city it w
ould never work. She remembered the hushed whispers at work when a young woman had brought a Puerto Rican native to the office picnic. This was a place where mixed couples were not acceptable, nor were they accepted, and she was fooling herself if she thought that she could change things. Her ex-husband had been the worst when it came to mixed couples, using every derogatory term he had in his potty-mouth vocabulary. He was a tycoon in the real estate business, not that Vicki had benefited any in the divorce. He practically owned the local housing market, while Vicki owned an ancient house that needed a lot of tender loving care. She felt soft kisses on her back and her vagina automatically clenched around the penis inside of her. Even when flaccid, the man had a lot to offer. The thickness grew hard inside of her and a hand began to press her pussy lips over her clitoris. Her own flesh was driving her wild. Then the pleasure was taken from her, but not for long. Wilson flipped her onto her back and spread her legs wide. Vicki reached for the cock that hung low and hard and brought it inside of her. She had never known a man as sexual as Wilson. She pulled him into her and begged for his lips upon hers. He lifted her into his arms as he plunged into her again and again. “You’re amazing,” he moaned breathily as he filled her once again. Vicki fell back onto the bed. “Mmm, you’re amazing, little one.” He kissed her parted lips and she wrapped her arms around him.
A loud pounding on the front door caused Vicki to jump. “Who is that?”
“Shh, I’ll be with you.” Wilson could sense Vicki’s fear and he could feel the pounding of her heart. Her eyes were huge and her hands were shaking as she pulled on her jeans and shirt. Zipping up his jeans, Wilson followed behind her. “Stay back a little,” he cautioned. “Ask who it is.”
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, Vicki, open up.”
“Mike?” Vicki began to shake until she felt two strong arms around her and a kiss on her cheek. “It’s my ex,” she whispered. Vicki began to feel cold and weak.
Wilson lowered her to the floor and laid her head on his leg. He brushed her hair from her face and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “What the hell did that man do to you?”
Vicki lay there exhausted until the familiar panic attack had passed. She looked into Wilson’s deep set dark eyes and smiled. “Thanks.”
“You don’t have to let him come inside. This is your house, right?”
“Yes, but he’s a very powerful man. He knows some very vile characters.”
“Damn, Vicki, he’s not in the mob, is he?”
Vicki’s eyes told Wilson something he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “I don’t know, but I have suspected that he might be.”
“Damn, woman, I was joking.”
Vicki struggled to her feet and held onto Wilson. She whispered, “I have to let him in.”
“You want me to be gone?”
She held onto him tightly, “No.” She slowly opened the door, but left the chain latched. “What do you want, Mike?”
“Come on, Vicki, open the door.”
“The divorce was final!”
“So it was. You wouldn’t know your next door neighbor, would you?”
“I just moved here, Mike.”
“Hmm. Well, if you see him, let him know that his squatting days are over. His was one of the last of the mortgages our firm acquired, and we don’t waste any time on deadbeats.”
Vicki reached a hand back to Wilson, but he wasn’t there. “Is that it, Mike?”
“For now.”
Vicki closed the door and ran to the kitchen. “Wilson?” She stumbled on the stairs to her bedroom but kept on going as she called his name again, but he didn’t answer. She ran down the stairs and out the back door. Bursting through the back door of Wilson’s house, she screamed his name. She heard pounding and followed the sound to the front door.
“What are you doing?”
“Pounding this sucker shut.” He swung his hammer at nail after nail as he attempted to seal the front door.
“Why did you leave me?”
“Look, Vicki, do you know anything about organized crime?”
“I didn’t know his company was a part of that sort of thing, I swear.”
Wilson stopped pounding and turned to face her. “I didn’t say you did, but I’m not going to be killed or kidnapped in my sleep. There’s no way out when it comes to the mafia, Vicki. Years ago a friend of mine went missing. He was gone for several months and those of us who searched for him received numerous death threats, myself included. Do you know where he was found?” Vicki shook her head. “He was found in Lake Erie, his decaying body tied to a tree and half eaten by who knows what?”
Vicki put her hand to her mouth, fearing she might vomit. “It’s not worth it, Wilson. Let them have the house. Live with me.” She couldn’t stop the words from flowing.
Wilson stared at her as if she had sprouted a second head. “It’s not the house I care about. Everything in this place has a history, and it’s my history. My ancestors slaved, literally, to be free, to be acknowledged, to be a part of Americana. Maybe you don’t understand that…”
Vicki slowly walked over to him, stood on her tiptoes, and wrapped her slender arms around him. “Don’t you think I know? I was married to an evil tyrant. He took everything from me. He took the one thing I had to give the man I truly love…a belief in love. And I want to believe in love with you, Wilson.” Wilson felt the tears from Vicki’s eyes as they slid down his chest. He lifted her into his arms and kissed her lightly on the neck. She wrapped her legs around him and tightened her arms around him.
“You give me everything, Vicki. You open your body and soul to me.” The warm tears sliding down onto his flesh touched something deep inside of Wilson. No woman had loved him as Vicki did.
“I’m sorry, Wilson. I’m so sorry.”
He held her tighter. “For what?”
“Your house, your past, and this harsh world that is holding you hostage.”
“I don’t care about the house, Vicki. Freedom is much more than a house. But this is my legacy, the paintings and antiques, and the gold band on my finger.” Vicki gently touched the ring on Wilson’s little finger. “It was my mother’s wedding ring.”
Vicki’s heart was breaking for this man. She couldn’t ask him to give up on his home. “How much do you still owe on the house?”
“About half.”
Vicki guessed that Wilson’s house was about the same value as hers and she could barely afford her own mortgage, although she would love to help him. If only there was a way to pay it off quickly. Vicki knew that wasn’t the real issue. Wilson didn’t want a handout. He wanted to be a part of society…a recognized vital part. She would move in with him, but selling her house wouldn’t help much. She had no equity in it.
Wilson carried Vicki to the sofa and gently set her down. “Look, honey, this isn’t your problem.” He winked at her and stroked her hair.
Vicki closed her eyes. She would never escape the hold her ex-husband had on her no matter where she tried to hide. She tried to pretend that she wasn’t afraid of him and his kind, but the truth was that she was terrified. His was a life of crime that she learned about after they were married. She should have known that in a city as poor and corrupt as Detroit, Michigan, someone with as much money and property as her husband was probably involved in something other than an honest living. She would never forget her first limousine ride. After that, she was hooked. The six-carat diamond engagement ring was flawless and when she sold it, she had been able to afford the down payment on her house.
“Vicki, you okay?”
Vicki’s eyes focused on Wilson. Through her tears, she said, “I knew. I knew he was with the mob. I didn’t know until after we were married, and there was no way out, but I should have told you. I should have admitted it, but I’m ashamed to admit that I fell for something like that. I didn’t see it until it was too late.”
Wilson hung his head. He sat on the floor at Vicki’s feet and laid his head in her lap. Vicki light
ly stroked his face as she thought about what she had done to this kind man. Then Wilson stood up and turned away from her.
“Where are you going?”
“You think you understand me? I’m not your pity project, here to make you feel good about helping the black man. You don’t know what it’s like to grow up in the projects. I do. I feared getting shot on my way home from school, and there were days when I didn’t go to school at all. If it hadn’t been for my mother’s death…”
Vicki wrapped her arms around him, begging him to stay. “What, Wilson?”
“I was sent to live with my aunt in Iowa. It was an entirely different way of life, with corn fields, rolling hills, and nothing but white folk as far as the eye could see.”
“Did you like it?”
“It was alright. I lost my virginity to a cute little thing with long blonde hair that curled at the bottom into loose ringlets.” He realized that Vicki was looking up at him and he stopped.
“What happened?”
Wilson shook his head. “Oh, you know, we were kids. She went to the state college, and I went to the University of Michigan…football scholarship.”
“Wilson, that’s amazing.”
His eyes had a faraway look. “Yeah, it was. It was just too bad that my mother had to die so that I could live.” He freed himself from Vicki’s hold and got a beer from the refrigerator. He popped the top and opened one for Vicki.
“Thanks. So, why did you stay…in Michigan?”
“I don’t know, trying to resurrect the dead, I suppose, as a matter of speaking. I needed a place for Mom’s stuff.” He winked at her, indicating that the conversation was over, but Vicki needed more answers.