White Diamonds

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White Diamonds Page 14

by Lyn, K.


  Malika felt the warm hand on her arm inside her blouse that had slid off her shoulder and she tingled with the kisses along her arm. A gentle touch moved her bra strap from her shoulder and Malika held a little tighter to the man she knew would be her first, just as she had dreamed. As his lips traveled back to hers, he slid the buttons of her blouse through the slits, parted the satiny material, and dared to touch the soft breasts of the woman he knew he loved.

  Malika closed her eyes. This was exactly the way she had imagined it. He held her away with one hand and looked at her to see some sort of sign to continue. Her eyes were half closed. He unsnapped her bra and let it fall to the sides. Her breasts were perfect in his eyes. Was he the first to hold them, to have them in his mouth? His warm hands on her breasts caused her nipples to form hard peaks, and Malika’s eyelids fluttered and then closed again. She was offering herself to him, all of her, and he opened his mouth to one of the breasts, taking it tenderly. Malika sighed. She never wanted it to end, her first time. He took the other breast just as he had the first and pulled it into his mouth. He began devouring them just as he had devoured her lips, knowing he could never stop. He lowered his hand from her back to rest it on her butt where he made slow movements, imagining lying with her naked in his bed. He lifted her easily into his arms and laid her down in his bed. He removed her blouse and bra, and got onto the bed with her. He straddled her hips and unzipped her jeans.

  Malika opened her eyes just enough to see the outline of her lover’s hardness. She wanted to lie naked with him. She wanted to feel him deep inside of her. She lay there as he slid the jeans down her legs and tossed them onto the floor. The pink panties that matched her blouse made him realize her youth and that he needed to be gentle with her. He lowered them slowly and Malika just as slowly parted her legs for her lover. He didn’t touch her, not yet. He leaned back and removed his shirt, revealing the broad brown chest that Malika wanted to feel against her soft breasts. It was dark in the room, but Malika could see the outline of his erection clearly. Her lover undressed completely, and once naked, he came toward her and kissed her lips as he lowered his body to hers. He kissed her neck and her breasts as she played with the thick black hair that crowned his head like a jewel. He gently parted her legs and Malika felt the head of her lover’s cock opening her virginal lips and moving slowly up and down between them. Malika sighed. It felt wonderful. But she knew she had to tell him the truth. Would it make him stop? Would he change his mind?

  “Kevin?” She said it with a whisper, still uncertain if she wanted to voice the truth.

  Kevin heard her soft voice and he forced himself to stop kissing her body long enough to answer. He looked into her blue eyes that now seemed worried. “Are you okay?”

  “Um, yes, but, I have never…done it.”

  He leaned down, resting on his elbows, and kissed her lips. “I want you, Malika. I love you.”

  Her eyes were wide with surprise. “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  His was a serious answer, and Malika knew he was sincere. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

  “Do you want me…like this…now?”

  Malika nodded. She did want him, though she felt like a fish out of water. She felt inadequate as a lover and she wanted to please him. Her sexy lover very slowly entered her, and going slowly he filled her as no man before him had. Malika was his now and only his. He knew how to please a woman, and Malika felt as if she were floating on a cloud.

  The skilled lover lay over her afterward, his strong body keeping her safe. She told him she loved him and she felt his arms holding her a little more tightly.

  ***

  When morning came, Malika opened her eyes. The steady breathing of Kevin on top of her made her smile. She had forgotten what the two of them had been fighting about before they made love last night. Oh, yes, he didn’t want her to be alone in the homes of her students. But why? She almost giggled when she came up with the answer. He loved her. That’s why. My protector! She heard her alarm in the other bedroom, but Kevin continued sleeping.

  “Kevin?”

  At the sound of Malika’s sweet voice, he awoke and met her eyes with a smile.

  “My alarm. I can hear it.”

  He kissed her lips and slowly moved backward until his body was no longer a part of hers. The alarm had stopped buzzing, and Kevin pulled on his jeans and wrapped Malika in the blankets, forming a cocoon around her.

  “Wait here. We are reworking your schedule today.”

  For the first time since coming to the reservation, Malika didn’t mind Kevin’s take charge attitude. She was now comforted by it. With two cups of coffee and a few slices of toast on a tray, Kevin and Malika lay in bed and redid her schedule.

  “Where will I teach?”

  “Get dressed. I have something to show you.”

  With Kevin by her side, Malika went to the homes of her students and left them with work to do, promising they would be together again the next day.

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s not far.”

  They drove for quite a while and stopped in front of a deserted building.

  “What’s this?”

  Kevin opened the door to what he liked to call his next contribution to his people. He flipped a switch which he had also installed, and the lights came on in what appeared to be a restaurant.

  “Is it a restaurant?”

  “Not exactly. This was also a dream of my grandfather. Food is scarce here, and no one should be hungry in this country. Hunger has been afflicted upon my people by…” He stopped. He had no right to blame Malika. It was not her fault.

  “By my people, right?”

  “We cannot undo the past, Malika, none of us can. This will be a community food center, a meeting place, and perhaps one day a new school will be built nearby so that we can feed the children.”

  “But it takes money, Kevin. It will take a lot of money.”

  “We can no longer claim our culture nor are we accepted as part of the American culture. What we have, and what has been allotted to us, are the casinos. With the money from the gamblers, this can work. Perhaps one day we will find our way back to what was once ours. I have to believe that.”

  Malika watched his eyes as he spoke. It was as if he were speaking to someone far away, his gaze somewhere far from here. Maybe in his mind he was there already…somewhere in the future. Maybe he can see a beautiful land again from what is now nothing but wasteland. The gold and silver mines have been stripped, and when Malika looked into the eyes of the Sioux here at Pine Ridge, she could see that they, too, had been stripped. The Lakota Sioux as well as the many other Native American tribes were raped years ago.

  With a catch in her throat, Malika took his hand. “I think it can work. You will really show them.”

  “No, Malika, this is not about revenge or showmanship. All we want is peace…for everyone. That is all we have ever wanted. Revenge is a cross for the white man to bear.”

  She smiled weakly. They were different from her, Kevin and his people. Hers was a world of greed, revenge, and gluttony. His was a world of peace and giving.

  Kevin seemed vulnerable today, and Malika wanted to ask him about Crazy Horse. His resemblance to the great Sioux chief was remarkable. Maybe she could start by asking to see the little town of Wounded Knee.

  “Do you think we could see Wounded Knee?”

  Kevin turned toward her and Malika saw sadness or tenderness in his eyes. “Come,” he said, and he locked the door of the warehouse and helped her into the jeep.

  The reservation was much larger than Malika had realized, not that its scope made up for the government’s treatment of the Native American people. The home that was now theirs was unsuitable for growing crops. It was a wasteland, the Badlands it was called. It was as if the government officials searched the country until they found the very worst of Americana, and this they graciously gave to the Native Americans. Malika found the Black Hills beautiful,
though none of the precious minerals that were mined from them had brought wealth to the people of the reservation. Malika had overheard one of the mothers of her students say that the life expectancy for men here was only forty-seven. She couldn’t lose Kevin at such a young age. She had just found him. Already thinking of a future with him, she smiled. How stupid of me! He would never considering leaving here, and Malika couldn’t imagine staying here forever.

  Kevin took her hand, and Malika looked down at the smallness of hers as it lay in his. “You are quiet.”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  When they arrived at the tiny town of Wounded Knee, she asked to stop at the creek.

  “We didn’t need to come all this way to see the creek. It doesn’t start and stop at Wounded Knee.”

  “I know.”

  He found a quiet spot and parked his jeep beside the creek. “It is shallow here. Have you ever gone swimming in a creek?”

  “No, but I was on the swim team in high school,” she said with pride.

  The all familiar smirky grin began again and then he laughed. “My dear, your pool was, how can I say it, a controlled environment. A creek or a river follows its own rules.”

  Malika had to admit that he was right. Her life had been so protected that she felt a little ashamed for the privileged life she had led in comparison to Kevin’s.

  “In that book, you know, about Crazy Horse, it said his bones and heart are buried along this creek,” she daringly blurted out.

  Kevin didn’t say anything, and Malika was afraid to look at him. What if she had made him angry? It was a long walk back to the house and she would surely get lost out here on her own.

  “Is that right?”

  “That’s what the book said. Is it true?”

  Malika expected him to take off and leave her there, but instead he took her hand and ran his fingers along the back of it.

  “Is that all, Malika? And if it is, then why did you keep the book when you were forced to leave the cabin, and why were you so protective of it when you knew that I realized you had it?”

  “It’s, um, the photographs in it…are nice.”

  He laughed and if Malika had looked at him she was certain she would see his smirky grin. He held her hand firmly, and with a stern voice he asked, “And what else, Malika? What is it about the photographs that interests you? Why did you want to come here…to Wounded Knee?”

  Malika spoke in a soft voice. “He looks like you.”

  “Who looks like me?”

  “The man in the pictures…Crazy Horse.” To avoid a reprimand, Malika continued to talk. “He was a hero to the Sioux. The book said that he was an icon. He stood up and fought against what he knew to be wrong. He was like Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King, or kind of, right?”

  Expecting laughter, Malika instead felt her body being pulled to Kevin’s side and his strong arms around her slender waist. She laid her head against his arm. She felt safe with him. She felt loved.

  “Yes, he was our hero.”

  Malika played with the buttons on his shirt and mumbled into his chest. “You look just like him.”

  “I look just like him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Some would say we all look alike. Some say Indians are all alike.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  He kissed her on the top of her head. “Crazy Horse was my great-great grandfather, I am told, though my grandmother is unsure if there is yet another generation in the lineage that would make him my great-great-great grandfather.”

  Malika swallowed hard. Kevin had hero blood in him. He was certainly her hero.

  “He never wanted his photograph to be taken, and yet, the white man is carving his likeness into a mountain.” His voice grew strong and forceful. “And they have him pointing! That shows how little knowledge and respect the white man has for our people. Pointing is a sign of disrespect, a sign of rudeness.”

  Malika held tightly to her Sioux hero as he continued his story that had been passed down from generation to generation. “Upon my brain the final words of Crazy Horse will forever be burned.”

  “What did he say?” The bright blue eyes looking into his touched Kevin’s soul.

  “To a prison guard, he said, ‘My friend, I do not blame you for this. Had I listened to you, this trouble would not have happened to me. I was not hostile to the white men. Sometimes my young men would attack the Indians who were their enemies and took their ponies. They did it in return. We had buffalo for food, and their hides for clothing and for our teepees. We preferred hunting to a life of idleness on the reservation, where we were driven against our will. At times we did not get enough to eat and we were not allowed to leave the reservation to hunt. We preferred our own way of living. We were no expense to the government. All we wanted was peace and to be left alone. Soldiers were sent out in the winter. They destroyed our villages. The “Long Hair” (Custer) came in the same way. They say we massacred him, but he would have done the same thing to us had we not defended ourselves and fought to the last. Our first impulse was to escape with our squaws and papooses, but we were so hemmed in that we had to fight. After that, I went up on the Tongue River with a few of my people and lived in peace. But the government would not let me alone. Finally, I came back to the Red Cloud Agency. Yet, I was not allowed to remain quiet. I was tired of fighting. I went to the Spotted Tail Agency and asked that chief and his agent to let me live there in peace. I came here with the agent (Lee) to talk with the Big White Chief but was not given a chance. They tried to confine me. I tried to escape, and a soldier ran his bayonet into me. I have spoken.”

  Malika’s tears were wiped away by her hero. “Are you tired of fighting?”

  “No, Malika, I have only begun to fight.”

  “You mean revenge?”

  “No, Malika. Do not confuse the two. I do not seek revenge. I seek freedom. If given the chance, we can do much. We are not a lazy people.”

  “I know.”

  Kevin smiled just a little and pulled Malika up and onto his lap, cradling her like a baby. She buried her face in his chest, soaking his shirt with her tears. A light breeze had come up and Malika shivered. Kevin stood with Malika in his arms and carried her to the jeep.

  “It’s a long way back. We need to be home before dark.”

  Malika knew what he really meant was that she should not be seen after dark. She was the outsider in his world, in his prison without walls, the place allotted to his people after being forced from their home.

  “Will I teach tomorrow?”

  “No, Malika. Perhaps the day after tomorrow. You did inform the children, did you not?”

  “Yes, but I said I would see them tomorrow. I want them to learn, and they want to learn.”

  He held her hand as he opened the door to the house. “And they will learn, Malika.”

  The council was meeting tonight, but Kevin could not and would not leave Malika home alone. She was too precious to him. She meant too much to him now.

  “Malika, you will spend the evening with my grandmother. I will be attending a council meeting.”

  Just like that? The king has spoken, so I must obey? She hated this bossy side of him. “I do not need a babysitter,” she shouted and stormed off.

  She went to her room and pulled out the book about Crazy Horse. She turned to sit down on the bed when she noticed Kevin standing in the doorway.

  “Will you stop scaring me? How do you do that anyway, just appear out of nowhere with no warning?”

  The smirky grin was back on Kevin’s lips, but the man said nothing. He just stood there with his arms crossed. “I will take you to Grandmother’s cabin and pick you up following the meeting.”

  Malika began to protest, but she realized she was talking to herself. She could hear pots and pans in the kitchen. Kevin had already tuned her out.

  The nice woman who had met Malika on that first day welcomed her as warmly as she had then. “My dear, would you like some hot tea?�


  “Let me get it. You stay put.”

  Kevin smiled at Malika’s kindness as he closed the door. The young woman may seem like a spoiled or pampered child, but he knew her kind and giving nature, and would he want a woman who passively obeyed? No, he would not. He liked the spirited Malika. No, that was untrue. He loved the spirited Malika.

  When he arrived at his grandmother’s home after the meeting, Malika was doing something he would never have guessed her to be doing. She was stitching a quilt block.

  “Look what your grandmother taught me to do.”

  “She is a natural, this Malika.”

  “We must go now.”

  Malika gathered her things and stuffed the block of material into her bag. “I’ll bring it back finished.”

  The older woman nodded, but Kevin was bursting with pride. It was dark and Malika had not expected Kevin to be gone so long. It could only mean bad news.

  “So, what did you talk about at your meeting?”

  “The meetings are not to be discussed, Malika, unless…”

  “Unless someone was killed, right?”

  Unwilling to respond to the pouting little girl inside the woman he loved, Kevin filled the bathtub with hot water, tossed his clothes on the floor, and poured his tired body into the relaxing bath. Malika had gone to her room, but she had a few words for the man who had once again decided to be a chauvinist pig. She turned the corner to the kitchen but he wasn’t there. Then she noticed the open door to Kevin’s work of art, his one of a kind luxury bathroom. She stood at the door and watched from where she could not be seen. His eyes were closed and his large body filled the tub. He was drop dead gorgeous, the water flowing across his torso, rising and falling teasingly across his manhood. She wanted to jump on top of him and do it right there in the warm water.

 

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