Contrasts

by Charles Arnold

  “Yes, honey. I guess everyone in New York watched it.”

  “What if this fuckin Danny called you and wanted to take you to some fancy place for dinner and you could be with him while he’s signin fuckin autographs and stuff?”

  “Darnell, he’s not going to do that.”

  “I’m sayin what if?”

  “I guess I couldn’t very well refuse.”

  “What if I called the same night and told you to come to my place and suck my dick. What would you do then?”

  “Darnell, honey, that’s not a fair question.”

  “Yeah, well you think about it anyway.”

  “Ok, I will.”

  “I’m strokin my black dick right now. You thinkin about me strokin my black dick while I’m talkin to you?”

  “I wasn’t, but now I am.”

  “What you thinkin?”

  She took a moment before replying, “I’m imagining how long and smooth and black it is and how long and thin your fingers are.”

  “You thinkin how it looks slidin up inside your white pussy?”

  She placed her hand on her crotch and moved her index finger along the length of her opening. “Yes, honey. I imagine that a lot.”

  “You get hot and wet thinkin about my dick goin in your pussy?”

  “Yes, very hot and wet. Always.”

  “You hot and wet now?”

  “I am.”

  “You playin with your pussy.”

  “Yes, honey.”

  “Maybe I show up in your class tomorrow or maybe I won’t.”

  “I hope you do.” She paused, “Really, I...I’d like to see you.”

  “You gonna be wearin somethin sexy?”

  “Yes, I promise.” She thought, ‘My God, I can’t believe what I’m saying. This kid is a street punk and one of my students.’

  “You tease me, try to make me hard?”

  “As much as I can...but...Mr. Watts doesn’t want me to get fired. We have to be careful.”

  “Ah fuck that. My Uncle’s a big man and all, but I don’t like when he makes rules and that shit.”

  “You know about the contract and how I must do what he says.”

  “Yeah, I know, but after class, if I even come to class, you drive me to my house and you do whatever the fuck I say?”

  The tone of his voice had turned mean. She wasn’t sure how she should answer. “Well, honey, let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “If I don’t come to class ain’t gonna be no fuckin bridge. You gonna do what I say or you gonna be markin Darnell absent in your book tomorrow.”

  Her swollen clitoris was slippery under her fingers. Her nipples were stiff and ached. “I will,” she said.

  “Will what?”

  “Will do what you say.”

  “Whatever the fuck I say, no matter what?”

  “Yes, honey, whatever you say.”

  “You want me, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How bad?”

  “Real bad.”

  “You wantin me all the time, right?

  “Yes, honey, I try not to, but I find myself thinking about you, about us.....about how I am with you....and....and...I want you; I want to get on my knees for you.”

  He clicked off just as she brought herself to a powerful climax. She lay awake for a long time trying to understand what had just happened. She thought about the question he put to her: either suck his dirty cock or have a splendid dinner date with Danny Morgan? He had to be full of himself to even ask such a question. She’d said she wanted him and wanted him real bad, but that was only because she was about to bring herself off. It wasn’t true. But she wondered why it seemed important to her that he come to class tomorrow. He’d only embarrass and humiliate her in front of her students, and possibly get her fired. She could tell he was angry when he kept pressing her about doing whatever he told her to do. She knew whatever things he had in mind would demean and humiliate her. She felt certain he wanted to reduce her to some passive, deferential trophy slut he could degrade in front of his low life friends and use to inflate his pathetic ego. She concluded there was absolutely nothing remotely positive about him. He was short and ugly. He smelled bad. He was skinny and arrogant beyond belief. He had no sense of decency, no feelings for anyone but himself. If she gave in, even a little to him, he would hurt her. Why then had she said she’d do whatever he wanted her to do? It was a moment of madness. After last night it was a wonder she wasn’t completely and permanently mad. She promised herself she’d take back what she had agreed to. She’d drive him home after school and leave him off at his front door.

  Even though Paul had changed the bedding, the room still smelled faintly of sex. The shoes she had worn were in the corner of the room where she’d kicked them off. Perfume she’d spilled stained the rug. She remembered how gently John Albertson had treated her when they’d first entered the bedroom and how slow his lovemaking had been. She loved the smell and taste of his black skin. That was true of most of the black men she’d been with. She loved kissing him. His lips were soft and puffy and warm. He teased her mouth with his tongue. Like all the men last night and those before last night his cock was twice the size of Paul’s and he knew how to bring her to the edge over and over before letting her cum. How many times had they fucked? Three. John Albertson, twice her age, bald, pot bellied, and black. Contrasts again. She was amazed at the stamina of the black men she’d given herself to. Even old Elijah. They stayed hard and fucked her until they knew she would cum. And ten minutes afterward they were hard again. Watts had been right. Black men were superior, very superior at least physically, probably intellectually too if given half a chance. It was difficult for her to believe that she’d serviced all five men twice before John even took her to the bedroom for the night. She remembered waking sore and exhausted, but not particularly ill used. Imagining Darnell stroking his beautiful long black cock, she fell into a troubled sleep.

  After her morning shower, she went about trying to select the clothes she would wear to school. She began by picking the most conservative thing in her closet, a black pinstriped suit with a narrow skirt that reached just below her knees and a white broadcloth dress shirt. The suit jacket would cover most of it. Black pumps with the requisite high heel, but no openings. Before dressing, she sat at her table and put aside the bright red and the dark red lipsticks. She opened her old makeup box and selected a pale pink. She chose light eye shadow and mascara. Her special phone buzzed.

  “You gettin ready?” It was Darnell.

  “Yes. I should be leaving in another half hour.”

  “What you wearin? I’m tryin to think whether to come or not.”

  She hesitated. “I haven’t quite decided.”

  “Well, decide. I ain’t got all fuckin day!” He sounded angry. She knew he would be difficult and demanding. She glanced at the pinstriped suit on the bed and the pink lipstick she held in her hand.

  “I thought a tight red sweater with a scooped neck and a short red pleated skirt, the kind you like me to wear.” She waited. He didn’t respond. “Oh, yes, and red open toed heels, the very high heels.”

  “The sweater button down the front?”

  “No, but the neck is wide and elastic,” she paused, “easy to slip down over my shoulders.”

  “Are you sayin you’re gonna show me your tits?”

  “No, not in school, but...but...afterward if you tell me to.”

  “How about your cunt?’

  She felt a surge of heat flow to her crotch. “Yes.”

  “You want to show me your cunt?”

  “I want to please you.”

  “I ain’t hearin what you call words of affection.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, honey. Your call surprised me and I...I’m...”

  He interrupted, “What we talked about last night, you makin me hard in class and doin what I say afterward?

  “Yes, honey. I’ll try in class...try to excite you, and...and afte
rward I’ll do anything you tell me to do.”

  “Yeah, I know you will cause now you my white bitch.” He clicked off.

  “Yes, Darnell, maybe you’re right, maybe I am your white bitch” she whispered to herself after the phone had gone dead. Her pussy was wet. She sat at her table for several minutes before selecting a bright red lipstick, darker eye shadow and mascara.

  On her way to her first class the principal motioned her into his office. “I don’t like to say this, Mrs. Gardner, but these past few days your attire has become, well considerablyless conservative than in the past. Both students and faculty have been commenting upon it.”

  “I’m sorry, but I just felt I’d been too conservative. My students often teased me about wearing granny clothes. I thought I’d be more effective if I adopted some of their style.”

  “Well, in all candor I have to say that I hardly recognize you these days. But I just want to caution you not to carry this new look too far.”

  The tight red sweater revealed considerable cleavage, but not enough to expose the black spade tattoo. She had removed the ankle bracelet and covered the other tattoo with adhesive. There were suggestive remarks and whistles as she clicked through the halls on her four inch heels. In her classroom the students seemed more relaxed and open than they had in the past. They were ready to joke and kid around, but also paid more attention and asked more questions, especially about the hardships of the black slaves and the terrible racism after the slaves were freed.

  The day seemed to drag. Before her last class she went to the faculty restroom and reapplied her makeup. Her lips were still a bit swollen from Saturday so they seemed even fuller than usual. The gloss made them wet and shiny. When she returned to the classroom students were filing in. She felt her heart racing. To her surprise Darnell was in his seat in front of her desk. Instead of baggy shorts, he wore a pair of faded jeans. Instead of the torn tee shirt, he had on a black button down shirt about three sizes too big. He’d rolled the cuffs back so his thin forearms and wrists were visible. Instead of the baseball cap, on his head was a polka-dotted do-rag. On his feet were the same filthy high top sneakers. One of the boys entering with her said, “Wow, lookin mighty fine today, Mrs. Gardner.”

  “The brother who can’t see so good still up front,” Shawna complained.

  “Red is sure your color,” another boy said.

  “Your husband is a damn lucky man,” a boy in the back of the room shouted.

  Darnell turned around to face the class, “Her husband ain’t a man, he’s a fuckin pussy,” he said.

  They all looked at Ann waiting for her to haul him off to the principal’s office. She felt the color rise to her cheeks and pretended she hadn’t heard Darnell, but everyone knew she had. A few of the girls exchanged puzzled looks. Under her breath Shawna said, “Somethin goin on here.”

  Ann stood behind her desk and placed her special cell phone on top of it. She noticed Darnell texting and glanced down at her phone. “you ain’t doin shit for me I got a soft dick.”

  She picked up the history book and came around to the front of the desk and lifted herself up to sit on the edge of it directly in front of Darnell. She crossed her bare legs and let one of her shoes dangle off the end of her foot. A boy in the back of the room crept up to slide into an empty seat near the front. Ann attempted a smile and asked how many had read the pages she’d assigned over the weekend. No one had, but that didn’t surprise her. “Well,” she said, “since it seems impossible for you to read at home and since we can’t discuss what you haven’t read, I guess you’ll have to do the reading here, right now.’

  There were the usual moans and groans but, after a few minutes, they were busy with their heads down reading the assignment. Darnell hadn’t opened his book. He was staring up at her, his eyes narrow and hard. Slowly she uncrossed her legs and slightly parted them. He nodded. She spread a little wider certain now that he could see her shaved slit. Shawna looked up. Ann quickly brought her legs together, but she was sure it wasn’t quick enough. Shawna stopped reading and continued to look at Ann. After a minute Ann got down and returned to stand behind the desk. Her cell phone read: “my bitch gotta try harder”.

  As she had done the last time, she came around her desk and leaned over Darnell pressing her breast against his shoulder and her knee against his thigh. “You seem to be having a bit of trouble, Darnell. You haven’t opened your book.” Her hand trembled as she found the right page. She felt his pointed fingernails trailing along her calf. He turned his head to look up at her so that their faces were only inches apart. Shawna continued to watch them, but the others were reading. Darnell licked his lips. Ann wanted to take his face in her hands and press her open mouth over his and accept his tongue. Her neckline had dipped low enough so that the black spade was visible. Her legs shook. She steadied herself against Darnell’s desk. His fingers were on her inner thigh. In the top margin of the book that lay open before them he scrawled, “You my bitch?” Leaning over him, she took his pencil and wrote, “Yes. I’m your bitch, honey.”

  She stood up. He nodded to her and reached for his crotch. She could see that inside his jeans his cock was hard.

  The remainder of the class period went by in a blur. She talked more about the abuses the slaves had to endure and about the first great migration of blacks out of the South to the North. At one point she stood close to Darnell’s desk so that her ass touched his arm. At another time she stood directly in front of his desk her stomach against it, holding up a map and explaining where the migration took place. Under the desk the bare toes in her heels found the toes of his filthy sneakers and pressed against them. She could feel his toes inside the thin canvas of his sneakers and waves of heat washed down from her stiff nipples to her wet pussy.

  When the final bell rang, Shawna stayed behind for a moment. She waited for Ann to notice her, “Be careful, Mrs. Gardner, you know what I’m sayin, be careful.”

  Darnell whirled around in his seat, “Get lost motherfuckin fat cunt!” he yelled. Shawna ran from the room slamming the door behind her. Darnell ambled over to Ann’s desk and sat in her swivel chair as he’d done the last time. He spread his legs and pointed to the floor between them. Ann glanced at the door. The halls were becoming quiet. She got to her knees in front of Darnell. He leaned down toward her and licked his thick, pendulous lips. “You wanted to kiss me back then, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, oh God, I almost did! I couldn’t help it...I...I...”

  He leaned closer. His lips were wet with spittle. “You still want to kiss me?” She lifted her head her lips parted. He pushed her back. “Beg,” he said. “White bitches don’t get what they want till they beg for it.”

  She bowed her head and shook it, “No...no...I won’t do that.”

  “Fine,” he said and started to stand.

  She reached up grabbing his wrists, “Please, Darnell honey, please let me kiss you. I want to...I want to taste you...your mouth... “

  He sat down and holding her face tightly between his hands, crushed his open mouth against hers and jammed his tongue between her parted lips. She groaned and sucked it. He held her a long time pressing hard against her lips. She explored his mouth with her tongue while her hands fumbled with his belt buckle. Suddenly and violently he pushed her away. She fell to the floor between his legs. Her skirt had ridden up to her thighs exposing her glistening pussy. She lifted her head to see that he was taking photographs of her with his iPhone. He grinned down at her. “For my collection,” he said.

  “But,” she protested, “anyone can see they are taken in my classroom.”

  “That’s the fuckin point,” he said. “I took more when you was teasin me, but you didn’t notice. I got a bunch of Mrs. Gardner doin whatever she can to give the black kid in the front row a fuckin boner.” He laughed.

  Ann felt as if a cold hand had squeezed her heart. She started to stand.

  “Kneel, bitch,” he said.

  She hesitated, then got to h
er knees between his parted legs. “Please, Darnell, erase the photographs, please.”

  “No chance,” he said. “How old do you think I am?”

  “Eighteen?,” I’m not sure.

  “I’m not sure either, but I think nineteen.” He saw her relax a bit. “But there ain’t no record that I’m nineteen.”

  “What about your birth certificate?”

  “My Mom wasn’t school smart, but she was street smart, real street smart. She wanted to collect from the government longer, food stamps and shit. She had a doctor she was fuckin make a birth certificate that says I was born three years later than I was.

  I always been small for my real age so there was never no questions. He just changed the date I was born. That’s the only fuckin record there is.” He watched as this new information sunk in.

  “What about your father?”

  “Who the fuck knows who he was.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Overdosed last year. Dead. I got a older brother I think, but he’s in prison. Ain’t nobody but me and my sexy history teacher showing me her cunt right here in this classroom.” He paused and reached on the desk behind him for the history book. “Yeah there’s handwritten in this with me askin ‘you my bitch’ and you written back ‘yes, honey, I’m your bitch’. I also have tapes of the fuckin phone sex we did.”

  She inched back away from him, “Why did you do these things? Why did you take those photographs?”

  He laughed. “I think you know why. Them and the ones pussy Paul sent me and this other stuff is my insurance.”

  “Insurance?”

  “They’s a guarantee that you goin to do what you said last night. They’s a guarantee that if the fucking football hero wanted to take you to a high class restaurant and see what a fuckin big man he is and I said for you to come to my shitty apartment and get on your knees and suck me off.....well, you won’t be goin to no fuckin restaurant.”

  “Darnell, please...you wouldn’t...that’s blackmail.”

  He laughed, “Yeah, black email, black text mail, black iPhone, black cell phone.”

  She looked up at him, tears starting to form, “Please, honey....” she began.