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  • Writer's pictureA little kiss and tell

Cookie Snookie, 33

6-24-18 - Are you down?

The great thing about hanging out with White Chocolate is that there is hardly any chance of me seeing any of my other dating prospects at the places I go to with him.  Most black dudes didn’t do white establishments unless they were at a conference, were cultured, or they dated white girls.  So, with that in mind, I could truly be relaxed and not worry about Houston’s supremely tiny black club and bar scene.  White Chocolate caressed my hand as we rode in his silver drop top Mercedes.  He smirked at me as we drove down the freeway, I smirked back like a fool; feeling giddy and sexy with my freshly straitened hair tied back. For the record, in no way, shape, or form had I gone through the trouble of straightening my unruly hair this morning just for this White Man.  NO WAY! I just wanted to style my hair differently for a change.... yea, that was it.  It was mid-day and super-HOT out as we jammed to his tidal play list consisting of some head bobbing rap choices.  Yes!  White Chocolate liked rap (perhaps more than I did), but he still stayed true to his white boy status.  He didn’t say the N word nor try to be anything more than what he was.  He stayed in his lane; which I liked.  

Was this what Meghan Markle saw in Harry?  I wondered briefly as I glanced side long at him through my shades.  Traffic was surprisingly light on 288 as we headed towards downtown Houston in White Chocolate’s flashy sports car.  As we came to a light, he said, “your quiet.”  “I was just enjoying the breeze, the sun, and the music,” I said.  And trying to figure out how I’m going to go about getting you naked tonight. 🍑🍆.  I added silently.  As if he read my mind, he smoothly slipped his hand from my hand to my freshly shaved, and exposed thigh (I’d worn a cute red romper on our date with turquoise jewelry).  “Really? Is that all?” He asked seductively with a panty melting smile.  Don’t melt my panties off just yet White Chocolate.  I thought.  I tried and failed to hide my smile as I said, “I suppose not.”  He smirked, exposing his dimples as he said, “you have no idea how much I’d like to get into that head of yours when your deep in thought like this.”  And you have no idea how much I want to curl up in your arms and suck your dick!  I thought as he moved his hand to the car’s gear shift right as the light turned green.  When we reached our destination, he got out and opened the door for me.  He was dressed in a torque set shirt and navy pants complete with his dark hair and dark shades.  He offered his hand, and I took it.  Heels were a bitch, 👠   and as I stood, he slipped his hand around my waist and gave me a quick kiss saying “I missed you,” before releasing me and taking my hand in his.  Without thinking, I replied, “I missed you too,” as we made our way through the parking garage.  Damned if white chocolate didn’t know how to treat a lady.  Naturally, it all went to my head.  No black dude would ever be this open or forward.  They were always too busy trying to be a player.  No wonder Serena Williams fell for her white husband.  

“Friday was torture, I almost texted to ask if you wanted to come over and watch a movie,” he said lightly.  “Same here,” I said still trying to recover my equilibrium from the kiss.  Then, I cautiously added, “I probably would have taken you up on your offer, I was pretty much recovered by the evening from my crazy Thursday night.”  I giggled flirtatiously. 😆  ️  He smirked, “I bet you were in rare form, wish I could have seen it.”  I rolled my eyes behind my glasses 🙄, “you would have just taken advantage of my inebriated state,” I said playfully.  “Naturally,” he agreed.  Now how the fuck was I supposed to respond to such shameless and blatant agreement?  I didn’t know, so I just remained quiet as a blush (no one could see because I was black) heated my cheeks. 

We walked up to the restaurant where we were meeting some of White Chocolate’s buddies for a pre-championship game crawfish boil .  The place was packed with only outside seating, and we walked over hand in hand to the table where his friends were.  Everyone was about my age and they all had their ladies with them.  Of course, I was the only black girl 🙋🏾, and of course people had to get over their shock at seeing me (a black girl) with their guy.  Game on Snook, 🏀.  I thought with an inward groan.  I knew I was about to get grilled.  White people always grilled black people when they were the only spec of color in the room, and I knew it would be ten times worse for me because I was holding hands (meaning I was probably fucking) with a white boy.  Things definitely weren’t about to be easy banter, especially from the girls.  They’d be wanting to know why their friend went black.  I silently prayed for strength.  I really didn’t want to be fucking dealing with this shit right now.  I truly hoped none of them said anything racially stupid, or that if they did, I would be able to school my face in time.  

We took our seats at the outside bench table covered by a huge red umbrella.  There was also a huge fan across from us with a cooling mist blowing from it.  Texans has mastered how to keep people cool during the summer months.  It actually wasn’t too hot today, so I was able to tolerate the sweltering heat even with my freshly flat ironed hair.  I knew the mist might be a problem, but I’d ride it out.  It was too hot outside not to.  As White Chocolate greeted his male companions and introduced me to his friends, the theme music, “lets get ready to rumble,” ran through my mind.  White Chocolate sat beside me, and placed a warm, and oddly comforting hand on my thigh.  Two bleached blondes sat across from me and on the end of the table, a brunette.  All sat with their dates.  Only one had a ring, so at least we weren’t the only non-married and over thirty couple at this outing.  I supposed that counted for something.  The guys instantly began talking sports.  I wanted to jump in, but I didn’t want to seem like one of the guys.  I was trying to fit in, not stand out more than I already did.  One of the blondes stopped peeling her crawfish and said, “the waitress should be around soon for you to order.”  I said, “thanks.”  Then, the other blonde said, “we’ve heard a lot about you, White Chocolate has told us quite a bit.”  And so it begins, I thought dryly. I took off my glasses as my nose began to sweat and looked over at White Chocolate as I replied playfully, “oh has he?  He tried and failed to hide his smirk as he shrugged helplessly and smoothly returned to talking sports with the guys.  Apparently, I was on my own with all this.  

Blonde #1 whose name was Tracy giggled and said, “y’all are too cute, how did you meet?”  Translation, how did your black ass end up bagging this corporate white dude?”  “At a friend’s wedding,” I said calmly.  Then, the blondes and even the brunette went in on me, asking me all kinds of questions about what I did and where I did it, where I went to school; the usual shit.  After a few questions, I used my PhD to turn the tables by asking them all the questions they’d asked me.  Generally, that made white folks shut the fuck up and stop interrogating, “the black person in the room.” 🙅🏾.  It worked like a charm, and our waitress came at last.  To fit in, I purposely ordered the same drink the brunette had ordered.  It was always good to illustrate to white people that you were human just like them simply by doing something similar and also making them feel good about themselves.  It was psychology 101.  If I didn’t give a fuck about White Chocolate, or making a good impression, I wouldn’t give a damned about what any of the people at this table thought.  But apparently, I did because I was being more gracious than I felt like being.

When my drink came, White Chocolate asked me if I wanted anything to eat.   Together, we decided to order a mixture of boiled seasoned shrimp and crawfish.  White Chocolate ordered a carafe of beer for the table, and I continued my conversation with the blondes and the more down to earth brunette at the end of the table.  I liked the brunette better than the blondes.  Probably because she was from New Orleans.  I always liked Louisiana folk.  They were less fake and more down to earth than Texans.  That was probably why she was the only one with a ring at the table.  Cathy was curvaceous with beautiful aquamarine eyes and a nice golden and natural looking tan.  The other two blondes were pencil thin, only one of which I thought was actually kinda cute.  Before my food arrived and my hands got grimy with the work of peeling and eating overly seasoned, spicy crustaceans, I glanced at my phone.  There were more texts from Charmer that I immediately ignored, but White Chocolate had texted me with a kissy smiley face saying, “you’re doing great!”  He was so damned sweet and down to earth! And even when I didn’t think he got me, he got me!  Apparently, I wasn’t as alone in this as I initially thought.  I texted back that I hoped I was making a good impression before setting my phone back in my purse so that I didn’t appear rude.  The girls had switched to talking about their work out routines, new gyms around town, and online shopping.  I chimed in, and we exchanged a few laughs.  As our food came, I excused myself to go wash my hands and White Chocolate joined me.  There was a line for the lady’s bathroom, 😩.  White Chocolate immediately went into the men’s room, then came right out.  When he saw me still waiting in line, he said, “all my friends think you’re hot.”  “Really?” I said with a ridiculous smile on my face.  “Of course, they do,” he said.  “You’re adorable, and I’ve got great taste.”  “Thank you, I guess,” I said as I stood next in line, “I’ve got great taste too, so I guess that means you’re not so bad yourself.”  He laughed showing those adorable dimples, and it did something funny to my insides.  As another girl walked up behind me, he said, “I’ll wait for you at the bar,” then left.  When I joined him at the bar, he ordered both of us beer and said, “come over to my house tonight.”  “Ok,” I said simply, glad I’d opted for my sexy bra and panty set on-top of taking the time this morning to shave my cactus legs and cookie.  We were both hot and slightly sweaty right now.  I’d have to find a way to do a rinse down at his place before I’d allow any action to start.  He gently gripped my shoulder and moved me so that I stood in front of him.  With my back to his front, he placed his chin on top of my head.   He was pretty tall, clearly over six foot, and it was obvious he worked out. Gosh, I hoped he couldn’t smell that my hair was freshly flat ironed.  I thought self-consciously as I refrained from wrinkling my nose at the thought as he caressed my waist, then bent to whisper in my ear, “you look sexy in red,” before nipping the shell of my ear 👂🏾.  Damn, if only he could bottle his sexy and give some to Charmer.  Then, I’d have the perfect black man.  😫 Stop comparing Snook, you need to accept him for him.

We got our drinks and headed back.  Ughhh, round two of the uncomfortable small talk.  Thank goodness I went to an all-white high school, and had the endurance for this shit.  When I returned though, the awkward “what are you mixed with question came up.”  Oh shit!  😱Several smart-ass responses jumped into my head.  The first of which was Ninja and ninja.  The second, how bout some of your raping founding father’s sperm mixed with my African slave ancestors you dumb ass white girl.  But I refrained and said with a shrug , “both of my parents are black mixed with white European.”  Please take the bait and move on from this awkward question about ancestry that will only serve to make the rest of the evening awkward if you don’t quit while you’re ahead.   Blond #2 whose name was Elizabeth blinked, “really? I thought…”  I kept the glare out of my eyes as I looked at her.  You thought what bitch?  I thought as I forced myself to keep calm and simply assess Elizabeth.  Fortunately, I was spared from replying because White Chocolate turned his attention from the game and sports banter to say, “come on Liz, her parents are both African American, and everyone knows slavery was a thing of the past, don’t make her divulge America’s shameful history.  We’re beyond all that shit now.”  Thank you God!!!!  I thought with relief.  Elizabeth placed a hand covered in crawfish juice and seasoning over her mouth and laughed awkwardly making my hand itch to slap 👋🏾 the dumb bitch.   But then she said, “my bad yall, it’s hot, I’m tipsy, and I was just curious.”  Bitch!  Didn’t you know curiosity killed the white cat 😿, I thought.  What the fuck did she have to be so curious about anyways?  It’s not like I was a unicorn or some other fantastical or foreign species.  I just had the blood of white masters and black slaves.  I knew when I first saw her peroxide hair color, that sooner or later, something racially stupid would slip out of her mouth…  Our crawfish and shrimp arrived right in time to cut, or should I say crack the awkward tension at the table.  We tied on our bibs and dug into our crustacean feast with White Chocolate being a complete gentleman and cracking some for me.        

Later, when we’d parked in his parking garage and calmly put up the drop top of his convertible car, we went at it like crazy teenagers.  What was it about parking garages?  I thought as our lips and tongues tangled in a heated dance.  White Chocolate fondled my petite breasts as I reached for the zipper of his pants.  Thank goodness the windows of his convertible were tinted dark.  He pulled me onto his lap before I could cop a skin to skin feel, and he fondled my ass with his big warm hands.  I was surprised he’d already slid his seat back so that I could more easily straddle him.  We rubbed against one another, the hardness of his arousal prodding the thin material of my short red romper and sexy panties.  A hand slid sensually down the crack of my ass until he slid my sexy lace panties to the side and slipped a finger across my slick clit.  I gasped, beyond ready to finally get to do the deed.  He pulled away from our kissing and sexily asked; “you gonna freak out on me again like you did last time?”  Fuck no!  I wanted to say but decided to go for the meek shake of the head instead as our breaths mingled.  White Chocolate had stood up for me at the table and treated me better than most of the losers I’d dated this year.  Any reservations I’d had earlier about putting out for him (a white dude) tonight had disappeared after he’d put his white friend in her place.   He rubbed my clit some more, and said simply “good,” as he leaned in to kiss my neck.  Nervous butterflies 🦋fluttered in my stomach as I bravely decided to ask, “are you gonna freak out and phase out of my life after we do this?”  He pulled away and lust filled green gray eyes met mine. His stylishly dark side swept hair was mussed now, and his full lips were swollen from our kissing.  He looked adorably sexy with his (I didn’t give a fuck about shaving this weekend) dark facial hair gracing a proud jaw line with dark thick brows resting harrowingly over his striking eyes. But as he paused in his response, my thundering heart began to sink because I thought he was going to say it depends or something equally as noncommittal.  But then, he surprised me by shaking his head and saying, “I hadn’t planned on it.  I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you at the wedding.  I just wasn’t really sure about how to approach you since I’m a white dude and stuff.  I didn’t know if you’d be into me.”  For whatever reason, I couldn’t suppress the ridiculous smirk 😏that came across my face as I said, “well, if we could just make it to your place, I’d be able to show you just how into you I am.”  He smiled and slipped his fingers smoothly out from my romper.  Gripping my thighs firmly, he squeezed them lightly as he gave me a lingering peck 😘 and said, “I’m down with that.”  Before he turned off the car and we prepared to take that next step.   

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