Southern Delights

I was in paradise. I had entered a world where a young Gabrielle Union (just in her early twenties) was literally my personal sex slave. A virgin Gabrielle Union I might add, who was currently kneeling on the floor with me, dressed in nothing but an orgasm-induced smile.

I broke the embrace we have been sharing and stood up, drawing Gabrielle up along with me. Once we stood on our feet, I held her back for a moment, letting my eyes roam that luscious body of hers. A pretty red color came to Gabrielle's cheeks, but she did nothing to hide herself, and actually seemed to be enjoying my lascivious gaze.

I let my eyes take in all of Gabrielle's lovely form before I drew her in for another kiss. Gabrielle leaned her head back slightly, welcoming my kiss, one that seemed to last forever. When I broke the kiss, Gabrielle looked back at me and smiled. Then she did the one thing that no man wants to see the woman do when he plans to take to her to bed for a night of passion.

She yawned.

A shocked look immediately came to Gabrielle's face at the realization of what she had just done. "Mr. Johnson, I'm sorry, I--"

I put a single finger on those lovely lips of her to quiet her.

"You didn't get much sleep the night before, did you, Gabrielle? Or the night before that? Or the night before that?"

Gabrielle hung her head and shook it slowly. I put a finger under her chin and lifted her face so I could look into her eyes. There was a world of emotions in those eyes, including two that I hoped I could ensure remained there: hope and trust.

"You've been afraid of all the possibilities that me coming here must have represented to you. I would even go so far as to wager that, even though you've slept alone since you've arrived in this house, you've not had one night's full sleep. That's true, isn't it?"

Gabrielle gave a small nod, her chin still caught in my fingers, her beautiful brown eyes wide and watching.

I released her chin and pulled her into my arms, which she sank into gratefully. "Well, tonight, I think it's time you got that full night's sleep. Starting right now."

Gabrielle backed away, her eyes alarmed. "But Mr. Johnson, I--"

I gave Gabrielle an impish smile as I wagged my finger in her face. "What did I say to call me when we're alone, Gabrielle?"

Gabrielle blushed as she began again. "I was going to say, Benjamin,"--I could still tell she had problems saying my first name--"that we haven't ... well, we haven't actually done anything."

I let my eyes roam up and down Gabrielle's nude form, which left her blushing furiously. "By the noises you were making earlier, Gabrielle, I wouldn't say we were doing anything."

Gabrielle actually stomped her foot, a sight which was made even more delectable by the fact that she wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing.

"You know what I mean, Benjamin."

I chuckled as I took Gabrielle back into my arms, reflecting on the surreal nature of the conversation I was having. A nude Gabrielle Union, my personal sex slave, was in my bedroom, admonishing me for not having yet taken her virginity. This must be a dream!

"I know that I've established a bond with you, Gabrielle, and that bond means more than pleasuring this delectable body of yours." Gabrielle gave me an emphatic squeeze when I said that. "Anyway, you're going to need your sleep tonight, because I guarantee you, you won't get any tomorrow night," I said as I scooped Gabrielle into my arms.

Gabrielle squealed with delighted laughter as I carried her into her bedroom. I set her down on her single bed, and took one last look at her lovely form. Gabrielle gave me a half-smile as she stretched her body, making me regret again that I was doing the "noble" thing. I tucked her in and gave her a kiss on the forehead before leaving her room, turning off her light.

I went back to my own room, gathering Gabrielle's clothing from my bedroom floor. As I picked up her discarded bra, I idly noted the label read "36B" and wondered how much someone would pay on ebay for a bra worn by Gabrielle Union. Assuming that I ever returned to a world with ebay, I mentally added to myself.

When I re-entered Gabrielle's bedroom, I found her fast asleep, an angelic smile on her face. I looked around her room and found it sadly empty. There was just a few pieces of simple furniture, a small closet, and another door which I knew led to a common bathroom that would be shared by other 'chambermaids, ' assuming that I ever acquired additional chambermaids. I felt a pang of guilt that there wasn't even one small personal item in her room. Not your fault, I told my conscience; you didn't create the world she grew up in. But you were willing to take advantage of this world's tenets in order to bed Gabrielle Union, weren't you, my conscience replied. That's the unfortunate thing about have a conscience, I wryly noted. If you were going to listen to it, it sometimes had the audacity to give you the unvarnished truth.

As I went to my more lavishly appointed bedroom, I made myself a promise. First, no matter what happened between Gabrielle and me, I would always treat her with the kindness and gentleness that she deserved. And second, though I doubted one man couldn't change the negative aspects of the world I was living in, I would ensure that no one living under my power would suffer while under my care.

My conscience mollified, I decided to go to sleep. Not an easy thing to do as, unlike my conscience, my libido was now wide awake, and constantly reminding me that a more than willing Gabrielle Union was in the next room. Eventually, though, I did get to sleep, but it was a fitful sleep, filled with dreams where a nude and willing Gabrielle Union figured significantly.

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The next morning, I was awakened by the telephone ringing by my bed. My eyes feeling as if they were welded shut, I grope around with my arm to pick it up.

"Your wake-up call, Mr. Johnson. Its 6:30 a.m. Miss Helena left you a coffee tray in your sitting room."

I mumbled a thank you as I got out of my bed, put on my robe and walked/stumbled into my sitting, the room adjacent to my bedroom that served as a waiting room of sorts for servants who weren't 'chambermaids', so as not to disturb me while I was in flagrante delicto with a chambermaid.

Sitting on an end table by one of the chairs in the room was a single cup of coffee. I took one sip and almost sprayed the contents of my mouth all over my sitting room. The coffee in that cup had to be the strongest, thickest and definitely most bitter cup of coffee I had ever tasted. I was later to learn that my Uncle had the habit of having such a cup of coffee left for him to wake him up in the morning, a habit that Helena had wisely deduced I would want to continue. With a grimace on my face, I finished the cup of coffee and found myself wide awake.

I poked my head into Gabrielle's bedroom, and found her still sleeping, a wide smile on her face, which put a big smile on my own mug. Taking a quick shower, I dressed for a day in town, and then went down to the dining room, finding a pot of coffee, a plate of breakfast and Thales waiting for me at the table. "Thought that was you coming down the stairs, Mr. Johnson, so I made sure your breakfast was on the table when you got here."

"Thanks, Helena," I answered, eyeing the coffee pot warily as I sat in front of my breakfast plate. Helena saw where my eyes were resting, and laughed.

"Don't you worry, Mr. Johnson, that there is good coffee. Not like the coffee you had this morning."

"I hope not, Helena. I think my body couldn't handle more than one cup of that kind of coffee in a day." Helena laughed again as she poured me a cup, and I was reassured by the aroma drifting up towards me. I was later to learn that the household I had inherited kept bags of different types of coffee beans for different parts of the day, and that Helena could have put the best baristas of my world or hers to shame.

Helena was about to leave me and Thales to our discussion (like any good majordomo, Helena was a master at anticipating the desires of the head of the household, even one new to me), when I asked her to join us as well. Somewhat warily, she sat down and let me talk her into pouring herself a cup of coffee of her own.

"I want both of you to start thinking about moving."

There was a look of alarm on both their faces before I reassured them, "No, I'm not talking about getting rid of you. I'm talking about all of us moving. I mean, this is a very nice house." Which was an understatement, to say the least. The house I had inherited was several thousand square feet, with all the amenities of the modern world as this universe defined modernity. "But we're in a residential neighborhood. Which limits the things me and Thales can experiment on. I'd like some room. And, I want to make sure you and everyone in the household is happier to wherever we're moving, Helena. Think about what you'd like in your new kitchen, Helena. And your living quarters. Think about what can be done to make things easier for people to keep up with friends and family they might be moving away from. Don't limit yourself when you're coming up with your list."

I almost started laughing at the gape jawed look Helena and Thales were giving me. I knew in this world that it was simply unheard of for a white man to really look out for the welfare of his indentured black servants. Oh, the head of the household might throw a minor celebration for a valued servant like Helena and Thales when they turned fifty or sixty. He might go the trouble of making sure his chief cook had the most modern appliances. But he would probably only have the vaguest idea of the living quarters his indentured servants lived in, and wouldn't ever give them much thought.

Seeing that near empty room of Gabrielle's had almost broken my heart, and it made me hope that, as small as the rooms Helena and Thales must inhabit, that they had at least something in them that connected them to other people. Which led to host of other questions like, where did the children of my servants stay? How were they taken care of? What kind of education did they get?

I would have to address these and other questions in the near future. For now, it was enough to get that ball rolling in the minds of my two senior servants. I would have to undoubtedly expand on Helena's initial list, but it would be a start.

"And me and you, Thales, aren't going to have to have the biggest and best lab you could imagine. It's going to be bigger than you could possibly imagine."

Thales just shook his head in disbelief. Helena took this moment to laugh as she stood up, "I'll let you two men get to your doodling. And Thales, I'm trusting you to make sure yours and Mr. Johnson's breakfast don't get cold."

Me and Thales chorused, "Yes, ma'am," which made Helena laugh even harder. As she left the room, I heard her chuckle to herself, "Strangest white man I've ever met."

Between bites of egg and ham, me and Thales lined out what would be our dream lab, as well as the interim lab on our present property. When Thales asked very deferentially if I could afford all this, I replied, "Don't you worry, Thales. My uncle not only left me a good chunk of change, but I already have my first idea. But I'm going to need you to take me out to the port. Well, after we drop by the bank, that is." A thought had come to me as I had sipped my coffee and thought about bags of coffee beans. I wasn't sure, but I had hunch that this world had never had a Malcom Purcell McLean or his equivalent. His invention alone was sure to pad my bank account enough to let me put my plans into motion.

Before Thales could question me about my idea, Helena returned to the dining room. If I had known Helena a little longer, her body language alone would set off alarms in my head. Unfortunately, I was completely oblivious to the warning signs her stance was sending me. Even the neutrality of her tone when she announced that there was a visitor awaiting me in the front parlor didn't alert me.

"Mr. Hall did say he would be coming by today," I answered. "Actually, I'm glad he came by. I wanted to see if his firm had a patent lawyer on its staff. I need to make sure me and Thales are covered," I said with a smile to my household electrician.

"No, sir, it's not Mr. Hall," Helena said, the grimace never leaving her face. "It's Mr. Whiten, one of your neighbors."

"Fred Whiten?" I asked, my eyes immediately focusing on Helena.

"Yes, sir, I believe that's Mr. Whiten's Christian name." I should have noticed the distaste in Helena's voice, or the odd way she said 'Christian' when she admitted that Mr. Whiten's first name was Fred. But to be truthful, I was too excited to notice any of these telltale signs.

Back in my universe, Fred Whiten was not only my neighbor, he was one of my best friends. I knew it was irrational, since my Fred Whiten couldn't have followed me into this universe, and that the Benjamin Johnson of this universe had probably never even met this universe's Fred Whiten. Still, I felt as if getting to meet this world's Fred Whiten had to be a good omen.

Boy, was I in for a rude awakening.