My parents divorced when I was very young. My father's earning potential was far greater than my mother's and so when my dad choose to leave the country he was allowed to take the kids with him. I did not like the idea of only seeing my mother bi-annually, but knew being under his care was a much better situation.
Adding to the logic of the move, my new home was located in a much safer place than I came from. My home country suffered greatly from crime and poverty. My family was one of the wealthy few, but our gates did not always provide enough protection.
For every year I spent where I was born our house had at least one break in, thankfully no one was ever hurt. To gain full custody, my father argued it was just a matter of time, and he was right. The logic behind leaving my mother was just too convincing to my brain, although not enough to sway what I felt in my heart.
Partially due to the lower crime and poverty rates, things were very different where I grew up than they were in my new home. Some may say things were politically incorrect in my place of birth, and that may be true, but I'm not trying to initiate a moral debate.
Thanks to my family's wealth I had a large house back home, and it required a matching population of staff to keep things running. Men to drive and protect my family, women to clean our messes and cook/serve our meals. My family members differed from the staff in many ways, almost as blatant as the economic divide was a difference in skin colour.
In the back of my mind I guess I always felt a little bad that just because our eyes were a little bluer our opinions were more valuable. What was I supposed to do about it though? An adolescent girl only ranked a little higher than a person of darker skin and this was almost entirely based on the fact she would become a Caucasian adult.
Anyways I moved away to a new place where this wasn't an issue. It took me a little while to get used to the changes, but I probably came around a little quicker thanks to my previously silent reservations.
In my first year of college I used the week break to visit my mother, finally as an eighteen year old. As an adult woman, my mother and I were able to enjoy each other's company much more now.
Opinions back home did not change as fast as my own but things had become very different. Previously a white girl being seen in a social situation with a black man was pretty much asking for a hate crime. Now though, interracial couplings were more tolerated, some white women even had black husbands.
My family's main driver and cook when I was little were husband and wife. They had a son my age, who was often around our home. I tried to be friendly with the boy, but because of status I was never allowed to make a meaningful connection.
In advance of my visit, I had contacted this former little boy to see if he wanted to get together. I could hangout with him now that it was socially accepted. I wanted to explain that I was just a victim of the times and if it were up to me we would have been friends a long time ago.
My trip was only six days long and so I spent much of each day visiting my mother, but the evenings were free for me to do whatever I wanted.
I called the boy after dinner on my first night.
"Hi, is Michael in?" I asked.
"Yes he is, just one second." The woman answered.
I waited on the other end while she fetched him. It was probably his mother who picked up. Gosh, I hadn't seen her in a million years either.
Soon a man's voice broadcast through the phone line, "hello, this is Michael."
"Hi Michael, so nice to hear your voice. This is Sam, do you remember me?"
"Of course, the little girl my parents used to work for. Or big girl now I guess."
"Yes it has been a long time, you sound very different. I bet you look nothing like you did before."
"A little different, how's about you see for yourself, that way I will get to see how you have matured as well."
"That sounds like a great idea! I am here all week, when do you want to get together?"
"Well I am free tonight, maybe we could catch a drink?"
"Ya that works for me. I am just staying at my mother's."
"She still lives in the same house?"
"Yup."
"Perfect, I'll be by in a bit to pick you up."
With that we both hung up. I did not expect our meeting to be so soon, I had to get ready in a hurry. I grabbed a quick shower to get squeaky clean. I had picked out a sexy little number to wear that night, a tight top and a short skirt that would flatter my curves. I was blessed with a great set of D tits, so I learned to dress in a way that drew eyes to my cleavage. I wanted the rest of my body to look as good so I exercised regularly.
I was a little self conscious about my looks still, so I usually applied a healthy amount of make up to cover any of my perceived facial imperfections. I had become an expert painter, enhancing all my facial features, but still keeping that natural look.
As a final check on my canvas I sat in front of the mirror running a comb through my long blonde hair. My looks garnered a passing grade so I started to get dressed.
"So what do you think?" I asked my mother.
I did a spin to display 100% of myself.
"I thought this wasn't anything special." She responded.
"Ya, but...I want to look good anyways."
"...and you always do."
"Thanks mom."
I sat to wait for Michael on my mother's couch. It wasn't very long before the door bell rang.
"That's probably for me, I'll get it." I announced.
I opened the door to find out either I was right, or a young black man had come to visit with mom.
"Michael? Is that really you?"
"Sam, it has been too long, you have blossomed into a beautiful young woman."
"Thanks, you are very handsome too."
The first thing I noticed when opening the door was his height. He was at least three times the size he was when we were kids. A good six foot and built like a house. I could tell he had impressive muscles hidden underneath his clothes. He must have been an athlete, unless he just kept in shape to impress old friends!
He had his hair cut very short. If not for a slight dusting he would have been completely bald.
His hazel eyes seemed bottomless, I'm not sure if it was them or his great smile, either way I was entranced by his looks.
"So are you ready to go?" He asked.
I was too busy admiring his good looks to break my silence, so I just nodded my response.
It was a warm night, I did not need a jacket, just a pair of shoes and I was ready to go.
I followed him out to his car. It was nothing special, but what little money he had he knew how to spend. He drove a sleek black sedan with tinted windows. All in all I couldn't think it cost him too much, but it looked like a car you'd expect a movie star to step out of. We got in and he drove us to the bar.
He ordered a beer, I had a virgin cranberry juice. I went for the non alcoholic option for a couple of reasons. I didn't think this was a proper situation to get sloppy drunk, and honestly I didn't have a tonne of cash so the inexpensive option was an added attraction. We sat at a small table together, the intimate setting gave us a very good opportunity to catch up.
