The first time I laid eyes on Amber Tate, I knew I wanted her. The short-haired, curvy, somewhat masculine white chick with the short dark hair, large breasts, wide hips and big round butt simply took my breath away. Clad in a short-sleeved white T-shirt, blue jeans and a baseball cap, the twenty-something tomboy looked hotter than most of the women I'd seen in town. Of course, I had only been in the beautiful State of Alaska for a month and the people up here were an odd lot but I still know a pretty lady when I see one.
Tasty-looking dame, I thought, and licked my lips in anticipation. Then I saw the rainbow flag sticker on her backpack, and sighed in disappointment. Of course, I thought, shaking my head. The gal just had to be a lesbian. And a rainbow-flag sporting one too. Probably militant as hell. Great. Now, don't think I'm a homophobe. Hell, I am a bisexual man. I find both women and men attractive, I just happen to prefer the ladies. That's all.
I don't know why, when I am drawn to a female, I often feel attracted to obviously unavailable women. The last crush I had, a hijab-wearing Muslim gal named Fatima Al-Zahran, was both married and out of my league. Why do I do this to myself? The woman was forty years old, and I met her in my university library. We became friends, and flirted a lot, but nothing ever came of it. That's it for me and the ladies. When it comes to guys, I like them tall and masculine. Unfortunately, annoying effeminate bozos tend to be attracted to me. I avoid them like the plague. I just can't have what I want. Story of my life.
Oh, snap. I guess I forget myself sometimes. You must be wondering who this is. My name is Stephen, a big and tall young Black man living in the City of Juneau, Alaska. I moved there after graduating from Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. After earning my bachelor's degree in Criminology, I felt like getting out of Canada for a while and somehow, I ended up in Alaska. In a town where people of color are rare, I get stared at a lot. That's okay, though. A lifetime in Canada's Capital region, which is whiter than snow ( with the exception of the Greater Toronto area of course ) pretty much prepared me for it.
Anyhow, back to the story at hand. I've always had a thing for tomboys, masculine women, butch chicks, whatever they want to be called. Like a lot of brothers, I find white women quite appealing. I guess it's true what they say about opposites attracting. I approached the lady casually as she walked into my corner of the supermarket, and asked her about fresh fruits. Smiling at me, the butch gal asked me if I was the vegan type. I couldn't keep a straight face. Not even to save my life, I replied, laughing.
Grinning, the lady nodded and told me she felt the same way. I smiled and nodded. The gal was even better-looking up close. Dark brown eyes, short spiky black hair, and a round, animated face. Friendly eyes, too, and not the stern gaze I expected. Oh, and she smelled sweet, too. Her perfume was strong, and very feminine. I don't know what I expected a butch woman to smell like. I guess I expected her to wear Old Spice instead of whatever girly, fruity and flowery scent she was sporting. Nice accent, the butch lady said, snapping me out of my reverie. Where are you from? she asked, licking her lips.
My name is Stephen and I'm from Canada, I said proudly, extending my hand for her to shake. The butch lady smiled faintly, and shook my hand. Her grip was firm, but not unusually so. Nice to meet you Stephen I'm Amber Tate, she said. I smiled and we bantered a bit. Amber was not what I expected. The lady had a thousand questions about Canada. We just stopped in the middle of Aurora Foods, one of Alaska's biggest grocery store chains, and chatted each other up. Hot damn.
Well, I was happy to talk to Amber about anything, especially my homeland. In an odd way, Alaska reminds me of Canada, especially the Prairies. Lots of white folks, lots of Natives, lots of people with guns. That's how Ontario used to be before immigrants from Africa, the Middle East and South Asia changed its demographics and the Liberal party took over its politics. Of course, Americans tend to know very little about Canada so I found it refreshing that Amber Tate was genuinely curious.
Always wanted to visit the great white north, Amber said, grinning. Not for the first time I noticed that she had a lovely smile. I smiled and winked. Sometimes I push my luck and overstep my boundaries but, dammit, I'm new in town and don't know anybody besides my landlord Mr. Moffatt and Lester, the old dude down the hall from me in my apartment building. I'd love to tell you more over a cup of coffee, I told Amber. The lady took a deep breath, and I braced myself for rejection. And it never came. Sounds good to me, Amber said, grinning, then she told me her digits. I nodded casually and punched her number into my Blackberry. Cool, I said, and wished her a good day.
I watched Amber Tate go, and had to smile. Rainbow-flag sporting Butch chick or not, the way her big round ass looked in them blue jeans had my full attention. I totally want to hit that, I said to myself, and smiled. I went home that night and called her up. I'm not a believer in waiting two days to call a broad after getting her digits. I was on a fact-finding mission. Was Amber Tate single? Was she feeling me? Yeah, she's kind of masculine-looking, with the short hair, tattoos and rainbow flag but her body language said 'interested' when I was talking to her. Unless I misread her and imagined things. Nah, I'm a very realistic kind of brother.
Amber Tate picked up on the third ring and greeted me warmly. Hello stranger, she said happily, and told me she'd been expecting my call. Very astute of you Miss Tate, I laughed, and started chatting her up. I learned that she was originally from the City of Tacoma, Washington, and moved to Alaska to be closer to her elderly aunt Gertrude who lived in Juneau in a big house full of cats. Family is everything, I said, and Amber laughed. I'm recovering from a foot injury and learning to be active again, she said, and I saw an opening. Let me take you to play paintball, I said, crossing my fingers. This was the moment of truth. What would Amber Tate say?
Sounds good to me, Amber replied, and I grinned broadly. The next day, I met Amber at this quaint little paintball shop called Tag Zone in downtown Juneau, and we had some fun. For a big gal, Amber was surprisingly quick on her feet. Still, I'm an expert when it comes to paintball and this resourceful amateur couldn't escape from me. End result? I shot Amber Tate in the butt with my paintball gun and while falling she got a lucky shot that caught me on the shoulder.
Ouch, Amber yelped, rubbing her big round butt. Apparently it stung. My bad, I said, and gave her a hand up. Amber batted my hand away, and instead lashed out with her foot. Damn, I didn't even see her foot move and she kicked my legs out from under me. I fell on my black ass, and Amber leapt on top of me. Man, the butch chick pinned me down. I used to wrestle guys in high school, Amber crowed proudly, and I groaned. I'm six-foot-two by 250 pounds and Amber is a fairly big gal. Not that I minded a big, beautiful, sexily masculine woman on top of me but damn....yeah.
Alright I give, I said, holding my hands up in surrender. Amber looked at me, an amused look in her dark eyes. Taking off her visor, she smirked. Never underestimate me, she laughed, and got off me. Yeah right, I said, and rose to my feet. Nice game for a beginner, I said, and Amber smirked. Let me buy you dinner, I offered, and she gladly accepted. We went to the nearby Milano's Pizzeria, and grabbed a bite. Man, butch women can eat! Four slices of pizza, two sandwiches and three Pepsis later, Amber and I were still at it.
