Blac Alexis Dominates White

The 18-year-old black girl seemed to be intrigued, yet amused by the 37-year-old southern-belle who remained on one knee before her. It was apparent that she had noticed Terry looking over towards us from the waitress' station for several minutes earlier. In some sort of strange way it seemed as if Alexis Barron was testing her.

"How long have you been a waitress?" Alexis asked.

Terry's cheeks were a scarlett red as she looked into the eyes of the young woman that she felt curiously intimidated by. One could tell that she was struggling to speak as Alexis questioned her position at the Le' Tour Cafe.

"J-Just 7 months, Miss." the blonde woman answered.

The older southern-belle appeared insulted by the young black woman's condescending question. Alexis Barron took another drag of her cigarette and paused for a longer period of time.

"Well, you're a good waitress." Alexis stated.

"Th-Thank you, Miss." Terry replied nervously.

After another decisively long pause, the beautiful black teenager continued the questioning of the older blonde woman waitress.

"Why so short of the time?" she asked her. "You're like 40, aren't you?" she added.

The inside insult of the white waitress seemed to make her face grow flush. She explained that she was still in her mid to late 30's. She told the younger Alexis that she had lost her job almost a year ago. She also told the young black woman that she had been an assistant manager for a medical research corporation for 11 years before her position was eliminated.

"Are you married, white girl?" Alexis Barron asked her.

"No, M-Miss." Terry replied, humbly.

Alexis dashed her cigarette out and continued studying the older white woman who remained on one knee before her chair at the cafe. Not once did she look back towards me suffering at the bottoms of her dirty bare feet. Yet, her feet were so arrogantly active as she almost "smeared" the bottoms and the tops of her toes across my lips, chin and nose. I sat there and remained embarrassed and afraid to move an inch.

The 18-year-old black woman began to explain to Terry that she may be able to provide an office position for her in the near future if, in fact, she met her criteria and expectations. I could not tell if the mid 30's blonde woman was pleased to hear this, or if she felt humiliated.

"O-Okay, Miss." she simply answered.

"Write your phone number on the receipt when we leave and I'll see what I can do. For now, bring me two fresh napkins." Alexis ordered.

"Yes, Miss. Thank you, Miss." Terry answered as she finally stood up and walked away.

A few moments later, the older white waitress returned with two of the large white cloth napkins then handed them to Alexis Barron. She then turned on her heels and left, not once making eye contact with me.

Curiously, I sat there and watched the black teenager unfolding and then refolding the white cloth napkins. She did so slowly and methodically. She then placed her sunglasses back on and looked towards me. Rudely, she tossed one of the napkins onto my lap.

"My feet are a little too dirty to put my sandals back on. Come over here to where that waitress was and wipe 'em for me." Alexis ordered, pointing to the concrete ground to her side.

I almost could not believe my ears. I hesitated and my eyes grew larger, like a deer in the headlights on a dark country road. I couldn't even feel my body at this point as she stared directly into my eyes with a serious and commanding attitude. It was like she wanted to further humiliate me right there and she wasn't taking no for an answer.

"B-But, Alexis ... p-please?" I murmured, almost pleading for her to change her mind.

I felt so intimidated by her request. I couldn't imagine feeling so degraded by the though of what she was demanding of me now. The petite black woman had been bullying me around all day. Now, she was insisting that I clean her bare feet in the outdoor part of a chic restaurant.

The 18-year-old black woman grew angrier by my hesitation and futile pleading.

"Now!" she ordered, removing her dirt-covered feet from it's resting position on my upper chest.

I was so nervous and intiidated by this young black woman, just as I have been since the moment I met her. I didn't know what I was thinking at that particular moment except that I didn't want to anger her, or to create a worse scene than what she had already created. I simply nodded, in agreement. Then, I took the cloth napkin in my hands and moved to the concrete ground to the right side of Alexis Barron. Pathetically, I went to one knee and looked up towards her beautiful face. I wondered what I was to do next. I truly felt demoralized.

Alexis Barron added further humiliation by placing one of her bare feet onto my left shoulder before bending forward. She unscrewed the cap of the small bottle of Evian water she had then gently poured some of it onto one of her dirty feet. Thoroughly embarrassed, I began to wash the dirty foot of the black teenaged woman right there in the Le'Tour Cafe, using one of the cloth napkins. She added further instruction during this humbling and degarding act.

"Make sure you get all the dirt off. In between my toes, too." she ordered.

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I answered, my face feelin flush.

The smaller black woman seemed pleased by my compliance. The utter degradation I was feeling was surreal. It took nearly 10 minutes to clean the dirt from her right foot as she now leaned back in a more authoritative position, lighting another cigarette. She ordered me to dry her foot with the other cleaner white cloth napkin before repeating the humiliating duty with her other foot.

I couldn't even begin to comprehend what any of the other older white women who might have noticed would be thinking. To them, seeing me being made to kneel before a black woman and washing her bare feet clean in a public place had to shock them. It took close to 20 minutes to finish washing and drying Alexis Barron's bare feet.

"My sandals now." she ordered.

My hands were trembling as I placed the young black woman's sandals back onto her size 5 feet. I struggled to fasten the small gold buckles around her delicate ankles. When finished, Alexis was ready to leave the cafe. She stood up and motioned for our waitress, Terry, to bring over the check.

When she arrived, Alexis took the check and handed it to me.

"Tip her well, bitch." she ordered.

I just nodded a simple "yes" and paid in cash because I was so anxious and desparate to leave the restaurant. I gave Terry a $10.00 tip before grabbing all the bags and our purses then rushed towards the exit of the Le'Tour Cafe. The 18-year-old black woman was already so far ahead of me and walking towards another store in a more determined fashion.

With bags in hand, I had to literally scurry to catch up to her. Alexis wanted to stop in another two stores before we departed. And, she did.

These two last stores we stopped into seemed to have a different feeling for me. The older white store clerks stared much more than any of the other stores we had been in that day. I could not understand the reason for this, at the time. But, the looks I received from both the shop clerks and the other customers were so blatantly humiliating. It was almost as if they all stopped dead in their tracks and dropped their own shopping bags to watch us. They stared at me in a much more blatant and curious way than ever before. And, I could feel they were genuinely humiliated for me.

The last two stores added another 2 shopping bags to my load, and the black woman took at least 20 minutes in each of these stores. Casually, she headed for the arched mall entrance nearest to the parking lot as I followed behind, subserviently.

The 15 minute walk was exhausting for me since the small, black teenager took so much time to get there. She continued to walk in such an exaggerated slow motion as numerous of other shoppers passed us by from both directions. Many, if not all of them seemed to look at us in a way that I shall never forget. Again, at this time, I still did not know the reason for these much different and noticeable stares.

When Alexis Barron arrived at the stone arched entrance of the outdoor mall, she stopped.

"Go fetch the car." she ordered.

Defeatedly, I began to head towards the parking lot and to my parked BMW nearly 300 yards away as the black woman waited at the entrance. I was still carrying the numerous shopping bags and our purses as I began my long trip. I was walking slowly since I was so tired and exhausted from this long day when I heard Alexis Barron shout towards me when I was only 25 yards away.

"Faster, idiot!" she yelled.

Upon hearing her loud and noticeable voice, I looked back towards the young black woman standing there with her hands on her hips. I could see several others reacting to her shouting and gazing in amazement of her. I picked up my pace and rushed towards my car and unloaded the many bags into the trunk and back seat. I was feeling so rushed and flustered at this particular moment that I simply started my car and turned on the air, never looking in the mirrors at all. I felt so panicked to get back to Alexis Barron before she grew angrier by the time it took to retrieve her.

When I arrived, I hesitated for a moment as Alexis stood there with her arms crossed. For a moment I had forgotten to get out and open the passenger car door for her, but then suddenly realized my mistake. I scurried back around to get the door for her while noticing at least 8 other older white women shoppers standing there watching us in awe.

I could not make eye contact with them. I was so ashamed and humiliated by the control Alexis had over me already. The looks on the shopper's faces were one of astonishment as the bold and unimagineably arrogant black teenager made a complete fool of me.

As I entered the driver's seat of my car I began to shift the gear to drive when Alexis stopped me.

"Wait." she ordered.

I shifted back into a parked position and loked over to her.

"Where's my purse?" she asked.

At the time, I was unsure and looked at Alexis Barron confused. Immediately, I got out of the car when I realized that I had left her purse in the trunk of my car, dumping it there with many of the other shopping bags. I "popped" the trunk open and quickly got out, going around to the back to fetch the black woman's purse. I handed it to her and she literally snatched it from my weak grip in a rather annoying manner. I simply sat there for a moment as she began rummaging through her purse. That is when I finally looked at my face in the rear view mirror.

I was astonished and demoralized beyond words at what I had finally realized and noticed. It was unfathomable.

As little Alexis ignored me and continued to search through her small purse, I sat back for just a moment and waited. The cool air from the air conditioning of my car began to provide a small measure of relief, and I unthinkingly glanced into the rear view mirror. That is when I noticed a very full and obvious dirt print of Alexis Barron's toes and foot on my open forehead. In shock, I grabbed the mirror with my right hand and manuevered it into a position to look closer.

My forehead had an extremely dark brown almost full foot print of the black woman's toes and the ball of her foot pressed onto it. Furthermore, both of my pale cheeks had the same imprint of dark, dried up muddy toes and the ball of her feet on them. They were all so degradingly obvious that I nearly fainted from the humiliation of how this young woman was making me walk around the mall. My nose, chin and lips were also smeared with a bold and blatant amount of dirt from her bare feet, but the toe and partial foot prints were the most degrading of all.

It crossed my mind that this was the reason for all those unusual and more obvious looks of awe from the other shoppers. Now, I knew the reason.

I felt so defeated. There I was, walking around the mall with a dirty nose and chin, and the dried up mud from the black woman's toes imprinted on my cheeks and forehead like some sort of tattoo of shame. I grew almost dizzy by the shame I was feeling as I turned to Alexis Barron.

She did not comment on my look of awe. Rather, she seemed disturbed by not being able to find what she was looking for.

"Where's the receipt from the cafe?" she asked.

I had thought that Alexis grabbed the receipt with our waitress' phone number on it as I paid the bill, but this was not the case.

"I-I don't know, M-Ma'am." I answered.

"Well, go back and fucking get it!" Alexis scowled.

"Y-Yes, Ma'am. I'm sorry. I'll go and ..." I began to answer as I grabbed a tissue from the arm rest compartment of my car. I began to bring the tissue to my face to wipe off the dirty toes prints from my face when the young black woman literally grabbed my wrist to stop me.

"Now!" she ordered.

She took the tissue from my hand and I exited the car to return to the Le'Tour cafe to get the receipt and phone number from the southern-belle waitress.

Ashamed, I walked hurriedly through the outdoor mall to get back to the cafe. My face was still dirty with the dried up mud from her toes and feet imprinted all over my forehead and cheeks. It took me nearly 10 minutes to get back there.

When I approached our waitress Terry, she was startled to see me. Embarrassingly, I told her that I had lost the receipt. I could not look at her for more than a second as I felt so demoralized. But, I could tell she was flustered and nervous about printing another receipt and adding her phone number to the bottom. Her writing had visibly shook as she did so.

I didn't even return a "thank you." I merely grabbed the receipt and rushed off back to my car where Alexis Barron waited. Once again, walking past virtually dozens of other shoppers trying to hide my face from their view. I felt so ashamed but I was so scared that if I had wiped my face clean from the dirty toe prints, Alexis would have become angry. My thoughts were so mixed at this time. I wondered how I could even allow such a thing to be happening to me. I didn't know. All I knew was that the 18-year-old black woman intimidated me like no other person had. I didn't want her to slap me again, and I certainly was afraid of another confrontation with her.

By the time I returned to the car where Alexis sat cooling herself in the air conditioning, I was even more exhausted. I entered my car and immediately handed her the receipt. She did not return a word as I shifted my car into the drive mode and began the trip home.

Not once did I think about anyone else ever seeing my dirty imprinted face, but in retrospect I am sure they did. We finally arrived back at my home 10 minutes later and I felt almost relieved that we were no longer in public.

The end of this most demoralizing day in public was finally and mercifully over. But, the end of this Saturday was not.