Special thanks to 11_Carlton for his wonderful editing advice. Enjoy.
Chapter 1
Sweat beaded on his muscular black body as he restlessly shifted in his bed. Oh shit, he thought, what have I gotten myself into? Just last week he had a normal if somewhat predictable life. Now, some woman he really didn’t care to have around was sharing his apartment. Well, he considered, I guess that’s what I get for being such a fucking nice guy, a little white woman in my spare bedroom. Lucky me! With a long sigh, Damion got out of bed, his naked body cooling in the night air. Maybe his old friend Jack Daniels would help him relax.
As Damion headed down the hall, he let his mind wonder back to the previous week…
As an undercover cop, for the last six months Damion had been hot on the trail of a major car theft ring. After months of paper trails and long boring stake outs, the part of the job Damion loved came into play: The bust. Damion had a thirst for getting the bad guys, watching them try and flee, knowing their asses were going down.
Only this time, Damion was in for the surprise. While checking the suspect building, he found a trap door. My, my, my, what do we have here? Damion thought. The Door led to a dank basement with a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling. The swaying light gave the room a surreal feeling. Thinking back to it gave Damion a chill down his spine.
Along the far wall, chained by both wrists, was a woman. She was small, barley 5’ 2.” She was thin and pale, most likely the whitest woman Damon had ever seen. Her tattered dress was soiled and ripped low, exposing on small white breast with a pale pink nipple that was almost as large as a dime, making a most interesting contrast. Her head hung down, giving Damion a view of pale gold hair, almost silver. It had been cropped short showing her elfin like ears.
Damn, I need a vacation, I’m starting to hallucinate here, Damion thought, as he approached the woman. With one large black hand he reached out and touched her chin, tilted her head back, and checked her vital signs. He figured that she was physically alright. Large round light grey eyes stared back at him out of a tiny round face with a button nose and soft pink lips. A single tear drop clung to her eyelash.
She couldn’t have been more than 21. She had an angelic look on her dirt streaked face. They stared at each other for what seemed a lifetime. “Don’t hurt me,” she pleaded, her low voice trembling.
Back in his bed recapping events, Damion sighed as the whiskey burned its way down his throat. Mister gotta be a nice guy, fuckin’ great, he whispered to himself. Now the girl, Fay was her name, was in his home, a witness under his personal protection, and he was at a loss as to what to do with her.
Chapter 2
When Damion woke the next morning Fay was already up, making him pancakes. She jumped, almost dropping the plate when Damion entered the room. “Oh, sorry,” she said, “I made you breakfast, I hope you don’t mind.” Fay hung her head and nervously shifted her weight from foot to foot. She still had on the T-shirt he had given her last night after her ruined clothes had been taken away for forensic evidence. The T-shirt reached just above her knees, which gave her a waif like appearance.
“Hmmmm,” Damion grunted his approval at this look, sat down and started digging in to the food. Fay stood and watched him eat, his hearty appetite giving her a feeling of usefulness.
Damion was not a conventionally handsome man by any means. He was tall, bald with silver hoop earrings, and his thick neck and large shoulders gave him a bull like appearance. He wore only a pair of faded jeans and a tight vest that showed off his washboard stomach and large biceps. With his high cheekbones, flared nostrils and eyes that appeared to be as black as the night sky, he had a savage, almost brutal look. Totally masculine, he was man who oozed a primal sexuality that came across in everything from his walk to his stare. He was a man that made women melt.
Suddenly, he felt Fay staring intently at him. Damion froze. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet hers. She looked awestruck, her face giving out a mass of conflicting messages: fear, admiration and lust among them. Fay herself felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a car as she stood rooted to the spot, with a slow blush crawling up her face. She suddenly bolted into the haven of her temporary bedroom.
Oh God, Fay thought, what on earth had possessed her to stare at this man, practically drooling on him. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. After all, he was a black man; not the kind of man you would want to take your virginity.… would you? She knew she would have to tread lightly; Damion was not a man to play games with.
When Fay finally ventured from her room, Damion had left. All day long thoughts of Damion would intrude on her: Damion leaning over getting a beer from the fridge….Damion holstering his gun…..Damion stretching his long body like a sleek panther.
