Marge's Brother
(Chapter 16 of The Whites, Copyright 2006 by IR Inc.)
After barely exchanging more than a few words with her neighbors, the Whites, in the first few months after they'd moved in, Jo and Marge White had become fast friends. They went shopping together, swam in each other's pools--Marge often swam in the nude, something the more timid Jo had never even thought of doing--and if Marge had a gathering in her home then Jo would always be invited.
Jo couldn't really reciprocate the latter's invitations. She'd had almost no social life since her husband died. In fact, if Marge had not been such an outgoing person, Jo probably would have continued to spend her afternoons alone in her garden or curled up on the couch each evening in front of the TV.
Jo had met Marge's husband, though he'd done little more than grunt a greeting following the introduction. Mr. White seemed always to be away working or, when home, on the telephone. Marge explained, in somewhat more detail than Jo would have preferred, that once in bed with Marge though, phone and business were forgotten, and all Mr. White's energy was hers for the taking. "He is satisfied; I is satisfied."
Jo got to meet Noble, Marge's fifteen year old--a shy boy, sturdily built like his father, who apparently had a crush on Jo, for once Marge showed me Jo collection of snapshots the boy had on the wall above his bed. All were of Jo, and though Jo was always fully dressed in the pictures, they made more of her small breasts filmed in profile than she'd ever dreamed possible.
She'd also met a dozen or more of Marge's friends, for Marge appeared to be the center of her social circle. If they weren't playing cards of a morning or an afternoon, then she and one or two of her intimates would be in her kitchen discussing men. Jo was always invited to join.
One member of Marge's family, Jo hadn't met was Marge's brother.
He'd been described variously by Marge's friends as "dreamy," "super handsome," or "you've simply got to meet him." Jo wasn't quite sure how she would react if she did meet him. To be brutally honest, Marge was her first and only African-American friend. She'd never dated a black man and Jo wasn't quite sure she would want to.
She was sure Marge sensed her hesitation as unlike Marge's friends, Marge didn't go gushing on about her brother, though she seemed to enjoy matchmaking when the two were out together, suggesting half-jokingly that perhaps some young waiter or a bewildered looking male who'd wandered by chance into a section of a department store set aside for woman's clothing would make an ideal mate for her.
"I'm happy being alone," Jo would say, but, of course, Jo wasn't and Marge knew it.
The night Jo met Marge's brother, Marge's house was filled with
company. There'd been a barbecue on the back lawn; Jo hadn't had much more than salad, though the rest of the guests ate heartily, and Jo was always being offered meat, usually by a married man whose wife would be quick to follow and pull him away.
Noble lurked in the background, looking forlorn, and staring at Jo whenever he felt she wasn't looking at back him. Jo knew this because Velma, one of Marge's few single friends, was quick to point it out. "Another year older," Velma said to her, "And maybe Jo better take care of his needs for someone else does. You best hurry." A statement no more outrageous than the ones Velma usually make.
When Jo asked why Velma bothered to hang around, for as far as Jo could see Noble was the only single man at Marge's party, she said, "I's waiting for Reggie. He supposed to be coming. He is so handsome. I could just eat him up."
"You already tried that," Marge interjected sneaking up on them, for as a good hostess she seemed to be everywhere at once. "He was just too much for you to swallow."
"Ain't that the truth."
Jo was the only one of the three of them to blush though she'd yet to meet the brother.
D.After everyone had eaten, the crowd on the lawn
gradually melted away. Most of the couples excusing themselves to go home or to a movie or to wherever they planned to spend the rest of the evening, while Mr. White and his cronies disappeared into the basement to watch a taped game on the TV.
This left Velma and Marge and Jo alone on the lawn, along with Noble who was swinging on the door to the house until he was instructed by his mother to go finish his homework.
They heard him holler "Uncle Reggie," and then Marge's brother put in his appearance.
He was exceptionally attractive, tall, handsome, and broad shouldered, though not overly muscular as Mr. White was and as his son was gradually becoming, more like a tennis pro than a football player.
In fact, he had been playing tennis. That was what had kept him. That and a long shower afterward. "I'd like to have seen that," said Velma, but he didn't rise to the bait.
Velma and Marge scurried to fix him a plate of food from the leavings of the barbecue, but it seemed he had eyes only for Jo.
He talked almost exclusively with her while he ate, small talk, the casual conversation any couple are liable to have on a first date.
Jo amused herself by wondering if he'd try to kiss her sometime that evening and thought yes, Jo will kiss him back. They were in Mr. White's study a half hour or so later when he did try. They kissed and then his hand reached up and pulled her blouse out of his skirt. Jo said, "Aren't we going just a little bit fast."
He did not reply, but instead sat down behind the desk in Mr. White's big chair where he sat for a few moments, studying her, his eyes roaming over every part of her body. "Come here," he said finally.
She inched closer and then, abruptly, he reached out and pulled her into his lap. She tried to get up, but the position was awkward and he was very strong. Besides, when he kissed her again, she kissed him back.
Only when he began to unbutton her blouse, did she start to struggle and then, with both her hands clasped behind her back in one of his, there was not much she could do. Jo looked all around for help and saw that the door to the study was open.
Well, he's not going to rape me, she thought. "If you don't stop, I'll scream," she said.
"You ever kiss a black man before? No, you don't mind the kissing." He kissed her again, releasing her hands. Automatically, these had risen to embrace his head. She loved the feel of his curly black hair.
The kissing went on for some time, his hands sliding up under her blouse again and pushing away her bra. She said, "No," but he had her nipple in his mouth and then her entire breast.
His hand went between her legs but she pressed her thighs firmly together and he seemed content to leave it there inches from the target.
Coming up for air, he said, "You have gorgeous breasts."
"They're small," Jo said.
"But they're perfect. And you've got those wonderful freckles." And he proceeded to kiss every one of those freckles and Jo was starting to think shouldn't we close the study door and then, shouldn't we stop, wait for a second date or a third.
"You ever make love to a black man? Suck his cock."
"I don't intend to make love to one now."
She couldn't believe what he'd said about his cock, about sucking it. She hadn't said "No" because he was black--he really wasn't black as Marge White and her husband was black, but was more of a cafe au lait color--but because they'd only just met and they'd already gone too far.
'You probably think all us black men carry straight razors." And the next moment Jo was looking at her reflection in the long sharp blade of the razor that he'd removed from his jacket pocket. He held the razor close to her jaw, then brought it along the curve of her neck, down, down until it nestled against the breast he'd nuzzled only a few moments before. Momentarily, she had stopped breathing
"Be terrible to cut this off," he said.
Jo looked all about her, saw the open doorway, and thought someone will come by, they'll see me, they'll stop him.
"You pretty much of a tease," he said.
She shook her head. "I didn't mean to be."
"Gets me all excited and then you jess want to walk away like that."
