All of the characters in this work of fiction are consenting adults who are above the age of eighteen.
Also, I want to thank the great Kenji Sato for his assistance in proofreading this work of eroticism. Please enjoy it responsibly.
Mr_Brady
Paper Cut
"Dammit! Now, what the hell would make me go and do something
stupid
like that?"
"Here, Erin, let me check it out. Oooh, this cut looks really deep. C'mon, we'll go find the first-aid kit and take care of this for you."
Daniel had become just about the best friend I thought I could have over the last six months, after he and I had been hired into the warehouse, cataloging used office equipment. He's a tall, well-built, handsome, dark-complected twenty-one-year-old Black man, who's generally well spoken and witty. All my life, even though I'm married now (at least for the time being), I've always been attracted to, and loved, being around guys who had a good sense of humor and could make me laugh. And Daniel was one of those who didn't have to try very hard to put me in a good mood.
Because I wasn't paying close enough attention to the signs, I didn't think revealing my private personal life to him could work out like it did. With my co-worker being such a good listener, I ended up telling him a lot about Greg's and my issues, even the ones that involved our present non-existent sex life in the bedroom.
Believe me, I found out how much of a charmer Daniel could be. And after a few weeks of going into work and confiding to him how horny I was because I had stopped letting Greg fuck me, that's when my co-worker began dropping hints that if I wanted...he wouldn't mind stepping in and taking care of the sexual needs I was telling him about.
"You know there's plenty of times that people who work with each other can have the...y'know, kinda the friends-with-benefits thing."
"Daniel, c'mon, you shouldn't even kid around about stuff like that. I'm sure Greg's gonna find something here real soon. But until that asshole gets his shit together...well...I'm just tired of having to be the one who's going out and having to make the bacon...that's all."
Even though I'd never hung around with Black guys, or even dated them, before getting married, I could tell that if things were different, and I wasn't with Greg, there might've been a chance with Daniel and me. But there was also the fact that I didn't think he was all that much attracted to me; well, maybe a little. But anyway, as the weeks went on, I had to admit how I was starting to find him creeping into my thoughts more and more. Especially, during those times when I'd have the many fights I did with my husband, about his not finding acceptable employment.
I found he just had a sweetness about him, that made me wonder how he really thought about me. And that sweetness he had, really showed when he was able to make me feel at ease when he and I would talk. As a matter of fact, with just about anything we discussed, he was able to give me his evaluation of how he felt about it. And I really liked that not only was he a great co-worker, but he was becoming a good friend, too.
So much so, that when I'd see the vehicle he sometimes drove to work, I would wonder if I should be a little concerned. But considering how Daniel is, he was able to laugh and joke about it until I was letting my guard down. I still remember the first time I'd seen the dark-brown vehicle out in the parking lot of where we worked.
"What the hell is this thing, Daniel? It looks like one of those freaky vehicles they use in the movies where they kidnap people and you never see them again."
"Well, just because it doesn't have any windows in it; Erin, is that why you're dissing it?"
"Uhhh, it just makes me feel kind of 'funny,' that's all I'm saying."
"I'll have you know this sweet ride is a Savana Cargo van. My brother Nate, he's only a year older than me...well, he's really my half-brother because we've got different daddies. Anyway, he got it from a plumber who was retiring and now he's got the interior tricked out real sweet-like. It may not be the best looking, but you oughta let me show you what it's got on the inside. Just about everything you'd need to have a good time in there. He's even got a bed in it...and it's nice and
soft
."
I found it interesting how his description of the bed being 'nice and soft' gave me the feeling that if I had asked him to let me try it out, it wouldn't have been long until he would have wanted to get my pants off and we would have been lying on that mattress doing something else besides sleeping.
Because of the favorable appraisals I'd gotten through the years, from some of my girlfriends who had slept with Black men, I felt a sudden interest to know what it would be like to have Daniel as a lover. And, even though, I was able to push it out of my mind that day, I couldn't hide the fact that when I got home a little later, I noticed a considerable wet spot in my panties.
And on some days when we'd leave the warehouse at quitting time, there'd be his brother's van parked outside, and Daniel would tease me with his comedic falsetto high-pitched voice...
"You sho you don't want to take a spin in the Midnight Cruiser, Erin? We could ride around and all the brothas and sistas in da 'hood would point at me and say, 'ooh, look at that nigga, he's got hisself a really gorgeous, blonde-haired white girl. And wow-sah, I bet dat bitch even shaves her pussy, too; got it all gussied up for that BBC of his dat she loves. Ooh yeah...she's a beautiful white girl, dat's for sho, nigga.'"
I wasn't sure if he realized it then, but just the way he'd make me laugh and help me forget my problems, drew me even closer to him. And in ways that, at first, I hadn't ever expected it should. After all, I was a married woman.
When my husband, lost his job, I trusted Greg enough to temporarily find a place where I could make enough money until he found something he thought suited him. But the problem ended up that my marvelous, humble hubby insisted there was only one thing he was good at. And the only work he would consider looking for, was modeling for fashion magazines, and when possible, maybe even some television commercials, too.
He and I had met through mutual friends four years ago, when I was twenty and Greg had just turned twenty-two. At first, it was like fireworks going off for me, as far as how I felt about him. My family wasn't too crazy about us being together, though. And they were even less excited for us when about eight months ago, he talked me into moving away from them to the Chicago area, where he assured me there would be plenty of work for him; of course, in modeling.
We had dated for about a year and a half, and then eloped. The main reason we did was due to us not having enough money for a church wedding. My family was pissed, but by then, what could they do about it? I guess about the same as me, after I eventually got fed up with his bullshit antics. Nothing, absolutely nothing.
When we first met, I was really attracted to him because I thought that Greg was just about the best-looking guy I'd ever been with. And it wasn't like I was unattractive. There'd been many people that had told me they thought I was...and I quote, 'a hot, blonde babe.'
I'm not one to brag, but when I look in the mirror and I see my twenty-four-year-old, well-kept body, with my size thirty-four B-cup breasts, and my five-foot-six-inch height, weighing one-hundred-and-twenty pounds; I guess I feel pretty good about myself. But it's my full-looking blonde hair that goes down to well over my shoulders, that a lot of people have complimented me on.
In high school, I never lacked for any boys asking me out, and from what I heard through the grapevine, I even had my share of other girls being jealous over how I attracted most of the handsome males in my classes.
And then after I graduated, I seemed to have my pick of young men I went out with. I even got kind of serious with one. But he went and joined the Marines, and after a few months...I never heard from him again. It's funny, though, about that. I ended up finding out later that he was telling people that he was gay. My girlfriends tried to tell me I deserved better. And I thought I did, too. After a few months, that's when one of the girls I knew from high school, Leslie, told me about this hot, handsome guy Greg, who was a model. He was a buddy of her boyfriend. And then it all started from there.
Well, here I was working this warehouse job these last six months, and Greg assured me that he'd been looking for work 'morning, noon, and night.' But from Monday through Friday, at around six-thirty in the morning, when I would leave the apartment to head to the bus stop, he usually still had his ass planted firmly in the bed, as I was going to work so our bills could barely get paid.
It'd gotten so bad between us that I hadn't even wanted to have sex with Greg in probably the last two, maybe even three months. The fact was I was so fucking pissed at him... I'd lost count. And while we're talking about facts...the other unfortunate fact was, my not having carnal relations with my deadbeat husband was leaving me to be a very horny wife. And those were some of the things I would confide to Daniel. And for some reason, I'd always find him ready to listen when I'd talk about those kinds of things.
But the day that everything changed happened to be a Friday, the last day of the work-week, when I ended up taking an unexpected ride in Daniel's brother's van, the Midnight Cruiser.
It was approximately fifteen minutes before quitting time, and I had plans in my head to spend a leisurely unbothered weekend at home. That's when I grabbed hold of a piece of paper I needed to write a note on. But for some inexplicable reason, when I had it in my hand, the upper edge of it grazed the third finger of my left hand (the same one where I used to wear my wedding ring) giving me a deep paper cut. And to tell you the truth...it stung pretty bad.
Once Daniel and I had started our search through the mostly empty building, trying to find the first-aid kit, we eventually ended up with...nothing.
"Wow, Erin, there don't seem to be one anywhere in this place. You'd think somebody would have thought about putting something like that in here, y'know, in case of an emergency and all."
"Well, do you think we should call somebody, Daniel? I don't want to sound like a total sissy-wimp, but this cut hurts like a motherfucker."
Daniel's head quickly snapped toward me in shock, hearing me use that particular profanity. Because as far as I could remember, I had never used that nasty of an expletive in front of him. But on that particular day, it wasn't going to be the last one he would hear coming from me. Or, for that matter, me hearing from him.
"Hey, I've got an idea. Nate let me drive his van today. I don't live far from here. Let's just take a quick spin to my place, because I've got everything we need to patch you up. And after we do that, we'll just head right back here, clock out and then we'll go our separate ways."
"Uhhh, Daniel, I'm not sure if that's the best thing to do. I think we need to at least call somebody in the main office and let them know about it before we do anything on our own."
"Yeah, and what do you think they're gonna do once they find out we don't have a first-aid kit here, Erin? I'll tell you. Because of OSHA, they're gonna probably have to call an ambulance to take you to the E.R. and do the same thing we could do, but with a lot less fussin' bout it."
Once he had me convinced, I was in the Midnight Cruiser riding with him to his place, and Daniel was on the phone, while he was driving. He told me he was calling his brother.
