Shades Of Black And White Pt 1

"Hey Buxton! Ya'll you coming out for a drink after work with the guys?"

Sheeeitt! This was a surprise! Even in these 'enlightened times' it isn't often that a black man is asked to join in on a social event with a bunch of whites, especially that crowd. And what made it all the more extraordinary was that the one extending the invitation was Tyler Wilson, who is twenty-five years older than I am. He says he comes from Portland, Maine, but he speaks and acts most of the time like Robert E Lee on steroids. For a few seconds I considered a refusal, but then I thought, 'Oh what the hell! I've got to work with these guys; got to build trust, etc, etc. Besides, they haven't ever asked Lim or Kwan, the two Asians, or Fahad the Iranian. And they never, ever include any of the women!'

So, I found myself saying, "Yeah, ok, thanks Wilson. What time?"

Wilson grinned toothily, pointed his index finger at me like pistol barrel and made a popping sound with his lips, "Great! We'll give old Abe here a couple of hours to finish screwing the Brits." Wilson slapped 'old Abe' Zimmerman, who can't be more than three years older than I am, on the shoulder and said, "And then we'll head off to Louie's."

Louie's is the dark, smoky, hellishly noisy bar where this group of guys hang out at the end of the day to wash away the pressure cooker tensions of dealing in tens of millions of dollars, pounds, yen, euros, every tradable currency imaginable. Of course, the more they make for their clients and the bank the bigger their paychecks are, and believe me, these guys are good, very good indeed! Tyler Wilson is the best, in spite of his loud mouth, uncouth jokes, sloppy clothes and sagging beer belly, and the thunderous farts he lets out as he punches the air after consummating some mega-buck, mega-profitable deal. Never a day passes without someone in the dealer room praying out loud to God to keep the air-conditioning from breaking down. Wilson just laughs uproariously and lets go another one for good measure.

One by one, the guys took off to wives and girlfriends, dinners and kids. In the end, it was just Wilson and I trading beer for beer and 'curing the ills of the world'. He surprised me with the insightful depth of his thoughts and even his lack of rancour towards Moslems post Nine-Eleven. Before that night, I would have bet good money that Wilson the Redneck was all for 'wiping those fuckin' Ayrabs off the face of Gaad's earth'. We fell silent, staring into our half empty glasses and recalling in our own ways the friends and colleagues we both lost in that awful catastrophe.

I glanced at my watch and saw that it was way past nine o'clock. Hell! I had never been this late without first telling my 'Aunt', who I am staying with until I can set up in my own apartment. She would be going out of her mind with worry that I'd been mugged or even killed. I made my excuses to Wilson and got up to leave. He insisted on coming with me, "At least to the subway, my apartment is on the next block."

"I thought you have a place out on Long Island?" I asked.

"Yeah, but I only ever get out there on weekends…say, why don't you come out this Saturday for a game of golf?"

Not only had The Man asked me out drinking with him and his friends, but now he'd asked me to his house for the weekend and to his fancy country club! I put the invitation down to the ten or eleven beers that he had consumed in the last three hours and figured that it would be forgotten in the morning. But walking along the street I started to revise my opinion; Wilson was as steady as a rock!

Oh, oh! The Man didn't forget. Come Friday afternoon, Wilson came up to my workstation, "Y'all set for tomorrow Ol' Buddy?"

"Are you sure, Tyler? You don't have to ask me just because of what you said the other night…besides, I've never played golf in my life before!"

Wilson punched me on the shoulder, "No sweat my man! I play like shit anyway. This is just for laughs." Then he handed me comprehensive instructions on how to get there. "Cain't have the country boy getting lost!" he joked.

He met me from the train in a nice, but not brand new BMW Series 7 Coupe. The golf game was a crock, just like I expected. And the tight-ass money at his club made it obvious that my skin colour wasn't exactly welcome. But Wilson defiantly gave them 'the finger' by keeping us in the bar longer than necessary to make the point. This man was full of surprises! And so was his house. Tyler Wilson had apparently invested wisely, belying the impression he gives to the rest of the world that his vast earnings all disappear down the urinal. Set in extensive grounds, the building wasn't at all grand or ostentatious, but the value was subtly obvious. And inside it was much the same, until he led me to his den and his home theatre and hi-fi set-up. Now, this was where some serious money had been spent!

But that came later. First, we made our way to the kitchen. It was a large room with a pine table able to seat about a dozen people set to one side. This was clearly where Wilson's family met and ate their informal meals. With startling speed and skill, he fixed a Chateaubriand large enough for the both of us and a green salad on the side. And, to wash the steak down, he liberated a bottle of 1990 Stag's Leap Cabernet Sauvignon from his extensive and expensive looking cellar.

While we ate and savoured the wine I asked Wilson about his family and wondered aloud why he only came down to such a lovely place at weekends.

"Time, Jon, time."

This was the first occasion that Wilson had ever used my given name.

"The groundwork for all my best deals is done much earlier in the day than I can manage commuting from here. Oh yeah, I tried doing it from home with the laptop and all, and it didn't work. I need the buzz from of all those screens in the room and the ozone smell from the computers and the shouting and yelling and the adrenaline that flows when one of you guys makes a hot deal.

"And in any case, Carla, my wife is a pretty sick woman. She's full time in a sanatorium upstate…schizophrenia…runs in her family. We thought we could beat the odds but we lost. Our daughters both study performing arts at Julliard. They stay with me at the apartment in New York during the week…that's if they don't find elsewhere to stay. We all come down here for R and R on the weekends. By myself in this house it would be a graveyard."

"Oh, I'm sorry…"

"Don't give me that Hollywood 'sorry' bullshit, Jon! You don't really give a fuck and I wouldn't expect you to either! C'mon, finish that steak and we'll go watch a movie. You won't get Mary Poppins here, my man, we only serve up red meat!"

'Red meat' it was too. Wilson showed me his collection of porn DVDs and videos, he must own about a hundred of the things, and told me to select one for viewing. "Choose a DVD," he said, "That way we can go into ultra slo-mo and take out any close-ups you wanna get a good look at." In the meantime, he went off to get another Stag's Leap from his cellar, a 1991 one this time for contrast with the first bottle.

Man! Watching that movie on the big screen was something else! I'd seen porn movies before, but only on an ordinary TV. On this outfit, the people were almost life sized and with the hi-fi surround sound it was just like they were there in the room with us! We were engrossed in a part where the girl star was on her hands and knees taking one guy's foot-long cock up her ass while she deep-throated his buddy, when our concentration was broken…

"Hi, Daddy…"

The girl's voice came from behind our seats. She had come into the room without either of us noticing. I jumped like a startled rabbit at being caught out watching dirty movies, but Wilson didn't move a muscle.

"Oh, hyah, Sweetie. How's it going?"

"Fine, Daddy, fine."

The girl came into view beside Wilson's recliner. Wow! She was a wet dream come to life; about nineteen or twenty years old, a little above medium height, long blonde hair, dressed in an oversized T-shirt that only just covered her private parts and with manifestly very little else on underneath. And what was underneath was very neatly put together, like pert, firm tip-tilted breasts, a slim waist and a curvaceous, tight ass. I forgot the movie entirely and just stared wide-eyed at her. She ignored what was happening on the screen and acted as though I wasn't there as well.

The Vision sat on the arm of her father's seat, showing me about ten miles of smooth, pale inner thigh, and leaned over to kiss Wilson on the cheek. I caught a swift flash of primrose yellow panties and then it was gone.

"Where you been?" Wilson asked her.

"Oh, just hanging out with Wendy and Justin and the guys."

"Not dressed like that I hope!"

"Oh, Daddy, don't be silly!" She pushed her father's shoulder. I got another flash of panties. "I'm on my way to bed."

"Where's Harriet?"

"She's upstairs already…aren't you going to introduce your friend?" The Vision had noticed me after all.

"Yeah, this is Jon. He doesn't know it yet, but he's the next top gun currency dealer at the bank…but he's only learning right now…Jon, this is my daughter, Gina."

Gina waved 'Hi' and bathed me in the searchlight beams from two of the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen in my life. She looked me up and down appraisingly. I squirmed in my seat at her frank stare and couldn't help thinking, 'So this is how a girl feels when a guy mentally strips her naked as she walks past!'

Then in a second she was gone, leaving a faint whiff of perfume behind her. I got a soft "Goodnight, Jon" from the doorway, but she had closed the door behind her before I could reply.

Wilson and I watched the rest of the movie, but none of the action registered in my brain; even when Wilson backtracked and zoomed in to a slow close-up of the moment when the guy with the foot-long cock first worked it into the 'heroine's' ass. At any other time I would have watched the stretching and plundering of her anal star with complete absorption, but for the rest of that movie my mind was full of Gina.

"Cute isn't she?" Wilson's voice broke the silence. The movie was finished and the credits were scrolling up the screen.

"Which one?" I asked, "The redhead or the brunette?"

"Don't fuck with me, my man, you know I'm talking about Gina!"

"Er, um…" I wasn't sure what to say, never having discussed the merits of a girl's physical attributes with her father before! "Uh, yes, Gina is very nice."

Wilson laughed deep in his belly and let out one of his infamous farts. "That's what I think of that chickenshit answer! Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when you first saw her! And I swear you nearly came in your pants when she flashed her briefs at you!"

I felt my face getting hot. Yes, us coloured folks do blush, but it's hard for you white people to tell. "Um…well…" I muttered uncomfortably.

"Aw shit, don't let it bother you! You only reacted to Gina's looks like any man would…should…just wait 'til you see Harriet!" Wilson blew on his fingertips and shook his hand as though he'd just been burned. Suddenly he turned serious, "But I don't like my girls hanging around with that Justin Tremaine. He's an asshole…inherited stacks of old New York law money when both his parents died in an air crash…and he's doing his best to spend it before he gets to thirty…he'll have to go some though. And his twin sister Wendy is almost as bad as he is…fast cars, fast boats, booze, drugs, orgies the Ancient Romans would have been proud of…you name it… useless trash the pair of them!"

Wilson fulminated for a further twenty minutes on the evils of the Tremaine 'kids' and their equally unsavoury cronies. Then, when he finally ran out of steam, he announced it was time for us to hit the sack. "You go on ahead, I just want to check my emails."

When I got to the top floor, all the doors were closed except the one leading to the guest bathroom I would be using. There was no way of telling which of the rooms belonged to the two daughters, Gina and Harriet. And imagining the likely repercussions from Wilson if I got caught, there was no way I'd be creeping around in the middle of the night to find out! When I passed one room, I thought I heard voices and noises from inside, but I couldn't be sure; those doors were three inches of solid oak! I retrieved my overnight bag from the room Wilson had assigned to me and went to clean my teeth. On my way back to my room, I met Wilson in the hallway and we said our goodnights.

I was awakened at about 3.00am by a faint cry. I wasn't sure what it was, so I put it down to a night bird. Maybe an owl catching up with a rodent? I only heard it the once and drifted off to sleep again almost immediately.

Chapter 2

I found Wilson in the kitchen fixing scrambled eggs after I had showered in the morning. He told me that he had to go into the office and that he would drive me in to the City as soon as we'd finished breakfast. When we left there was still no sign of the young women, in fact no sign at all that anyone else but Wilson lived in the house. Did I imagine Gina the night before?

Wilson asked me back down to Long Island a month later. In the meantime, I became part of the regular Louie's after work scene. On Wilson's say so, the guys all accepted me into the group and before I knew it they were feeding me dealing tips and tricks and my success rate started to climb, along with my client portfolio and my bank balance.

I drove down with Wilson straight after work on the Friday evening. We didn't leave Wall Street until after 8.30pm, Wilson was working on a hot deal, so we got to the house quite late. His daughters didn't travel with us, nor were they at the house when we arrived. In fact, they didn't appear all weekend. Wilson offered no explanation, although I felt that he could sense my disappointment.

I got asked down again for the following weekend. Again, there was no sign of Wilson's daughters, either on the journey or when we arrived, and I became resigned to another bachelor weekend of golf, booze and porn movies. Although I have to confess that I was kind of looking forward more to the golf having discovered the magic of hitting a long straight drive on four occasions the previous weekend. Now all I had to do was work on my chipping and putting. Move over Tiger! Yeah, right!

Gina caught us out drinking wine and watching another movie, but just as before she utterly ignored what was happening on the screen. For some reason I couldn't fathom, Wilson turned the sound right down when she came into the room. This time she sat in his lap instead of on the arm of his seat. She was dressed the same as she was last time, so she was obviously on her way to bed. Gina and her father talked quietly together, I couldn't make out what they were talking about, and again Gina ignored me. There was still no sign of Harriet. I tried to concentrate on the big screen, but my eyes were constantly drawn to the beautiful, long sweep of Gina's bare legs.

The girl's suddenly raised voice caused me to snap a swift glance in their direction. "Look at this, Daddy," she was saying, "I think something bit me on the beach today." Gina had pulled the hem of her oversized T-shirt up high and parted her legs. White panties tonight! She was showing her father an angry looking, dark red patch, about the size of a dime, high up on her inner thigh.

I watched them transfixed, the blue movie completely forgotten. Wilson placed his hand midway up on the inside of Gina's other thigh whilst he examined the offending spot closely. Maybe it was due to my angle of view, but it appeared to me that his face was only a couple of inches from the fork of his daughter's thighs. "Probably some insect," he murmured, "it looks kind of inflamed, but I don't think it'll amount to much."

Gina didn't seem to mind her father touching her like that! And Wilson didn't remove his hand; in fact, he actually began stroking her skin with slow, gentle movements, gradually moving his fingers higher and higher towards the white cotton triangle at the apex of her legs. Gina closed her eyes and nestled her lips to the side of her father's throat.

The rising tension in the room was palpable. I tore my gaze away from the pair and tried to just watch the movie, but to no avail. My cock was throbbing in my pants on the edge of a wet sticky disaster. Inevitably, I was drawn to look at father and daughter again and again, at her pale smooth flesh and at that hand caressing and sliding ever so slowly, higher and higher.

Wilson took his time, but in the end he reached the white cotton strip that hid her sex. He teased Gina, trailing his fingertips around the lace-edged leg holes, making her shift her bottom impatiently in his lap. Then, slowly and deliberately, he began to rub her through the cotton material, pressing his fingers into the hidden folds and dampening the gusset of her panties with her sexual juices.

I watched them from the corner of my eye for five or ten minutes. Her father's caresses were clearly arousing Gina and she was getting closer and closer to orgasm. The movie finished but I didn't notice, although I was still 'looking' in the general direction of the screen. The room became silent except for Gina's heavy, ragged breathing and the faint noises made by Wilson's fingers moving between her legs. When he suddenly spoke, I started in my seat as though someone had jabbed me with a pin.

"Hey, Gina honey," he rumbled deeply, "I gotta go and take a leak. Why don't you go and sit with Jon for a while."

The Vision got out of her father's lap and made her way across the intervening gap towards me. Had she looked at me, Gina would have seen me pressed back in my seat and clutching the arms, with wide scared eyes like a trapped rabbit, but she kept her gaze demurely downcast. Her warm weight descended into my lap, crushing my erection against my belly.

"Hello, Jon, " she murmured softly, "have you seen my bite?" Her breath smelled so sweet that it was all I could do to stop myself from crushing my mouth to hers. God, how I wanted to kiss her!

She parted her legs and pulled the T-shirt up high just like she had with her father. The bitten thigh was the one nearest to me and she had to take hold of her flesh and twist it so that I could see properly. But I still had to lean forward. The red patch had two small puncture wounds at its centre. Maybe a spider had bitten Gina? I could smell her sexual arousal. The crotch of her panties was wet and slightly discoloured with her fluids. Her hard-tipped, unfettered breasts swayed beneath the thin material of her shirt, almost brushing my cheek as she too leaned forward.

Then Gina put her arms around my neck and nuzzled her lips against the side of my throat.

Should I, or shouldn't I? Was it expected of me or would she scream and create a scene? With my pulse pounding like a jackhammer in my ears and my courage screwed down to the limit I put my trembling fingers on Gina's thigh, just above the red mark of the bite and, therefore, very close to the edge of her panties. She parted her thighs further. I stared unbelievingly at the contrast of my dark brown, almost black fingers against the white paleness of her thigh. She felt like warm, living silk under my fingertips! Gina let out a huff of warm breath against my neck and licked my skin with the tip of her tongue.

Made bold by Gina's tacit encouragement I took possession of her sex, pushing her panties to one side and sliding my fingertips in amongst her plump slippery folds. Her golden-crowned pussy lips had been made puffy and darkly suffused with blood by Wilson's fingers. Gina gasped with surprise at the abruptness of my invasion. I supposed that she had expected me to arouse her further from outside her panties in the same manner as her father. But she didn't tell me to stop or withdraw. Instead, she opened her legs wider, offering me full and unrestricted access.