Sarah Madison led an idyllic life. Everything seemed like it fell into place for her. Although, she hadn't been one of the really popular girls in high school, she was definitely close to the top of the pecking order. Sarah was a pretty girl and an excellent student. She never had trouble getting dates either in high school or in college. She grew up in an upper middle-class home. While in college, she met her future husband Jimmy Madison, and upon graduation, they were married.
Jimmy's claim to fame was that his great great great etc. grandfather was the fourth president of the United States, and the family named at least one male in each generation after the ex-president. And that was Jimmy, and he pointed it out to everyone he met. Jimmy graduated from an ivy league school and took a job as a financial advisor in Chicago. Even though Sarah was concerned about moving to the murder capital of America, she finally acquiesced, and they moved into a moderately sized suburban house. As Sarah was raising their children, Jimmy was moving up in his company. As Jimmy serviced bigger and bigger clients, he found himself traveling frequently.
Through the years, the Madisons moved into larger and larger houses as Jimmy's salary and bonuses increased. Their children attended private schools and they eventually joined one of the more exclusive country clubs outside of Chicago. Since the Madisons hosted many parties for their neighbors, Jimmy's co-workers, fellow club members and others in their social strata, Sarah became an expert at planning and hosting. She also served her role as 'loving wife' and arm candy for Jimmy. Basically, Sarah led a sheltered, albeit privileged life.
Sarah was 44 years old when their youngest daughter left for college. She was still an attractive woman at 5'5" tall and 120 pounds. She had light brown hair and green eyes. Her curves were all in the right place and she always turned men's heads when she walked in to a room. However, with both kids out of the house, Sarah was becoming bored. She needed something to do.
After searching for a few months, she finally decided to volunteer at the local museum. Although Jimmy had never wanted Sarah to work, he felt differently about her volunteer work. It looked good in Jimmy's company if the spouses volunteered for community activities.
Sarah enjoyed her volunteer work at the admissions desk, souvenir shop and cataloging displays. When the museum received some items on loan from a Boston Museum, Sarah worked many hours cataloging and helping to place the items on display. Since Jimmy was traveling, she offered to work extra hours.
She was sitting at a large table listing arrowheads and other items from the Pawtucket and the Merrimack Indians when she sensed someone watching her. She jumped when she saw a young black man standing in the doorway. He had on jeans and a tee shirt and looked well over six feet tall. "Wh-who are y-y-you?" Sarah asked as she began looking for her purse that held her pepper spray.
The young man smiled and said, "I'm the janitor here. Who are you?"
Her voice quivered as she said, "I-I-I'm S-sarah. I-I'm a v-volunt-teer. Wh-who are y-you?"
"I'm Deshawn," he said as he moved towards her. "How long are you going to be here?"
"I-I'll be done in about an hour."
As Deshawn sat down next to Sarah, she felt like moving away, but stopped when she thought that he might be insulted if she did. She noticed that her hand trembled as she continued to list the items, and Deshawn watched closely. After a few minutes, he reached over and put his hand on hers. He said, "Your hands are soft."
Sarah had never been touched by a black person in her life. She didn't want to offend the young black man, but she was petrified of him. She left her hand in place for almost a minute before gently pulling her hand away and picking up a small piece of a bowl. "I-I-I ha-have to g-get back to w-work," she said noticing that her hands were still shaking.
Deshawn stood and walked slowly behind her and put his big hands on her shoulders making her whole body stiffen. She had butterflies in her stomach, but she was scared of the young man. He began to slowly massage her stiff shoulders and said, "Your shoulders are tight, Sarah. Let Deshawn help loosen you up."
Sarah can't remember ever being as scared as she was then. As his big black hands dug into her shoulders and upper arms, she closed her eyes. He definitely knew what he was doing, she thought. She leaned her head back and let him massage her shoulders for a few minutes, all the while knowing it was wrong. A light moan escaped from her mouth. His hands slowly worked their way down her chest until he grasped her breasts and squeezed. "Ohhhh!" She moaned again.
As he squeezed again, she snapped out of her trance and grabbed his hands, pulling them from her breasts. "Please," she pleaded. "P-please stop. I-I'm a m-married wo-woman." Her stomach was churning with fear and anticipation and she knew that her nipples were hard.
Deshawn stepped back, reached down and lifted Sarah to her feet. He turned her around and looked into her green eyes. Sarah looked back into his eyes and was afraid to look away. He smirked at her and said, "Meet me tomorrow night at 7:00 at Treyvon's Bar over on Blakely Street. You know the place?"
Sarah's mouth was open as she numbly nodded her head. "But I-I c-can't ge... "
Deshawn put his finger over her mouth and added, "And wear something sexy. Understand?"
Again, she numbly nodded her head. "I-I c-can't m-meet y-y-you D-Deshaw... "
"Be there!" He demanded as he dropped his hands and squeezed her breasts again before turning and leaving the room.
Sarah tried and tried to get back to her cataloging, but to no avail. She couldn't concentrate on anything but the young black man who had touched her body and squeezed her breasts. She knew she wouldn't venture out to Treyvon's tomorrow, even though her husband was still on the road. Finally, after a half hour of frustration at not being able to work, she packed up and went home.
