This story isn't intended to be only 'wham-bam, thank you, ma'm stuff. It's also a story with some character development, and it makes a statement about ethnic social interaction between different cultures.
**
Her name was 'Susi,' and she was a South African 'lady of privilege,' working temporarily in the U.S. as an internist with one of the federal government departments. I was a U.S. civil service employee. We had occasion to talk professionally during intergovernmental agency teleconferences on issues of mutual concern. Teleconferences provided a convenient means of addressing issues without having personnel fly in from all parts of the country. So, while Susi and I talked regularly, we never met each other in a professional capacity.
One afternoon while I was at my desk, Susi called unexpectedly. I wasn't particularly aware of her in a personal way—she was simply another in the maze of people that government employees deal with endlessly. We made small talk while I tried to ascertain the real reason for her call. Susi, though, just wanted to talk. It became obvious that she was lonely, but this wasn't the time to help her with that issue. It was a rough time with 'the program,' and personal calls usually had no place in the office.
I suggested that she call me at home that evening, so we could talk at length about whatever was on her mind, and she agreed. I gave her my telephone number and hung up, puzzled as to why she sought me out to talk about personal things. I did know that she was South African, because of her very distinct accent, and her temporary status was made known to all during the teleconferences. She seemed pleasant enough, though I guess I was a bit impersonal to her because of the apartheid issues in her country's history.
Susi called late that evening, at around 10 p.m., as I was readying for bed. I'd thought she decided to not call, after all. Her voice was shy and uncertain, without the professional attitude she carried during work. I could sense almost immediately that there was something wrong in Susi's life, and just gave her the lead to take the conversation where she wanted it to go.
She was lonely, having made no friends in the U.S. during the three months she had been here. Her in-country support was a married woman who, after having Susi in her home once for dinner, just let go of the responsibility. Susi was living in a government supplied 'apartment' which was a combination living room, bedroom, and kitchen about the size of one large living room. The bed was a pull-down from one wall, after the sparse living room furniture was moved to the other side of the room. Her life in the U.S. was essentially her job and the apartment.
The reason Susi had taken the assignment was because she was separated from her husband in South Africa, and he had temporary custody of her two children. Susi had decided to 'go overseas and see the states,' but it hadn't worked out that way. The job was demanding, and she found she had no means to travel as she thought she would. She also hadn't been able to make any friends. Susi confided to me that she often cried at night from loneliness, and because the Washington area seemed so cold and impersonal.
I interjected every so often to ask a question, or make a suggestion about cultural and social events in the area, places to go/see nearby. Susi responded that she did travel well locally, and had grown adept at using the subway to go to shows, and other events. It was obvious that what was lacking in Susi's life was companionship. And I didn't know if I wanted that job.
Then, Susi opened up even more to me, talking about her life back in South Africa. She had grown up in Durban, Zulu Nataal province, living what she called a life of 'privilege,' under apartheid. She said that she had never associated with 'the coloreds' in any fashion. Even the family servants were indentured whites. She had carried on that tradition while married, and her children's nanny was also an indentured white. Susi had made an incorrect assumption--she didn't know that I am a black American. She had never seen me—we'd only talked on the telephone.
I listened, but chose to not disclose my ethnicity to her. I was cordial, and offered to help in any way I could, suggesting places she could go/things she might do to meet someone interesting. She was appreciative, and asked if she could call me again. I said she could.
Susi called again a few nights later, at around the same time of evening. She seemed a bit more upbeat and positive about her circumstance. As the conversation went on, Susi began to flirt, lightly veiled at first, but then more openly, asking me about myself, what my interests were... She eventually told me that she'd talked with someone on a telephone chat line who had aroused her to a point of masturbation, but that she'd gotten 'cold fingers,' and cut the conversation short. Susi went on to say that being sexually open to strangers in that way was unheard of in South Africa.
And again, the questions got around to me—describe myself, my interests and likes, but this time the questions had a decidedly sexual tone to them. And, I got into the game. I gave her a graphic picture of my sexual makeup, from physical description (excluding race) to my dominant sexual traits, some history, etc. Susi was very attentive, wanting more intimate details and facts. Her voice became more liquid, her breathing slowed to a soft feathery tone. And then she began responding by interjecting comments about her desires, what aroused her, and her frame of mind about needing sex at that very moment. In effect: Phone sex... something that I don't usually indulge myself with.
It became a very direct give and take. Her cries, moaning and heavy breathing all combined in response to my encouraging her to loosen her inhibitions, to open up to her needs and be accepting of all the (telephone) passions being hurled at her. And, Susi did. She gave as good as she got, and all her pent-up lust and need seemed to flow out of her into the phone.
It only took a couple of minutes of whispered, coaxing and salacious words before her moans, furious intakes of air, and (I imagined) contorted groping sent her reeling away to the floor, breathlessly spent, out of control.
**
That became the initial basis for my relationship with Susi. She called, usually late in the evening, when she felt I was situated. Sometimes, it was just straight-forward, as if she'd found an outlet for her sexual needs. We'd talk a couple of minutes, and she'd begin to exhort me to take her sexually, in any manner of ways. I asked if she'd had any success in meeting people, but she always deflected any discussion, saying that she was making do with letters from home.
A few weeks into our telephone 'relationship,' Susi called, again despondent and out of sorts. I asked what was wrong. She didn't answer directly, but asked me if I would stop by her apartment while I was en route to my weekend home. I rented an apartment in Maryland during the week, but usually drove to my home in central Virginia each Friday night. Susi's apartment was in northern Virginia, along a route I could take to go home. Curious, I asked her why—I'd had no intention of meeting Susi, remembering her assumption that I was 'white.' She said that she simply needed a 'hug.'
I suggested that her need of a 'hug' could really turn out to be much more than a simple embrace. She said it wouldn't—that she really just needed to share a cup of coffee with someone, and that she felt closer to me than anyone else in the area. I continued to resist, as I knew we'd likely not get any further than her shock at discovering that she'd engaged in telephone sex with a 'colored.' Strangely, I wasn't afraid of being discovered. Subconsciously I'd always expected that the time would come when she'd find out, but I'd also wanted to manage her discovery. It was a question of seeing the expression on her face.
I agreed to meet Susi, have coffee, and give her the hug she needed. I told her to not expect anything else, as I had a three hour drive in front of me. Not that I expected 'anything else,' except maybe some stern words of rejection.
As I drove towards Susi, I considered her possible reactions—beyond the shock, would she be angry... Would she just shut the door and walk away? I felt a sense of curiosity, as much as anything about this woman who had lived a life where the government accorded her a sense of superiority, based simply on the color of her skin. Beyond that, she seemed a nice enough person.
I entered the apartment complex, and rang up Susi on my cell phone, to let her know I was there. She said she'd come down to meet me at the secure entrance. It was a security door which required a combination be entered to gain admittance. Susi would be able to see me without concern for her safety.
"Well," I thought. "It looks like I'll only see her expression through the glass..." And then, she was there.
We looked at each other. I guess the word for her reaction was 'stunned.' Her mouth was open, her eyes said, "This has to be a terrible mistake!" We continued to look at each other through the door.
"Ralph?"
"Susi..."
