Author's Note: I appreciate you taking the time to read my writing. Warning, this part of the series contains racial slurs, violence, and vulgar language and is light on actual sex. If you are easily offended by racial slurs, violence, and/or vulgar language or light sexual content please move on to another story because this story will disappoint you. All characters in this story are over the age of consent: 18+
Kelly
I snuck past my mother's closed bedroom door and headed for the bathroom. I prayed I wouldn't wake her up as I stepped on the squeaky floorboards of the hallway.
I was covered in Mr. Taylor's come, dressed in yellow underwear, a trench coat, and three inch heels. It would have been very difficult to deny what I'd been up to for the evening should my mother have woken up and seen me.
Relief at not being caught by mother filled my body as I closed the bathroom door behind me. I stripped out of my clothes and reached for the faucet and turned on the water. While I waited for the water to heat up I replayed my night in frantic details searching for where I went wrong. I stepped into the shower and let the water wash away Mr. Taylor's dried seed on my stomach and thighs.
I've had a school girl crush on Mr. Taylor every since the sixth grade. I thought about Mr. Taylor all the time even though my mother warned me that his being nice to me was just some kind of white guilt.
"White men don't marry black women, baby. They'll fuck them, but it's never love."
I suppose her opinions had to do with my sperm donor who didn't stick around very long after I was born. He never offered to marry my mother, even though I was already growing inside her uterus. I called him my sperm donor instead of my father because I've never met the man and he has never paid a dime of child support.
I've never really had daddy issues as so many single mother household children do, especially not after meeting Mr. Taylor. Mr. Taylor has always been the kindest, most caring, warmest man I've known. I found him sexy and manly like some kind of white superhero, Superman or even Batman. I pretended he was my father when I was younger and eventually I knew that he was the only man in the world I would ever want to marry.
I'm pretty much a bookworm, with no practice. The girls in my dorm shared with me what they would do to attract a boy and I put those things in to practice with Mr. Taylor.
I tried the shy subtle approach and he did get an erection for me, but I think he still saw me as a child. It felt like things were going well though and then he dropped me off and didn't return my kiss.
I tried direct and aggressive and he came in my hand, then he walked away from me without another word beyond his apology. So I left. Maybe my mother was right he only wanted sex and once he had his release he was done with me.
I let the hot water cascade over my naked body as I sighed for my carnal needs. I was slick with soap suds as I rubbed my clit with my middle finger. I was sexually frustrated from my evening of failure at being sexy.
I tossed my head back and leaned against the shower wall. I thought about Mr. Taylor and I tried to hold an image of him in my head. He was the only thing that ever put me over the edge. The only thing I admittedly let push me off that edge. Damn it, I visualized what Aaron had done to me, again. I hated Aaron. I'm not supposed to want a savage racist asshole like Aaron Surry.
In a high school where black students make up less than two percent of the affluent student body of course I was going to run into a few racists. Aaron Surry was the biggest jerk of them all. Once I landed on his radar I tried to avoid him without much success.
My name wasn't Kelly to Aaron; it was 'Nigger Bitch' or 'NB' for short. If he passed me in the hallway he went out of his way to say it. None of the teachers seemed to notice enough to do anything about it though, or they pretended they didn't hear him. Aaron Surry was the bane of my existence all four years of my high school career.
I didn't understand how Jordan Scarlotti could be Aaron's best friend. Even Jordan wouldn't say anything about the names Aaron called me and Jordan was black too. So much for that feeling of family among the black community I'd always heard about.
The reason I was determined to hate Aaron for the rest of my life happened almost nine months ago. Once my thoughts went back to the incident, I played it out in my head for all the details it was worth as I fingered myself to climax.
A light powdering of fresh snow covered the ground that late March day. I was wearing my cheerleading skirt, although the game had been cancelled because of the snow. Most of the students had headed home already so the school was fairly empty. I was in the library making use of the computers since my mother couldn't afford to buy us one.
The librarian, Mrs. Point, was nice and she even gave me a key to the school so that I could stay after school hours. I had the pawn shop walkman my mother bought me for my eighteenth birthday turned on, even though the current technology was CD players. I'd asked for a CD player, but she'd tried and I loved the gift more for her attempt than its actual value.
I didn't hear Aaron before he dumped me out of my chair and I was sprawled on the floor. It was my own stupidity for not locking the library doors once the school had cleared out. I was concentrating on typing up my paper and I forgot about locking up.
"What's happening NB?" Aaron sneered at me when I looked up from the floor. I brushed myself off and stood up facing him. I returned his sneer, lip flinch for lip flinch.
"You're not supposed to be here Aaron, go away," I said and turned my back on him to ignore him. I reached for the computer before he could damage all my hours of hard work for spite. He snatched my walkman from my waist instead as I hit the save button on the computer. I swung around and yelled, "Give it back!"
He held my precious walkman above my head the earpieces dangling between us. I held out my hand in silence.
