White Freshman Blac Coeds

Mark's interview with Queen Bee

It's Sunday, the Big Day. I had another dream/nightmare last night about being put on display at the sorority house and the girls using me in various ways. I won't bother you with the details, but it was

very

vivid.

About noon my cellphone rang, a local number I didn't recognize (it must be Queen Bee!), "H-hello?"

"Hello, Mark. Rita Dominic at Zeta Phi." A sexy voice, but an accent I can't place. There's a freshman exchange student next door from Ghana, and her accent kind of sounds like that: British English as spoken by Africans; you see it on TV sometimes.

"Hello, Miss Dominic," I say an octave deeper than normal, and trying to sound more confident than I feel. (I feel like I could throw up, truth be told, so many butterflies in my stomach.)

"Are we still on for 4:00?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good, I'll meet you in the café. Wear your Domino's uniform, and boxers."

"Yes, ma'am, I'll be there." She hangs up without saying goodbye. What kind of woman is this? She sounded so sure of herself on the phone: not even asking if it was me, not making 4:00 an option, and directing me what to wear, down to my underwear! Expecting no complaint, then not even saying goodbye; what kind of person is this?

But the girls set this up for me, and I don't think they'd send me into a situation where I'd be ridiculed or hurt in any way. And the direction of my nightmares notwithstanding, I was quite eager to meet some of the ladies at Zeta Phi to see if I hit it off with any of them, whatever that process looked like.

At 3:50 I'm in the café drinking a hot chocolate. Sitting in the far corner, back to the wall, where I can see the large entrance area that opens out into the student union. I'm trying not to look too eager, glancing up only occasionally. 3:55, no Rita. 4:00, no Rita. 4:05, no Rita. Now I'm starting to get worried: am I at the right place? There's only one "café inside the student union." Is the time on my phone right? I don't wear a watch, so I ask the girl at the counter: yes, it's 4:06. Probably a power trip then and she's being "fashionably late."

At 4:09 I see her, and like Candace said, there's no missing her. Tall, maybe as tall as me or a bit more, hard to tell in those heels. Dark skinned, very dark, like from-Africa dark. Curvaceous body, stout, not thin or lithe. Not big either, but with the hips of an African fertility goddess.

Her clothes are an explosion of red tending toward burgundy. A jacket-and-skirt affair in something stiff like wool. All angles and sharp lines. And layers, I remember somehow there were layers, foldings of the fabric back on itself. I supposed this was a "power suit" for women, worn in a business environment. But when you wanted to make a statement.

And a large-brimmed hat, also red, studded with a few red feathers. The kind that was more fashion statement than functional. Floppy, the brim being a stiff mesh-type material, see through. The front flopped (or folded?) down over much of her face, almost like a veil.

"Hello, Mark." No mention of being late.

"Hello, Miss Dominic."

"You may call me Rita." Not, "you

can

call me Rita," like most people would say, but "

may

." This woman is definitely in charge of herself and her interactions with others.

"So, tell me about yourself, Mark."

I proceeded to tell her about Ann Arbor, parents died when I was young, foster homes, group home, full-ride scholarship at WSU. I thought about telling her about Candace and Keisha and our budding friendship, but figured she already knows that. I didn't pick up any kind of, "Oh you poor thing" vibe when I was telling her about my foster care. She was listening, but more coldly processing than reacting.

"You must've gotten good grades in high school to get that scholarship. Your SAT scores?"

"Yes, ma'am, A's and B's. I aced the Math part of the SAT, and scored 99

th

percentile on the Verbal."

"Impressive." Not, "impressive!", just a flat, "impressive."

"And what are you studying here?"

"Engineering, probably will be Mechanical, but I'm keeping my options open for now."

"Understandable; that's a good choice, Engineering, for a smart young man like you." Which caused me to blush a bit.

"Have you ever had a girlfriend, Mark?"

"No, ma'am, not like a long-term girlfriend, I've only been on a few dates."

"And these dates, did they quickly escalate sexually?"

"No, ma'am, I'm still a virgin," which she knows already, or she wouldn't be interviewing me.

"But on a first date, have you ever felt a girl's breasts, or put your hands down her pants?"

"No ma'am, no! I'm not like that. And I'm too shy to do anything like that until I really got to know a girl and she signals that's what she wants."

"Good, I like the way you phrased that. But you

have

touched a girl's breasts and vagina, haven't you?"

I blush at the mention of those two words in a public area, and wish Miss Rita would keep her voice down. But she wasn't one to care what was overheard and by whom. "Yes, ma'am, once, on the same girl."

"So you just decided you'd touch her like that?" Accusing, not leading.

"No, ma'am! She started it. We were in the same foster home, and one day walking home together from 10

th

grade a bad thunderstorm came up and we ducked inside an abandoned house, and..."

"Go on, Mark."

"Well, this girl was kind of 'fast' I guess they call it. She told me she had a crush on me, then pulled me into a back room and lifted her shirt. And then made me touch her in places and she touched me through my pants and..."

"Is that

all

that happened?"

"Yes, Miss Rita, that's all. I got scared, and by then the rain had let up so I said 'Let's go' and we went on home."

"Did she ever try to get you alone again?"

"Yes, in similar circumstances, but I started carrying an umbrella after that, so I got it out and said, 'Let's keep walking.'"

"How did she treat you after that?"

"Well she always seemed angry with me, and started telling people I was probably gay and stuff."

"

Are

you gay, Mark, or maybe bisexual?"

"NO, ma'am!! I love women, I love everything about them, their looks, their bodies, the way they talk, the way they smell,

every

thing!"

"That was a good answer, Mark. From what I can tell you're a respectful young man. I think you'll be a nice fit for Zeta Phi. Come with me."

I followed Miss Dominic to the parking lot and we got into a small Mercedes sedan. She drove to the Hilton and parked in the parking garage.

"Wait here 10 minutes, then take that pizza box in the back and come up to room 604. Lock the doors when you leave."

I'd delivered many times to the Hilton, but always parked in the unloading circle, so I watched which way Rita walked to enter the hotel. I would've watched her anyway, she was so stunning, but I did want to see which way I should go. I thought it pretty clever of her to have me dressed in my Domino's uniform, and to have an empty Domino's box, so it would look like I was just there delivering.

Ten minutes seemed like an hour, but I got out with the pizza box, holding it horizontal in case anyone was looking, locked the doors, then headed toward the door Rita had gone in. I had to adjust myself on the way because I was becoming aroused at what might be waiting for me. I was fantasizing that when Rita opened the door she'd be wearing just a black bra and panties, and that she'd take over my sexual education herself where the girls had left off.

I got off on the 6

th

floor, checked the sign for which way to go for 604, knocked on the door, and waited. And waited many seconds more. And then started panicking.

She DID say '604' didn't she?!? Oh God, I'm at the wrong room... She's playing a trick on me and didn't even go into the room. She probably hid and watched me go by, then jumped in her car and sped off. Oh Mark, you're too trusting!

I'd just screwed up my courage to knock again, when the door opened and it was Rita. In the same red outfit she was before. Which deflated my fantasy, but was better than my worrying that she'd left.

"Well hello, young man, that was fast! Come in."

I step in, Rita only backing up a couple steps to give me just enough room to let the door close. The layout of the room had a restroom immediately to my left, and Rita took the empty box from me and tossed it on the counter in there. Beyond her was a short hall, and past there I could see a dimly lit room, some furniture, a TV, and the very ends of two beds.

"Ready to meet a new friend?"

"Y-yes, ma'am."

"Good! Follow me."

As she led me down the short hallway I saw more and more of the farther bed come into view, until I could see that a young lady was sitting on the edge of it, up near the nightstand between the two beds.

"Nia, introduce yourself to Mark."

Nia stood up, smoothed her modest dress down, turned toward me, sort of curtsied, and in a soft voice said, "Hello, Mark. I'm Nia, pleasure to meet you." She extended her right hand to me, not in a male handshake position, but like ladies do, flat, as if I was supposed to kiss her hand, but I didn't know that at the time.

"Hello, Nia. The pleasure is all mine." I took her hand in my upturned right one and gave it a little shake, when Rita said, "Mark, a suitor kisses a lady's hand when first meeting her."

Suitor!? Was this young girl to be the one to teach me? She looked so innocent! And as young as me...but was she....'experienced'?

I bent at the waist to kiss Nia's hand, held lightly in mine, and a jolt went through my body. I'd just put my lips on a girl's black skin for the first time! I released her hand and the kiss before what I hoped was "too long", but the smell and light taste of her made me giddy.

"Nia, is Mark's appearance pleasing to you?"

"Yes, ma'am," in a demure voice with downcast eyes.

"And Mark, is Nia attractive to you?

"Yes, ma'am," trying not to sound too eager.

"Good, then I think we have a firm basis from which to start. Both of you please sit on the other bed side-by-side, holding hands," Rita said as she sat opposite us on the other bed, where Nia had been.

I should tell you a little about Nia's looks. Remember Ashley from The Fresh Prince? She didn't so much

look

like her, but she had that same build, and the same fresh, innocent face. She was lithe and not voluptuous like a lot of the black girls I'd seen, but she was very cute and young and pure, the kind of girl you'd want to take care of and protect.

"I've brought you two together today because you're each painfully shy and so don't have a lot of experience with the opposite sex. With your permission, I'd like to take you through the stages of courtship and sexual experience and help you learn to express yourselves naturally with your partners."

Nods of agreement from Nia and I, and if she's like me, blushes. She had lightly squeezed my hand at 'express yourselves,' and I squeezed hers back. It was so exciting for me just to be sitting here holding this lovely girl's hand, and I hoped the feeling was the same for her.

"We'll go at a pace that's comfortable for you both, and you can slow down or stop the process whenever you want.

And

[pause for effect]

we won't be going all the way to sexual intercourse." A sigh of relief from me, and a squeeze from Nia's hand meant she probably felt the same way.

"Now, turn toward each other and tell each other about yourselves, starting from childhood to now. Parents, sibling, pets, the things that make you happy or sad, anything you'd like your new friend to know about you. Nia, you start while I set the mood."

With that, Rita got up and turned on some soft music, then lit three candles, placing one on the nightstand beside Nia, one on the desk, and one on the dresser. She then turned off all the lights so that the only light in the room was the flickering candles. Rita then seated herself at the desk over at the end of the other bed and began writing in a notebook.

Nia told me how she'd grown up in Kalamazoo, a town that sounded a little more racially mixed than my own. Her mother was a teacher, father worked in a factory, she had a younger sister and then a brother, and about the dogs she'd had growing up, the latest being a toy poodle she loved a lot and who used to sleep with her. She told me about her first date (10

th

grade, black boy), then later dates in higher grades with black boys mostly, but one white boy also. Her sexual experience was similar to mine, but not as forced and unwanted as mine was. She'd never actually touched a penis except through clothes, or been directly touched

there

herself.

I then told her all about myself, most of the details of which I've given here already, including my one sexual experience.

"Good, that's a great start, young people. Do you feel like you know each other better now? Yes? And based on what you've heard do you think you could be friends, and maybe eventually more?"

Nia looks at me and nods several times, a timid smile on her face. I repeat the nods, with probably more of a grin on my face.

"Good! What we're developing here is called

chemistry

. Now, I could show you all the physical ways to give pleasure to your partner, but without some kind of bond, without

chemistry

, it tends to feel hollow, like something is missing." Rita pauses to let that sink in, and we both nod to indicate that we understand, that 'that makes sense.'

"Okay, what I've done here was sort of speed up the 'getting to know each other' phase. You guys might've been classmates, or lived on the same block, and just in the course of knowing each other, especially if you'd started 'talking to' each other, you would've learned all those things about each other."

"And I had you hold hands to also fast track the physical bonding. It's very simple, and very primal, but you guys were communicating with your hands, weren't you?"

Bashfully, we both admit we were. And we squeeze each other's hands again.

"Good, so what we've done is compress the normal courtship ritual that might be weeks long into just a few minutes. But Nia, do you feel like you fully

know

Mark? Or are there things about him you'd like to know still?"

"No, ma'am— I mean, yes, ma'am, I'd like to know more about him."

"Good. And Mark, I know it's the same for you, because I think you're a romantic, and before you can feel physically attracted to a woman, you want to first get to know her, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Okay, for this next exercise we'll add visual stimulation by pretending it's summertime and you two are on a date at the beach. You've had a few little dates, a high school basketball game, watched a movie together while holding hands, a pizza parlor with friends after the Homecoming game, those sorts of innocent dates. Maybe a hug and a peck on the cheek or lips as you leave for the night. Got the idea?" Nods.

"Good, so you're at the beach (let me turn the lights back on). Nia, take your dress off. Good, now turn around and let Mark see your whole body. Perfect."

Nia has a bikini on under her dress, probably specified by Rita. It's smallish, but not terribly revealing. Not that it could be anyway, with Nia's small breasts and not much of 'black girl booty', but to me she looks terribly sexy in it.

"Now Mark, take your shirt and pants off." "Good, your boxers kind of look like swim trunks, that's great."

"Okay, young people, up on the bed, sit facing each other, knees crossed and touching each other's, and hold both hands now. Good. Mark, you go first this time, ask Nia all the questions you want, all the rest of the things you want to know about her."

Let me just say that sitting across from this young, brown-skinned girl in her bikini, our knees touching and our hands held across them, is pretty erotic for me. And yet my manhood isn't much aroused, which I'm thankful for because I think I'd be embarrassed in front of Nia at this point, even though that's ostensibly why we're both here. I attribute it to that I really like her already, and have started thinking of her as my girlfriend, or at least as someone who could

become

my girlfriend. And like I said before, she's small and petite and so cute that I want to protect her and care for her, not affront her with my giant penis.

With Rita back at the desk writing, Nia and I spent probably the next thirty minutes getting to know each other better: What's your favorite song? TV show? Do you like to read? How did you feel when your dog died? Favorite movie? Ohmygosh, wasn't that scene in Scary Movie funny? What's the craziest thing you've ever done? What kind of food do you like? Have you ever been out of Michigan? What was that like? All those things and experiences that tend to shape who a person becomes. Lots of giggling, lots of "mine too!", just lots of realization of our shared experiences. By the end of it we were looking each other in the eyes and felt a lot closer to each other (speaking for me, though I think I could tell that Nia felt the same).

"That was great, you guys! You feel like you know each other more intimately, don't you? Well you should, because most couples don't build that solid base of feeling like they really know the other person for weeks or months. Sometimes never, to be honest."

"So with that as a foundation, I want you two to see each other sexually now, imagine what it might feel like to become intimate with this person. Mark, I could tell you were trying to be a gentleman by maintaining eye contact with Nia, but I want you to look at her now as a man looks at a woman. Start with her hairline...now her ears, her eyes...nose...lips, that's it, linger on the lips. Nia, you do the same with Mark now, stopping at his lips."

"Good, now Mark, study Nia's graceful neck...her shoulders, collarbones, now the flat of her chest. And now her breasts, imagine what they look like under her bikini top, imagine how they, and she, would respond to your touch."

"Good. Nia, now do that with Mark."

"Mark, now let your gaze lower over Nia's stomach, to her hips where they meet her sides, the bikini strings tied there, and now....look directly at her groin. Imagine what her vagina looks like. Is she natural? Trimmed? Shaved?" (Embarrassing for me, but I do it.)

"Nia, repeat on Mark, and as you look at his groin, notice his arousal. That's due to you; now that he's gotten to know you he feels okay about letting his attraction to you be noticed, because you aren't just a sex object to him, but a young lady worthy of his love, in all its dimensions. Imagine what his penis looks like, what it would

feel

like."

"Now both unfold your legs and straighten them out. Mark, yours on the outside, and Nia, yours inside Mark's. Now bring them together, all the way together. Mark, trap Nia's legs inside yours. Good, now both of you, look at the other's legs, from the thighs down to the kneecaps, to the shins, the feet, and finally the toes. Observe each other's skin, not just the color, but the texture, the softness, the blemishes."

"Mark, ask Nia about the scars on her left shin." Nia tells me that it was a dog bite when she was 5 or 6; I flinch in sympathy, saying I wished she hadn't had to experience that.

"Thank you, Mark," Nia says, "what's that scar on your left knee?" I explain that when I was 3 or 4 I came off a slide onto asphalt and busted my knee open, needing 8 stitches. She instinctually touches it softly, saying she's sorry that happened.

"Good. Nia, you already started doing what I want you each to do next: explore each other's legs with your hands, feel them, caress them,

remember

them. First, for two minutes, explore your partner's legs with the intent of learning them, then (I'll say when), touch your partner's legs the way you think they'd like to be touched to increase arousal. Go."