It had been one of those days where everything seemed to go wrong. Nothing major. A major catastrophe would have been welcome as we could show we were working to recover things. No, we just had a series of pinpricks, none of them serious by them-self but the combined mishaps added up to delays and a giant pain in the neck.
The result was that I had to work back, debugging a program at the last moment. My boss had promised it would be ready first thing in the morning and it was suddenly my responsibility to make good on his stupid promise.
I did it, mind you. I even had time to take a break for dinner before finishing off. It was getting late now and it would be dark soon. Normally, if we're going to be working until dark, we'd get a taxi voucher for the trip home. That was one of the pin pricks. The voucher book was empty and the boss had forgotten to order a new one. Don't worry about it, he says. It'll still be light when you've finished. I have faith in you. I'd rather less faith and a taxi voucher, but what could I do?
Anyway, I was fortunate enough to finish while it was still twilight. I'd checked the train timetable and I'd make the next one with time to spare. At least, I would have made it with time to spare if the guard had been at his post to let me out. We're a secure building after closing time and the guard has to sign late people out. Finding him not at his station left me standing there waiting for him to get back, quietly fuming.
He turned up after about five minutes, smiling and apologising. Nature had called, he told me, and he had gone to attend nature's needs. As far as I was concerned he should have stayed at his post and crapped his pants. Then I would have been gone and at the station already.
I took off at a run to the station. I almost made it. I got there in time to see the train leaving, didn't I. Probably the only train to run on time for the whole day, but there it went on its way, without me.
I went and sat down in the waiting room, sulking. The next train wouldn't be for another half hour and it was getting dark rapidly. Yes, the waiting room had lights, after a fashion. The lights could have been brighter though. The only way they could have been dimmer would have been to turn them off. At least, I was able to console myself with the thought that the night was quiet and balmy. A beautiful night if you were going for a stroll along the beach with your boyfriend. But I wasn't. I was sitting in a waiting room, waiting for a damn train.
Five minutes later it was fully dark outside. I cursed my boss, wishfully thinking of taxi vouchers I have known. Then this guy walked into the waiting room and sat down. I practically cringed when he gave him. He was big and black and slightly scruffy. That doesn't really describe him. You think of a black man and you're really thinking of someone with darker skin than normal.
This guy wasn't brown, or dark brown. He was black. He was so black I wondered if he was melanistic. (That's like the opposite of being an albino.) When I say he was big, I don't just mean he was tall. He was huge. Any self-respecting professional wrestler would take one look at this guy and run away rather than fight him. Given this, what with me being a petite little female, could you blame me for cringing slightly?
He could, apparently. He looked at me cowering on my seat and cast a derisive look at the skies.
"Gawd protect me from racist, sexist, white honkeys," he grumbled, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.
How rude. I was most definitely not racist or sexist. White, maybe, but that was just an accident of birth. I could no more help that than he could help being black. It just wasn't in my nature to take insults without retaliating.
"I beg your pardon?" I snapped.
"Refused," he said, not even bothering to look in my direction.
Refused? What the hell did he mean, refused?
"Refused? What are you on about?"
"I thought you were apologising for being a racist, sexist, white honkey," he said. "I was refusing your apology because I don't think it sounded very sincere."
Why the hell would I be apologising. He was the one who should be apologising for being rude.
"I wasn't apologising," I said through gritted teeth. "I was objecting to you calling me a racist, sexist, white honkey. I'm not one of those, whatever a honkey is supposed to be."
"Look girl, I stepped into the waiting room and you almost hid under the seat. You took one look at me and decided big and black equalled potential rapist so you'd better hide. That's both racist and sexist."
"I did no such thing," I snapped. Actually, I suppose I had. He was one scary looking man.
"Ha. Would you have cringed away if I'd been a woman? No. That's sexist. Would you have assumed that a white man was here to rape you instead of just waiting for a train? No. That's racist. Look at you. You're still poised on the edge of the bench, wondering if you should make a break for it. Did it ever occur to you that if I want to have sex I could easily find a hot mamma. A larger woman than a little bit like you. Hell, if your breasts were any smaller you'd be a boy."
Feeling ruffled, insulted, and indignant, I settled myself properly onto the bench. OK. So I'd been a bit flustered when he walked in. Understandable, surely?
"I was not cringing away," I said firmly, "and thoughts of rape never crossed my mind. Might I point out that we're at a manned public railway station and they have cameras. I'm perfectly safe and I know it. And my breasts aren't small. They're the right size for a person with my small frame."
"If you say so," he said, sounding highly doubtful. "Anyway, far be it for me to dispel your sense of security," he added, and left it at that.
What the hell was that supposed to mean. He could see the puzzled look on my face and he smirked, and looked over at and above the door. I followed his look and there was the security camera, covered in paint and pointing at the roof. I looked back at him and saw he was looking at the roof on the other side of the room. When I looked I saw that there were wires there but no camera.
I pointedly looked away from him and he sniggered. I thought only cartoon characters sniggered, like Muttley, the dog, but this guy managed it without any problems.
"Did you know they don't man this station at night?" he asked me. "Not enough customers at night in a business district to be worth their while."
No, I didn't know that. Thank you for telling me. He was deliberately trying to scare me. I just glared at him and turned away, nose in the air.
Oddly enough, his goading of me had relieved my mind. I guess that, in a rather nasty way, he was actually being kind, setting me more at ease with his presence. Not that I was going to thank him. He still came across as dreadfully arrogant.
Things were quiet for a few moments, then he started up again.
"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be part of a piano?"
Was he fucking kidding? Part of a piano? Who wonders about things like that? I didn't say anything.
"Did you notice the size of my boots?"
Not really. I'd been too impressed with the size of him and his total blackness to notice little things like boots. I couldn't help but flick a glance at his feet. OK. He had truly impressive boots on, but what could you expect. I'm sure his feet were on the same scale as the rest of him.
"What are you on about? What have pianos and boots got to do with anything?" I asked irritably.
"Pianos have black and white keys lying together and the old wives tale says big feet means big hands and big. . . other places."
Big feet, big cock. Now that he mentioned it I did recall the old saying. I could feel myself blushing. Was he making a pass at me? I ignored him.
"You know one thing really nice about being very big?"
He waited for an answer but I kept on ignoring him.
"You can just take what you want at times," he said.
I should have been watching him. He'd stood up and moved closer and was now standing right next to me. Even as that registered he sat down next to me, lifted me up and plunked me down on his lap. He didn't sit me on his lap. He just draped me cross it, facing down. I was still trying to register a protest when he pushed my dress up around my waist and pulled my panties and tights down and off.
Oh my god. It suddenly registered on me that he was going to rape me.
I started to wriggle and squeal and a great paw gave me a slap on the bottom.
"Just hush up a bit," he growled at me.
With that he picked me up and the world spun around me as he seemed to flip me head over heels. Whatever he did I finished up sitting straddling his lap, facing him.
"Like the old song says, ebony and ivory. Look at us." He nodded down as he said that and so I quite naturally looked.
With my dress rucked up around my waist and nothing on below that I had a clear view of my waist and upper thighs, which were pressed hard up against him. I was all gleaming white and he has as black as his rotten heart, but I have to admit the contrast was stunning. Equally as stunning was the fact that the blackness he was using as a contrast to my whiteness was his cock, standing tall and proud.
Now I know that old saying, big boots, big dick, is just an old wives tale with no scientific fact behind it. Seeing what he'd let loose from his pants and was pressing against me, I was quite willing to admit that there might be some truth in the tale. There was quite an impressive shaft raised between us, with my mound pressed firmly against it.
