Chapter 9
{NOTE: I abhor racism in the real world, but I don't object to using a fetish trope in a sex-fantasy. The primary person of color is just a bad dude unable to cope with his troubles. His color has little to do with it.}
"It's black." My bewildered husband stared at the thing in the box. I had bought it as a gift for us.
"Yes, George, and it is one of the bigger dildos which the store carries." I spoke calmly but with strength. "This is the right step for me to take. It's not about you but what I face in the immediate future, if not today then possibly tomorrow."
"I believe you, Colleen, but I also worry-" He bit his lip. "About me."
"You will never lose my respect, no matter how you react." I touched his arm. "George, you are stronger than you give yourself credit for, despite setbacks. If we're lucky, perhaps you'll find a measure of peace with your experiences, including playing with this stupidly expensive lump of silicone." I tried a chuckle. He gave a polite smile. I slid the cover onto the box and stashed it in a dusty shoe box, taking care not to disturb the dust. I put the shoes, which I hadn't worn in months, by the door, so I could donate them.
My story about the black gardner, revealed my husband's latent fetish to be enhanced by an interracial element. Bringing a tidbit of reality to that fantasy felt like the right thing. As for my feelings, I didn't like the dildo at all. I shouldn't have bought one so lifelike with veins and a fat flaring tip! My stomach got queasy from looking at the black toy, but I didn't tell my husband. I was confident that he needed to take this next step.
My ill fortune took the next step in the middle of the night. My phone blared me awake. The loud ringtone roused George as well. Leland was calling. I tapped the 'end call' button and switched off the ringer. It immediately vibrated in my hand, another call from Leland. It was quickly followed by a text. "You goin to suffr lot wrse than hve if y don anser m cals." His typing was terrible. I went to our bathroom, but I found myself unable to close the door, which would have shut me in a small room with Leland's presence. I hurried out into the hall and went into the utility closet, leaving the door open by a comfortable gap. I tapped on 'call back.'
"Wha te fuck, Colll'n?" He was angry but his words were slurred.
"It's the middle of the night. You woke my husband."
"I'm drunk. Yer li'l, white pussy bett'r hed don ta 6ththth street and Main b'fore I lose conshus. Take me to Thuh Stadem or hospit'l, d'pending how you find, urk!, me."
"I'll be right there." I assured him. I could have buried my phone under a towel and gone back to bed, but the intersection he spoke of had a reputation. If he did fall unconscious, he would wake up in a hospital, probably in traction. Still I dithered, telling myself that the bastard deserved to be broken!
I went to George who was even more awake having witnessed my furtive actions. "This will make no sense, but Leland is in considerable danger. I don't want to go to him, but-"
"He's not tricking you?"
"Not this time. I'm sure." I was mostly sure.
"I'll go with you." He started getting out of bed.
"George, he's not going to like that. We don't want to anger him." I considered using my new forged powers of assertiveness over my husband, but I did fear going alone into one of the worst parts of the city late at night. "H-he might do something - awful to you again."
"Better me than you. You said I'm stronger than I give myself credit for. Tonight I'm going to test that credit." He would not be dissuaded. He threw on a shirt and pants. I put on a heavy robe that tied together with multiple strings. We ran to the car, in our slippers.
He drove the Prius. It was a smarter move than you might think. A well cared for car gains more respect from unfortunates, than a time worn vehicle would earn.
City traffic at 3am allowed us to reach Leland in less than fifteen minutes. He was a mess: bloody nose, scraped elbows, palms, and knees,... His bulging stomach had a foot print on it! A pool of vomit lay near his head, and his hair was half soaked. He cringed and raised his arm at our approach, not recognizing us. "Al kill y'muthafuggers!" Leland groaned loudly!
"It's your white slut, Leland!" I shouted over his barks of pain. "I'm gonna take you to the hospital."
"Honey!" George scolded.
"I needed to be sure he understood who I am."
"Culleen?" Leland's jaw trembled. "Dae took ma phone, ma clip, an ma bottle! Then some crazy com along in jus kick me!"
"I'll put a blanket in the back seat." George went to the car.
"Y gonna fug me, Sweetee? I be reel nice 'is time."
"Yes." The stupid bastard, I should have kicked his nuts myself! "Now let me help you to the car."
He was able to get to his feet with little help, but he staggered, bent over due to a possible hernia from being kicked. "Balls hurt lik muthafugg'r! Lemme see y tits, lik goo Bich." He wheezed.
"When we get to the car."
George had an open water bottle in his hand and rinsed Leland's hair. The vile smell decreased ninety percent. My husband helped to heft the large black man into the limited back seat. Leland grabbed my left wrist. "Y sit w me, right?" He spoke with equal parts demand and plea.
"Leland, let go of my wife!" George blurted, a lot of repressed anger launched the words.
"No, fggat! I gots fuk her!"
"He's in no shape to worry about, George. Just get him to emergency care." I slipped into the back seat and placed Leland's head on my lap. George fumed while ducking into the driver seat and racing away at top posted speed. I rolled down the window to vent the smell of Jagermeister puke. Also it made me feel less confined with Leland who pawed at the top strings of my robe. "Dem tittys be bess, Whyht Slut. My Shelly-" He frowned deep with sadness. "N'vr ha ta belt 'er."
