Fat Tuesday Day 3
The next morning I woke up thinking about it and told her, “I don’t mind you doing that in the bathroom with the guy but we set up ground rules that you could do what you wanted if I was there. I wasn’t there. You were with a complete stranger and in potential danger. That was dumb.”
“Well I couldn’t very well come get you and tell you come into the bathroom and watch me make out with this guy.”
“No but you could have been more careful and kissed him outside if that’s what you wanted to do. That’s not the problem. It was putting yourself in danger.” She nodded that she understood.
Wednesday after Mardi Gras Day 4
Wednesday after Mardi Gras, going home: That was the extent of our step taking—but on the drive home the subject came up again in the conversation. We were driving through the town he said he was from and she said, “Someone we met this weekend told us they were from here.”
“You know who?” I asked. She didn’t. “Your black guy” is how you referred to him.
“Damn, he was so hot. And you said the other night that you wanted me to do a black guy and watch it.”
“Yes I did,” I said. “He doesn’t have to be black.”
“But you did say it would be hot for me to do a black guy.”
“Yes I did, and I know it is one of you fantasies too. You want to do a black guy.” She didn’t answer, just sat there in silence, which is always a “Yes” she doesn’t want to utter. “I know you do.”
“I would do him.” She said.
“Well you do recall that he said when we told him where we were from that he said, ‘That’s only 3 ½ hours away, I could come up there.”
“Yeah, I heard him say that.”
She didn’t mention it the next day (she was sick, went to the doctor, catching a cold from one of the guys she had been kissing was my best guess). It just hit me that she is beyond the point of whether she would or not—and now at the point of picking who she wants to do it with. It is a short list: articulate, not a gangsta, very well built, good looking, wide shoulders—and—black.