The Taste Tester

“Please”, he begged….  “I just want to know what you taste like.”

He was begging me for a date, and had been, for the better part of a half hour.

He finally got around to talking about sex, hoping it would interest me enough to agree to date him.

He was the first black man who had shown any interest in me since I graduated from High School.  Usually it was the whitey boys who pursued me, hoping to date and fuck me, or just fuck me if they could get away with it.  What drew them to me was my soft, brown skin – almost milk-chocolate in color, and my jet black eyes.  It would be a gold star on their chart, if they could wangle a date with me, and get me into bed!

But I had been very selective – very hard to get.  It seemed as if I got more requests for dates, the more I declined them.  Sure, I was no longer a virgin, and knew the differences between men and women – and which category I belonged in, I just didn’t understand why so many black men had passed me up in favor of white women!

I knew I was beautiful – how’s that for attitude?  In the section of the city where I grew up, it was mostly a middle-class black population.  But that didn’t stop the white boys from hanging around, trying to get a date.

I was popular on the job site, too.  It seemed as if every man hoped for a roll in the hay with me, until I turned them down, then the stories started to circulate that I must be a lesbian or frigid or something.  I weathered that storm as best I could, letting all my girlfriends know it was a complete lie, and that I really liked men, but just hadn’t found one that I wanted to be with, yet.

This man was different.  He had been pursuing me for more than a week, seeing me every day.  He dressed well, drove a nice car, and was always a perfect gentleman.  I wondered what was wrong with him …..  Women think like that!  But I didn’t want to be anybody’s ‘Ho’, preferring my own independence.

I loved the power of saying ‘No’.  I loved dangling the thought that they might have me in front of men, then jerking it away and smashing their dreams.

“I’d like to put my tongue in your coochie”, he said, “to find out what you taste like.”

Feigning surprise, I asked, “Are you a pussy eater?”

“I am when it’s washed”, he said.  “A washed coochie shows that a woman cares enough about herself to keep it clean – and that’s when it usually tastes best - when it’s more natural.”

I began to fanaticize about what having this man’s corn-rowed head between my legs, and his face buried deep in my cooch, licking the juices out of me.  I knew that if I didn’t like him, I could squeeze my legs together and pop his brains out of his head.  I could always say he tried to rape me.  But I wasn’t ready to agree yet – I wanted to play with him some more…..

“I hear you bit a woman once”, I said.

“Me?”, he asked in surprise.  “Never!”, he said with emphasis.  “I love women too much to ever bite one!”

“Well, I might go out with you under certain conditions”, I said teasing him a little more.

“Anything!”, he said.

“Anything?”, I repeated.

“Yes”, he said.  “I’d do anything for you.”

A plan was forming slowly in my mind.  A plan that would satisfy me, and give him the experience he wanted.

“I’ll think about it”, I said.  “There’s a four-day weekend coming up for the holiday, and we might be able to get together then.”

It was the fourth of July weekend coming up, and my mind put together the thought of fireworks, and a mind-blowing orgasm in one thought.

“But that’s four days away”, he protested.

“Well, I’ll see how serious you are about having a date with me.  Let me see some flowers, and I’ll see how it goes”, I teased him.

Sure enough, the next morning, there were a dozen roses on my desk when I arrived for work.  That was on Tuesday, and he didn’t come by that day.

On Wednesday, it was two dozen carnations in a tall glass vase waiting on my desk.  How was he getting them in before we even opened for business, I wondered.  Again, I didn’t see him that day.

On Thursday, there were three dozen mixed flowers in a large bouquet in a basket waiting for me.  I realized this man was really trying to win me over  And again, I didn’t see him all day.  But I smiled when I thought of him, and knew that we would be going out over the weekend, and wondered what would develop from there.

But on Friday, there were no flowers – just one, simple, white orchid in a white box, delivered by courier, just before lunch.  By now, my coochie twitched when I thought of him.  He really knew how to turn me on, I thought.

But we hadn’t agreed to meet – I didn’t have his phone number, or his address.  He didn’t even send me a card with the flowers – I had to assume they were from him.  Nobody else I knew would send me flowers just out of the blue.  I tried to find out from the receptionist if she knew how to contact him, but she didn’t know.  All I knew about him was his name ….. Marcus!

I was disappointed when five o’clock rolled around, and he hadn’t come by, or called.  I steeled myself with the thought that maybe he had just been playing with me, and this was his way of getting even for the times I had refused to date him.  He had turned the tables on me.  I was anxious to see him, and would have surrendered my dark coochie to him on the spot!  But he knew me, better than I did, myself.

I gathered up my orchid, and left for home, disappointed that the weekend would not include him.  But when I got home, the phone was ringing.

As I picked up the phone and said ‘Hello’, I heard him say, “Marmot Hotel in the City.  Six p.m., Saturday, Room 332”, and he hung up.

I didn’t even have time to protest, or thank him for the flowers, or say anything more than ‘hello’.

The presumptuousness of this man – thinking that he could snap his fingers, and I’d show up.  Thinking that he could order me around like this.  I mean, I was an independent woman!  I had a good job, nice apartment, and kept myself up real well.  Who the hell was he to order me around like that???

I knew who he was – he was going to be my date for Saturday night – and probably for Sunday morning too!  Without another thought, I knew he was going to eat me, then fuck me!

* * *

I spent all Saturday afternoon, deciding what to wear, and what I should take to the hotel.  I calculated the time very carefully, allowing for the time to drive to the Hotel,, and get up to his room.  I allowed an hour for a good bath, and getting dressed.  I didn’t know if we were going to have dinner, so I ate a medium-sized salad before hand, so I wouldn’t be hungry if he wanted to get me into bed right away and skip dinner.  I threw a couple of power bars into my over-sized purse, just in case.  I really wanted this evening to go perfectly.

I didn’t know what he was into, so I included a pair of trick handcuffs that I could get out of without a key, and a short piece of rope and a gag, just in case he wanted to play rough.

I arrived at the hotel a few minutes early, so I sat in my car in the parking lot.  I waited until a few minutes before six, wondering what was going to happen.  I thought about waiting a few more minutes so I would arrive late, to build up his own apprehension that I might not be coming.  But I knew that I’d arrive on time, as instructed.

Four minutes before six, I crossed the lobby of the hotel, and entered the elevator.  I tried to look like I belonged there – that I was a guest, returning from somewhere, and that everything was normal.  I also thought that if I wasn’t careful, someone would think I was a hooker, coming to meet a client.  Somehow that thought excited my black ass!

I got out of the elevator, and looked at my watch.  It was exactly two minutes to six, so I hung around the elevator lobby on the third floor, trying to kill those two minutes.  A couple arrived at the elevator and pushed the down button.  I looked at my watch again, and it was one minute to six.

I walked down the hall, and stood in front of the door of Room 332.

At exactly six o’clock, I knocked on the door.

Marcus opened the door and smiled at me as he stepped aside so I could enter.  He closed the door behind me, and I felt like a new world was opening up before me.

I said, “I’m here, Marcus.”

He pressed his fingers to my lips and said, “Don’t talk!  There will be no words between us.  We won’t need words to express our feelings.”

He put his arms around me, and pulled me to him.  I raised my face to his, and closed my eyes as he kissed me.  I surrendered!  I was no longer an independent woman – I was his!!!

 

 

16.03.08