As Time Goes By: A BWWM Interracial Romance (2 page)

 She began to analyze her dating methods. Perhaps her
problem didn’t lay in the fact she wasn’t careful in the men she selected, but
rather in the fact she had no selection process at all. She seemed to go out
with every male fly that pitched on her doorstep, and she seemed to trust and
believe every damn word that came out of their sexy, seductive mouths.

Marg gazed around her room in dismay. She was on the brink
of losing it all, and yet, part of her frustration lately had nothing to do
with a lack of money or a lack of a job. At the age of thirty-three, it had to
do with men. She had always envisioned herself being married a full ten years
earlier, by twenty-three at the latest. And she had envisioned that she would
have been all done having her four desired children at age thirty. Only, at age
thirty-three, there was no marriage, no children, no happy home, and no man in
her life to wake up to and bring her breakfast in bed. If she wanted breakfast
she had to get it herself, and if she wanted to play with kids she had to pack
her bags and run off to the windy city of Chicago, to where her younger sister
Delores had three adorable children of her own, not to mention a very handsome
man that had slipped a wedding ring on her finger. She sighed once more at the
thought. Even the bible taught that the older sister should marry first, but
real life wasn’t always like that. In real life, sometimes the much younger
sister found the man of her dreams first, and…and…

 Marg stopped thinking about it. Why should she torment
herself over the fact that there was no man in her life…or was there?

 Arnold Winston. A former city councillor. A white guy who
was as charming as he was handsome. But hadn’t that been her problem in the
past? Choosing handsome guys that could charm the frost off a snowflake? Guys
who were so slick at playing women that they could sell ice to Eskimos?

A white guy. Did it really matter what color the guy was?
Men were men. Only the law of percentages were in her favor. Sooner or later
she was bound to meet a really nice guy that wasn’t a total loser. Unless, of
course, she was cursed.

Marg nodded no to herself. She wasn’t cursed. She had been
unlucky over the last fifteen years where choosing men was concerned. Did that
mean that her luck was about to change? She sighed yet again. She hadn’t
learned her lesson in the past. What made her think she was going to-

 Her phone rang and broke her train of thought. Not her home
phone because they had cut that off last week for lack of payment. It was her
cell phone. That bill was only a month and a half overdue. She snatched it up,
not bothering to check the number. If it was a potential job interview then she
couldn’t risk having it go into voicemail.

 Arnold’s voice greeted her. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel
deflated. She was, for some reason, just as excited to hear his voice as she
would have been if a job interview were being offered. She wondered why, but
then fell short of engaging in wishful thinking. Wasn’t that what had gotten
her into trouble so many times in the past? Wishful thinking?

“Hi Margaret.”

“Nice to hear your voice again Arnold. But, as I told you
already, my friends call me Marg.”

“Ah yes. Sorry. I had forgotten. Margaret is such a
beautiful name, but Marg it is. I’d like to be friends, well, much more than
just friends actually.”

His words churned around her weary brain like dust particles
snatched up in a hurricane. Who knew where they were going to end up or what
damage they might cause. Arnold was starting out just like the rest of them,
white skin notwithstanding; smooth, slippery, pretentious and aggressive.
Complimenting her name…insisting they be more than friends…and what was next, a
request she show off her medium sized, firm breasts so he could tantalize her
weak spot nipples with the tip of his crafty tongue?

She was horny instantly. Men always did that to her. Another
curse. Over sexed and perpetually horny. She needed cock more than she needed
water or air, and supressing those urges merely postponed the inevitable. She
supposed that was what made sharks and men so cut from the same cloth. They
would smell blood in the water and just keep patiently circling until their
prey was too weakened to resist. She had resisted the urge to fuck a man for
the last six months. Ever since losing her job. Six long months without a damn
cock between her legs. She frowned proudly at the thought. For her that had
been some kind of world record. But if her stiffening nipples and squirming
thighs were any indication, then Arnold’s continued compliments, expensive
dates and smooth buttery lips were bound to wear her down to the point of no
return. She had purposely stopped taking birth control pills so very long ago,
determined to give men a break, only now…only now…nature was calling and there
was nothing she could do about it. After all, a girl had to do what a girl had
to do.

That reminded her. If she was going to risk going out with
the hunky white politician with the complimenting sweet mouth, then she needed
reinforcements in the form of protection against a possible nine months of back
breaking weight. She didn’t have the willpower to say no that most women had.
The last thing she needed right now was to become filled to the brim with a
man’s fertile sperm. She reached into the coffee table drawer for her birth
control pills and flipped open the oval dial. It was six long months since she
stopped taking them. But if she were going to start dating again, and if that
sexy Arnold was going to be on her arm, then she were going to have to start
taking the pill again. Sooner or later she would cave. She always did. She was
so predictable. Her silky smooth world class legs would eventually part like
the Red Sea. If not this week then the next one, or the one after that. It
would only be a matter of time. She glared at the open dial. Empty. Empty? How
was that fucking possible? Out of pills?

“Shit.”

“Pardon?”

“No, not you,” Marg blurted out into the phone with
embarrassment. “I was lamenting over a certain situation, that’s all.”

“I see. Well I just called to say that I enjoyed our lunch
together yesterday, and am so looking forward to the game Saturday, but since
that’s a few days away and I’d love to see you again sooner, I thought maybe
dinner later tonight? Maybe dancing after that?”

 Normally Marg would hit a new over-anxious man with the
excuse that she had to rise up early for work the next day, only she wasn’t
working. Neither did she have much in the way of a tantalizing dinner in her
empty fridge. And she hadn’t been out having fun on the town for so long that,
that…

 “Marg?”

 “Still here.” She spat the words out the way a dieting
person says ‘maybe’ when presented with a triple fudge Sundae with all the toppings.
She knew from experience that a handsome, buff guy like Arnold wasn’t going to
stay on the bachelor shelf for too long if he kept on flashing those emerald
greens and expensive dates around. A sweet, good looking guy with money to burn
usually could afford an above average engagement ring. Marg now had to wonder
if fate was finally playing into her hands or if fate was simply replaying a
piece of history that was about to blow up in her overanxious, love starved and
sex starved face.

 “So, can I take it we’re on for tonight?”

 “Tonight?” Marg blurted out, almost mindlessly. She had
just wrestled with herself over the thought that she was far too good looking
for her own good. A mag cover face and an hour glass figure that was to die
for. A lot of women viewed her as being some kind of slut, but then again they
didn’t have to endure the same kind of wicked temptation she did. Most of the
guys coming on to her were Denzal Washington lookalikes, and so bursting at the
seams with charm and biceps that it was a wonder she hadn’t gone out with even
ten times as many men by now. She was being constantly serenated by the crème
de la crème, and it was a miracle she had any resistance to going out with them
at all.

 “Shall I swing by at six?”

 She frowned at how stupid she had been, letting him drive
her home yesterday after lunch. Now he knew where she lived, and now he could
easily weaken her resolve by constantly tempting her by coming over, and whisking
her away to someplace really nice. She waited for that shoe to drop. She didn’t
have to wait long.

“I made reservations for us at Capatroni’s Palace.”

His words enthralled her. You couldn’t buy a dinner there
for under a hundred bucks, and she had heard stories about their seafood that
made her suddenly drool with envy. Arnold certainly knew how to push a girl’s
buttons. Although she was desperate to say no and spare herself the probable
heartache coming down the road. She shrugged at her own weakness and bit the
bullet.

“Six sounds fine,” she managed.

“Good, see you then.”

The disconnecting click had a certain finality to it. They
had a chance meeting the day before. She had, three years before that actually
sat in his office when he was councillor because she had a zoning issue over a
building rented by a charity organization she worked for, a building they now wanted
to purchase. The land had been zoned industrial, which meant that the city up
till then had been collecting taxes on it. In order for the building to be
declared tax free, then certain expensive, time consuming clearances would have
to be obtained. Arnold had helped her and her organization avoid the hurdle of
mind boggling red tape. At that time he had made a lot of goo-goo eyes at her,
but hadn’t asked her out. She assumed it was because he had been married at the
time. Now he was divorced. She had no problem with dating divorced men. It were
the so called ‘separated’ ones that made her reluctant and antsy. Separated men
tended to get re-attached to their spouses at some point. A time bomb waiting
to happen, and a bomb she had allowed to go off in her life one time too many.
But at least with Arnold, she wasn’t going to have that problem. Divorced men
rarely went back to their ex’s. Not that they didn’t at times talk about them or
rant about them or whatever. But they rarely went back to them. Arnold’s
declaration that he was safely divorced and had the papers signed sealed and
delivered, made her feel more at ease with his status. And she had only become
concerned with his status in the first place because he had acted so enamored
and enthralled with her over lunch, making her overworked ears run the gauntlet
of his constant compliments about first her hair, then her nails, then her
bubbly personality, and then her legs, and then-

 She glanced at the clock. Four on the nose. Only two hours
to get ready for a man that was either Mr. Wonderful, or Mr. Deception. Her
instincts, as usual, couldn’t tell her which. She now wondered if that had been
part of her problem all along. Not having some kind of built in alarm or radar
system that could filter out the low-lifes and the damn useless dweebs.

 Her phone again, making her jump.

She glanced at the number. Arnold again?

No, not Arnold again.

Her mother again?

No, not her mother again.

Her little, happily married sister with adorable children?

Bingo.

She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. No doubt her mother had
ratted her out to Delores. And no doubt Delores had decided to call her to insist
that she be careful. It was now the little sister’s turn to give advice.

“Hi sis.”

“Hi right back at you, although mother says you been
misbehaving again. Going out with men who used to do you wrong.”

 “As usual, mother has purposely twisted the facts. Arnold
and I met in his office a while back on behalf of a charitable company I used
to work for. But we weren’t going out.”

There was a pause as Delores sorted through some loose
memories rattling around in her head. Then a light bulb came on. “Arnold
Winston? The councillor?”

“The one and the same.”

“Damn, he’s cute. I remember seeing some of his campaign
posters, and even a pic of him resting on a local beach, and thinking that
“wow, if I wasn’t already married then that’s one white beefcake I’d really
like to sink my Caribbean teeth into.”

“You saw him without his shirt on?” Marg asked
incredulously.

“Damn straight. That’s probably why he won so many terms in
office. Can’t imagine a woman voting against those rippling abs or that super
sexy chest of his. Although-”

“Although what?”

“Although if memory serves I do believe that the man is
already married.”

 “Used to be married. He is now divorced.”

“Lucky you, scooping him up on the rebound. Now I know why
mother was so nervous. Guys like that will make a play for your heart and not
take any prisoners.”

 “I know what I’m doing.”

“Famous last words like the last dozen men that made
promises to you they had no intention of keeping. And half of those were
unhappily married men pretending to be single.”

 “Fine, I fucked up. Does that mean I’ll never get it
right?”

“You might just strike gold with Arnold.”

“Why, cause he’s white?”

“Get that thought out of your head. White guys can stomp on
your heart and leave you devastated just as bad as any black man you can think
of. But he seems to be a family oriented kind of guy and if he has a thing for
black chicks, well, you’re probably the sexiest, best looking, funniest black
chick around. He’s gonna want to be with you.”

 “Nice of you to say, thanks. He’s taking me to dinner
tonight.”

 “I thought mother said it was a hockey game Saturday
night?”

 “That too.”

 “Shit! The guy moves fast, doesn’t he?”

 “That’s the way I like them, fast movers, only it would be
nice if this one actually stayed around for a while.”

 “Well maybe if you’re not so quick off the draw at
spreading those model like legs of yours then-”