Love Intertwined Vol 2

  Cover

  Title

  LOVE INTERTWINED

  VOL. 2

  Tales of Interracial Eroticism

  By Pepper Pace

  Copyright

  © 2011 by Pepper Pace. All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Pepper Pace.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

  I’d like to think my ‘first read’ Michelle J. for her invaluable suggestions. Thanks to my blog followers and the many people that have sent me comments and feedback on the stories included in this collection.

  Table of Contents

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

  My Special Friend

  BLAIR AND THE EMO BOY

  MILF

  Emoboy; the Submissive Dom

  About the Author

  Awards

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This book contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts including rape and is intended for adults only.

  My Special Friend

  I was 34 before I finally got off my ass and left my good-for-nothing husband. It was something I had wanted to do for years. I actually had a 3 year plan. Imagine that, putting your life on a 3 year plan. We had 2 children and had been together 8 tumultuous years filled with infidelity and alcoholism. Had I not left, it most likely would have ended in abuse—to him! Many-a-night I'd lay awake in our bed waiting for the bars to empty, alternately wishing for him to crash in a fiery accident, or make it home so that I could be the one to kill him.

  When I left I did some serious self assessments and saw a 34 year old 6 foot tall overweight black woman whose only life experience was with the father of her children. My credit was for shit and so was my self esteem. I went to work on both.

  Within 3 months I was down 30 pounds and had some semblance of order to my finances. Nothing passed my lips but healthy food and I even listened to some self help tapes that taught me that I could not expect anyone to love me if I couldn't love myself.

  It was then that I vowed that I would not get into another relationship until I was of sound mind and body and even then it would be with a man of equally sound mind and body.

  I bought a vibrator...and settled down for the next year to work on me.

  "When was the last time you had some?" My best friend Shay asked me.

  I shrugged, accustomed to Shay’s blunt mouth. "Almost a year and a half, why?” I gave her a long look. “You know I don't swing your way, girl." I joked.

  "Shut-up." My best friend was thick, shapely and cute. We were both chocolate girls, she with a silky black weave that she kept cut in a china-girl style, while I kept mine close-cropped and natural.

  A year and a half after my separation from my husband I had reshaped myself physically and mentally and was currently saving up for my own house.

  "I only ask because I heard about this new dating line and-"

  "OH MY GOD!"

  "Before you say no, I've already tried it-"

  "Are you crazy?!"

  "I didn't meet anybody yet! It's just over the telephone and its fun."

  "You're not going to meet anybody are you?" I know I was overprotective where Shay was concerned, but that was because she was a 'Hot Mama." In the past she had put herself in a lot of dangerous predicaments in pursuit of Mr. Right.

  "Kia, girl—Step out of the box." She pantomimed the shape of a box in front of her face. "You work 2 jobs, you're a single Mom, and you can't stand going out clubbing. How do you plan to ever meet a man?"

  I got up and went to her kitchen for more fruit juice. "I don't know if I'm ready...I think I'm scared. You know that Tony is the only guy that I've ever been with. I have no idea how to date. It all just feels so cheesy and fake." Dating is like putting on an act, especially when you’re my age and have only been in one adult relationship.

  "Girl, how can you say dating is cheesy and fake?" She picked a manicured nail. "It's been a decade since your last date."

  "Don't remind me." I sat down on the couch crossing my legs under me.

  "Kia. Even if you don't want to find a partner, I know you have urges."

  "Shay." I blinked my eyes. "I'm so horny right now I could shell peanuts with my coochie...but I ain't about to meet some fool on some dating line!"

  Shay chuckled and left the room, returning with her cordless. "That's the beauty of the telephone. You can talk to as many men as you want—and hang up when you freak out. You can even block them. And they can never find out who you really are. Pick up that other phone and I'm going to show you how it works."

  I had to admit that my curiosity got the better of me. I was never comfortable talking to guys that I didn't know. And in all honesty, I think that I was afraid of men. I mean, who out there would be able—or even willing to see the real me? I know my weight was no longer an issue, but men seemed to focus on the outside more than mental attributes—and in the brain department I thought I had it going on. The chat line intrigued me because then a guy would be forced to acknowledge what was in my head before focusing on what was on the outside.

  Shay entered a series of access codes once she got into the chat line and it actually greeted her personally. "Hello Chocolate. It has been one day since you last accessed the system. You have 27 messages." My mouth dropped open and she winked at me.

  "Do you want to listen to some of my messages or go right into chat?"

  "Let's listen to the messages. God, Shay! 27 messages in one day?"

  "Waite, hold on...I'm going to play my personal greeting." She pressed some more digits and Shay's sexy voice came over the phone. "Hello fella's. I'm a 5 foot 4 inch chocolate covered beauty. My thighs are wonderfully juicy, my stomach flat—as far as my other attributes, let's just say that you won't be disappointed. If you would like a taste of chocolate box me at 5357."

  "You are such a HO!" I covered the phone and screeched at her. She just laughed.

  "It's all a part of the game. Listen."

  The first response was from Mr. Jay.

  "Damn, Baby. I'm 6"3', brown skin, got my own place. I'd like to take a sister like you out for dinner, maybe some drinks. Chocolate, I'm going to leave you my real phone number. Call me, baby."

  Shay looked at me and shook her head then deleted the message. The next one was from Tom.

  "Chocolate? Do you like white meat-"

  -Delete-

  The next message was from Joe. "You sound really sexy Chocolate. I'm 6ft 6inches—I hope that's not too tall for you, Sweetie. I'm a construction worker, single, no children...and yes; I do love the taste of chocolate. I've been described as handsome, romantic...and very sweet. If you want to hear more, box me at 1543. Hope to hear from you soon."

  "Oooh La La." I said fanning myself. "He sounds like the bomb! Are you going to leave a message for him?"

  "Do you think I should?"

  "Yeah. Do it." I replied excited.

  Shay punched in some numbers and a man's deep voice came over the line. "Ladies. My name is Joe. I'm a 6 ft 6 inch construction worker. I'm African American seeking a young woman for companionship and romance. I own my own home, have no children and I'm single. I love to cook and in my spare time I play in a local band—saxophone. I would love to serenade that right lady. My box number is 1543. Hope to hear from you soon."

  I squealed. "Shay, leave him a message! He sounds perfect." Suddenly there was the sound of bells and a woman's voice came over the telephone.

  "This caller is in the chat room now."

  "Better. Let's go into the chat room and we'll talk to him one on one."


  My heartbeat quickened as if it was me that was going to be talking to Mr. Perfect. No sooner had we entered chat then she was bombarded with chat requests. She ignored them all until she got to Joe.

  "Are you the same Chocolate that I left a message with yesterday?" Jeez! His voice was every bit as handsome as his recorded message. I kept picturing a shaved head dark-skinned hottie with muscles galore.

  "Well that depends." Shay responded, her voice uncharacteristically throaty. "Are you the 6ft 6, construction worker?"

  "Chocolate, you sound too good to be true. I have so many questions and likewise, I want to tell you more about me."

  "Ok, let's start with your age."

  "Thirty-seven." He shot back. "And you?"

  "Thirty-one."

  The two shot questions back and forth, getting comfortable with each other. I sat, like a voyeur, wishing I was getting all the attention from Mr. Perfect. Inside an hour, I knew that I was destined for the chat room.

  I hung up my extension and placed it on the cock-tail table.

  Shay gave me a questioning look. "What do you think?"

  "I'm going home. I'm going to figure out my own message and then I'm getting on the chat line."

  Shay high-fived me. "Hold on. Let me write down the phone number for you. It's free for women and only free for men during Happy Hour. You can listen to the women's ads to get an idea of the competition. Now you go have fun. And Kia, let me know before you decide to meet someone."

  "Likewise."

  When I got home I quickly dialed the chat line phone number. The prompts led me to the female ads without requiring me to become a member, so for half an hour I just listened.

  My competition was borderline phone sex! I was curious at what the men's ads sounded like. There were categories that you could choose from like; friendship, long-term relationship, the wildlife. Then you could choose an age and racial category. I listened until it got dark outside. But before I hung up I decided that I was ready to leave an ad. After making some written notes, I came up with this:

  "I am a 6ft tall, African American female. I'm voluptuous without being overweight. My complexion is coffee with no cream and in a room full of women, I can hold my own in the looks department. This is what I can tell you; In Autumn I like to snuggle up on my oversized couch in front of a fire with a nice glass of wine and some mellow tunes playing. It's been a long time since I've been able to do that with a partner. The other things that I miss doing with a partner will all come in time...with the right person. My box number is 8911. I look forward to hearing from you"

  When I was done I broke out in a cold sweat. Someone was bound to leave me a message with an ad like that, wouldn’t they? After listening to my competition, I promised myself that I would only be truthful and sincere. I would not rate myself as a 10 if I only saw myself as a 7, I would not describe myself as thin when I knew I was thick. I hung up the phone and waited.

  Not surprising, my dreams were intensely erotic. Joe was there looking exactly like Tyson Bedford. He cooked me a gourmet dinner, serenaded me with his saxophone, and then made love to me with his 10 inch cock on my oversized couch, in front of a roaring fire while I listened to mellow jazz.

  I couldn't get on the chat line soon enough that next morning. I had until 4 in the afternoon before the kid's father would bring them home from the weekend, so the house was all mine. I dialed the number anxiously.

  "Hello, new member 8911. It has been 1 day since you were on the chat line. You have 83 messages." I screamed and then settled down self-consciously. It took me 45 minutes to listen to all of my messages and had an additional 12 from the time that I'd started listening!

  ***

  Much of my evenings and weekends were spent on the chat line. Whenever I had free time, I seldom watched TV or just listened to music—not without the phone attached to my ear. During the day I was Mommy or Employee, but at night I was turning into a chat line junkie.

  Then I met a man.

  I was scared to death even though I had spoken to him for two months before agreeing to meet him; in a public place, of course. He was a local business owner, single, no children. He described himself as six feet tall and very attractive.

  He was a troll: A five foot ten inch raggedy man that looked like a cricket and kept leering at my breast. I managed to break away after an hour.

  Two months later I tried it again, this time getting a picture first. Now this man was a cutie-pie...who was in no way attracted to me. I saw it as soon as he looked me up and down. I got the distinct impression that I was just too dark for his liking. He made a hasty retreat.

  I was crushed...but it served me right for ditching Jiminy Cricket. I gave the chat line a break—for a full two weeks. But then I needed my ego stroked. So I went right back.

  "Hi Missy. Do you talk to white guys?" Missy was my chat name. And that question kind of annoyed me. Do I talk to white guys? What a blunt question. But I suppose blunt is what you have to be when you're on line; blunt and to the point.

  "Who are you—other than white?" I responded back.

  He chuckled or laughed. Nice voice. "Missy, Listen to my message and then box me back. 1211." And then he was gone. Curiosity killed the cat. I left chat and went to the personal ads.

  "Hi, my name is Todd. I'm 34, a fire fighter and have a painting business on the side. I'm 6 feet 6 inches tall, 230 lbs, very well in shape, divorced with no kids. I'm looking for a friend or something more. I haven't been in the city for long and would love to meet someone who could show me the sights" He sighed. "I'm not looking for any game players. If you're serous, please...box me."

  Hmmm. I whistled under my breath. No game players. Didn't I know the feeling!

  I got back into the chat room and searched until I found Todd.

  "Hi, Todd, Missy again. Like your Ad; straight to the point. You sound like you've met some of our local yocals."

  "Some big liars would be more accurate. Missy, does everybody lie on this line?"

  "Did you listen to my Ad?" I asked defensively.

  "Yeah, that's why I boxed you. I don't just chat with anybody. I don't know what it's like listening to ads from the women's side, but over here we have a lot of fakes."

  The word lot caught my attention. "How many women have you met from this line?"

  "I don't know. I meet about 1 or 2 a week and I've been online for about 2 or 3 months."

  "Wow, I bet you have some horror stories."

  "Yeah...You don't want to know."

  "Yes I do. Believe me, I've heard some doosies. You can't shock me. I talked to this one guy that met a lady who just wants a free meal. Then when you pick her up she brings her kid on the first date."

  "Met her—fed her AND her kid."

  "You've met her?!" I guess that surprised me because I knew this to be a black woman. I wondered if he had a preference for blacks.

  "I've had the pleasure." He responded dryly. "She is so ghetto. On the phone she sounds so sweet and nice then when I picked her up and her six year old mysteriously appeared with her she wouldn't even talk to me. She and the kid ordered about $50.00 worth of food. Don't get me wrong, Missy. I don't mind shelling out some bucks on a date. But I at least expect some eye contact."

  "Haven't you met anyone worth going out with twice?"

  "Oh yeah. I met this girl. Debbie. Beautiful. She really liked me over the phone. We had a good time on the first date, but then she never returned my calls. I kinda think she got back with her son's father...or maybe she just didn't like me. But she sure faked it because-" Todd caught himself. "Well, you know..."

  "You slept with her?" On the first date? How dangerous...

  "Yeah, and she sure acted like she liked me...Missy, are you going to be on here for a while?"

  "Yeah, for a while. Why?"

  "I haven't eaten since this morning and I need to run out for a burger or something before the only fast food restaurant in my neighborhood closes. Can I box you back in about twen
ty?"

  "If I'm on, that'll be fine."

  "Alright. Twenty minutes. Bye Missy."

  "Bye. Todd."

  For the next few minutes I talked to some other guys. But after talking to Todd all the guys on line sounded like horn dogs.

  "Hey, Missy. You're still on line. What's my competition like out there?"

  "Wonderful if I want to discuss my breast size."

  "Which is? He laughed. “Just kidding. What do you like to do when you're not on line?"