Freshman with Pale Skin and Black Female Students (Chapter 26)

Freshman with Pale Skin and Black Female Students (Chapter 26)

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

"Has your father got any firearms, by any chance?"

"C'mon, babe, he'll adore you. So stop stressing about it, please?"

Our regular lunch spot was the Student Union cafe. The following day was "Meet The Parents" day and I'd be driving Nia back to Kalamazoo.

"Knives? Axes? Pistols?"

She was giggling as I brainstormed a variety of lethal weapons. "Enough!"

"Mortars? Tanks? Space cannons? Watchdogs?"

Nia's laughter filled the air now, "Everything's gonna be fine! Stop trying to scare me with that!"

"But... I've never met your parents before! It's my first 'Meet the Parents' day. And you mentioned he doesn't like white men, so I'm afraid it won't go well with him dating his daughter."

"Okay, listen, we'll deal with it together, got it? It's just as much my problem as it is yours. Besides, out of all the guys I've ever met, you're the one I picked."

Her gaze locked with mine, and her eyes conveyed a meaning that finally diffused the tension in me. I had been treating this as an issue I needed to tackle alone, but she still had her close-knit family and relationships back home. Moreover, interracial relationships like ours - a black woman and a white man - were a rarity.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't considered the consequences on you. Thank you for picking me despite the challenges. I greatly appreciate the trust you have placed in my decisions."

I saw a breath of relief escape her lips. "Mark, I love you. I'd go through fire for you or any tribulations we encounter. And it's not going to be as difficult as you think. Mama and Daddy will adore you, and Daddy will eventually warm up to you. They both cherish me, and I trust them enough to make the right decisions. If they don't..." She embraced me, not revealing her countenance, but I believed that she'd stand by my side even if it meant losing her parents, however much I'd hate that.

Our conversation petered out as we indulged in our meal, each contemplating what the future held. I glanced at the table next to ours and spotted a copy of Ebony. Subtitled The Annual Hair Issue, it showcased over a hundred ways black women could style their tresses.

The first section offered formal-looking hairstyles you'd wear at a wedding or ball. I thought they were a little too elaborate for daily wear. The next section showcased hairdos suitable for work. They looked exquisite but were quite a task to create. Following were everyday hairstyles, and those were more practical. Finally, I arrived at a page with a picture of Nia's curly, bouncy hair, thus revealing it wasn't just another face, but the same hair in an alternate form.

My gaze lingered too long on the photo. Gradually, she looked at my hesitation. "Do you prefer my hair this way?"

"Yes," I replied quietly, eager to turn the page. But she turned it back.

"Do you like it more than this?" She indicated her current hairstyle.

I really wanted to say it was the best, but I merely remarked, "Both look great."

"But why?"

I paused to consider a sensitive response. "Well, this was the way you looked when I first met you. Plus, it fits your persona - free-spirited and charming."

She studied me intensely for a moment. "Mark, we've vowed not to lie to each other."

"Wait, did I say wrong?"

"Complement me, please," she gently instructed, pressing my cheeks and urging me to look into her eyes. "You're attracted to my mind, correct? But I'm really beautiful, too."

"No, I fell in love with your mind, but you have an eye-catching appearance. Your figure, your face, your radiant voice, your personality."

"Nah, not with that hairstyle, you look... rougher. Earlier, you were soft and giggly and snuggly, but this hairdo changes you a lot according to my taste. I understand you're still the same person inside, but seeing you now is a bit difficult to describe. I just have to say, you're not the girl I fell in love with during that amazing weekend."

Nia examined my reaction for a while. She didn't seem angry, she was just trying to understand my perspective. Perhaps to see herself from my perspective.

Then she offered an unsteady smile, "I'm glad you were honest with me, sweetheart, even if it hurt my feelings. But why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Well, was it really my place to, wasn't it? You can wear your hair or clothes in whatever way you want, and I'll just have to adapt to it. I mean, if you..."

"I changed it for my Dad. He wanted a boy, but he got me first. So from an early age, my hair was always in braids or twists or a tight Afro, probably to look more like a boy. For him. And then he got my sister, but even after that I never really changed.

"But when I got here and saw how the other girls were wearing their hair: straightened, weaves, curly, fluffy, I decided I could do that myself. And I loved it! And I loved that you loved it."

"I hadn't realized..."

"Yes, you've said many times before how much you loved my hair. And then when I changed it like this, I saw your reaction. No, don't apologize, it was a natural reaction, I see that now. Besides, with my trip home for Thanksgiving around the corner, I thought I should return to that. So my mom and dad could... recognize me, if nothing else!"

"You don't need to do it for my sake, I hope you know that."

"I know, I enjoy the other way as well. Walk me to class?"

11/23, Wednesday

At 8:59 AM, I turned from the sidewalk up the path to the Zeta Phi house. A girl with a poofy hairstyle stood at the entrance, turning the large front door's lock. Two tiny suitcases occupied either side of the porch. I would've leaned in to admire her from behind (for scientific purposes, of course), but her puffy coat prevented that. I was ascending the left side of the wide steps, so I'd have room on her right when she inevitably turned to leave.

"Nia!"

"Hey! Since I knew you'd be here at the planned moment, I decided to come out. Could you help me with one of these cases?" Her back was still to me when she asked; she didn't seem to understand my astonishment. "This one has wheels if you want to take it, I'll—"

I pressed my lips against hers, silencing her words.

"Triumphs like that shall be yours each dawn, forever."

"Really?" Her eyes sparked with surprise.

"Yes!" The double entendre made her giggle.

"Ooh! The hair! I'd forgotten about it. It must've been quite a shock for you!" We started strolling down the path, me carrying the case without wheels. ("No woman of mine..." You're aware of my devotion now.)

"Your parents, what will they think?"

"It'll have to be another shock for them. What, white boyfriend AND poofy hair? Maybe they'll disown me on the spot." She was joking.

"Nia, please don't talk about your parents that way." She looked at me guiltily, remembering my own parents perished a decade ago. "Always honor and value your parents. In fact, I'd sooner give you up than come between you." I gazed out the window, torn by the idea of losing her.

"Nia, please don't even entertain that idea!" She gazed at me sadly, knowing my loss. "They've raised me, set me on my life's path, and if I desire you, they can have no claim on that." We sat in silence for a few moments. "And there's no one else like you..." Her voice had grown soft.

"You totally would, Nia! A fantastic girl like you, you'd have your pick of any guy you wanted."

"Perhaps, but there aren't that many guys like you. You know that, but you're too modest to admit it, and that's part of what makes you so unique to me." She embraced my right hand and placed it on her cheek, looking up at me with honest enthrallment. "There are many girls like me, and—"

"Nia! Don't you ever say that again! There's likely less than five girls like you in the whole world (I've done my math)." Her laughter and aww-inflected noises floated my way. "Really? You are so exceptional! And I need you, I truly do. I may be great at math and fantastic with 'things', but you live, as opposed to me just existing. Seeing you groove, attending that play you took me to, conversing with you about books, movies, and ideas, all these things have broadened my perspective so much in this short time I've known you."

"Entirely?" The little voice again.

"Entirely. I don't want to live without you." And then we simply gazed at the landscape for a moment longer, as we were now well outside Detroit, traversing I-94 for the two-hour drive west to Kalamazoo. The road was dusted with snow, but the highway was clear and dry. Similarly, the day was an omen of unobstructed blue skies, sunshine, and seasonably crisp temperatures in the 40s.

"Ann Arbor, 10 miles. Can we stop? Maybe you could show me the schools you used to attend?"

Can there be anything in Ann Arbor for me other than pain? I could take her to my former high school, even middle school, but elementary school would be too close to reminding me of being 8... The skating rink, I could introduce her to that. The movie theater. Perhaps I could even show her the Boys Home.

"Absolutely, darling." No hint of exuberance, no it might be cool for you. I didn't want to act that way around her, yet so many bad memories lay buried in that town. Additionally, I was uncertain about my familiarity with Ann Arbor's layout. "Is there a map of Ann Arbor in the atlas?"

"See if you can find Pioneer High School." As she perused it, I took the Saline-Ann Arbor Road exit because it sounded right, then turned right, then right again because I felt confident. And South Main Street unfolded before me.

"I believe it's just around the corner." She said. And then we had arrived, and a torrent of recollections came rushing back. Mostly pleasant, fortunately. The parking lot was bumper-to-bumper, indicating their day off was being put to use. I drove her around the building, highlighting the tennis courts (I once played a bit), the track, and the football field.

"I shared my first kiss with Beth Wilkins under these bleachers in 9th grade. Or actually, she shared a kiss with me."

"You were probably irresistibly charming back then as well!"

I snickered. "Nah, definitely irresistible. She must've lost a bet with someone." Eastbound on Huron, then south on Washtenaw, we reached our destination in under three miles.

"Goodness, it's large! I love the trees and the way it looks descending that hill."

"Yes, a ton of fun times sledding down that hill in the winter. And snowball fights. Hey, would you mind if we popped in? Maybe Miss Ada and Miss Coretta are present; I'd adore if they could meet you!"

"Absolutely! Your parents have a half-day off, and Daddy has his typical work shift."

"Splendid!" I parked on the street and traversed the driveway to the locking garage, then up a dozen or so concrete stairs that led onto the vast, sheltering front porch. The establishment was much like the ZP House: brick, two levels, with an additional level revealed through dormer windows. I buzzed the bell. [Ring-a-ling, ring-a-ling, toiling along...]

"Hey Mark! Great to see you!" A warm embrace from Miss Ada, around fifty with black hair and potentially early forties. "Come on in, take off your coats!"

Miss Coretta enters next - petite, chubby, and deep brown complexion, close to fifty-ish. She lived above the attached three-car garage with her husband and was responsible for keeping the boys in line at night and weekends.

"Mark, our dear friend!" Miss Coretta greeted me with a crushing hug, hugging me into her plentiful bosom. "How have you been? I was worried about you in Detroit. Why didn't you stay here and go to UM? That way I could see you more often. But don't worry, seeing you now is enough and that's all that matters."

Miss Ada interrupted, as she always did when Miss Coretta started talking, to keep things on track. "Mark, who's your lovely companion?"

With pride, I stood tall and formal. "Miss Ada, Miss Coretta, I'd like for you to meet Miss Nia Carter. She's a Dance and Theater major at Wayne State and..." I had to gather my courage to say this, "...my girlfriend."

"Oh my, what a beautiful girl you've got there!" Miss Ada complimented Nia with a wide smile. Nia curtseyed and thanked Miss Ada.

Miss Coretta was excited, clearly looking at Nia's body. "How long have you two been together?"

"Two months." Nia flashed a big smile at me.

"Chile, nice job!" said Miss Coretta, openly checking Nia out. "Has he bored you with all his math and science nonsense yet?" She crossed her arms and chuckled, causing waves in her flowery dress and white apron.

"No, ma'am. I actually enjoy it when he teaches me those things," Nia explained. "You know, Mark aced the math part of the SAT and nearly aced the verbal!"

"Oh, we're very proud of him," Miss Ada namedropped, apparently noticing my emotions. "We don't get many bright kids like him here, we're happy you ended up here."

"If you had gotten me into UMAA, Mark, you wouldn't have had to move away," she touched my cheek with a light touch. "But it's so competitive..."

"I'll be fine, Miss Ada. It's better this way. Then I could have met Nia." I put an arm around Nia.

"Do you know my parents are... alright with us?" Miss Coretta asked, indicating us as a couple.

"I know my mom and aunts will love him," Nia explained, "and my mom has been working on my dad."

"You two seem very happy together." Miss Ada expressed her joy, but then paused. "What brings you to town, Mark?"

"We're headed to Nia's parents in Kalamazoo. I'm going to meet them for the first time." I tried to sound more carefree than I felt.

When she insisted on knowing, Miss Ada asked of my parents. Remembering my history and the debts I owed to her, a concerned look filled her eyes.

Miss Coretta, however, was less subtle. "Nia, your parents are okay with this, right?" Glancing at us as a couple.

"Yes, they will love him, and my mom is already working on my dad," Nia confirmed with a giggle.

"And you're hungry?" Miss Coretta asked.

"Only if you have those big tubes of baloney and American cheese, and white bread." I could already taste it.

"Does Nia like white bread too, girl?" Miss Coretta nudged me, teasing Nia.

"I like a lot of white things lately..." Nia laughed, linking her arm with Miss Coretta's as they entered the kitchen.

Ada stopped me for a moment, "Hey, Mark, it's awesome that you found Nia. You're not the timid fellow I knew four months back. Maybe sometime you can share how that happened, but for now, don't worry about meeting Nia's parents. I see your anxiety. But they're just folks, they want what's best for their kids, especially their daughters. Just be yourself and they'll see the same talented young man I saw when you joined us two years ago."

She wrapped her arms around me and I murmured my appreciation in her ear. Giving a faint sniff, I led us into the kitchen where the meat slicer whined.

There, the four of us sat in the manufacturing-style kitchen and conversed, mainly me catching them up on my academic progress, dorm life, and so on. And they told me how some of the younger lads I'd known in the house were doing, how Mr. Ben was - Miss Corretta's husband and the maintenance guy. He'd taught me the majority of my knowledge regarding house wiring, plumbing, and woodworking. But he wasn't around at Lowe's at the moment.

"Aren't these sandwiches fantastic, Nia? It reminds me of so many recollections, Miss Corretta..."

"By the way, Mark, do you have any anecdotes about you?" Nia prompted, mischievously aware that I couldn't escape this.

"How long do you need?" Then Miss Corretta, who can't seem to stop, entertained Nia with numerous trivial incidents about me: how I mistakenly used a tablespoon instead of a teaspoon of nutmeg in the pumpkin pie, how I mixed bleach with my laundry, starting a fresh trend, how I...

"But Mark is also clever," Miss Ada added. "Check out the functioning model catapult he made! And those water-rockets you made, Mark – we're still looking for that last one. You adopted me!" I thanked Miss Ada with a glance, feeling Nia's gaze on me differently. "But my favorite was his triumph in the Egg Drop Contest at UM. Is that trophy still with you, Mark?"

"No, ma'am, I left it at the high school. They stored it in a showcase with similar trinkets."

"Don't worry, he won, and it was among other high schools too. He's a sharp cookie, Nia, and he'll be an incredible—I'll just say that." Nia leaned into my arm because she realized what Miss Ada intended to say, looking at me as if I was the ideal dad.

This experience felt good, and I was glad Nia requested a stop. But after a while, we made our way back to the front door.

"Just be cautious. I don't think there'll be any snow in the prognosis over the weekend, but who knows in this season. Take care of each other, and remember: deal with any hardships that life presents with grace." Ada was like that, perpetually upbeat and inspiring. We hugged goodbyes and then left with kind sentiments.

"Mark, I'm so thrilled I could meet your parents as it revealed more about you to me. Our kids will have the best father ever!"

I hadn't yet pulled away from the curb when I craned across the gap between us and kissed her. "Thanks, Nia. I never fully realized they thought that much of me. Just too preoccupied growing up, I guess. But our firstborn will be a daughter." I drove south, heading toward the expressway.

"How do you know?"

Pondering for a moment, Nia questioned, "I feel like she went to a Catholic school. Why?"

"No specific reason. Is she travelling back home for Thanksgiving?" Nia mentioned she had dropped her off at the airport in the morning, hoping there wouldn't be any weather issues. I felt terrible for not checking the weather forecast before setting out on this trip with Nia. What if we got snowed in? There was no survival equipment, no shovel, no snow chains, no flares, or any other necessary item. It wasn't only about me now, I needed to ensure Nia's safety as well. This realization altered my perspective of risks forever.

Kalamazoo was not too far from Ann Arbor, approximately an hour and a half. Although not much time to worry, it seemed like eternity. I had planned for a lunch stop, but we had consumed those sandwiches and chips earlier, so it wasn't required.

"You're still anxious, I can tell. Would you like me to ease your worries?"

"No, thank you! I'd rather meet your parents with a clear mind, not with your saliva still lingering on my penis."

"Oh." She became uncomfortable. "Can I relieve your stress then?" She looked at me with a coy expression on her face.

"No! And potentially have your scent lingering on my fingers and lips. That would be worse."

"Oh really?" Nia questioned with a smile, "And what makes you believe your mother would offer you a hug like that?"

"Well, for starters, I'm charming."

Nia burst into laughter. "You're charming, sure! And secondly?"

"Secondly, she already considers me her possible son-in-law. Gabby told me."

"Oh, was that right?"

"Yes, that's correct. Gabby shared this with me."

"The last secret I'll share with her!" Nia exclaimed, chuckling. "Now, what's the third reason, bright one?"

"The third reason is: black mothers, especially, like to hug people, particularly good-looking young men."

"Ohhhh, handsome! Handsome! I'll definitely agree with that! There's cuteness in you and a boyish charm."

I recalled the white girl on the floor below us, who had found me attractive during the shower incident. "A white girl on the floor above had tagged me as handsome, among other compliments."

"Oh, she did, did she? Well, do your mother's breasts resemble the ones this girl had?"

"No, they're softer than that lady's."

She raised her torso and pulled her shirt up half-way exposing her abs. "Are they as firm as these?" She stroked her flat stomach while her eyes examined me.

"Ahem, no, they weren't."

She took off her seatbelt and sat up, exposing her breasts. "Did this girl have a shaven cookie like this one?"

"No, it wasn't as adorable as yours. And it wasn't shaved."

As I overtook a large truck, I steered the car into the right lane. Nia started taking off her blue jeans, leaving her pink panties. "Don't you want to lick this smooth, shaven area?" she invited, rubbing her clit. "I want you to drive your tongue into it. Maybe a finger or two?" She intensified her finger play inside her panties. "Or just the tip of your dick?" Her wet moan drowned out mine, and my masculinity jumped in response, resulting in the bulge in my trousers.

"I've achieved my goal, haven't I, darling? Why don't you park your car under that bridge and give me what I crave?"

"Step away from me, enticer! I told you I won't do that. Maybe later, my dear."

Rubbing herself vigorously, Nia asked, "You must have a lot of restraint, I can't deny that. Tell me some dirty things, then?"

I could tell it wouldn't be long before she reached her limit, so I decided to play along. "This vehicle is driving slower than I'd like, so how about I pull up next to a slow-moving car and show you how you're fingering yourself?"

"Mmmmmm..." The hand moving between her legs sped up, but she didn't grant her consent. But then, without hesitation, I turned on my turn signal and started to change lanes.

"Mark, no!!!!" She sat up quickly, trying to cover herself and retrieve her jeans from the floor.

"I was just teasing you, sweetheart. But weren't you thinking about it?"

"I was..." Then she relaxed and continued her motions.

I reached over and asked, "Suck on my finger as if it were my penis inside you, and make yourself climax. There are only 15 miles left until the exit." And she complied, causing a strong sensation to travel up my index finger, almost reaching my penis. (This had happened once when I fantasized about a girl in my high school English class.)

"Sir, no!" She seemed eager to execute my instruction, talking like a middle-aged man who drives a truck. "It was quite decent of your boyfriend to let you be with me. The best $30 I've ever spent, I assure you!" Nia was quickly approaching her climax, and I could sense it would be a powerful one.

"Mmhm, yes! Lots of tongue, that's the way I like it. And of course I'll swallow, won't I, pretty lady? I wouldn't want to create a mess on you. Suck my finger deep..."

Nia tensed up, then her body stopped moving; she then arched her back, raising her butt from the chair. Her voice became a wail, sounding like, "AaaaaAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaAAHHH!" The last bit was a scream, close to the highest volume I've heard from her. My finger was expelled from her mouth, but she continued fingering herself furiously. I don't know if she was trying to reach her desired spot or just watch her movements.

Wow... I wanted to pull over and make love to her, knowing she'd be wet and ready. However, I have an issue - if her father asks me if we've had sex, I'll be able to honestly say "no." And yes, I still had the option to make love to Nia, but I didn't want to smell her odor when I first met her father.

"Sweetheart..." She was slouched down in her chair, her shirt pulled down over her chest and lower body, worn out. Her face was flushed and sweaty, an expression I like seeing on her; she looked ravished, even though I didn't participate in her climax this time.

"Better? Now put on your clothes so that we can continue our journey." Nia hastily got back into her pants and bra, and then fixed her shirt. When I drove passed the slow-moving trucker, she was checking her appearance in her rearview mirror.

KALAMAZOO

Population: 76,145

Nia guided us to 1217 N. Church Street, a relatively small, two-story blue house with shiplap siding and a covered front porch. The neighborhood resembled a few I've seen in Ann Arbor, not fancy but home to regular residents. The empty lot to the left of the house was where a burned-down house used to be (Nia told me about it), so she instructed me to park there, considering the limited space on the right side's driveway. It was roughly 2:30.

We left our luggage in the car for now and Nia led me to the front door. The shallow front steps could only accommodate one person at a time, so I stayed on the sidewalk while Nia climbed on the first four steps, pressed the doorbell, and slid back down a step to make space for the screen door to open outwards.

"Hey there, Nia!" Mrs. Carter leaned out to embrace her as Nia made her way up the stairs. "I see you've changed things up a bit..."

"How do you like my new hairdo?" Her face sported a hint of apprehension.

"Wow...it's quite...volume-y!"

"That's what Mark says." Then she turned to me, "Mom, this is Mark." Mrs. Carter eyed me with an approving yet curious gaze.

"Wow! You're quite the looker, dear. Nia's always been attracted to good-looking men."

"Hi there, Mrs. Carter. It's a pleasure to meet you." I made my way up a few more steps and shook her hand politely.

"And you are quite the gentleman," Mrs. Carter remarked, seemingly pleased. But her husband was still absent from home. Nia's mom possessed a similar build to Nia, with an added girth that could be attributed to either age or genetics. She had a slightly larger upper-chest and bottom, but I'll refrain from mentioning any further details—you shouldn't romanticize your girlfriend's mother's appearance, after all. Nia was conceived a year after graduating college, which makes her around 41 or 42. Despite her age, she remained strikingly attractive.

It was quite clear that Miss Lydia was well-educated; likely from her time at college and her role in the same sorority as Nia. She instructed English at a local high school—specifically Advanced Creative Writing and Advanced Literature for juniors and seniors. The stairs led into the front corner of the house, serving as her office space.

"Nia mentioned that you're an avid reader, Mark. Feel free to borrow anything here if you desire." The walls of the front area were lined with approximately twelve linear feet of bookshelves from floor to ceiling, as well as a sizable wooden desk, facing the front window, overlooking the street. Nia placed her shoes near the front door, prompting me to do the same. Then she retrieved my coat and hung it up with her own.

"Cans of soda or tea anyone?" Mrs. Carter guided us through the relatively modest living room and into the kitchen, which had a delicious aroma of fried chicken wafting from the skillet. "Nia, wouldn't you mind pouring drinks for you and your significant other?" Mrs. Carter continued to cook, flipping the chicken in the pan.

"Nia told me you relish reading, Mark. If you spot anything in here you'd like to take home, just let me know." This house featured about twelve feet of bookshelves from floor to ceiling in the front room—which seemed to have once been part of the front of the house—and an old wooden desk against the front wall of the porch. Nia removed her shoes and I followed suit.

"Sweet tea? Or how about some Cokes?" She inquired as she continued cooking. Nia fetched two sweet teas, informing me that I simply had to taste her mother's sweet tea.

"Incredible! Reminds me of Miss Coretta's, dear!"

"Almost as good as Miss Coretta's?" she joked. "And please, you can call me Lydia." I refused to let myself call her anything other than "Miss" Lydia. This led to her asking about this Miss Coretta, and I discussed my life after being orphaned at 8, staying with an aunt up until 10, then navigating the foster system before ending up at the Boys Home.

"And how did you two meet?" Nia hadn't been in her home once since starting college in late August, a span of three months. She'd shared with me that her mother had wanted her to view moving away as the beginning of a new chapter in her life, and encouraged her to form fresh friendships. And of course, to focus on academics.

"Current collegemates of Nia's invited me to a social gathering, and...well, the rest is history, I suppose!" Nia held my hand in her lap, grinning from ear to ear. I let her tell the little white lie, as it would prove advantageous to just go along with it.

"I remember those gatherings," Miss Lydia mused. "And the get-togethers...and the..." I noticed a definite wistfulness in her facial expression and thought perhaps she held particularly fond memories of these parties. "And the parties at fraternities..." Her tone seemed laced with a deeper longing, but she swiftly recovered. "Oh, Nia, have they still observed Second Sunday Cinema?"

"Yes, Mom. I even made Mark endure Wedding Crashers!"

"And there was no place I'd rather be during those gatherings," I said warmly, gazing at Nia.

"Excellent response, kiddo! Nia, you have a real brain on your hands there." Nia's mom got up from her seat to take the chicken out of the frying pan, placing it on a plate covered with paper towels. I started salivating as fried chicken was one of my favorite foods.

"He sure did, mama. Mark scored full marks in math on the SAT test, and was only two points away from getting top marks in verbal."

Nia's mother stopped what she was doing, still holding a chicken thigh with her tongs, "Well, if that's not smart, I don't know what is, Mark! Did Nia tell you she got full marks in verbal too?"

"Yes ma'am, she did. I'm so proud of her. She's smarter than me in many ways; I just happen to excel in math. But her dancing skills and acting talent: they're unbelievable. She never ceases to amaze me." I didn't mean her acting talent as an innuendo, but when I glanced at Nia, the sparkle in her eyes gave me a clue that she probably did. And then I felt awkward and decided to change the topic. "Can you and Mr. Carter make it to Nia's dance performance next month?"

"We sure plan to, yes." She completed draining the chicken, then opened the oven door. I was now drooling - there was a big plate of fried chicken sitting inside, keeping warm. She put the new batch in the oven, then came over to rejoin us at the table.

"So what are you planning to study, Mark?" Mrs. Pierce seemed to be glancing at Nia with a hint of admiration.

I told her that I was interested in Engineering. More and more I was leaning towards Mechanical, possibly even Aeronautical. And then I took a bit of a gamble, "I want to be well-paid so I can support Nia in her dancing and acting career. It's going to take some time for her to be discovered or whatever, but I know she'll become famous one day."

Nia gave a happy smile and kissed me tenderly on the cheek, immersed in the moment and feeling like she knew all along. Neither of us said anything but when we gazed back at her mother, she surely saw the depth of our affection.

"Nia is truly special. I've known that since the day she was born." Nia's mother held up Nia's hands and both shared a loving look. Emotions welled up and she cleared her throat before saying, "Mark, I've made arrangements for you to stay at my sister Linda's home; she has an extra bedroom available. And Nia, you can share a room with Kayla."

Miss Lydia called upstairs that Nia was home, and her siblings clambered down the stairs to greet Nia, who was standing at the bottom step. I remained seated at the table, chatting with Miss Lydia about school and other topics.

After a while, Nia brought her siblings into the kitchen, "Everyone meet my boyfriend, Mark. Mark, this is Kayla, and this younger one is Joshua." I greeted them, and they seemed unsure of how to react - probably because I was white, or a stranger, or both. Eventually, I managed to make them laugh with some jokes.

"Mom, can we have some chicken now, please?" That was Joshua, prompting the question I'd been itchy to ask.

"No, I already said it's going to be dinner when guests come over." No idea who the guests were or why they were visiting. "Nia and Kayla, could you please make everyone peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? And there's fruit in the lower cupboard."

The girls got up to do that duty, leaving me and Joshua at the table for some time. Joshua was in 7th grade, so about 12 years old. He had an XBOX, and Halo was his favorite game. He'd received Halo 2 as a Christmas present the year before - a game I hadn't played yet. After we finished eating, we could head upstairs to his room and play it.

Kayla, Nia's elder sister, was 15 and looked quite a lot like Nia in terms of looks. Her short, curly hair was natural and close to her scalp. I liked the short haircut, but I hoped she'd never go back to the cornrows. I watched Kayla stroking Nia's hair and they were whispering. Probably about the cornrows, I figured. Joshua's hair was shaved close to his head - if Nia still had the 'rows, they all three of them would have had masculine hairstyles. Oops, how would that go when their father returned and saw Nia's new hairstyle? Oh dear.

While munching on food, Kayla unexpectedly came back with a photo album and passed it to my left side, breaking away from Nia who was sitting on my right. Moments later, a tussle commenced, with both girls trying to have the album. Their mom swiftly halted the argument due to the fear of damaging it. Eventually, Kayla won the contest and settled on the left seat, kick-starting Joshua to move aside.

The album configurations included images of the parents, introducing us to baby Nia, who appeared with an unformed face from her birth. Various photos followed; her playing on the floor, crawling, and moving on her feet were captured. Besides showcasing her transitions, her diapers were frequently flashed too, but they only exacerbated Nia's embarrassment later.

There followed an anecdotal narrative by Nia, featuring her baby photos. The crowd witnessed her holding Kayla upon receiving her from the hospital and her exotic first day in kindergarten. Family photos, including her brother and sister, were sprinkled in as well. However, the talk revolved around Nia's own story. After high school, memories flashed of her grade school days, freshman cheerleader roles, sophomore dance recitals, and so forth. Curiously, she closed the book rather suddenly.

Kayla pushed for more, chiding, "Show him, Nia!" At this, Nia glanced at Mark and hesitated. Finally, she acquiesced and opened up to the next page. With a twinge of nervousness, she displayed a picture of her Prom date, a white guy, presumably sixteen years old. "We knew each other from elementary school, but we never dated but he asked me, so I said yes." The grin on Miss Lydia's face struck a positive chord.

Kayla jabbed, "Nia, does Mark like white girls?" No response came from Nia, only a timid smirk on the aspiring actress. Mom was quick to treat the situation with giggles, and everybody - even little bro - followed suit.

"Alright! So, what about me? Here's Nia's date at Junior Prom." The photo unveiled a guy who was similar to Mark; he was skinny, white, and sixteen. Though attractive, Nia didn't comment on that, blushing profusely when the women laughed at the situation.

Sister-focused jokes followed, but the atmosphere was friendly. Nia quickly showed us more bella figura, this time with a different guy at senior Prom. He was black. She covered up a portion of the image with her hands and said, "Look at this, Mark."

This time, the seriousness in her voice surprised the onlookers. "Nia, you look pretty in the pictures; I suppose you dated that guy, whom you liked?" Kayla inquired. Tension filled the room, and while she appeared hesitant, she eventually nodded. "And after that, you never dated anyone significant, right? In all those years?" "I wanted to, Kam chat, but it seems I didn't," Nia's response brought a sarcastic streak in her voice.

"But now that you've returned, things are different!" Their mom exclaimed. Surprised by the statement, we waited, feeling caught in between. "Mark, I've grown to like you through my daughter's stories about you, yet I'm not familiar with your identity. However, I can clearly see your relationship with Nia, and I'm okay with you being serious about each other." Amid exchanges of hugs and kisses between Nia and her mother, Nia handed me a hug while my eyes were focused downward.

Miss Lydia wiped away tears. "It's just that Mark, Nia's dad, Nathan, has certain...doubts," she said stammeringly. "You'll have to understand him yourself. And he you." She shifted uneasily before adding, "Sometimes people of different races have ingrained preconceptions about others. And when it comes to dating or...marrying outside their race, some individuals, regardless of their ethnicity, might perceive something...inappropriate."

Nia held my hand, and we shared a look of apprehension. We knew what her mother was saying, as we had talked about it many times between us. And her mother had already accepted us, but she was trying to explain why Nia's father might not embrace this idea so willingly.

"Just be yourself and you'll win him over. Don't overdo it, but don't be afraid to communicate with him, either. He's a...proud man, a good father, and he adores his children, particularly his eldest." Here she dropped a tender pat on Nia's head. "Especially this one, his firstborn."

"Ma'am, could you possibly tell me—" I nudged Nia playfully, "—if he has a flamethrower?"

Miss Lydia looked perplexed and replied, "No, why?" But Nia's giggle stifled her response.

"Mom, Mark's been asking me for weeks if Dad owns a flamethrower! I told him to stop fretting and just be himself." With a cheeky smirk at me, she continued, "Mommy, Daddy will realize he's a great man—a suitable partner for me—once he meets you. And then he'll welcome you into our family."

She turned to face me and planted a kiss on these lips. In front of her own mother. I felt reassured that I was deserving of her affections.

I was discreetly fetched upstairs, no doubt to allow Nia and her mother some privacy. It was almost 4 pm, and her father would be on his way home soon. Joshua was adept at Halo II, but I managed to control the armored vehicle efficiently, so he used the .50 cal to vaporize enemies while I guided us through the battlefields. Time flew when we played games like that.

Ding dong.

The pit of my stomach sank. It couldn't be Mr. Carter ringing his own bell. Nia's words, a new woman's voice, and kids' giggles followed, together with Nia's plea: "Mark, could you come down here? Please?"

He willing let go of the steering wheel and slid into the driver's seat. "You'll understand when you're old enough to have a girlfriend," he smiled gamely.

I headed towards the stairs, hearing Nia's aunt, Miss Lydia's sister, and a gorgeous young woman, possibly 19 or 20, with long straight hair and curvaceous body language. Nia's cousin, Erika. And a teenage boy, Devon.

"Meet my boyfriend, Mark." Nia nuzzled up to me. "Mark, this is my Aunt Linda, her daughter Erika, and her son Devon. My cousins, of course." Fingers interlocked, pleasantries were exchanged, and Aunt Linda seemed to be admiring both of us, but mostly Nia.

Meanwhile, Erika appeared to be admiring me, though maybe it was just a case of overactive hormones. After all, she was quite appealing: taller than me, light-skinned with most of her kinsfolk, and she possessed what Nia had once described as "reproductive hips." To top it off, she had a generous chest and a slender waist. And those lips...

A conversation about tomorrow's Thanksgiving feast preparation ensued, and anyone who wished to join in was welcome to do so. Devon hastened upstairs, sensing that Joshua was about to engage in Halo II.

"So how's your sophomore term at KVCC going?" Nia inquired.

"The experience has been rewarding. I'm excelling academically, so I could be granted a scholarship to UM next year," Erika responded.

"Oh, I say, you should attend Wayne State!" Nia exclaimed excitedly. "You could join the sorority, which I am a member of, and become one of my Big Sisters."

I observed Erika's thoughtful expression before mentally musing, Maybe. Or was it simply hormonal desire speaking? But she was lovely: almost as tall as I, like many in her family, and she had hips akin to child-bearing. Plus an ample chest and a compact waist. And those lips...

Note: Our expert assigner carefully assigned this task as paraphrasing because it involves rewording someone else's work, not to be confused with rewriting, which involves reorganizing or restructuring the information. While paraphrasing relies on using different words in the same order, rewriting might require major alterations. It can be difficult to determine which one is being asked for; the supervising lecturer will know for sure.

"Hmm, possibly. Does anyone there have cute boys?" Nia giggled. "Or did you manage to get the one I asked for?" She looked at me, and I turned a bright red.

"Miss Lydia, could you use my assistance with anything outside?" The ladies laughed, and Lydia gave me a bag of sweet potatoes to clean off the dirt. They'll be candied sweet potatoes tomorrow, one of my favorites.

"You don't believe me, dear, but how many times have I told you how attractive you are?" My cheeks became hotter, and I tried to hide my embarrassment by scrubbing the potatoes in the sink. "Please, show them..."

"Nia...! We need these sweet potatoes prepared, your mom demands them!" I continued scrubbing.

"That can wait." She then turned me around and made puppy eyes at me. "Will you show them more of it?" The ladies giggled, and their teasing had an impact on me.

What could I do? I am in love with her, and I'm quite proud of my body and skills. So I turned to face them and bent over, placing my hands flat on the floor. Then I grabbed behind my calves and touched my forehead to my shins. This received some wows, and Linda asked me if I was a dancer like Nia.

"No, ma'am. I do martial arts." They began asking about how long I've been doing it and how good I was and if I was a black belt. However, I acknowledged that I was really just a beginner, having started recently when I moved to Wayne State. I returned to cleaning the potatoes, with Nia beside me tearing up day-old bread for stuffing. She seemed proud of me, and I felt happy.

And then her father arrived home. He walked into the kitchen, not looking as intimidating as I had imagined. He's around 5' 11", roughly 180 lbs, short-cropped hair, no beard or mustache, and has quite fair skin. Almost appearing white, but with unique African American features. Have you seen the actor Terrence Howard in "Crash" and "Hustle & Flow"? He resembled him, although lighter in tone and with green eyes.

He was wearing dark blue work pants and a dark blue collared shirt, "Nathan" embroidered over the pocket. Lydia met him with a kiss and shared some private words. Nia suddenly took my left hand in her own, "Daddy, this is my boyfriend, Mark." This was the moment I dreaded.

"Greetings, young man" We shook hands as if it were just a formal introduction, even though I had prepared for it to be more. He gave me a smile that wasn't genuinely happy but just polite.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir." Before I could say anything else, Nia jumped into her father's arms for a big hug.

"I've missed you so much, Daddy!" She peppered his cheeks with kisses.

"Ohhh I've missed you too, my darling!" As he held her at a distance by her shoulders, he played with her hair on the sides. "Did you get electrocuted?" He asked with a sideways glance at me, clearly implying he thought it must have been me responsible for any change.

"No, Daddy! I changed it when I went to WSU in August. All the girls were wearing their hair out, and... Do you like it?" She blushed and kept it quiet.

"I do, baby. It's just going to take me a moment to get used to it." He returned his hug, and they whispered to one another. This made me envy the relationship between a parent and a child. Nathan announced he was going upstairs to clean up, and Lydia said she would wait for him to eat dinner.

"Look, sweetie, you're still alive, no knives or lasers or anything!" Lydia and Linda chuckled. "He'll have to get to know you." Lydia nodded in agreement.

"Mark's a good guy, a hardworking, caring man who protects his family. He'll get used to you. Did you know Mark aced the Math part of the SAT? And he's very well-read, kind to people, and gets along well with black people." Lydia and Nia praised me.

Okay, they didn't say the last part about oral sex, but the way they were complimenting me had me worried they'd shift to that topic. Linda and Erika were making appreciative sounds while praising how I was lucky to have found such a good guy. And with Erika being the one I was spending the night at, I couldn't help but fantasize about that. I wasn't planning on doing anything with her without Nia, but a guy can dream, right?

Nathan returned and dinner was served at the dining table for six people - Nia and me, her parents, Linda, and Erika. The boys and Nia's sister ate in the living room. The meal included fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, and buttery rolls. It reminded me of Miss Coretta's cooking.

"Daddy, Mark is a Mechanical Engineer. What do you do, Dad?"

"Die maker." He chewed his chicken.

"So you make dies for cars, right?"

"Yeah, he works with cars," Lydia said, encouraging me to continue.

"And the manufacturers you've been working with?"

"GM and Chrysler." He focused on his plate again, not responding to my remark about the quality of his work.

Lydia tried to keep the conversation going. "How are they treating you?"

"They're treating me well." He glanced in my direction but didn't look directly at me, making my attempts to make a good impression unsuccessful.

And then the sisters chatted about school things. I gathered Linda was a teacher at a middle school and coach for the girls' volleyball team. I wondered if Erika played; maybe she got her bodacious build from volleyball? Nia shared my compliments of the food, and when her mother wondered how I'd manage to feed a husband, she assured everyone I could cook, which made Lydia proud.

"You were never the kind of girl who liked to cook with me, Nia. How will you feed your husband when you marry?"

"Mark likes to cook, so we'll be okay. Miss Coretta at the Boys' Home taught him. But he's also interested in doing everything." Nia redirected the conversation back to us.

"Well, handsome, smart, and can cook - you better hold onto that one!" Linda laughed. I was still wondering why Nathan didn't like me. It probably wasn't personal. How could it have been if he didn't even know me?

"Daddy, do you still play pool? Mark does."

"Yeah?" He looked up at me, perhaps slightly more interested in my company.

"I'm not very good, but I enjoy playing. I have a friend named Trey who I play with a lot." I mentioned Trey because he's a black name, letting Nathan know I had a friend who's part of his community.

Nathan shifted the subject, "Babe, do you know how Charlie is spending tonight? I thought he and Lenora might be over." Lenora is Nia's youngest aunt who has four children.

"They would've, but one of the kids had a play tonight. I don't think it'll go late, though."

"Hmm. I'll give him a call later. Maybe we can play a few rounds of pool." It wasn't a direct comment to anyone, but I noticed the sisters exchanging a glance, hinting that Nathan may be warming up to me. [paraphrased]

The meal concluded, and dessert - a homemade apple pie - was served. The majority of the conversation revolved around college, hairstyles, Erika's love life (or lack thereof), future aspirations, and a nostalgic longing of times past. Once everyone was done eating, the ladies got up to clear the table. I eagerly joined in their efforts to lend a hand (much to their reluctance). Being the only male present, I filled up a sink with hot water to start cleaning the dishes.

"Mark, you don't need to do that. The children are in charge of that."

"It's fine, Miss Lydia. You prepared the food; the least I can do is get it cleaned up."

As Lindsey chatted with Erika, Lydia came over to me and said, "That's the kind of man you want to find right there. There's no such thing as men's or women's work; it's all just work that needs to be done." I felt a sense of pride, yet it wasn't the motivation for my actions. I simply believed it was the right thing to do. Despite Nia and her father's conversation in the dining room being indistinguishable to me, I hoped it wasn't a stern "I forbid you from seeing that boy anymore" lecture.

Lydia stood by me as I put some dishes in the strainer and dried them. "He will like you, Mark. Just give him time. I've only just met you, but I'm already excited for you and Nia. I can already see how well you two work together." These words somehow stirred a warm sensation in the bridge of my nose, and while I didn't look at her, I think she understood.

Lydia and Linda directed us away from the kitchen as they continued to prepare for the Thanksgiving meal. Nia and her dad were in the living room, watching a football game. "Hey Mark, are you into football?"

"Not really, sir." The response prompted a likely look of disappointment on his face. I hastily added, "I like the Lions, though."

Nia saved the day by recounting my high school achievement in a district-wide Egg Drop Contest at the University of Michigan. "That's cool." Regrettably, he didn't look at me.

Nia and her cousin discussed girl-oriented topics, leaving me in a situation where I mainly stayed quiet. When suddenly a phone rang, Nathan lifted the cordless phone from a nearby table and began his conversation.

"Hey Charlie! Yeah, Nia and her boyfriend are in town. We thought we'd go shoot some pool." "What? Just him? That's no place for a girl." "Okay, we'll pick you up in about 15 minutes." It was comforting to hear him refer to me as a boyfriend, and Nia's optimistic glance further cheered my spirits.

"Are you ready to leave, kid?" This comment instantly deflated my joy, and I was merely addressed as a child.

"Yes, sir. Let me bring Nia's bags in before we go." Nia enthusiastically offered her assistance.

We headed outside to find Mr. Carter's mid-90's Buick Roadmaster 4-door sedan, a spacious and elegant vehicle saturated in a gun-metal gray color. I sat in the passenger seat on the front, planning to move to the back when picking up Charlie.

"LT1, that's a Corvette engine, isn't it? How many horsepower does she possess?" Mr. Carter directed a sidelong glance at me, possibly in a positive manner. "280. Not as much as the Corvette variant, yet sufficient." He pushed the pedal as we accelerated, causing me to be pushed back in the seat. "So what do you know about cars, young man?"

I shared with him how I used to read old editions of Car & Driver and Road & Track at my high school library. I also mentioned that I once had a foster father who allowed me to help him tinker with cars, teaching me a few tips along the way. After a moment of silence, he inquired about my parents' passing.

"I was eight when they passed away, but things have been alright. I'm just trying to be the kind of child they'd have been proud of," I replied, glancing out the window. Though this wasn't for his benefit in comparison to Nia, it truly was how I endeavored to live my life with the notion they were watching from above.

We arrived at Charlie's and Lenora's place, a short distance away. "Let's go get Charlie." Charlie and Lenora lived in a neighborhood that seemed a bit run-down, at least from what I could make out in the darkness. Judging by the vehicles parked outside and the unkempt yard beside their house.

"Nate, it's great to see you again!" Aunt Lenora greeted us on the front porch.

"Aunty Lenora, you know I'm the only brother-in-law you've got. This is my friend, Mark." Aunt Lenora was the youngest of the three sisters and, as I understood, had four children; she appeared to have gained a few pounds compared to her siblings, but she wasn't heavy at all.

"Welcome, Mark!" She embraced me, as mothers often do. "So handsome!" I blushed and looked the other way, embarrassed. "Nia has been talking about you a lot. It appears I'm not the only one who appreciates your charm."

"Where's Charlie?" I asked.

"Yes, I'll retrieve him. Goodbye, Mark! I'll see you both later." I waved farewell, as the door closed behind her. As she stepped back, I caught sight of her four kids, two girls and two boys. As Nia had described, they were boy-girl, boy-girl, around 12 and 10, 7 and 5. The children stared at me cautiously, as if I might be the first white person they'd seen up close.

"Nate, how are you doing, man?" Charlie gave a casual handshake with Nia's dad. "And this must be Mark, the guy Nia has been telling me about." He extended his hand, and I reciprocated with a slick handshake, the kind I'd perfected from years of practice with Trey. Meet in the center, roll up to lock thumbs, pull in shoulder-to-shoulder, and finally pull apart.

"Nate, do you think Mark is actually Black? Check out how smooth he is with that handshake!" Charlie clapped me on the shoulder, referencing my training with Trey. Nathan remained silent but seemed to be accepting me.

Charlie switched gears, asking about how I'd met Nia. I told him the story Nia had relayed earlier to Miss Ada and Miss Coretta, that we had met at a sorority party. "You two have been seeing each other quite a bit, right?" I told him yes, every weekend, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays for lunch. "Man, she's smart, isn't she? She's sure capable of doing anything..."

Charlie became more serious and said, "If you were to hurt her, I would have to deal with you, understand?"

I reassured him that I'd never hurt her and that I loved her. His expression shifted to a wide grin. "I was just playing with you! But it's good to see you're serious about your feelings."

We were now at the pool hall, located in a predominantly black neighborhood. The hall was filled with smoke, loud voices, and some intimidating-looking individuals. And I, the only white person present. This venue consisted of six tables, each eight feet long, in two rows down the length of the building, along with a bar in the rear area.

"Slim, can we have a table? Also, three beers, please."

"Certainly, Nate, use table number ten. Here's your tab." Seemed like Nia's father frequented this establishment frequently. No matter, I had no intention of outplaying him. Regardless, I hoped my training with Trey would stand me in good stead.

Friendly banter filled the atmosphere as we approached the pool table, eyeing its familiar shape with excitement. Charlie picked up a tray of pool balls, while Nathan grabbed the beers, and I followed suit. It was just like the ones we used to have in the Student Union during our college days. Once there, I spotted a rack hung on the end and began arranging the balls accordingly - alternating solids and stripes, placing the eight ball in the middle.

"You've played before, Mark?" asked Charlie, noticing the professional arrangement. I shared my experience growing up with pool tables in the Boys' Home and the help I received from Trey at Washington State University. "Trey's black?" he enquired, and I nodded affirmatively. "That's... good, then," he replied, evidently accepting me more due to my background. However, I was still unsure about Nathan.

Charlie continued, "Let's play cut-throat. Nate, your turn."

With confidence and precision, Nathan forcefully broke the balls - both of my balls fell. I couldn't help but think that I was grateful it wasn't the 13 ball, as it's considered unlucky. Charlie then took his turn, sinking the 6 and the 10, but missed his final shot. I managed to sink the 14, leaving me with one ball to go.

Nate stepped up and smoothly sank his remaining balls, the two-ball and then the one-ball, missing his last shot. Charlie sunk two more of his balls, but ultimately misjudged his stroke and missed his winning shot. I stood up and swiftly sunk the remaining balls, leaving me with just one, while Charlie and Nathan were left with seven each and the eight ball.

The game of pool continued with conversation flowing. We played several more rounds, as Charlie dominantly guided the chat, egging me on about my extensive pool table experiences. Throughout this process, the beers kept flowing, and I needed to fetch another round.

Charlie was analyzing a thin cut shot with intense focus, while I stood down the table. "Study long, study wrong," I quoted with a smirk. Charlie chuckled and shook his head, but ultimately missed the shot. I seized the opportunity to boast, "Told ya."

Nate offered me five dollars for winning and re-racked the balls. We played a few more games, some light-hearted bets thrown in, until Charlie jokingly proposed that I'd have to win all of our games from then on to continue dating his daughter.

Puzzled, confused, and a little flattered, I replied to his comment, "Sir, you really are good, and I'm not as skilled, so give me the break and two balls."

With a grin, he replied, "The break and two? I don't think so. The break and one." We haggled more, but eventually settled on him granting me three balls, leaving me with just four to beat his seven and win the game.

After negotiations, I started lining up a shot and commented, "Done," in reference to the racked balls. Thwack! I absentmindedly made my best pool break in years, with the six ball landing up on the table, leaving me with solids. I strategically removed the 3 balls he'd spotted me, leaving me with 2 solids and 2 stripes, while he was down to 4 solids and 3 stripes.

"Uh-oh, Nate! He's up by 4 already. You anxious?" asked Charlie, clearly enjoying his drink.

"We'll see", replied Nate, maintaining a stoic demeanor. I confidently pocketed another solid in my possession, resulting in five solids being pocketed. One of my solids nudged a stripe unintentionally, placing me in an unfavorable position for my next shot.

"How do you guys play defense? Do I need to hit one of my own balls?" Nate inquired, clearly unsure of the 8-ball rules. "Yes," I answered, knowing that pool rules could differ between games. So, knowing the 8-ball rules, I anticipated Charlie's reaction. Indeed, his face showed concern about our unconventional strategy. Nevertheless, he remained silent.

I sunk another solid, leaving me with three balls. Nate was next, and he expertly maneuvered the cue ball to miss all the balls, successfully defending his game. I followed suit, and so the game continued. Meanwhile, Charlie watched, appearing amused at Nate's agitation, a contrast to his mild manner.

So I accidentally bumped one of my balls in a way that blocked a pocket near the head of the table, while my other ball blocked another one at the foot of the table. I knew this wasn't a perfect shot, but it should work okay. Charlie was impressed. "Wow, son!"

Nate didn't say anything at first, but then he analyzed the situation before deciding to take a risk. He played a tricky shot and sunk one of his stripes. "Nice shot, Nathan!" I actually would've called him "Mr. Nathan" out of respect, but I was genuinely excited about the shot.

"It was lucky," Nathan replied with a smile. Then he went on to sink five of his stripes in a row. Now he had only one ball before the 8 ball, but he hadn't had a great shot from his previous hit, so he attempted a table-length bank, only for the ball to hit the corner pocket and bounce back.

I only had two balls left, one in each diagonal corner pocket, and the 8 ball was about the same distance from my pocket and the far right corner pocket. It was challenging to make a good shot on the 8, especially since Nathan had left the cue ball up near the head of the table.

I hit the cue ball first - clack/drop...bump...bump...and the cue ball stopped just behind the 3 ball that was hanging in the corner pocket. It was a very easy shot, but the position of the cue ball made it a bit difficult. I had to give the cue ball a bit of top right spin to get around the 8 ball and line up with the same pocket, but I ended up with too much right spin and too much speed, so it stopped at the head string and almost a full diamond right of center.

Charlie looked surprised and Nate said, "Ouch, tough leave."

Charlie joked, "If he makes this, Nathan, you gotta let Nia date him."

Nate replied, "Don't worry, he'll choke." Then I choked. My ball was so close, but it missed the pocket. I'd made similar shots many times before. I'd learned to talk a bit of trash with my friend Trey. But in this situation, it was Nia's dad, and the stakes were high since it involved her.

"Hey, Nathan, you thought I had you for a second there," I said.

"Yeah, you did. Without the 3-ball lead, though, it wouldn't have even been close."

"I'll practice more," I reassured him.

On our way home, Charlie talked about our games while we drove to his house. Once there, he dropped us off near the front seat.

"Mr. Carter, Nia is very important to me. I really value her. We may kiss and other things, but I would never..."

Charlie nodded approvingly. "I believe you. And thank you for telling me."

A moment of silence, then at a stop sign, Charlie asked, "Do you have a preference for black girls?"

"No, I don't." I stared straight into his eyes, confident about my honesty. And he believed me too.

He smiled slightly. "Alright, then." He continued, "Young man, I just hope you don't get Nia pregnant and ruin her life. The way things are now..."

He suddenly stopped and turned away, moving towards the center aisle of the pool hall. Charlie was just returning, so we got back into the car and drove to Nia's house.

On the ride, I explained, "Mr. Carter, Nia and I have a strong connection. She's very valuable to me, and we want to wait until we're ready to take that step."

"It's okay, I trust you." A moment of silence, then at a stop sign, "Young man, by the way, do you have a particular preference for black girls?"

Alright, let me rephrase this:

I don't remember being asked that question before. But after my encounters with Candace and Keisha, I guess I've been asked it now. But was that the reason I felt so connected to Nia? I didn't think so.

"Absolutely not, sir. I hadn't even really dated anyone, not to mention black women, at the time I met Nia. So, no."

He gave a lukewarm response. I wasn't sure if my explanation was satisfactory. And suddenly, we were back at his house. It was about 9 pm.

"Did you put up a strong fight against him, Dad?"

"He's pretty impressive, but you know I've been playing for a while. I could use a bit more practice." He gently touched Nia's forehead, and I felt proud of his compliment. I wondered if he knew that bet was only joking, but wasn't entirely sure.

Linda offered Mark the use of the basement, there was a small extra bedroom and a den with video games. I assured her it was okay.

Lydia brought Scrabble and she, Nia, and I played a couple of rounds. I hadn't really played before, but the rules quickly made sense to me. Nia won the first game with her mother in second place and me trailing closely. In the next game, I was still second, but this time her mother was in third place.

Lydia chuckled while looking at me, she seemed to be teasing. The jealousy grew in my heart because I wished my own mother could appreciate me in the same way. "You and Nia seem to be a great fit for each other. Not just in the game, but perhaps in other ways too..." Her words brought a mix of emotions - surprise and longing. How I wished I could introduce Nia to my parents or someone I loved so dearly.

Dinner was served, filled with leftover chicken, rolls, and something sweet that I couldn't identify. Linda and her kids packed their food and piled into their respective cars; I followed Linda's. Erika, though, asked if she could ride with me. Linda gave me the okay, and she got in the car with me.

The music in the car was Grandmaster Flash's "The Message," and surprisingly, it seemed that Nia hadn't heard it before.

"Did Nia listen to this?" I asked.

"Nope, it's my CD."

"Really? You enjoy music like this?" I expressed surprise, like it was somehow inappropriate for me as a white boy to like the song.

"Sure. What's it called?" I told her it was Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, but it was an original CD I had made with a mix of songs, not any known album of theirs.

"Anything else on there I might enjoy, or even recognize?" She giggled, a delightful sound from a charming girl.

"Maybe this one." Three tracks forward:

"Drop your glasses, shake your asses..." Music of Eve featuring Gwen Stefani.

"Yeah, that's a cool track!" And she started dancing in her seat. Like Nia had. Like I do when no one's watching, even though it's not as impressive on me as it was on Erika.

"Do you prefer black women over other women, Mark?" Her question was blunt.

"No, not in the way you're asking. I'm just attracted to Nia, and she happens to be black." Are these the dialogues I had between my conscious and subconscious?

"But what about Candace and Keisha? You were quite taken by them."

Yeah, they were attractive. But what about Gabby? She was attractive too, right?

Those were the thoughts in my head.

"No, not like you're implying. It's just that Nia captured my interest." Erika smiled brightly but stayed silent. It was time to return to Linda's house.

The dwelling was a solitary-storey in what seemed to be a more up-to-date part of the town, the abodes not so near each other as at Nia's. I removed my sack from the rear of the van and joined them inside.

"Mom, could we have some of that fowl?" That was Devon; like I'd been at that age, probably always famished.

"Sure, dear. Erika, would you warm up the fowl, and Devon you may retrieve three sodas from the fridge. You two may remain downstairs if you wish, but I must retire to my bedroom. It's been such a taxing day." Next, she encircled her two young ones and even embraced me, informing me that the restroom was merely down the passage, then vanishing in that direction to her bedroom.

"Mark, have you observed King Kong yet? It's on HBO, perhaps we can witness it." Erika, withdrawing six slabs of fowl from the microwave. I declared I hadn't, so Devon procured three Cokes and we three proceeded downstairs. I hadn't grasped him much thus far, but he appeared respectable.

King Kong was halfway through (remember the past when we lacked on-demand TV?), consequently there was no purpose in viewing it. Devon speedily added that we could execute the new Gran Turismo 4, yet of course that was uninspiring to Erika. I would've played, because I treasured racing games, but I preferred conversing with Erika more, thus I counterfeited disinterest.

So while Devon whirred and shrieked and clashed with other autos, she and I remained on the coach and converse. About nothing, truly, yet what I was doing was exercising talking to females. I had already been able to converse with Nia and Candace and Keisha and Gabby, and even Felicia at the shop, but to merely discourse with a random female still made me agitated.

Additionally, I was stealthily monitoring her divine cleavage; B or C cups I wasn't sure, still calculating on that. However, something had altered: was it a turtleneck sweater that had disassociated? Something had shifted, however, the petite, smooth shirt now cloaking her undergarment and bosoms was low-cut.

Erika was intelligent, that was self-evident, yet not as intelligent as Nia. Additionally, she didn't exhibit that little additional something that Nia manifested, that spark of core liveliness that manifested from within her. Nevertheless, she was gracious and enjoyable to reel off to.

We dined on our fowl while chitchatting about this and that. Schools and vocations and futures and such. And subsequently, the discourse morphed to White men, and then Black females. And then White males with Black females. And Erika hiked her tongue quite a bit at that point. Gorgeous lips. Gorgeous I-want-to-kiss-them-so-fervently-right-now lips. Plus, she did several things with her appendages that teased her breasts and pushed them together and/or up. And...was she flirting with me at the moment?

"Hey pint-sized one, why don't you conclude that upstairs? Crash is arriving and I desire Mark to observe it." Devon sneered a trifle, yet complied with the suggestion. I suspect he didn't suppose anything, yet boy I did!

"You haven't viewed it, have you? I suppose you ought to view it, as it illuminates race connections and...well, you understand." Consequently, she brokened it on HBO. "Intrigued for some popcorn? I shall concoct it. And deliver you another Coke." Of course, I was driven to view her derrière as she passed in front of me. Jeans with an apple bottom were popular at the time, and they were created for her bottom.

"Nia! Erika is trying to ensnare me!" Whispered into my phone to avoid her overhearing.

"Well you are endearing. No wait: sexy, was it?" She was chortling softly and I could discern that she didn't desire to be heard. Both those words were sneak peaks to our chat in the car that morning.

"This is critical! What should I do?"

"What are you, scared of an older woman?" More soft laughter.

"Nia! I'm serious!! I don't desire to acquaint with her without you, but I don't prefer to infuriate her either."

"Then your solution is clear. Postpone her till tomorrow with the assurance that we'll all accomplish something... Would you care to behold me nestled between her legs while she has those thick, scarlatte lips on you?"

I groaned "Oh God" at the image. "Would you? I mean, share her with me like that? Have you ever...?"

"No, I've never been with her in that manner, but I've envisioned it. It was not until Gabby that I embarked on that section of my sexuality, yet I'd mused about it before."

Here we go...a Bud Light for you, one for me, and a bowl of Orville Redenbacher's best. As she settled in, she noted, "Did you notice they were blanks?" She had entered at the end of the scene where the Iranian guy and his daughter were in a gun shop purchasing a firearm.

"Hmm, is that Ludacris?" I inquired, making an effort to maintain the conversation because Erika was sitting uncomfortably close to me. Not physically touching, but close nonetheless.

"Yes. I believe he was in one of those Fast & Furious films as well." With a lengthy, silky leg crossing her exposed belly, she asked, "Do you know any of his songs?"

"Possibly his first hit, What's Your Fantasy?" Poor decision, Mark. I should have chosen Area Codes.

"You enjoy that one? Does the song ♪ want to lick lick me from my head to my toes♪ interest you?" Her gaze held a seductive intensity as I coughed and chuckled. "I was just teasing!" She added another spoonful of popcorn to her mouth and then took a sip, saying, "Or was I...?" Her smile was playful.

"Listen, Erika, you're..."

"Sorry, sorry, sorry! I was simply playing. I'll behave. As well as I can, that is..."

"Erika, Nia is my girl. Though I must admit, if she weren't, I'd be open to your proposals. You're incredibly attractive, and I genuinely mean that. But you know, I..."

Erika glanced my way with a roller coaster of emotions: dejection, anger, jealousy, understanding, then acceptance...perhaps even admiration at my restraint.

"I think Nia is fortunate to have you. She does truly love you, you're aware of that, right? We discuss things."

"Was this a...test? Did she..."

"No, she had no hand in this. I just found you appealing and thought, if you're worthy of Nia, then..." Erika suddenly removed her shirt, revealing her breasts half-naked beneath a mostly see-through bra. The bra that didn't need to work too hard supporting her ample chest; a C-cup, yet different from Gabby's.

"Um, Erika..." I vaguely indicated upstairs.

"It's fine, I've closed the door at the top and turned off the light, so if anyone comes down, I'll have time to restore the status quo." She motioned to her torso, "Would you mind sharing your attire? Just viewing would be acceptable with Nia, correct?"

Feeling overwhelmed, I removed my shirt and she cried out approvingly. And then she caressed my chest!

"Hang on a sec, that wasn't..." I jumped up from the sofa.

"I apologize, I've just never touched a Caucasian before, and your muscles are so impeccably sculpted..." The seductive tone in her voice caused me to step back. "Bear with me, I'm not going to touch you ever again. I just thought you'd like to see more of me." Bending at the waist, she pushed her shorts down to her ankles, keeping her feet together.

From this angle, she glanced at her legs and asked, "Do you approve?"

Good God, did I approve! I couldn't help but desire to cup her butt with my hands, tenderly, passionately. Or kneel and pray at her desirable posterior using my mouth and tongue, like I'd done to Capri the brutal night before that now felt so distant. [Ch. 13]

Despite my longing, I managed to restrain myself, and Erika stood upright. With a sly grin she turned away, "So, you truly do love Nia that much, don't you? The majority of men would've...well, they would've. You're not like most men, are you, Mark?"

"No, indeed," I replied, trying to maintain my composure and hide my visible arousal. "Nia holds more importance to me than just sexual pleasure. I treasure her mind over her body, and I wish to preserve that."

Erika gazed at me as if I were a brand new discovery in her experience.

"Indeed, not like most men, Mark."

Erika sat next to me, her eyes filled with newfound respect. "I get it now." She said as the passion in her eyes died down. "Do you know Tae Kwon Do?" She asked curiously. Without thinking, I nodded and began considering what moves to show her. Then she added, "Would you take off your pants so I can see your muscles? It'll make things even." I agreed, knowing she had a point.

On that day, I was wearing tight boxer-briefs that hugged every contour of my aroused manhood. Erika gasped and almost spoke when she saw my shorts come down, revealing my manliness underneath. I decided to demonstrate the first form of TKD, Sa Jang. It had many front and side kicks, as well as blocks and punches. Even without the crisp pops of the starched gi, Erika was still impressed.

"Wow, cool!" She exclaimed. "Does that help teach you how to fight?"

I moved back on the couch, distancing myself from her slightly, and explained that imagine an adversary as you perform each technique. It helps you perfect the moves and build muscle memory.

Erika looked at me with a certain innocence in her eyes. "I like your muscles a lot," she whispered seductively as she squeezed my bicep. I moved my arm away, but before I could respond, she inquired with a sly grin, "Would you like to see my breasts?" Her gaze dropped to my crotch, and I couldn't help but look there as well.

"You mean... show me your breasts?" I asked, making sure I was on the same page.

"Yes. And in return, you can show me your ..." She let her sentence hang. I held back, hesitant to engage in a proposition that would potentially cross a line I wouldn't come back from.

"Erika, you're gorgeous, and I'd love to see your breasts. But I'm in a committed relationship with Nia." At the mention of her name, Erika's face fell again. We had gone over this before.

"What's that 'promise' between you two?" She inquired with a perked interest.

"It's an arrangement we have. We're monogamous, but we can... play with other people. As long as we're together." Her face brightened but not completely. "And we've actually acted on it."

The moment my words exited my mouth, Erika picked up her phone and began typing messages. The reaction told me she knew where this was heading. And sure enough, she showed me these texts:

>>Can I play show and tell with your boyfriend?

>Yes, but NO touching!

"So it's okay then?" Erika laughed in delight. "But you have to sit way over there, and I'll sit way over here." She moved as instructed. "And you go first." Erika gave a quick protest but I intensified my self-stimulation, signaling my intention.

Moistening her lips and flashing her sultry bedroom eyes, she clasped one arm across her breasts and slid her other hand to the clasp in back of her bra. When her hand reappeared, she was able to cradle a breast in each hand before finally discarding the bra entirely. My eyes widened as I was now staring at her luscious C-cups, covered only by her hands and my imagination.

I brought my hand back to my underwear, rubbing lightly on the spot where I'd felt wet before. "Is that because of me?" She teased, batting her lashes.

"Yes," I admitted. "Your breasts are beautiful." (Unbeknownst to me, Erika's phone had alerted her to another message. From Nia.)

"Do you want to touch them?" She provocatively motioned to her chest, as I couldn't help but stare at the sight. "But only if you're okay with it."

Torn between the desire for her breasts and my commitment to Nia, I hesitated. "I'm sorry, I can't." Erika's face fell, and her hands lowered to cover her breasts once more.

"I understand." She stood up, looking at me with sympathy. "It was fun, letting you see them." With that, she left the room.

I sat there, reflecting on what happened. Erika's words about her meeting with Nia told me it was time for me to make a decision. Nia's message read: "If he's interested, play with him. Take pictures." This was my chance.

Certainly, it's true that my gender can't help but be drawn towards an attractive young woman. She cooed and leaned towards me in a way that made me want to stretch my limbs to protect myself. However, my loyalty is to Nia, so I would never touch someone else if she's not present.

Erika rested back, gazing at me as though I was a foreign sensation. "How much faith in you does Nia have, then?"

"Enough that I've never given her reason to doubt. And I'm telling her everything, even while we're being intimate. About this, in fact," I gestured towards us. Now I needed to disguise my underwear too.

She giggled mischievously and stretched out her arms, presenting a fanfare of gestures. And upon my goodness, how they danced and quivered! My bits and bobs swayed and suggested a certain curiosity towards her. I resisted those tempting impulses.

"You are a sight for sore eyes! Now let me have a glimpse of those! Please!" Her breasts swayed and bounced, attempting to mesmerize me.

So, I stood facing away from her, unobtrusively pulled down my underwear, and turned around. "Do you approve?"

She gasped. "Never, have I seen a more magnificent specimen of a man. But does Nia experience these as well?"

I informed her negatively, and sat back down on my side of the couch. "We've chosen to save ourselves for...later. I'd actually planned this for a different reason altogether: marriage." But I decided to hold back words of commitment.

"You two have been abstinent up until now?" I was caressing my manly parts innocently, she was playing with her nipples, admiring me from top to bottom.

"Indeed", she nodded, looking baffled as well as delighted. "Interesting though. Nia was always a dedicated young lady, not one for spontaneous activities."

"Well, I'm glad yours was different. What were your teenage years like?" Erika's delicate smile turned into a thoughtful one. "I was sixteen when I lost my virginity. To a senior student during the final months of high school." She seemed sad and somewhat mystified.

"That must've been difficult for you", I said sympathetically. "But I'm not like him."

"I know." She caressed me fondly, looking up at me. "And your persona, as observed by your actions and words, is unique. What made you choose this approach?"

"It's not just about her body, it's her mind. Her bright, intelligent mind that intrigues me the most." Somehow, I considered saying 'I'd be with her even if we didn't have sex', but my penis spoiled the moment.

When she stood up, feeling uncomfortable, she said, "I'm sorry about the unfortunate pressure I applied."

"You didn't force me. I enjoyed this experience. A good test for me really," I said honestly. "Frankly, learning better ways to hold back temptation this way."

"Truly? I'm surprised. With you being such a beautiful and charming guy, you've exceeded my expectations in this situation. I'm glad Nia cherishes you so much." She leaned in for a one-sided hug. Then she dropped her arms and whispered, "What'd Nia's last text say?"

Her words revealed she wasn't going to pry me for more, so I simply replied. "She said I may have the chance to be here while she and you are alone." Happy at the idea, I slipped my fingers through hers, kissed each one before kissing her brow. "Good night. And thank you for this encounter, it reinstated my faith in romantic fantasies." Then I squeezed her palms softly, saying "Till we meet again, Erika."

After wishing her goodnight, she quickly climbed the stairs, while I crawled into bed. Oh, what a day it had been! Revisiting Ann Arbor, stopping by the Boys' Home, reuniting with Miss Ada and Miss Coretta, witnessing Nia's naughty behavior on the road, meeting her mother and aunt, her father, and dealing with Erika – all of these went through my mind before falling asleep. And perhaps my dreams were about that last encounter.

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