This Thursday, I thought I'd slip back to Gentleman. You might remember the party where he met Lynn and was slapped by his wife. We pick up just a few days later. Tastes of all sorts can be found on the blog.
Harrold knocked on the door. Lynn had told him to return
in three days, but he couldn't wait. A large black man answered the door a few
minutes later.
“What do you want?”
Harrold frowned. “Do your owners let you speak like
that?”
The man seized him by the throat. “I am free now. I take
orders from no one.”
Harrold pulled at the man's fingers, starting to
struggle for breath.
The man who had met him at the door on his first visit
appeared behind the giant slave, the freed man.
“That one is Lynn's, Will. Let him go, please. We don't
need to deal with bodies.”
Harrold felt the blood leave his face at the cold words.
This man could easily strangle him.
“Well, I wouldn't want Lynn's ire.” Will opened his hand
and Harrold held his knees as he violently coughed air back into his lungs.
There was blood splattered on Will's pants, making Harrold that much more
grateful for release. Whose blood did he wear? “You will wait in the parlor
until Lynn collects you.” He stretched out his right arm, pointing and
revealing more blood on the cuff.
Harrold practically ran to get away from the homicidal
black man. Both men disappeared down the hall. Harrold paced the parlor,
admiring portraits, including one of Lynn with the blond man in the hall.
Another woman with equally dark hair but glittering blue eyes, and a man
slightly darker than the one he'd seen. There was also a portrait of the slave,
freed man. He looked menacing even there. Eventually, Harrold tired and sat in
one of the chairs, wondering how late he was willing to wait.
“Harrold?” The musky smell of sex followed Lynn's entry.
He rose from the chair, taking her hand and bowing over
it. “Madam.”
She smiled and waited for him to straighten. “I have use
of you.” She turned, robe swirling out around her knees and making Harrold long
to remove it.
She didn't go far down the hall before stopping and
holding the door for him. It was, in fact, the same room they'd met in
previously.
On the bed lay a dark skinned woman, another slave, he
supposed. He'd never given Polly more than a glance, but this woman had curves
to shame his maid's slight frame. His gaze seemed fastened to her nipples that
somehow managed to be darker than her already black skin.
Remember to visit the blog!
Remember to visit the blog!
