AMBROSIA DIANA

Diane KNEW why she was in bed, with me, that night. Diane was adamant that RACE had NOTHING to do with it. Diane wanted to find out why, after a night, with me, that Ambrosia never said a word, about the night. In fact, when friends asked, all Ambrosia did was smile. Diane wanted to know why. Diane was curious about the myths she had been hearing, about me. Was I REALLY not into booze, drugs, and gambling? Did I, REALLY, pay my bills, first? After Diane saw how Ambrosia smiled, after, and around, me, Diane decided to do her own "detective work", on me. IF Diane let ME into her bed, she wanted to make SURE that I was who, and what, I said I was. Paying a hacker-friend $100.00 (That she had, un-expectedly won, from a lottery ticket), Diane got the "run down" on me. The reason, for this, was simple. Diane had known plenty of men, since high school. All of the men had told Diane of heir "dreams". It was only AFTER she began dating the men, that she watched as they "worked towards goals", via gambling their paychecks away. This is how Diane became a regular, at social service lines. She was, constantly, asking for assistance, for her mens bills. Then, there was the food stamp subject. The men made a habit of buying cart-loads, of food, then SELLING these, for gambling money. The men then sent Diane out, to food pantries, for hand-outs. Diane had spent many a morning, standing in line, for food. Diane was just considering how LONG her boyfriends landlord would let the man get by, on "promises" to pay back due rent. How long before his latest land lord kicked him out? As her hacker-friend told Diane "Man, this guy is weird. Only lived in three places, over thirty YEARS! Only goes to food pantries, maybe once per year. Been with one phone company, for YEARS." When Diane asked "Okay, so he has a paid cell-phone. Pre-paid, I will bet." The hacker would say "You would LOSE. Says, here, that the man has land line service, as well as pre-paid cell service." Now, Diane was beginning to understand why Ambrosia smiled at me. I had no history, of payday loans, drugs, booze, or gambling. After receiving this information, Diane went about deciding HOW to encourage me to ask HER out. That is, until another friend suggested "If you want to get into his pants, girl, why dont you ask HIM out?" Diane was not about to go up to a man, saying "Why not come over to my place, and fuck the living shit out of me." No, according to Ambrosia, the best way to get me into bed was to be polite, and "just a touch" suggestive. This is why Diane found her "in", during a conversation, about sex. While her friends were trying to draw me into conversations, about sucking cock, and titty sucking, Diane seemed to enjoy helping with talk of kissing, carressing, and so on. It was when her friends mentioned "fucking the shit out" of a woman, doggy-style, that Diane asked if we could talk. When we were away from the group, I mentioned "I just cannot believe that Ambrosia could be so disgusting. I mean, when we were..." then remembered who I was speaking to "... making love, she was so gentle, compassionate, and tender." Diane would whisper "Baby, this is the way that women speak, in private. In public, we are just like men, so men will KNOW that we are not whores." While I dont remember much of he following conversation, other than that, of the goals that I was, both, working on, and planning for, that we began snuggling, then kissing. When I began lifting her top, Diane whispered "Not here. AT my place." On the walk, to her place, Diane noticed how we snuggled, yet I never mentioned being a millionairre. Behind her locked door, I discussed my part, in causing the renewal, of shopping, to the north end. Yes, the north end would have another chain, discount, store, taking the place of the former grocery store. Like I told Diane, all myself, and my alderman, needed to do was show corporations that there was, indeed, a large enough consumer base, to keep a store operating. I left it to my alderman to explain that the previous store had closed, simply because management was "consolidating its base", around its "core operations". When Diane asked if I were, also, behind the new laundry, which was, soon, to open, I admitted that I was. Using the same kind of poll data, my alderman and I, were converting an un-sold property, into a laundromat. When Diane asked, I told her "Target date, for opening, is about a month from now." While we, briefly, discussed the state-hood subject, Dianes biggest concern seemed to be my project, for encouraging bicycle riders, to place electronic trackers on bicycles. I cautioned Diane not to get her hopes up, too much, since our deputy mayor had, almost, "freaked out", when I mentioned expanding the monitoring program from just city-owned bicycles, to every bike in the city. I snuggled up to Diane, and her beautiful, ebony, body, while whispering "I would say that the United States will have 75 states, before the bicycle tracking goes into effect." Soon after this, our clothes found her floor, then we walked, arm-in-arm, to her bed. It was in her bedroom that Diane found out why Ambrosia smiled at me. For a white man, Diane found that I had the most beautiful shaft she had, ever seen. Maybe I was no "KIng Dong", but, on the plus side, I was treating her with love, and respect. Diane LOVED the way I seduced her. Not just "shoving it in", but seducing her, until she was aroused, more than she had been, in years. Between my french kissing, and necking, Diane was certain that she was coming close to being in Heaven. When I carressed, kissed, and nursed, her breasts, she was certain that she was at Heavens door. When I slipped it inside her, Diane had no doubt. This was Heaven. While we rolled about her bed, touching, and carressing, Diane asked me "How are we supposed to fit more people into this country?" I whispered "By granting their homelands state-hood. We will bring their people, AND their lands, into our country." When Diane whispered "Do you think that it will work?" I whispered "Why not? It worked for the Founding Fathers." After I fell asleep, nursing her beauiful "B" cups, Diane got up, went to the kitchen, for a snack, and some coffee. So far, her only regret, of the night, was not having any milk, for my nursing. While snacking, Diane remembered asking several, of her friends, if I was the kind of man, who would take a womans money, for drugs, booze, or gambling. Out of the seveny-five women, whom Diane knew, none had any memory, of my asking for money. (Something the women found odd.) Only one woman claimed that I owed her thousands of dollars. When the woman claimed that the money was for cleaning her place, after I sprayed my "stuff" all over everything, Ambrosia just laughed at this. When Diane asked the woman to describe me, the womans description could not have been more different, from my appearance, than if the woman had called me a Negro. Diane had smiled, as had Ambrosia, as the woman insisted that I pay up, or that she was taking me to court. The reason why the women smiled, at the thought of court, was that the woman, herself, had SEVERAL Arrest Warrants in effect. Not much chance of going to court, when her own arrest would result. When Diane went on-line, and checked both the grocery store, and laundromat, projects, she found my name listed, as "advisor". Diane even found a picture, showing my alderman, and myself, standing, back-to-back, with the caption "Watching one anothers back" (and yours) What Diane could not understand were the articles, regarding how the deputy mayor was insisting that the city absolutely could NOT afford to send out police units, to recover every single stolen bicycle, in the county. The deputy mayor even claimed that such a project would "bankrupt" the city. The problem was that a growing number, of cyclists, were attaching tracking units, TO bicycles. This concerned Diane since several of her friends subsidized sub-poverty jobs, with profits, from bicycle sales. Diane even knew of a few people who, when children wanted bicycles, either parents, or other adults, STOLE what the child wanted. As for that damned new Berlin Wall, at last report, the White House had issued orders that, if the "caravans" got within a certain distance from the border, that American artillery was to open fire, INTO Mexico. While Congress joined the Mexicans, in stating that this would be nothing short of a declaration of war, the White House would not budge. This, according to the media, is why Congress set aside budget negotiations, in order to consider petitions for state-hood. THIS was the man who was sleeping in HER bed. A man of goals. (Man, how she wished she had some mothers milk.) Come morning, I awoke, and mounted her, whispering "You are fantasic." as I kissed her, again, before preparing to love her, again. That is, until my stomach began to growl. Diane smiled as I looked at it, and said "Shut up. I am trying to love this woman." When Diane drew my face to hers, she whispered "Baby, your belly is just saying that I made you happy. Now, you need food." When she saw me looking at her breasts, she whispered "I mean food." This is why Diane had been glad that she followed Ambrosia's advice. Ambrosia had been dis-heartened when, the morning after, she had niether "white man food"", nor mothers milk, for me. She seemed like a child, who had been disciplined, when I promised her "I will pick up some food, along the way." Diane had been clever, in how she asked me, and found out what I liked to eat. She used the old "I just read this in a magazine. How true do you think it is." I had taken out a piece of paper, and listed such ingredients as scrambled eggs, chopped onion, cheese patties, hash browns, sausages, and diet coke, along with kisses, carresses, and nursing. For breakfast, this time, Diane placed a spread, of all of my ingredients, in a breakfast, fit for a king. (The romance would be saved, for desert). By the time I departed Dianes place, Diane understood why Ambrosia smiled, at me. Now, it would be Diane, who smiled. Diane, and Ambrosia, were, both, happy, that we had remained friends, and NOT become "official" lovers. This since, as my "legend" grew, I was being called away, from home, more and more. If either Ambrosia, or Diane, wanted my ivory body, that both had to operate under the idea of "Get it, when, and where, you can." The United States would have sixty-five states, by the time our deputy mayor would admit defeat, and begin encouraging bicyclists to track bikes, electronically. Of course, for part, of one summer, this proved a major problem, for the police, as Search and Seizure warrants will filed, by the dozen. As the jail filled, with thieves, and with prisons already over-crowded, theives were given terms of home-confinement. This, and the fact that, for a short time, every prisoner transport, in town, was driving around, picking up stolen property. For awhile, the media claimed that the police station looked more like a drive up window, at a restaurant. Still, once word got around, that too many bikes were "tagged", gangs moved on, to "easier pickings". As far as my "sexuality" was concerned, Ambrosia and Diane just settled on sharing my ivory shaft. While neither complained about SHARING a "famous" man, neither wanted the "spot-light", which would come if they "officially" declared themselves. While Diane would continue to focus on her own dream. That, of becoming a fashion model, Ambrosia would, eventually, content herself with giving birth to the children of a man, she refused to name. What thrilled Ambrosia was the fact that the fathers "race" genes, far outpaced her Ebony genes. She would, eventually, give birth to a total of five children. All of them as ivory as their father. By the time Diane was getting used to being told "You are too OLD for modelling", Diane came to enjoy helping Ambrosia with her children. Diane and Ambrosia, took turns, with the children. Each watching the young while the other attended "Employment Groups". While Diane noticed that it was "suspicious", how much the children acted like me, it only took three, of Dianes friends, to remind Diane "You know. HE is not the only man, of his kind." It would not be until the United States contained 90 states, that a drug lord would execute me, while I spoke with villagers, about state-hood. The drug lord wanted these people to harvest his crops. It was only after the man emptied his clip, into my body, on international television, that American Military Police took the man under arrest. While the assassin was buried, in an un-marked grave, my body would go first to my home town, for viewing, then to Arlington Cemetary. It was not until Diane mentioned "I wish he would have let me give him some children. Now, his legacy is gone, with him." Ambrosia would say "I would not be too sure, about that." When Diane gave Ambrosia a look, Ambrosia just smiled. All that my home-town had to show, for my life, was the return of grocery shopping, to the area, as well as a laundromat, and a complete end to bicycle theft, once the city made it clear that ALL bicycles were being tagged. All that the nation had to show, for my efforts, was the addition of up to 45, additional, states. What would the future look like?