DAWN AND HEATHER

DAWN AND HEATHER The reason that Dawn gave Heather, for Dawns not wanting to date me, after our first, was that, as Dawn said it, I was no better than any of her other men. Dawn would say "His head is in the clouds. I need a man, who is down to Earth." This after just one, passionate, date. Dawn, also, did not like the fact that I made her "commit" to the date. She said that I actually looked like I would back away, if she said no. Dawn had ended her "report", to Heather, saying "I can understand why our friends think he is homosexual. He ASKS women for what he wants. Doesn't bully, in any way. I have not net a man, like him." When Heather had asked the ivory woman "Then, WHY did you have sex, with him?" All Dawn would say was "I thought it would help him to open up, more, about his goals." This is why my ebony goddess, Heather decided to check me out, for herself. She wanted to KNOW WHO, adn WHAT, I was. This because Heather, as well, had more than her share, of men. Men, who made all kinds of promises, to get a womans clothes off. It was only after the fact, when Heather asked when the men planned to start work, on their goals, that the man said the same thing, over and over. "When the time is right." What made Heather even more suspicious was the fact that, while Dawn said I was "just another", then WHY has she let me have her body, until I was drained. If she was that sure I was homosexual, then why not stop at one time? Besides, Heather KNEW I had "gifts". In fact, when her friends had told me what they wanted done, I had done what they could, barely imagine. Heather had sen the quality of my work. This is why she used her mail, to bring me to her place. A bit of a decpetion, but better than asking, straight out, if I wanted sex. When Heather got me inside her place, she placed the mail before me, then whispered "I am going to get comfortable. Back in a minute." By the time she got back, in the incredible beauty of her natural state, I lost the ability to talk, until she suggested "You should let it out, before you have an accident." Only then did I realize that my shaft was pounding, hard enough, to rip through my pants. Instead of saying something, insulting like "Oh, my god, you can egt it up." Heather smiled, instead, whispering "I am impressed." She was, further impressed when she sat on my lap, and I gave her a first kiss, which was so deep, and full of passion, that Heather hoped it would go on, just for a few weeks. When our lips parted, and Heather looked into my eyes, she KNEW what my next request would be. That is why she stood up, took my hand, and lead me to her bedroom. Here, she pulled back the cover, and the sheet, then, with the grace, of a ballet dancer, she entered the bed, with me following, with all the grace of a baboon. Heather, soon, discovered why Dawn was so "put out" with me, claiming that "He takes way too long." Heather understood from the moment, when I ran my fingers through her jet hair, and up and down her body. As if that was not enough, Hether lay back, and relaxed, as I went from french-kissing, to necking, then carressing, kissing, and nursing, her "B" cup beautiful breasts. When I reached her womanhood, Heather KNEW what was coming. This is why she placed a pillow over her face. She was right, too. As I feasted, on her, she found herself moaning, audibly, loving every moment. She just could not believe that I feasted until she climaxed. When I came up, from there, she hit me with a pillow, saying "NO fair. I am supposed to do that when we are one." Still, she did not complain, when I nursed her now-throbbing breasts, some more, then, as I slid it into her, I watched her moan, in delight, then, when she smiled, at me, I kissed her, again. Ebony and ivory were together in PERFECT harmony. What surprised Heather was when, after I gave it to her, twice, I put her on top, whispering "I want you to use me, on all the places only women know of." Heather not only understood, but she taught me how to make love to her, with purpose. (To her, and, no doubt, to Dawn, I was too tender, and romantic) When Heather brought us both off, then lay beside me, while I kissed her, she smiled, and I understood. This is why I increased her pleasure, by twenty-fold, as I made love to her the way she wanted to be loved. (The way which made her cover her face, with a pillow, as she cried out, in climax) While both women knew that, after good sex, men need to rest, Heather ws happy that I encouraged her to snuggle to my side, after the act. I even buried my face in her cleavage. Her scent was like pure Heaven. While I rested, Heather went to the livingroom, and called Dawn. When Heather would say "Just called to say thanks." When Dawn asked "For what?" Heather would say "For turning the very best man, that I have had, to date, over to me." Dawn would ask "Youre not..." Heather would say "If he is up to it, I plan to take much MORE, when he recovers." When Dawn asked each, of the next, few questions, Heather did not wait for the full question before saying "He is wonderful. He made me feel wonderful, and thankful, to be a woman." When Dawn would ask "I wonder why..." Heather would say "Simple. You white girls want men to go so fast. Be in control. Get it over with. My man is the opposite of this." Dawn would say "Just wait until you hear him speak of his dreams. That will bring you to your senses." (She could sense Heather smiling, at the thought) After the call, Heather prepared a snack, then set it aside, for when I needed food. She, then, returned to my side, snuggled up, and waited for me to wake up. When I did, my first thought was not of food. It was to look into her smiling face, and kiss her. When she received me, with open arms, I made love to her, twice more, before my stomach got LOUD. With that, a trip, to the kitchen was at hand, and this is when she heard a version of what Dawn had called "The SAME OLD story." Heather noticed the difference, however. When Heather asked, I told her of how, now that Mr. Biden was president, I was advising him on a variety of matters, beginning long before the election, with such topics as Immigration, State-hood, and that stupid, new Berlin Wall. When Heather asked "I have read that the wall sections, already built, will cost millions to destroy." This is when I suggested "This is the reason why I suggested that, instead of destruction, that Mr. Biden turn the panels into an outdoor art gallery." As Heather listened to my plans, she realized that I was not speaking of "When my ship comes in..." I was speaking of the present day. In fact, Heather was so impressed that she listened, instead of eating. When she asked me how long state-hood would take, I reminded her "It took YEARS, to bring the first thirteen together, and forge the new nation. It has been over 200 years, bringing that 13 into the current fifty. It will not happen, overnight. It will only happen with hard work, and reliability." When Heather would say "It sounds like a marriage, to me." I would be dumb enough to say "With the right woman, it CAN be done." Then, something weird happened. I got a massive one, and all Heather had to do was smile, for me to need her bad enough to lay her across a table. She smiled, and held my hand, as she whispered "Love me." I did so with as much compassion as possible. After two more times, we showered, together, then got dressed. It was then that I asked the big ask. "When will I see you, again?" Heather marked off three, consecutive, saturdays, saying "Dont worry, my boyfriend is, never, in town from friday until monday." It only took two saturdays, for Heather to smile and say "I want more." When I suggested "How about wednesday, as well." Her smile spoke volumes. Heather knew plenty of men, including her current, official, boyfriend, and she knew how they talked. It was never WITH Heather. It was more like AT her. This is why Heather began increasing her awareness, of me. She noticed that I talked WITH her. I asked her opinions, both as a woman, and as a Negro. I knew that Heather hated being referred to as a Negro, but, for some matters, race was important. Heather only hated being seen as Negro since her parents had "shoved" the Negro lifestyle "down the childs throat", until Heather came to a point where she hated all things Negro. This is why, beginning with second grade, Heather had not only moved in, with an ivory family, but, after the embarrassing "scene" that her mother made, accusing the school of Racism, for declining to pass Heather to the third grade, Heather had asked her friends Ivory mother to attend "Parent-Teacher talks". This was both good, and bad. The good was that the woman asked the teacher the correct questions, such as "What will Heather have to do, to stay with her age group." The "bad" news was that, once dad heard the news, Heather found her television time cut off, and replaced with study time. In this house, Race only had meaning in regards to government forms. Heather wondered what she loved most. Her moms cooking, or her dads monitoring, of homework. In fact, the ONLY reason why Heather did not graduate high school was that (like most of her class), high school was a time of self-discovery. Add in the fact that the school did not announce testing until the day beforehand. Result, out of a class, of 275, only three students received diploma's. As Heather listened to me discuss my plans, for something called the "Flood Waters" project, she remembered the day when Social Security sent workers to help impaired people to apply for benefits. Heather found the people so LOUD, as they processed applications, that Heather asked for a discreet one-on-one. When I asked Heather (in the present) "What do you think?" She gave me the only answer which would not embarrass her. She said "Sounds good to me." After I departed, Heather remembered talking to Dawn, after our first date. When Dawn asked "Isn't he CREEPY. All that kissing. Sucking..." and indicating her breasts. When Heather smiled and said "I loved it. I hope he gives me even more." Dawn would ask "What about that crap, about being president. Who is going to vote for a wimp, who does NOT TAKE ON women?" Heather would say "You were not listening. Had you been, you would KNOW that he is counseling the president." When Dawn asked "A CREEP like that?" Heather would turn on Dawn, saying "Watch your mother, whitey! That man is going places. I just HOPE to join him." Dawn would walk away, laughing, while saying "You fell for that wimp." Dawn would, soon, find herself "eating" those words, as she, and Heather, watched, as government cars came for me, and the women watched, on television, as I consulted with the president, and members of Congress. When Dawn realized her mistake, Heather found Dawn rubbing herself, as Dawn wondered "I wonder if there is room, in his bed, for a second woman?" Heather would say "Dont bet on it. He is loving, yet loyal." Now, Dawn was stuck with another man. One who did not mind pulling her breasts out, in public, while saying "Stick with me..." This, while Heather was fitted with fashion gowns, and replaced value meals, and prepacked salads, with buffet dining. Like me, yet only in her early twenties, Heather was well aware of how people get out of shape. Too many buffets, and too much booze. Like me, when Heather was offered a membership, at the local YMCA, she took it, and we worked out, together. Her to keep her goddess of a shape. Me, for my back injury. The more muscle that I added to my body, the less strain, on my spine, and the less pain killer I had to take. Heather watched as I brought in designs, for various projects, and refined the details. Heather even volunteered to do my note-taking, when I got into details. While we watched the news, about three, class-3 hurricanes, flooding out river basins, and costing billions, in damage, Heather made noteas about how, eventually, the renewal of the wet-lands would solve the problem. Still, even Heather agreed that a more rapid solution was needed. This is why, with me giving names, of other rivers, she watched as I created the "Flood Waters Diversion" project. Heather even cancelled three dates, with her "boyfriend" to attend community meetings, about my Privatization of local parks plan. It ws about two years into Mr. Bidens first term, when Heather had groups asking her to speak. This began with her family church. A church, whose membership was receiveing information, claiming that the government was cutting off all aid, for struggling families. I gave Heather a set of notes, a dep kiss, then promised "Trust me, my love. You will be fine." To this, Heather had said "Baby, I am your woman. I am supposed to say that, to you." BY the time Heather gave the talk, saying that the option was just "on the table, for discussion", she found herself being asked to give similar talks, to other chruches, groups, and so on. While Heather was busy, here, I was working in parks, picking up trash, and helping repair equipment. Still, our time, apart, only brought us closer, as we spent even more time between the sheets, being so passionate that Heather held out hope that her birth control would fail. Thankfully, by the time Mr. Biden won a second term, by a landslide victory, mixed race couples were as accepted as hamburgers and fries. As a result, no one made any comments about Heather and myself. With the achievement, of adding twelve states, to the union (with another ten awaiting review), Heather thought that my "political life" would end, when Mr. Bidens term ended. She had her life all planned out. With me as her mate, she would birth five children, who would be proud of their fathers accomplishments. She would be an important person, in the lives, of those she created. That WAS the plan, but only until another call came. This time it was the Vice President. It seems that, while Mrs. Harris was a professional politician, and worked Congress well, she wanted me to stay on, for the times when "creative ideas" were needed. Personally, I was not certain that the United States was ready for a female president. While I was stunned, when the V.P. approval rating shot up, with the news that I was staying on, Heather would say "I am not surprised, at all. You are a good man, and an (smile) lover." I had asked Heather, before accepting, and she had told me "It is national business. I can accept being second to the nation." What Heather could not understand was the reason why Dawn took up with such a violent man. A man, who treated motor vehicles, using hammers to force parts together. From what Heather could learn, when the auto repair business suffered a set-back, Dawns man had offered her to his friends, for bill paying money. When Dawn refused, he beat her into compliance. Dawn would go into a shelter, for abused women. An arrest warrant would be issued for her boyfriend. As Heathers mom would remind her "You cant save everyone. If you can keep yourself in good repair, that is all anyone can ask." The time, when Heather almost had a heart attack was the day when she fiound her first, white, hair. When her mom would say "Girl, you are just aging. It happens to all of us." Heather would say "The woman my man fell in love with is dark haired." This is when, to boost Heathers morale, her mom took her to a salon, which tinted Heathers lightening hair back to its jet color. Heather was not about to age. Not until I did not want her, anymore. The woman we, all, laughed at, was Dawn. When grey began replacing her brunette hair, Dawn actually shaved her head, then began wearing brunette wigs. When she asked a doctor how to get her expanding belly back into place, the doctor would say "You are not going to like this but the first thing you need to do is get rid of the booze." When she asked "What else?" The doctor would say "You should exercise, more. I mean MORE!". Still, Dawn did not take the "hint" until her legs began to hurt. When she asked, the doctor said "Your legs are saying you need to exercise, and lose weight." Just as the doctor predicted, once Dawn got to a certain weight, her legs gave out, and she was ordered into therapy. When she saw Heather, looking like a model, in a gown, Dawn asked "You are as old as I am. Why aren't you as big as me?" Heather would say "Simple. I eat right, and exercise." Mrs. Harris was into her second term, in the Oval Office, when the wet-lands began showing real proof, of investment. While many people thought that the wet-lands drew water down, to turn hurricanes into thunderstorms, it seems that the restored wet-lands did much more. It was like the wet-lands served as a shield/barrier, preventing storms from making shore. Storms, now travelling, into the Gulf of Mexico, continued on historical paths, swept across Mexico, and hit the Pacific. As for Mr. Biden, he completed his eight years, in office, and only passed away about four months after his second term ended. I guess that this is why President Harris continued to rely on people like myself. Mavericks, who could not care less about anything except that plans worked. It would be our group who, when the newest space shuttle design began to fail, under pressure, we convinced the president to begin work on a functioning transporter system. By the time the Skunkworks was asked, about the idea, this group already had a team working on the possibility. By the time President Harris was up for re-election, the Skunkworks had presented a time-sheet, of man-power, tools, and material, for the project. The most costly part, of the project, yet totally un-avoidable, was to build another Apollo rocket, to deliver the first load, of supplies to the lunar surface. This rocket would be the most expensive, in American history, since it was not just astornauts, who would be carried. It would be a habitat, as well as the receiving platforms, and the E.R.V. (Earth Return Vehicle) Once the beginnings of Moonbase: Alpha were in place, N.A.S.A., and the European Space Agency would agree that the time windows would not be endless. Transport could only take place twelve, out of every twenty, four hours. These were the only times when transport, and receiveing could lock on. What impressed me was the fact that, by the time Mrs. Harris left office, her hair was just as white as any mans had been. It would not, however, be until my own time came, that Heather would allow her hair to flow its natural white. Once she knew the man, who loved her, was gone, she did not care how people saw her. On the recommendation, of her brothers, and sister's, families, Aunt Heather would move in, with the family. This way, if anyone found her, it would be family. Heather remembered the last dream she would, ever have. The passion, of being held in my loving arms, and being kissed in a way which said "I Love You". The dream was so real, it was like Heather was standing at the foot of our bed, watching me winning her heart. Heather was proud that she had taken that chance. Taken me to her place, and suggested the first move. What amazed her was how, in the dream, something happened, which she did not remember. Her younger self turned to her and said "You were so right. He does love you, so much. I am glad you never let him go." When Heather awakened, and looked in the mirror, she saw the same, aged, face. It was just a dream. Still, Heather made herself up, as well as possible, then sat at her writing desk. Here, she would write her final letter. While Arthritis had fought a losing battle, for years, it was, finally, winning, as her body aged. While writing made her hands hurt, Heather was determined to leave this one, last, message. It was only once complete that Heather felt different. She was certain that she had fallen asleep, again, as she heard my voice saying "I know you. You are strong enough to get up." When she called out my name, I would ask "You were expecting someone else?" When she called "How?" I told her "like this." then took her hand, as she stood up, free of pain. When she asked "How?" I suggested the mirror, on the dresser. When Heather looked into the mirror, the face that looked back was young and beautiful. Taking her hand, I showed her the "how". There, sitting in the seat, was the aging body, slumped over, white hair flowing, like white water. When Heather would ask "I was no saint. Am I worthy?" I would say "If they let me in..." When we walked out of the house, Heather would take one last look at the flag. A flag we had dared to re-invent. A flag, with 110 stars, and broad stripes. There was no more South America. the United States spanned from Canada, to Antarctica. When Heather would ask "What about the future?" She would hear her mothers voice, then see her mom, as the woman said "Worry about yourself for a change." Heather knew her mom was buried in the family plot, next to dad. Full honors. My own service had been a national affair, as digintaries, from around the globe, gathered to give thanks. As for Dawn, seeing as how she spent every cent, of her money, trying to make an elderly body look young, she would be buried, pauper-style, in an un-marked grave. Heather and I would view the scene as, below, her family returned from grocery shopping, to find the body, and the note. As if in a moment, the agony, of grocery shopping, was forgotten as the family stood, frozen, even as her neice read the mesage. To make sure there was not hint of suicixde, the family checked all of the medicine bottles, then the booze cabinet, before calling in the paramedics. The ruling would be "Natural Causes". When Heather would ask "What do we do, now?" I would suggest "We rest. Let the world take care of itself. We set it on the right course."