Little Black Girl Lost (5 page)

“Y
ou want me, Earl?” Johnnie asked, feeling sexy.

“Yes,” he said desperately. “You know I do.”

She climbed on top of him, positioning his engorged member to enter her. When she found the opening, she forced herself downward onto it while imagining that Earl was Lucas Matthews. Johnnie closed her eyes and saw him in her mind. She moaned and moaned like never before; so much so that she couldn't hear Earl's wounded animal groans. Her movements became rapid and uncontrolled. Her moans were loud and fierce.

Earl stopped moaning and opened his eyes, staring into her contorted face. For the first time, he believed he was actually pleasing her. Suddenly she convulsed and fell forward, panting. She sat on him, relaxing as her breathing returned to normal. Earl enjoyed the moment.

“I love you, Johnnie,” he said and kissed her on the neck.

“Do you have more good news for me?”

“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. You know I've been moving up in my father-in-law's insurance company the last six months as a junior executive, right?”

“Yeah, Buchanan Mutual, right?”

“Right. Well, West just put me in charge of the financial division. He thinks I should know where the money is and how each dollar is spent. A year or so from now, I expect to be promoted to senior executive status, which means more money, not that I need it.”

“That's good for you, Earl, but what does that mean for me?”

“I've been thinking about that, Johnnie. How would you like to move uptown in your own place?”

“Uptown? Where the white folks live?”

“Well, not that far uptown, but close.”

“I figured as much.” She frowned.

“Well, at least think about it, okay?”

“I don't know, Earl. Are you going to be coming around every day or what?” She was thinking about how often she could sneak Lucas Matthews over if he was willing. She knew he was; at least that's what she told herself.

“Probably not as often as now. I'm going to be really busy. But I'd say once or twice a week.”

“Well, what about my privacy? Will I have any?”

“What do you mean privacy?”

“I would just want to know when you're coming by so I'll know to cook your meals, run your bath water for you and have the place ready. I don't have much privacy here. I just want some there. If you gave me some privacy, it would be much better between us.”

“Okay, Johnnie,” he said, eager to please her. “If it'll make it better between us, fine.”

“You mean it, Earl?” she asked excitedly. Her smile always made it hard to refuse her.

“Yes,” he said, as though he were a father talking to his favorite daughter.

Suddenly, she kissed him again. It wasn't long before she felt his hardness returning.

“L
isten , Johnnie, I've gotta go. My wife is expecting me home early tonight. I hadn't planned on staying this long. I just wanted to drop off this check and ask you how you felt about getting your own place.”

Johnnie was quiet for a moment. She thought about what Earl had said about having her own place. She bowed her head and frowned.

Seeing the disenchantment in her eyes, Earl said, “What's the matter?”

“Do you even care, Earl?” she asked, looking into his eyes.

“Of course I do, Johnnie. That's why I want you to have your own place.”

“My own place, Earl?”

“Yes, your own place.”

“Right, Earl.”

“What's the matter, Johnnie, really? I don't understand what this is all about. I said I would get you your own place, and I will.”

“How can it be my own place, Earl, when you're the one who owns it?”

Now he understood. “What exactly are you worried about, Johnnie? Me leaving you? Is that it?”

“You act like I shouldn't be worried, Earl. Look at you now. You come over, throw money in my face, have your way with me, and then you're out the door. And I shouldn't be worried? What if I do move out? Then when you've had enough of me, what do I do then? Move back home with my mama? You know what, Earl, I really don't think I can do this. I mean, it's a big risk. You say you love me, but you're married. You can change your mind anytime you feel like it. And if you do, where does that leave me? Out on the streets?”

“Johnnie, I wouldn't do that to you. I do love you, but who do you think is paying for all of the stuff I promised you? The check you have is from them. The clothes and jewelry I buy you is paid for with their money. What do you expect me to do? Buy you a house or something?”

Johnnie just looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

“So, you want me to buy you a house, is that it?

“Why not, Earl? What if your wife finds out about us? What she gon' do, say it's all right? You just said it's her money. She find out about this, and won't neither one of us have a place to stay.”

“Dresses and jewelry is one thing, Johnnie. Houses are expensive. How am I supposed to get the money without her finding out about it?”

“You smart, Earl. Figure it out. You got six months before your promotion, right? Get a little at a time.” She paused for a moment. “What about your stock in the company? And don't say you don't have none. Ain't no way you gon' bring me a check for four thousand dollars and you don't have no stock in the company.”

Earl grinned.

“So, you do have stock in the company, huh? How much did you make? I bet it was a lot more than what I made.”

“Johnnie, do you expect me to buy you a house with my own money?”

“If you love me, you will. I cain't believe you're so greedy. You have all that money, plus you get a salary and a check from the company. You already live in a mansion. Look at where I live. See, Earl, this is why I want my own place. You say you love me, but you're unwilling to part with what's yours. What do you make as a junior executive?”

Earl was quiet.

“What do you do with all that money? Save it? I bet you have more than enough to get me a house, don't you?”

“Johnnie, if I buy you a house, it would wipe me out. I'd have to start all over again.”

“So what, Earl? Are you going to leave your rich white wife for a sixteen-year-old black girl who doesn't have anything but the clothes on her back? And you have the nerve to ask me what I'm worried about? I'll tell you what. Let's just forget the whole thing,” she said, turning away from him.

“Okay, okay. I'll get you the house.”

“I don't want no run-down shack either, Earl. I want a nice place.”

“Listen, I gotta go now, okay?”

“Okay. Bye, Earl.”

“Don't be that way. I said I would do it for you, and I will, okay?

“We'll see.”

Earl started for the door, then he turned around and asked, “Do you want me to reinvest your dividend check for you?”

“Why? So you can buy me a house with my own money? No thank you.”

“Okay. Whatever you do, don't spend the money. Buy some more stocks in the company while you can.”

“How do I do that?”

“I'll call my broker at Glenn and Webster. He's a good friend. I'll let him know you're coming. He'll take care of you. His name is Martin Winters. Now, I really gotta go, Johnnie.”

After seeing Earl walk out the door, Johnnie wondered why he even bothered with his wife. He didn't love her.
What is the point?
She promised herself she would only marry for love, and when she did, it would be someone like Lucas Matthews. For her, there wasn't enough money in the world to marry someone for it.

T
he next day, Johnnie, impeccably dressed and stylish, walked nervously into the downtown office of Glenn and Webster Financial Services. She was wearing a low-cut lavender dress with a white belt, a matching two-toned hat, shoes, earrings, purse, and dark sunglasses. As she walked to the secretary's desk, she could feel every eye on her. She liked the attention. It gave her a sense of power, especially over men—white men in particular. It wasn't just her beauty that captivated the people in the office. She was a black woman, expensively clad from head to toe.

When she reached the desk, the secretary said, “May I help you?” There was a hint of superiority on her face and in the tone of her voice. Her nameplate read
CYNTHIA LAMAR.
She was pretty, petite, and shapely with blond hair. Instantly, Johnnie knew Cynthia thought she was better than she was; even though Cynthia had no idea who she was or why she was there. Johnnie knew she had to play the part she was dressed for, or she would never get past Cynthia for the appointment she had made. She looked down at the woman and smiled warmly. “My name is Johnnie Wise and I'm here to see Martin Winters, my stockbroker. He's expecting me.”

Skeptical, Cynthia said, “I'll check. Have a seat.” She picked up the telephone and dialed a number. “Mr. Winters, I have a Negro woman out here claiming to be a client of yours. What do you want me to do, sir?”

“I'll be right out.”

While sitting in one of the comfortable leather chairs, Johnnie looked around the classy office and admired the decor. She wanted a cup of the coffee she smelled brewing over in the corner just five or six steps from where she was sitting, but she was afraid to ask. Cynthia Lamar's constant stare made her uncomfortable. Johnnie looked at the glass table, which was covered with magazines, and saw a picture of Marilyn Monroe on the cover of
Life.
She was about to pick it up when Martin Winters came out.

“Hello, Ms. Wise. I'm Martin Winters.”

Earl Shamus had told him she was beautiful, but he was absolutely floored when he saw her. She had high cheekbones, naturally arched eyebrows, and no makeup to speak of. Earl had bragged about having sex with her whenever he felt like it. He went on and on about the way she sounded in bed. Without realizing it, a prurient grin emerged on Martin's face.

Johnnie looked up and saw him for the first time. Martin Winters was a handsome man, she thought. Tall, thin, but muscled. He wore a gray suit with black wingtipped shoes. He had an inviting smile and polished teeth.

“Hello,” Johnnie said, extending her hand as she stood.

“Would you like a cup of coffee or tea or something?”

“You must be a mind reader, Mr. Winters,” Johnnie said, smiling. “I was just thinkin' how nice it would be if someone showed some southern hospitality and offered me a cup of café au lait.” She looked at Cynthia.

“Please, call me Martin. Let's go over your investment portfolio in my office.” He turned to his secretary and said, “Cindy, bring me and our new client a cup of coffee.”

“Right away, Mr. Winters,” Cynthia said then looked at Johnnie, rolling her eyes.

“Cream and sugar, Ms. Wise?”

“Yes, please.”

“Right this way, Ms. Wise,” Martin said, gesturing with an open hand in the direction of his office.

“Please, call me Johnnie,” she said. She looked at Cynthia and smiled triumphantly.

Johnnie sensed something more than racial bigotry going on, and wondered if Cynthia and Martin were involved. She wondered if Martin was married.
A good-looking white man like him has to be.
She looked at his left hand and saw a shiny gold wedding band on his ring finger. As far as she was concerned, the ring was all the evidence she needed to confirm that he was seeing Cynthia. Judging by the way Martin looked at her, Johnnie could tell that, given the opportunity, he would be with her too, which confirmed her mother's philosophy about men.

When they took their seats, Martin handed her a black vinyl portfolio with her name stenciled on it in gold lettering. Johnnie smiled when she looked at it. It made her feel like a small child on Christmas morning. She had come a long way in a short time.

“If you open the portfolio,” Martin began, “I think you'll find everything in order. What I'd like to do, with your permission of course, is diversify your investments so you won't be stuck if one of your stock investments plummets.”

Although Johnnie was an A student at her underfunded high school, complete with hand-me-down books from a privileged white high school, she had no idea what “diversify” meant. She decided to nod her head and look the word up in the dictionary later. But she liked the way Martin talked to her. He seemed to respect her, or so she thought.

“So, what do you suggest I invest in, Martin?” Johnnie asked flirtatiously.

Martin noticed the sexy tone in her voice. He was staring at her breasts and was so into the moment that he didn't realize she was aware of his gaze. Not that it bothered her. In fact, she leaned forward a little and showed him a lot of cleavage. His eyebrows rose.

When he didn't answer, she said in the same flirtatious tone, “Martin, you're staring, dear.”

Snapping out of it, his eyes rose to her face. “I'm sorry, but you are a very attractive woman. I hope I haven't offended you.”

Seeing his embarrassment, she said, “No, but I will be offended if you refuse to share your knowledge of the stock market with me.”

“It's a little complicated, but I'll be glad to come by and explain the intricate details at a later date. Right now, I'd like to show you what I want to do.”

“I'm not opposed to a later date, Martin,” she said, stringing him along. “But I want to know and understand everything, okay?”

“No problem,” he said eagerly. “Now, I thought we'd start with some relatively safe stocks. If you look on page two, you'll see I've chosen General Electric, General Motors, Ford, Coca-Cola Corporation, and Sears department stores.”