Traci arrived 10:00AM on Saturday at We Care About Boys & Girls, a Home for homeless children from ages four to seventeen. The children were still at breakfast. Traci was showed into a library/visitor’s room. The room reminded her of her brief stint in foster care ten years ago before Lynda brought her home to live with her and her husband Scot. There were six other adults already in the room. A young white couple sat on a love seat pecking at each other’s lips every few seconds like their lips were magnetized. There seem to be a current drawing them to each other. Traci was unable to look away. Something about this couple’s public show of affection released a tide of emotions. She was twenty-four and technically a virgin. Anger and hate for Ian Walker rose very sharply. Her fists clenched at her sides. “Miss are you okay?” Asked an African American guy standing close to Traci. He had been looking at the bookshelf when Traci had entered the room.
Traci realized that she had been standing inside the doorway staring at the couple and making growling noises. Embarrassed by her behavior, she quickly walked away without responding. Fuck! Today was not the time to lose it. Looking around the room Traci’s gaze landed on the other occupants in the room. Two scrumptious men, one Latino the other Caucasian stood facing each other arguing in low tones. An elderly lady sat facing a window, the sun’s rays making it difficult to see her ethnicity. The shocking white hair was the only deciding factor of her age. Traci wished the room was larger so she could become inconspicuous, because the African American male around Raun’s age kept looking and smiling at her. What did he want? To avoid him, Traci’s turned her back as she waited for six year old Annabelle. Deep in thought she wondered what could be Annabelle’s secret.
Then her mind went back to the conversation that she had with Raun on Thursday night and his question. He had invited himself over for some baked macaroni pie, fried chicken, and mixed greens. She had gone against her wishes and invited him into her home. Technically, it was his house, as she was renting the top floor apartment. This invitation he said would be to fix her iPad, and she could repay him with a meal. They had never made it to the end of dinner. His claim for a meal had been just a ruse to propose his dirty deal or as he called it quid pro quo. He would fix my iPad, and tell me who sent the pictures, if I would sleep with him. Why are men so despicable? The thought did not really offend Traci, in fact she was so deliciously turned on by the suggestion. Everything about Raun made her body sing. His midnight complexion, his rippling six pack abs. When his arms, back , buttocks, and thighs flexed she could imagine how they would feel beneath her hands. Raun probably thought it was shock, but Traci knew it was desire that had held her motionless.
After he left wearing some of their uneaten dinner, Traci had ran to her room and imagined those hands all over her body. She had imagined him slowly easing his hands under her skirt at her kitchen table. His index finger flicking against the soft cotton of her panties and pressing against her clit. That night she had writhe on the bed. A pillow over her face and some stuffed into her mouth to quiet the screams of release. What was he doing to her? She needed him inside her aching center. She needed him riding her hard. She did not know what that entailed, but she wanted him there. She wanted to feel him explode and hit the back of her channel. At first the hand that caressed her shoulder, she thought it was part of her fantasy, but something felt off about it. She was not turned on, but repulsed. Before she could think about her actions. The heel of her foot stomped down on the person’s toes. A high pitched scream escaped, but Traci was not finished. She grabbed the fingers of the hand on her shoulder, and bent them back before driving her elbow into a soft gut. Gasps and shouts of surprise from the other occupants in the room, finally penetrated her fight response to the unfamiliar touch.
Footsteps ran towards them, as Traci tried to compose herself. She walked away from the African American man who was leaning on a bookshelf, as he tried to compose himself. The couple on the sofa, the two men in the middle of the room as well as the woman at the window all stared at her with various expressions of surprise. “What’s going on here?” Asked the Director of the Home, as she rushed into the room.
“Is Annabelle ready?” Not one hair was out of place. Traci was trembling inside, but now she knew that she would be okay. She could take care of herself. Everyone who had just rushed into the room, stopped and stared at the man leaning against the bookshelf before turning their gazes to Traci. Annabelle was staring from Traci to the man, and finally she smiled and moved to stand next to Traci holding on to her hand.
“I’m ready,” said Annabelle.