She nodded. She had heard all about Glendale Shores, which some people claimed was the most beautiful of the sea islands off the South Carolina coast. “Do you ever go to Glendale Shores to visit?”
“Not as much as I’d like. When I was a kid growing up, I spent most of my summers there.”
“Do you have any sisters or brothers?”
“Yes,” he replied, smiling fondly, thinking of the brother he was very close to. “I have a brother named Ross. He’s a law student. I heard my parents wanted a third child but once they saw what a holy terror I was, they decided two was enough.” He then studied her features, thinking how young she looked. “How old are you?”
She smiled. “I’m eighteen. I graduated from high school at sixteen. Since my mother worked in the school system, I was able to start school a year ahead of schedule.”
“Is your mother a teacher?”
“No, she’s a cook in the school cafeteria. And how old are you, Randolph?”
“I’m twenty. I’ll be twenty-one in April.”
“April? What day in April?”
“The fourth.”
Jenna blinked. “My birthday is April fourth, too,” she said, grinning from cheek to cheek. “Isn’t that a coincidence?”
“Yes, it is,” Randolph said warmly, thinking she was simply beautiful, although she hadn’t done anything to accentuate that beauty. But in his opinion, she didn’t have to. She wore her hair up in a knot that showed just what a graceful neckline she had. She had applied minimum makeup and was dressed conservatively in a skirt and blouse. But there was something about her that had grabbed his attention the moment she had walked outside.
“Why were you standing outside?” he asked curiously. “Were you getting bored already?”
Jenna didn’t say anything at first. If he was an Alpha she didn’t want to offend him by saying she wasn’t enjoying the party, so she said, “I’m not used to being up this late unless I’m studying. I was hoping my roommate would notice I wasn’t inside and take the hint that I was ready to leave. I want to go to church in the morning, then spend the rest of the day studying for a test I have on Monday.”
“Who’s your roommate?”
Jenna’s gaze searched the room. “Ellie Stanhope. She’s the girl dancing with Tyrone Wells.”
Randolph’s gaze followed hers. “If you’re ready to leave I can walk you back to your dorm.”
Jenna shook her head. “We came together and I can’t leave without making sure Ellie gets back to the dorm okay.”
He smiled. “Then I’ll make sure she does. Come on.” Sliding his hand around Jenna’s waist and drawing her to his side, he began walking in the direction where Ellie and Tyrone Wells were dancing. He tapped Tyrone Wells on the shoulder. “Ty, make sure this lady here gets back to the dorm okay. I’m walking her roommate home.”
Tyrone nodded, smiling. “Okay, Rand.”
“You’re leaving already, Jenna?” Ellie asked. Her voice definitely indicated she wasn’t pleased at the thought.
“Yes. I’ll see you later.”
Ellie looked at Tyrone and smiled. “Yes. Later.”
Jenna shook her head, wondering what had happened to Ellie’s plan to snare Sonny Cahill, since it now seemed she was enamored with Tyrone Wells.
“Ready?”
Randolph’s question intruded into her thoughts. “Yes, I’m ready.”
With his hand curling around her arm, Randolph led Jenna across the room, through the doors and out into the yard.
The grounds were well lit as Randolph and Jenna strode along a paved lane that led to several dormitory buildings. They talked about everything, from the Temptations’ newest single, “My Girl,” and how fast it was climbing the charts, to the fact that some white folks had started growing their hair long, hanging big beads around their necks, wearing bell-bottom pants and calling themselves hippies.
Randolph also told Jenna that he had participated in the march on Washington two years earlier and the Selma march earlier that year. “I was there for Bloody Sunday, too,” he said quietly, remembering what had started out as a peaceful demonstration. No sooner had they reached the city line, there had been a posse of Alabama State Troopers waiting for them on Governor Wallace’s orders. The troopers had immediately attacked the crowd who had bowed their heads in prayer, using tear gas and batons and whipping the peaceful demonstrators with no signs of mercy.
“Your parents let you participate?” Jenna asked with keen interest. She had wanted to participate in the march but her parents had not allowed her to, although she knew her father had participated. He had written to her about what had happened and it had been just as Randolph described it. A number of peaceful demonstrators had gotten beaten and jailed.
“Both my parents were killed in a car accident when I was ten. Our paternal grandparents raised Ross and me. My grandfather is a good friend of A. Philip Randolph and he thought it would be a good experience for me and Ross.”
“Your grandfather is friends with A. Philip Randolph?” she asked, making sure she had heard him correctly. Besides Martin Luther King, Jr., Mr. Randolph was one of the most prominent leaders in the fight against segregation, especially in the military and labor forces. He had also been the one to organize the march on Washington two years ago. Jenna had heard her parents speak highly of him on numerous occasions, especially her father, who was now a part of the Teamsters Union because of Mr. Randolph’s fight for fair and equal employment practices.
“Yes. They served in World War Two together. In fact I was named after him.”
They stopped walking when they came to the building where Jenna lived. “You won’t get into trouble for coming in after midnight, will you?”
She smiled. “No. I told our dorm mother that we would be getting back late. She’s usually more lenient on the weekends.”
Randolph nodded. He wasn’t ready to part company with her yet. There was something going on here, something between them that had started from the moment he had laid eyes on her tonight. It was definitely worth exploring since nothing like this had ever happened to him before. “What are your plans for tomorrow?”
Randolph’s question took Jenna by surprise. She hadn’t considered the possibility that he might want to see her again and her heart began beating rapidly at the thought. But another part of her heard her mother’s voice, warning her to be aware of smooth talking guys around school. They were guys who were only out for one thing. She hated to think that Randolph might be that way. She tilted her head and looked up at him. “Why do you ask?”
“I was hoping you would go to the movies with me tomorrow afternoon. James Bond’s new movie, Thunderball, is out and I heard it’s good.”
“I’m going to be busy tomorrow studying,” she responded, playing it safe and feeling awful that she felt she had to.
“What about next weekend? Can we go out then?”
Jenna gazed at him thoughtfully. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
He lifted a bemused brow. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
For the life of her, Jenna couldn’t rightly say at the moment.
A smile came to his lips when she couldn’t provide him with an answer. “I’ll tell you what. How about going to a concert with me two weekends from now?”
“A concert?”
“Yes. The Ramsey Lewis Trio is doing a benefit concert on campus. Would you go with me?”
Jenna hadn’t been to a concert since the free one on campus last year. “Yes,” she said, making a decision.
A huge smile spread across his face. “Good. Can I call you during this week, too?”
She smiled back. “Sure.”
“What’s your phone number?”
As she rattled off the number, he mentally stored it in his head. “Are you going to the game next Saturday?”
“I hadn’t planned on it. I’ll probably be too busy studying.”
He nodded then reached into his pockets and pulled something o
ut. “This is a free pass if you change your mind and decide to come. You can get in as my guest,” he said, handing it to her. When their hands touched he heard her quick intake of breath. He was glad. If being around her was playing hell on his senses he was happy to know that she was suffering that same effect.
“Thank you and thanks for making sure I got home safely.”
“It was my pleasure.” He smiled.
“Good night, Randolph.”
“Good night.”
Quickly turning, Jenna raced up the steps to the building, opened the door and slipped inside.
For a long while after she had gone, Randolph stood watching the closed door.
Bronson College, Boston, Massachusetts
“Aren’t you worried about not passing Professor Dunbar’s class?”
Angela Douglass smiled up at a fellow student as they walked together from the library. Already the air was filled with a chill and the weather reports indicated there would be light snow on the ground in the morning. “No, I’m not worried. Professor Dunbar will assign me a tutor before letting me fail.”
“Must be nice to have connections.”
She heard the deep sarcasm in Sandra Sawyer’s voice but chose to ignore it. “It is.” She then glanced at her watch, a present from her parents on her eighteenth birthday two years ago. “I’ve got to run. This is the night Mrs. Hightower is entertaining and I promised her that I would help. See you later.”
Sandra watched Angela until she had disappeared from view, thinking some people had it too easy. Just because Angela was a descendant of Frederick Douglass, everyone treated her like she was a queen. She went to class when she was ready and did half the work and still managed to get good grades, all because her family was close friends with Dean Hightower.
As Sandra crossed the street, heading for her dorm, she thought of how unfair that was.
“You did an outstanding job tonight, Angela. The next time I talk to your parents I’m going to let them know just what a big help you were.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hightower.” Whenever she had to deal with Leanne Hightower Angela knew to be on her best behavior. She was well aware that her parents often checked up on her.
“The last time I talked to your mother she said that things were pretty serious between you and that Fuller boy.”
Angela pasted on a smile as she washed the last plate. Tonight the Hightowers had hosted a dinner party for some rich white man named Robert Morgan, who had recently donated a huge sum of money to the all-girl college that she attended. “Yes, ma’am. Everyone is hoping that Ross and I will marry when he graduates. He’s attending Howard Law School.”
The older woman smiled as though impressed. “A Howard law graduate will be a good catch, young lady. Especially one with a good family name. I understand the Fullers are a very respected family in Virginia.” After a while she asked, “I understand he has a brother?”
“Yes, his name is Randolph,” Angela responded to the older woman. And he’s the one I really want and not Ross. And although Ross is the one my parents have selected for me, I will get who I want in the end. She couldn’t help but wonder what it was about Randolph that made her want him so. Her obsession with him had started the first time she had seen him at a birthday party for Massachusetts’ black attorney general Edward Brookes. At the time she hadn’t known that he was Ross’s brother and although he did nothing more than toss a glance in her direction, she had felt a deep yearning inside of her like she had never felt before. She liked the way he walked, the way he talked, the way he looked and the way he carried himself, all self-assured and confident, like he knew exactly what he wanted in life. Ross, although the older of the two, didn’t seemed quite as assured and confident as his younger brother. From that night on she knew without a doubt that Randolph Fuller would be the only man for her and that somehow, some way she would have him. And from that time almost a year ago, she had become more and more obsessed with having him, to the point that she would fantasize about him constantly.
“It’s getting late, Angela; too late for you to walk across campus alone. I’ll have Herbert take you home.”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
“And you won’t be. Now get your coat while I let him know that you’re ready.”
Dean Hightower took a few puffs from his pipe as he put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. “Did you get everything?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “I’m sure Leanne appreciated your help tonight.”
Angela smiled. “I didn’t mind. In fact I enjoyed it.”
“What did you think of Mr. Morgan?”
Angela shrugged, thinking of how she had noticed him looking at her a number of times during the evening. “He seemed nice.”
Amusement danced in Dean Hightower’s eyes. “He’s been more than nice by donating a lot of money to the school. It’s money we’ll need to keep things running. Parents aren’t sending their girls to private schools anymore, and I think it’s a sin and a shame. We and Spellman are the only two institutions left for colored girls.”
Angela cringed. She hated it when someone still referred to African-Americans as colored.
A bump in the road snapped her back to the moment and it was then that she noticed Dean Hightower had made a turn down Minger Road. She glanced over at him.
“Leanne expects me to come right back,” he said, bringing the car to a stop and cutting off the engine. “So this can’t take long.”
It will be the first time if it doesn’t, Angela thought.
He was already out of the car and at the passenger side before she could draw her next breath. He opened the door for her. “Come on and sit on the hood. I want it that way.”
She felt heat thicken between her legs when he picked her up and sat her on the hood of his car. Automatically she spread her legs, wondering what Mrs. Hightower would have thought had she known she hadn’t worn any panties tonight.
As she watched Dean Hightower remove his belt and lower his zipper she remembered the first time they had done this, right in the kitchen while Mrs. Hightower took a nap upstairs.
“I wish there was more light out here,” he said, pulling his erection out of his pants. “I love looking at your sex.”
She smiled. That wasn’t all he liked doing to it. He had even tasted it a few times and she wondered if he would do so tonight. She had really liked it.
She watched him hold himself in his hands, thinking that for an old man of forty-five, he was still in good shape. He was big and healthy looking.
“Lie down,” he instructed. He had barely shoved her down on the warm hood when he climbed on top of her. Without wasting any time, he thrust deep inside of her, not bothering with the use of a rubber, knowing she had started taking the pill six months ago.
“I’m flunking English, Dr. Dunbar’s class,” she told him, thinking that now was a good time.
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll pass with an A.”
She smiled. He’d said just what she had wanted to hear.
With talk out of the way, he began pumping fast and furious inside of her while holding her in place so she wouldn’t slip and slide all over the freshly waxed surface. To help him along she wrapped her legs around him. Doing that unleashed the oversexed beast within him. He clamped down on her shoulders while he continued to thrust inside of her. Each time he bore his hips down on her he moaned, groaned. He also began murmuring vulgar words about what he was doing to her.
Angela felt herself getting aroused by what he was saying. The ache between her legs throbbed and intensified and his hard, deep thrusts were making it feel better. She squeezed her eyes shut, thinking just how much she enjoyed this. Ross thought she was a virgin. He also thought she was a prim and proper lady because she always carried herself as such around him. If he were to see her now, he would be shocked out of his skin.
“Tell me!”
Dean Hightower’s demand interrupted her thou
ghts. She opened her eyes. She knew the one word he loved hearing and wanted her to say but she wasn’t ready to say it just yet. Her sex still throbbed and she wanted more.
Her silence made him push deeper, harder, ramming into her, which only aroused her more. She closed her eyes, fantasizing. In her mind, the man having sex with her on the hood of the car was no longer the dean of Bronson College, but the man she wanted, Randolph Fuller. She pretended it was Randolph’s strong fingers that were digging almost painfully into her hips while his sex thrust in and out of her like a lunatic.
She bit her lips to stop from calling out Randolph’s name when she felt herself pulled toward a climax.
“Tell me!” he demanded again.
Yes, Randolph, I’ll tell you anything. When she began shivering toward an orgasm, she uttered the word Dean Hightower wanted to hear that would push him over the edge. “Shoot!”
And he did. As usual that single word fragmented his mind and he shot his semen into the depths of her sex, totally drenching her womb. His snarl of pleasure made her come and she cried out, thankful they were on a road no longer used.
He pushed her thighs wide, taking the word she had shouted literally as he continued to flood her insides. He was loaded with the stuff, and had once told her that once it got backed up inside of him, he couldn’t function properly. She couldn’t help but wonder how many other girls on campus were helping him to relieve himself.
For the longest time they both just lay there, on top of the car, trying to regain their strength. Moments later he slowly lifted his body and his eyes flickered to her face. “Mr. Morgan likes you. I saw how he kept watching you tonight.” He smiled. “I bet he’ll give anything to taste you.”
Angela waited until Dean Hightower had pulled out of her and lowered himself to the ground. She slowly sat up and drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them. “You mean that he’ll want to … you know?”
Dean Hightower smiled. He knew just how much she enjoyed being tasted. “Yeah. White men prefer doing that sort of thing more than they do sticking it in and shooting off.” He reached out and placed a gentle hand over hers, transforming himself from her lover into the man who was a father figure as well as good friend of her family. “I wouldn’t suggest it to you unless I thought you’d like it. And I think he might give the school additional money if you cooperated. Will you?”
Ties That Bind Page 2
