My work colleague is beautiful. She has one hell of a body. She wears high heels that require the equivalent of tightrope-walking skills. She dresses like a model and shops to calm her nerves. She has long, LONG dreadlocks - natural ones; she boasts well manicured nails. She gets up at five in the morning to start her beauty routine. She eats like a horse and never seems to put on weight. And, oh yes, did I mention she is black? No? Well, she is.
I see the way men look at her. They pause, when she walks into the room. Their eyes tear her clothes off of her. They find themselves lingering over her lips, her boobs, her crotch, her bum, her legs. They follow her around the room. And, because we appear to be together, they sometimes stare ruefully at me. Normal behaviour, I would imagine.
But in Mosselbay, I also saw something else, which she pointed out to me. We went to the restaurant in the hotel we were staying in, for supper. As she entered, men and women looked up, and kept on looking. Ah yes. This wasn't lust, it was unfamiliarity. It was something just this side of alarm. Because then I noticed - which she of course had noticed in a glance - that the room was entirely white.
Then I get glared at. I glare back and they back down. But only after some point has been made. Some strange point which they are making. Only after they have maintained the hostility for just a millisecond, do I get the point.
You see, apparently, in Mosselbay she would have to be my whore. So unlikely is it, that a man of my age and a beautiful black woman could just be enjoying an evening together.
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