Cuckolded_BlK_Male
Green Light Believer
- Joined
- Sep 21, 2002
- Posts
- 3,073
I'm in the very early stages of working on an Interracial story. It's about a somewhat hoochie-coochie (read tacky) but very attractive, ghetto fabulous, young, Black, newlywed bride from (or represen'n', if you will) Eastchester The Bronx NYC.
She works an afternoon shift somewhere in Manhattan (I haven't decided where). Because of it's proximity to her job among other reasons (I've yet to think of) She also takes morning classes in interior design at Berkeley College on East 43rd (May change to CUNY).
One day on her way downtown on the 5 train she gets off two stops early (why, I haven't decided). Regardless, she finds herself on East 86th st. and Lexington Ave. This is the upper eastside. It's worlds away from The Bronx.
She intends to walk the few blocks from Lexington Ave. to Madison or 5th Ave (3 or 4 blocks is nothing to a New Yorker, even in heels), and take a MTA bus down to the campus on 43rd st. (I'm probably going to end up moving this whole thing closer to the Park ... where the Foo Foo Richie Rich types roam)
Anyway, She ducks into a little cafe along 86th st. to use the little girl's room. She has no intention of eating in this chi chi bistro famous for its French influenced American cuisine, where lunch typically runs one about $45 without drinks. She wouldn't eat this type of mayonnaise slathered crap if they gave it to her. her tastes run more toward lechón asado or Popeye's extra Spicy. Despite her opinion of the cuisine, she boldly makes use of the facilities, basically daring the hostess or any of the wait staff to tell her that their powder rooms are for the exclusive use of their exclusive clientele.
She happens to walk right past a table where four very well heeled young men are sitting very near the bar, in the middle of the morning drinking scotch, and reminiscing about their Yale days. They all notice her, as she sticks out like a sore thumb. She, however, pays particular, if brief, attention to one of the group. They're eyes meet for a beat or two, and then she disappears into the back of the restaurant.
Now, these guys are much more wealthy than they appear. They look, to the untrained eye, to be merely successful Manhattanite Yuppies. They, and in particular the guy that She shared a moment with, are super-rich. The guy (who has a stupid name like Digby Griswold Pierpont) is from a very old, obscenely rich and powerful Middletown, Connecticut family. He, in fact actually lives on his estate in Connecticut. His flagstone covered townhouse on Central Park is just one of his many Pied-a-Terres.
While she is in the can, the Patek Philippe watch wearing group of young men are speculating among themselves as to what it would be like to bed a sexy Black Amazon like the "Bridge-and-Tunnel slut" in the "ladies" room. Unlike all of their fathers, none of this group of Skull and Boners has ever been with a Black woman ... in either the sexual or social sense.
Digby decides to find out. So, when she has finished "powdering her nose" and left the cafe, he excuses himself and starts after her (to the cheers and ribbing of his chums.)
That's the basic premise of the story. It will get a lot more raunchy from there. I intend to play up the racial and class conflict ... as is my wont.
Where I'd especially like advice is in the area of the accoutrements and idioms of the contemporary effete, Super Duper rich, Protestant, blue blood, east coast ruling class. I could also stand to know a little more about Money Makin' Manhattan! Note ... I said contemporary, not Thurston Howell III.
However, I'd appreciate any input.
She works an afternoon shift somewhere in Manhattan (I haven't decided where). Because of it's proximity to her job among other reasons (I've yet to think of) She also takes morning classes in interior design at Berkeley College on East 43rd (May change to CUNY).
One day on her way downtown on the 5 train she gets off two stops early (why, I haven't decided). Regardless, she finds herself on East 86th st. and Lexington Ave. This is the upper eastside. It's worlds away from The Bronx.
She intends to walk the few blocks from Lexington Ave. to Madison or 5th Ave (3 or 4 blocks is nothing to a New Yorker, even in heels), and take a MTA bus down to the campus on 43rd st. (I'm probably going to end up moving this whole thing closer to the Park ... where the Foo Foo Richie Rich types roam)
Anyway, She ducks into a little cafe along 86th st. to use the little girl's room. She has no intention of eating in this chi chi bistro famous for its French influenced American cuisine, where lunch typically runs one about $45 without drinks. She wouldn't eat this type of mayonnaise slathered crap if they gave it to her. her tastes run more toward lechón asado or Popeye's extra Spicy. Despite her opinion of the cuisine, she boldly makes use of the facilities, basically daring the hostess or any of the wait staff to tell her that their powder rooms are for the exclusive use of their exclusive clientele.
She happens to walk right past a table where four very well heeled young men are sitting very near the bar, in the middle of the morning drinking scotch, and reminiscing about their Yale days. They all notice her, as she sticks out like a sore thumb. She, however, pays particular, if brief, attention to one of the group. They're eyes meet for a beat or two, and then she disappears into the back of the restaurant.
Now, these guys are much more wealthy than they appear. They look, to the untrained eye, to be merely successful Manhattanite Yuppies. They, and in particular the guy that She shared a moment with, are super-rich. The guy (who has a stupid name like Digby Griswold Pierpont) is from a very old, obscenely rich and powerful Middletown, Connecticut family. He, in fact actually lives on his estate in Connecticut. His flagstone covered townhouse on Central Park is just one of his many Pied-a-Terres.
While she is in the can, the Patek Philippe watch wearing group of young men are speculating among themselves as to what it would be like to bed a sexy Black Amazon like the "Bridge-and-Tunnel slut" in the "ladies" room. Unlike all of their fathers, none of this group of Skull and Boners has ever been with a Black woman ... in either the sexual or social sense.
Digby decides to find out. So, when she has finished "powdering her nose" and left the cafe, he excuses himself and starts after her (to the cheers and ribbing of his chums.)
That's the basic premise of the story. It will get a lot more raunchy from there. I intend to play up the racial and class conflict ... as is my wont.
Where I'd especially like advice is in the area of the accoutrements and idioms of the contemporary effete, Super Duper rich, Protestant, blue blood, east coast ruling class. I could also stand to know a little more about Money Makin' Manhattan! Note ... I said contemporary, not Thurston Howell III.
However, I'd appreciate any input.
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