THE SHOPLIFTER 6

MORE COMPLICATIONS

One more issue from my former life still needed attention and it was a thorny, difficult one; how to tell my mother and very angry father I was alive without creating holy hell. This was a difficult problem. Bobby and I talked about it several times. We were very concerned about doing it right.

The message for my parents had gotten simpler. Now, there was only one way this was going to go. Abortion was not an alternative as it had been when they kicked me out in July. Had Bobby decided to say something to them back then, an abortion could have still changed things. But now it was late November; I was at least seven months along so obviously…I was having this baby; this combination of my very white young body with that of a very black man.

Bobby had made certain of that. From the moment he met me at Mallmart that day he wanted me to keep me this way and Bobby not only got what he wanted (as usual) but along the way he convinced me it was right.

It was not all a bad message if my parents would only give us time to tell my story. Bobby and the others assured I was well taken care of. I was receiving good prenatal care. I was in excellent health. I was surrounded my men, proud men, who appreciated my condition and treated me with love and respect.

My parents should want to know about me. They had to be worried. But, how much of all this should they be told. How much would they even listen to?

Bobby had blacks from the hood checking everything about my family ever since I came to him. They had contacts everywhere…hospital, police, children’s services, the morgue…everywhere. During the five months there had been no indication my parents were even looking for me. No missing person reports had been filed. No question had been asked back at Grady Hospital or anywhere else.

Bobby concluded they must have thought I just ran away. I had just had my eighteenth birthday so I could do that, legally.

Thus, since it was such a thorny issue, it was easy to let the weeks slip by and do nothing. At some point we would have to let them know I was ok, but not today. Telling them was a dangerous, difficult thing to do. So time after time Bobby and I talked about it, but the days slipped by with no resolution.

Each week my activity at Bobby’s slowed. I was gaining weight rapidly. My BOBBY’S tattoo seemed to grow every day. My breasts were enormous. Everything I did became more difficult. Sitting, standing, getting up and down, walking—everything was more challenging; except activities in bed.

I was faced with a big conflict and it grew every day. I looked at my body and felt very undesirable and yet I was horny all the time…out of my mind horny. I needed male company so badly and thank goodness I was still getting it regularly.

Bobby assured that I wanted for nothing including black male companions. It was surprising how many of the men wanted to be with me even in this condition. They were so kind and considerate. I cannot tell you how many different creative positions they came up with. It was wonderful to see the look of pride on their faces as they finished loving me, kissed me, gave me a final hug, and headed out the door into the early morning light.

Bobby’s smile was constant when he was around me. He told me often that he loved the way I looked and behaved. He was proud of me. I knew it had to be expensive for me to live with him…food, clothing everything he gave me was so nice. In addition, he had me seeing a Dr. Snider regularly, and that wasn’t cheap for sure.

So I was not surprised when on a Friday in early January, Bobby rushed up to my room to tell me that things were going to change for me. He was very excited and knowing Bobby, this was scary. Why change anything? Everything was fine just as it was. I was eight months along. I was very healthy and in a good frame of mind. My breasts and tummy were a bit of a nuisance, but also a source of erotic pleasure for me and others. I knew the men that loved me were certainly assuring that Bobby did not lose a penny keeping me. Why do anything different?

This was all answered when Bobby told me he had talked with Jamal. It seems Jamal had called him. They had a long phone conversation and there were a lot of developments.

Jamal was still in Panama. Being alone in Panama had given him time to think. It quickly became clear he had called only to find out about me. He pressed for answers and Bobbie told him everything; my continued pregnancy, being thrown out of the house, coming to live in the hood…everything. The news shocked Jamal. It took Jamal ten minutes before he started to come back down to earth.

Bobby looked at me with a smile,

“I have never known anyone so turned on with pride and happiness as when I told him you were going to be having his baby very soon. You wouldn’t believe how his voice changed. He started asking all kind questions, and actually listening to my answers. You know he was always such a self-righteous bastard, looking down his nose at the likes of me…well, right away this little guy you are about to have has made us a team. He asked for more and more details about you. And frankly, Caroline, I laid it all out to him; we talked for over an hour.

He is really pleased and proud and wants to be involved right away. As a result some good decisions have been made.

First, Jamal is coming home from Panama to be with you. He insisted. He can get a paternity leave. He is making quick arrangements, declaring you his expecting wife about to deliver. He will be here quickly; perhaps as early as tomorrow afternoon or evening.

Second, he insisted, and I agreed, you are going to move over to his condo. Frankly, you know I love you and I love having you here, but I have to admit, in your current state it is far better for you to be at Jamal’s. As you know I don’t have many of my female friends that stay here on a permanent basis.”

He laughed.

“They come and go. There are reasons for that. This is one of them.”

He laughed again.

“Anyhow, I have put things together quickly. I need another conversation with Jamal, but I plan on moving you over to his place tomorrow afternoon.”

Bobby kissed me soundly. Told me he loved me. Told me how important I was to him and walked out of the room. That was it. I sat on the edge of my bed adjusting to all the news.

I got into bed that evening with quiet confusion occupying my mind. I lay there in the dark gathering my thoughts. I trusted Bobby. I had no reason not to. He had proven to have true affection for me and concern for my well being. Yes he had tattooed his name on my tummy and I still wore the gold neck piece he had installed on me when I came to him, but he had answered my every need with love, concern and safety. If he felt it best that I move to Jamal’s condo, I just had to believe it was the thing to do. Beside I had no real choice; all I had in this world was what he determined I should have. Sleep came as I was thinking about what little clothing I had to take with me.

The following afternoon Bobby snapped his little gold chain to my neck and I followed him out to a waiting limo. I was wearing cute green velvet sarong style skirt and top he had provided for the trip. Knowing Bobby I looked very cute, but also very pregnant. The skirt fit snuggly over my tummy and the top was elegantly thin such that my unsupported breasts were clearly evident.

Once in the limo he handed me a little “going away” present. It was a gold bracelet that matched my neck band exactly. I turned to kiss him. His expression and the message in his eyes shocked me. This man loved me in his strange erotic fashion…he was going to miss the hell out of me. He didn’t need to say a word.

The limo pulled out to the street. I looked back at the white frame house that had been my home and entire existence for the last six months a strange feeling came over me. That house was a whore house…this man beside me was a pimp…nothing more…and I had spent several months with both. Yet I was leaving with nothing but fond, loving memories. He and everyone associated with him had been so very kind and loving.

Bobby had rescued me from disaster and made good on all his promises. I had just one last thing I had to do. I had to give birth to a very big black baby.

This was really going to be an adventure. All I had with me was a small soft bag with two changes of clothes and things from my bathroom. Bobby assured me whatever else I needed would be brought over shortly. Also Jamal had told him as soon as he got here he wanted to put things together for me as well.

Bobby took my short chain and led me up the drive to the garage door; he worked the combination on the outside entry pad; led me on inside and up into the kitchen area. Once we were standing in the kitchen he set my bag down and unsnapped my gold chain and ceremoniously put it in his pocket. He stood for a moment and then without a word kissed my cheek. He looked so disconcerted and sad. Finally he turned and without a word, walked out, closing the garage doors as he passed.

I stood just inside the kitchen with my small bag at my feet for the next ten minutes just looking around and fighting tears I did not understand. I was lonely. I felt very alone for the first time since I had run to Bobby that night six months ago when all hell broke loose at home. Bobby had really been my whole life during this entire pregnancy.

I had been to Jamal’s condo before of course, but now it seemed strangely new and empty. I walked into the living room. It was quiet and lonely. I tried the TV and the phone…both had been turned off. I dropped down on the couch in deep thought. I was absolutely alone. I had nothing but this extremely reveling outfit, two more even more revealing outfits in the little case, and a few toiletries. That was it. I had no way to contact anyone. I had to simply trust that Bobby knew what was best for me and things would develop from here.

I am a strange girl, for reasons I will never understand, I needed to explore. Room by room I moved through Jamal’s place snooping into everything. What a lovely condo.

It was quite large, occupying three floors. The lower level was a large media room, or recreation room; a large bedroom and a nice bath with a whirlpool. Sliding doors in the rooms offered access to a grand patio and a view of the lake. Outside, appropriate trees and plantings assured everything was very private.

The main level, where you entered from the front; provided living, dining, kitchen, office and small den. This is the only area of the condo I had seen when here before to meet with Jamal.

It was the upper level that impressed me the most; two smaller bedrooms with a connecting bath, and a very lovely, large master bedroom and bath suite.

My tour took about an hour and it ended in the master bedroom. I walked through into the master bathroom and slowly turned in front of the large mirror. For reasons I cannot explain, I really liked how I looked. I was large very large. My breasts and tummy were much bigger than I had ever imagined they could be, but I just seemed to glow. My face, my skin, my hands and arms all had an alluring smoothness. My examination ended when I looked directly into my eyes and my smile turned to a chuckle.

Dear reader, Caroline Webster was delighted with the way she looked and felt, and it was such a contrast to common sense that it was comical.