The sign hanging on the wall of the dormitory common area read: “If you reduce life to black and white you miss all the rainbows.”  Behind the words, a bright rainbow swished across the sign. I stared at the sign for a moment, comprehending the words and feeling sad that something like this was needed.
“Hey.” A soft voice from behind me startled me. I spun around, nearly dropping my chemistry books.  The voice came from a very tall man.  I looked up at him.  My head reached his chin. His chin like the rest of his smooth, dark face was neatly shaved.  He grinned down at me. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” he apologized, taking a step back from me.  “I was just wondering what you were staring at, you’ve been standing there for a few minutes.” His voice was smooth, deep like a grown man- not low like the boys I knew, but  baritone.
“Oh. Just the sign.” I felt my cheeks flush at the confession.  I’ve seen black men before; it wasn’t his skin color that made me stare at him. It was the way he was grinning back at me.  His smile was lopsided.  A small crease formed on the left side, and a dimple appeared on the right. It was a sexy smile.
“Yeah, I hung a few around this week.  In honor of Martin Luther King, Jr.”
“Did you paint this one?” I asked, sure that I sounded stupid. I readjusted my books in my arms.
“Yep. I’m an art major.” He pointed to a small signature scribbled on the lower corner of the poster.  “My name’s Roger.” He held his hand out to me, and laughed when I tried to jostle my books again. “Here. Let me.” He retrieved the stack of Chemistry and library books from me before I could protest.  “Where you headed?”
“Home.  Just down the hall.” I pointed.  He took a step back and bowed slightly, giving me leave to lead.  I smiled and started down the hall.  
That walk was the first of many with Roger.  We met for dinner and lunch several times a week, each meeting lasting longer than the last.  The awkwardness of our first kiss was no different than any other first kiss I’ve had with a boy; my heart raced, I worried about my breath, and if he would be a good kisser.  The only difference that I could tell was the awareness others had about our kissing. There was staring and strange looks when we walked through the commons holding hands.  Roger was a head and a half  taller than me, and he would joke that it was because of our height difference that made people give us a second look.  I pretended to believe him, but we both knew what the issue was. I was white, and he was not.
Two months after our first meeting in the common room between our two dorms, Roger revealed to me that was not ordinary. It was after we started to have sex that he made this confession.
“What do you mean? You look ordinary enough.” I laughed as I folded my laundry. He sat on my bed flipping through my bed bath and beyond catalogue.
“What I mean is, there are some things sexually that I like, that might scare you.” he looked up at me, his dark brown eyes searching my face.  I tossed my socks in to the basket and plopped down on the bed.
“Well, scare me.” I dared him.  He went on from there to explain the things he enjoyed. The feelings that overtook him when he was dominating a woman. The way he enjoyed to see her find her fulfillment in her submission to him. I didn’t understand any of it. He grabbed my laptop and showed me pictures of bondage, whips, and spankings.
“So?” His sigh was heavy. I closed my laptop and looked at him. His eyes were cautious as they looked me over. His hands rested on his lap, his large, heavy hands that only an hour before had brought me so much pleasure. I couldn’t imagine them bringing any harm to me; I felt so safe wrapped in them.
“So…If you say that I will like it, then I’ll give it a try.  If I don’t like it…what happens then?” I asked, fearful that this new journey could bring the end to us.  He leaned closer to me, cradled my face in his hands and kissed me.
“You’ll like it.” he promised.
A week later I found myself walking into a dungeon.  Roger called it a play space, but it looked like a dungeon to me. There were torture devices all throughout the room. Roger called them spanking benches and play areas; I didn’t argue.  A dozen or so couples were in the room, some draped over the benches, naked being spanking by their partner, some standing against a wall with hands tied to the bars above them, and a few walked around the room at ease with  the world.  No one gawked at us as we made our way towards the back of the room holding hands.
Roger brought us to a large cross in the back corner. I stared at him as he put down his bag of toys and started to dig around. I looked around the room again. No one seemed to notice us. He stood up with his lopsided grin and held out leather cuffs. I took a deep breath and let him do his thing.  Once he was finished, I was displayed.  My hands were tied up above my head and outward; my feet mimicked my arms.
Before I could utter a word of concern, his mouth covered mine in one of the deepest kisses he’d ever given me. I felt fuzzy when he pulled away. He pressed his nose against mine, our eyes locked with each other.
“I’m going to take off your clothes now. Don’t say a word. Don’t move. Don’t look at me.”   There was a confidence in his tone that made me want him even more.  I kept my eyes closed, so that I wouldn’t be tempted to look at him as he unzipped my strapless sundress and pulled it from my body.  “You didn’t wear underwear, good girl.” his breath was hot against my ear; I took deep breaths and tried to forget that other people were in the room.
He placed kisses down my neck, between my breasts, and down my belly.  I swallowed hard when I felt his breath on my exposed pussy.  He blew lightly on me and just as I became comfortable with the sensation, he slowly ran his tongue around my clit. I sucked in air and pulled on the restraints.  
“Do not move.” he said again. “If you pull away, I will whip this wonderful pussy, and I don’t think you’re ready for that- yet” his words held a promise of punishment and pleasure, my head swirled at the sensations they brought me.  
His tongue assaulted me again, licking slowly at first. The warmth of his tongue on me made me moan without care for any possible onlookers. He suckled my clit and slid two fingers inside of me as he did so.  The louder I moaned, the more pressure he put on my clit, and the faster he moved his fingers within me.   
“Cum for me.” I heard his deep, obo voice and within seconds I felt the waves of pleasure ripple through me. I screamed out with it, the force of my orgasm took me by surprise.  He slowed his movements and again his lips trailed along my body until he was kissing my neck. “Such a good girl,” he cooed and I couldn’t help but smile. He voice held such pride, how could my grin not reciprocate?
I remained silent, but opened my eyes to watch him as he undid my restraints. He paused twice to kiss me and tell me how proud he was.  He led me over to a bench a few feet from where we were.  He gently pushed my back until I knelt on the small padded bench that allowed for me to be more comfortable as my chest rested against the larger portion.  He ran his fingers up my spine and asked me for my hands. He again tethered me down.  I smiled at him as he kissed my forehead.
I heard his zipper and his pants drop to the floor. I arched my back as best I could in the position I was in and waited.  He pressed himself against me and slowly pushed against me. I moaned, surprised that I was excited again. He gripped my waist and pumped slow at first, then harder as I began to buck back against him. I could feel the leather of the bench rubbing my clit, and he was moving so fast within me, my orgasm hit me with no warning. It shook me as deeply as the first. Just as I found my release, he did as well.  
He left me tied to the bench as he cleaned himself, threw away the condom he used, and wiped down the cross. I could see him from the corner of my eye as he gathered his bag and threw away the paper towels. I could feel the beating of my heart, but found a peace that until that moment had evaded me. His smile held warmth and love as he headed back to me.
When he finally untied me and helped me to stand from the bench, he was already dressed. He held me.
“Roger?” I whispered into his chest.
“I’m not scared.” I proclaimed. I pulled back to smile up at him. He grinned back.
“No one is staring at us.”
“Because they appreciate the rainbow.” he kissed me softly.  

     When I was in high-school I was a wrestlette..which meant I kept the scores and stats for our wrestling team. At one of our tournaments there was a wrestler from another school, from the south-side of the city. He was Hispanic. He spent most of the day flirting with me, which took me a while to figure out because- well, I was pretty dense about that sort of stuff.  He won a medal, and when I presented it to him, he gave me a hug in front of the whole gymnasium full of people. I saw nothing wrong with this, and we exchanged phone numbers.  My coach, later, pulled me aside and told me to stay away from him. He said “You didn’t give him your number did you?” and sounded very worried. I didn’t see the problem.  Nothing happened with that boy…I don’t even remember now if we ever met after that…I think there might have been a few phone calls but that’s it. He lived way too far from me, and I was 15 at the time.  I still don’t see the problem. Maybe I’m just lucky that way.  You love who you love, and fuck everyone else. 
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