It all went down one Saturday night. Chantel had been dating a seemingly awesome man, Richard. They’d been out on several dates. They’d enjoyed each other company and everything was great. Naturally they decided to take the relationship to the next level.
“Would you like to watch the game in my house Saturday afternoon?” he texted her around midweek.
“I would love to.”
Chantel spent the next few days planning outfits for the event. What to wear on the drive there? What to wear after the game as they enjoy a candle lit dinner in the garden. What to wear to bed after the movie and cuddling on the sofa. What to wear the next door. It was like she was going to meet the Dalai Lama.
Richard was equally excited as he hadn’t been in a relationship for years. His last relationship ended, to say the least, badly.
“No more women for me!” he’d declared to his best friend one evening as they enjoyed a quiet pint in a traditional country-side pub. His friend scoffed.
A few weeks later, at a barbeque party, he met Chantel. She was flawless and delicate in a strong way. She was intelligent. She was perfect. Or so it seemed.
The night before the fateful Saturday night had been great. He’d suggested they meet for a drink ‘to hash out details for Saturday’.
That Saturday morning, he woke up very early to be first on the queue at Billingsgate market – he needed the freshest fish to make a good impression on Chantel, who he’d decided, would be his future wife and mother of his children. Ever since they’d started dating, he’d been apprehensive. He didn’t want to mess this one up, and if his internet search history was anything to go by, he’d done everything to be fully loaded and prepared. His search history was like a serial killer’s guide on how to get away with murder… only it wasn’t and included insane searches like – ‘how to please a black girl’, ‘first time dating a black person’, others bordered on the ludicrous ‘what is the average size of a black girl’s vagina’, average breast size etc. He came short where most black men came tall, thin where most came fat, soft were most came hard – he knew Chantel had only ever dated basketball type black men, so the pressure was on. And he had reasons to worry.
On the other hand, Chantel was gathering any and all information she could get on dating a white guy. A few of her friends had dated white men they’d met online or offline and the stories ranged from normal to bizarre and everything in between. Her last boyfriend, perfect in many aspects – rich, handsome, great lover, and generous – was, more than that, the greatest cheat on earth and it shattered her confidence in men. He had girlfriends in every country on earth. When she found out and confronted him, he’d nonchalantly replied…. “so? Besides you are my main chick, the others are just time fillers!”
She confided in her friends, many who told her to ignore because ‘that’s how black men are!’ And for a while she did. However, the thought of her man with other women was too emotionally draining, therefore she broke up with him when he refused to give up his hoes. Then a married colleague advised her to date a white guy, ‘they don’t cheat as much,’ she’d said. She wasn’t interested until she met Richard. There was something about him. A vulnerability she hadn’t seen in any of the guys she’d dated, and it was endearing.
Furthermore, he was charming, a true gentleman and came highly recommended by Chantel’s best friend who knew him well. They exchanged numbers and for the duration of their chat history he never once asked her to send nude photos or talked dirty – she liked that because the nonstarters she’d had dated previously asked for nude photos within two minutes of chatting. One sent her his nude photos and asked for her to return in kind – she blocked him mid-chat. With Richard it was a breath of fresh air – she was interested in knowing the person before the body.
“I want to build a relationship with you that would last for a very long time.” He’d said one evening as they sipped cocktails at Davy’s.
She was ready for an adult sleepover as she packed an overnight bag that Saturday morning. Tingly feelings of love enveloped her as she thought of Richard in anticipation – something she hadn’t felt in ages. She had once called him Rich by mistake and his face lit up and said he loved that. He was everything she had ever wanted in a man. And she hoped consummating the relationship that night would be wonderful.
She got to his house a little later than he’d hoped, however he was getting used to her coming late to all their dates. She’d explained it was something innate and couldn’t explain it. “You’ll get used to it I guess.” She told him coolly.
“Are you ever on time to the airport?”
She’d looked at him sternly and said nothing.
The afternoon went as well as they both hoped. The fish was exquisite, and the wine flowed freely. Richard was the perfect gentleman and Chantel was as ladylike as a royal.
After the meal, he showed her around the house and the huge compound, then they settled on the sofa to watch the game between Liverpool and Manchester United. Chantel didn’t care much for football unlike nearly all her family. Richard was a diehard Liverpool fan.
“I’m not much of a conversationalist during the game…. So forgive me.” He said.
“Oh, that’s cool.” She stretched and fetched her phone from the bag.
By the end of the game, they had had quite a few drinks and more food. Liverpool won and Richard was in great spirits. It assured Chantel that the night would be great.
As the evening wore on, and the images on the screen danced, nature took course. No words were spoken as their bodies merged in heated embrace. Their lips met. They explored each other, loving every minute.
Fifteen minutes later, they were stark naked and hot for each other. But then Chantel gasped…….
“999, what’s emergency services do you need?”
“Ambulance please.” Chantel rasped. She was crying so hard her face was covered in snort and tears.
“Ambulance services, how can I help you.”
“There’s a man bleeding on the floor, please help….”
Between heavy sobs she managed to give the address. Within minutes the house was swarming with blue lights and green uniformed men and a woman.
“What happened to him?”
The scene looked grim. Chantel was half naked and her green and white bra was covered in blood.
“Are you hurt madam?”
Richard was butt naked and sprawled on the carpeted floor with a knife sticking out of his tummy.
“What’s his name?”
“My name is Richard….”
One of the ambulance people called the police as Richard whispered something to the woman. The police arrived.
As they wheeled Richard into the waiting ambulance, he whispered something to a policeman. And then screamed, “she laughed at me…..” as he pointed to Chantel. She was promptly arrested.
To be continued……