ALBINO and REDBONE by tenorman
Dive into the enticing world of "ALBINO and REDBONE," an erotic tale by tenorman that explores passion, desire, and forbidden encounters. This steamy story promises to captivate your imagination with vivid characters and intense chemistry. Engage your senses and experience a rollercoaster of emotions in this must-read erotic narrative. Perfect for lovers of sultry fiction!<br/>
Two employees at a local restaurant, a snow white cook and night black waitress share an incredible attraction and act upon it , ALBINO and REDBONE
Alex was one of the whitest people you would ever meet. His longish hair was the palest blond, a micro-shade shy of white, his eyes were light blue and his skin looked bleached. He was born in Iceland to an American serviceman and an Islandic woman of Norwegian descent. He moved to the U.S. before he could walk. He wasn’t really an Albino; but ‘Albino’ was his nickname.
The moniker was tagged onto him by his boss at work. Alex worked days as a line cook at Bertha’s, a busy restaurant near the shopping district. His boss George, the kitchen manager and “Chef” as he liked to call himself, was always handing out nicknames to the employees, and not usually complimentary ones. George was an overweight, bigoted, pompous ass and universally despised by the help, but his family owned the joint so they were stuck with him.
Originally Alex was ‘Cotton Head’ but then George got clever and started calling him ‘Albino’. A girl in the kitchen cut her thumb chopping onions and was ‘Bloody Mary’ from that day forward. A busboy with a limp was ‘Hookfoot’. The dishwasher, a teenager with an afro was called ‘Bush’. A gay waiter was dubbed ‘Rice-a-Roni’, as in The San Francisco Treat. Old George, he had a million of them.
Nobody liked George but nobody would kill him. He wasn’t worth the trouble. No matter how obnoxious or insulting he was, everyone knew he was just an asshole and couldn’t help himself. So they just let him rant and blew him off.
Lorna was one of the waitresses. She spoke with a lilting, sultry southern accent which Alex adored, and had smooth chocolate skin and a shoulder-length head of frizzed black hair. When she’d pick up her orders she’d smile and say ‘Thank You’ in her sexy drawl, and look Alex in the eyes from the other side of the reach-through. Alex would admire her slim, tallish body and stare at her ass when she walked away with her orders. He thought she was hot and her body was fine, that he could see even with her wearing the plain dress that all of the waitresses wore. But he knew she had to be quite a bit older because he’d heard that she was divorced and had a daughter graduating high school. Alex was twenty-six.
George’s nickname for Lorna was ‘Redbone’. It was another subtle insult of course; Lorna was black, and not what you’d call light-skinned.
Alex often thought about Lorna. He would picture her smile in his mind, and imagine her speaking to him in her fleecy, erotic voice. He wondered if she thought about him. Her eyes and her smile and her voice penetrated him somehow. But he knew deep down that with their age difference and the fact that he was whiter than snow and she was dark as night, it was probably a long shot that she’d be interested. There wasn’t that much opportunity at Bertha’s for the kitchen help and the wait staff to mingle so he tried to let it go.
—-
Lorna was a theater buff. So was her daughter Savannah. So on Savannah’s eighteenth birthday, a warm, humid Saturday night in early June, Lorna took her to see a play at a theater downtown. They had dinner at a nice restaurant and then went to the performance.
Afterwards, as Lorna and Savannah were exiting the theater they heard the reedy sound of a woodwind filtering through the voices and footfalls and car horns and other noises of the night. They migrated toward the music and came upon a young, blond-haired white man dressed in a black tuxedo, seated on a stool, playing a clarinet. A plastic tip bucket was on the sidewalk in front of him, full of bills. They paused and stood off to the side to listen. After a minute or so Lorna realized the clarinetist was Alex, the cook from the restaurant.
Alex didn’t notice them; his eyes were closed as he concentrated. He would nod when someone contributed to his tip bucket, but otherwise he was in his own musical world.
When Alex finished the piece he heard a couple of people clapping faintly off to his right. He peered over and saw Lorna; she looked exquisite in a red dress, snug against her lean, toned body, and showing off her long, black coffee legs. With her was a younger version of Lorna in a blue skirt and a white blouse. Alex’s face broke into a wide smile.
“Wow, I knew you were handy in the kitchen, Alex, but I had no idea you were so talented in other ways!”
“Talent?” he said. “Oh, I‘m full of it, that’s for sure.”
“You sound great. Alex, meet my daughter Savannah.”
“Hi Savannah,” Alex said. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” she said. “You sound good. And nice threads.”
“My tux,” Alex said. “Rented it for my high school prom and never took it back!”
“Well, you look good. Can you play any blues on that thing?”
Alex immediately jumped into an up-tempo Duke Ellington tune, ‘Things Ain’t What They Used to Be’, bringing smiles from Lorna and Savannah and a smattering of applause and a couple tips from passersby. He played the head a couple times before launching into an improvisation. After a couple minutes, still winging it, Alex saw Lorna take a bill out of her purse and hand it to her daughter. Then Savannah walked over and dropped a five into the tip bucket.
Alex nodded his thanks and looked at Lorna. She had a grin on her face and lipped ‘Gotta go’ as she gave him a wave. Alex rose and took a bow without missing a beat.
—-
“Damn, that boy is white!” Savannah said, as they walked to the car. “How do you know him?”
“From work. He’s a cook,” Lorna said.
“Wow, he’s so white he’d glow in the dark!”
“So what, you like white boys.”
“I know, but he’s really white!”
“You don’t like him?”
“No, I do. But he’s so extremely white it’s almost like he’s black.”
“I think he’s cute,” Lorna said. “I can tell he checks me out at work.”
“Kinda young, don’t you think?”
“Oh, I don’t know. He may be older than he looks. Old enough, anyway.”
—-
That night and over the next day or so Alex couldn’t stop thinking about Lorna and her tight body wrapped in that red dress and her sexy chocolate legs. And her smile, God he loved that smile.
Alex looked forward to going to work Monday morning. He wanted to set his eyes on Lorna. He first spotted her in the dining room filling up the salts and peppers. The waitress dresses were pretty plain, but damn if Lorna didn’t look fine in hers. It had short sleeves and buttoned all the way down the front, but it highlighted her curvy ass and long arms and legs. And her face—creamy carob skin and a pearly smile framed by her foxy, kinky hair. He was smitten but not sure what to do about it. He was afraid Lorna might be out of his league.
“Good morning, Maestro!” she said in her sweet, southern drawl.
Alex looked up from his prep work and there was Lorna smiling at him. He grinned and said ‘Good morning’.
“Did you bring your clarinet this morning? You gonna serenade us during your break?” she asked.
“No,” he laughed. “I left it home. Don’t want George to give me another nickname.”