Genre: Interracial erotic romance
Do you love bwwm interracial romance? Cristelle will awaken your innermost desires and fantasies.
An African and two Haitian young black women live in Buenos Aires, in a completely different ethnic and cultural environment.
They have to adapt to a society that accepts them but of which they often ignore the rules.
In these circumstances they have to make their living and seek love. For these purposes they do not hesitate to resort to magickal means.
A bittersweet novella with high erotic content. You will love it.
Find it in: Amazon printed books: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1530252652
The woman checked the time on her cell phone and quickened her pace. She had agreed to meet the boy at six o’clock in the evening on a street corner of that neighborhood in Congreso and it was already six twenty. It was simply not right to arrive so late on the first date, although in this Saturday afternoon there was not a lot of people walking around the area, so crowded on weekdays. The girl vaguely remembered the photo of the young man named Federico, his light eyes and red hair. The appointment had been made by telephone, after an exchange of mails through one of the dating sites that infested Internet. She remembered that the man had also said he was one meter eighty-five centimeters tall and slender so that she figured he would be readily recognizable as she crossed him on the street, but above these considerations Cristelle was sure the boy would immediately recognize her. Born in Cameroon thirty years earlier her black skin stood out in Buenos Aires, as well as her silhouette with generous curves.
“I have to stick to that diet again. I gained about four kilos lately.” She mused as she arrived at the appointed corner.
The woman did not see him because he was leaning on a wall looking at the opposite direction from which she came, no doubt expecting to see her come from there.
“Hello Cristelle.” Said he. “I´m Federico.”
She looked at him and could not conceal a gesture of satisfaction; everything that the photo and the description on the dating site showed corresponded to reality. The tall and somewhat gawky boy and his face with regular features pleased her from the beginning. Cristelle was happy to have agreed to the appointment.
They were sitting in a cafe near the house where the girl lived. They had been talking with no fixed topic for a while and the woman decided to ask for some further details. With her soft French accent she asked.
“Well, tell me more about yourself, starting with your name and where you are from. That ridiculous nickname you use on the dating site is obviously not true.”
“My complete name is Federico Colombo, and I was born in Pergamino.”
“Excuse my ignorance about geography. Where is that place?”
“In the province of Buenos Aires, about 220 kilometers from the capital.”
“And why did you come to live here?”
“To finish my studies.”
“And don´t you have universities in your hometown?”
“There are two, but they do not have the career that interests me.”
“What career is that?”
“Did you live in Pergamino with your family?”
“Yes, my parents own a small farm there.”
“Do you have any brothers and sisters? Rural families tend to be large.”
“Yes, my two brothers are still finishing high school and help my father in the fields. My older sister is married and is a teacher at a kindergarten in the city.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five, as I wrote in the profile of the site you’ve seen. Except for the name, everything else is true.”
“Do you have a girlfriend in your hometown?”
The boy hesitated a moment.
“No a fiancée or a formal girlfriend. Her name is Vanessa. A girl I have gone out with sometimes.”
“Have you slept with her?”
“A couple of times.”
The boy made a defensive gesture, implying “That will be it for the moment.”
“ Now tell me about you.”
“ My name Cristelle Mboma. I’m thirty years old and was born in Douala, Cameroon.
“Is that the capital?”
“ No, the administrative capital is Yaoundé. Douala is the economic capital of the country, mostly due to its harbor on the Atlantic Ocean”.
“Are you member of a particular ethnic group? I know that in Africa everything is mixed up.”
“ Not any more than it is here. I belong to the bamileke ethnicity, common in Cameroon.”
“Your accent is French.”
“I come from the French-speaking part of Cameroon, but we also have our own tribal dialect. I studied at the Catholic University for Central Africa, though I did not finish my law studies.”
“When did you arrive in Buenos Aires?”
“ About five years ago.”
“The same as me. That explains your good Spanish. And tell me, why did you leave Cameroon?”
“It’s a very poor country, with little chance of progress. My sisters left the country before me.”
“Where do they live?”
“The oldest in Paris and the second in New York. Only my mother is in Douala.”
“What brought you to Buenos Aires?”
“A work offer in a financial company with clients in Quebec and France. They needed someone who spoke good French…and was cheap enough, I guess.”
“Are you still working there?”
Federico slid his right hand on the table and placed it on the girl´s hands, caressing them.
“You’ve a very soft skin.”
“ A feature of my race. Yours is hard, you have calluses.”
“Due to all the time I spent helping my father in rural tasks.”
The young man raised her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently.
“You’re very sweet.” She said.
“Your skin is sweet.” Replied the man.
On leaving the cafe Federico offered to accompany the girl to her home, only a couple of blocks away. He took her hand looking at the envious glances of some guys they crossed in the street who surely at that hour in a Saturday afternoon probably went hunting for the night.
“It’s right here.” Said Cristelle stopping in front of a door. It was an old apartment house that had been elegant in its time and was very well preserved. Federico also stopped somewhat surprised.
“What is it? ¿You expected me to live in a pigsty?”- Asked the woman. “¿Too good for an African immigrant?”
The boy did not answer; he passed his left arm around her waist and in one smooth motion pulled her close and both moved towards the door of the house, on which the shadows of the night were already falling. For a moment their faces stayed facing each other at close range, until finally the two joined their lips in a long, passionate kiss that conveyed many ardent messages. Cristelle wrapped her arms over the shoulders of the young man, for what she had to stand on her tiptoes despite being a meter seventy tall. Her hand stroked the nape of the man and messed up his hair. Federico’s hand began to scroll down her waist until it reached her bulging buttocks where it stopped.
“Oh.” Said he.“This is glorious.”
“Another feature of my race.”
“I want to know all those features.”
“Don´t you think you’re going too fast?”
The young man was about to answer when behind them was heard a cluck of two women talking loudly as they reached the door of the building. Cristelle pushed the boy apart and sought to place her clothes in order.
Federico looked frustrated by the sudden cut in a romantic moment but his embarrassment gave way to surprise when he noticed that the woman was talking in French with two black young women accompanied by a girl of mixed blood.
“ Federico, let me introduce you my friends Anabelle and Chantal.” Said Cristelle. “He is Federico.”
Both women presented their cheeks and all exchanged friendly kisses as has become a ritual in Argentina.
“And who it is this beauty.” Asked Federico, referring to the blushing girl who hid behind the pants of the woman named Chantal, evidently her mother.
“She is Lourdy, is seven years old and is my daughter.”
After some incidental comments and yielding to curiosity the boy asked.
“Are you all from Cameroon? I ask that because you all have a slight French accent.”
“No. Replied Chantal.” Anabelle and I are Haitian and came ten years ago, and Lourdy was born in Buenos Aires.”
When Chantal ended with the introductions she drew a computed key that opened the building door and the three newcomers joined it.
“I´ll be up in a moment.” Said Cristelle.
“Have you got the key?” Asked Anabelle.
“Yes. Of course.”
When they were alone again Federico passed his arms around the waist of the African girl saying.
“Where have we left…?”
“Stop! They almost caught us once.”