Page from a Tennessee Journal (AmazonEncore Edition)

the crush of her breasts against his chest.
    Alex slid his body sideways against their firmness. When he pushed her back, his voice was almost a whisper in his own ears.
    “And, tonight, Laura, I can guarantee that you won’t get cold without that quilt.” He bent to kiss her only to find her lips pressed tight together like he was trying to feed her castor oil.
    Her whole body trembled under his touch. He could feel those shaking shoulders move to push him away, tense up in mid-motion, and stop. Her body was fighting him. He released her to reach down for the whiskey flask.
    “Take a swig of this.” He removed the cap and held the metal bottle in front of her.
    She nodded her no, blinked the remembrance of her place, and answered in a voice that held almost no sound.
    “Thank you no, suh.”
    Alex took a drink from the container and put it to her lips.
    “You need a drink.” He tipped the flask to her closed mouth.
    She barely parted her lips. He was certain that almost none of the liquid made its way into her throat. Alex pulled her back toward him and let his lips glide slowly over hers. He felt her body go limp. Suddenly afraid that she might pass out, he slipped an arm around her back. He’d never heard of a colored woman fainting. He’d always been told that colored women were strong enough to take anything. Alex pulled back from her and watched her face closely. Laura’s eyes were now tightly closed. He put a hand over the spout of the flask and poured a bit more of the liquid over his hand. Though she clenched her jaw as tight as a wood vise, he managed to part her lips with his fingers. She shook even more as he took her into his arms again. Alex tapped his liquor-soaked finger over her lower lip, rubbing little circles over its fleshy soft ness as he moved his hand from left to right. Even in the dim light, Laura’s lip glistened like a juicy plum as he leaned over and drew it into his own mouth. The taste of spiced honey and ripe, fresh-picked strawberries filled his throat and went straight to his head faster than any whiskey he’d ever drunk. The scent of her was like a sandalwood platter he had once smelled on the back of a peddler’s cart. It was from Africa, the peddler declared, and cost five dollars. Alex hadn’t spent the money. Kissing her again, he sucked in her upper lip, drawing it out long and slow into his own mouth. He let his tongue probe inside Laura’s mouth, but there was no answering response. In his embrace, he let his hands run down the sleeve of her blouse. She held her arms stiff at her side.
    “Put your arms around me,” he whispered in his half-voice.
    Slow like a herky-jerky at a carnival, Laura reached her arms to his shoulders and stopped. They lay there like two leaves of untied tobacco. Shining through the window, the silver light from the moon laid a streak across the back of Laura’s blouse. Alex stepped away and put a hand at the open band collar of her top. He felt the tension in her increase. He knew she wanted to slap his hand away. In the dimness he felt her hands on his shoulders open and close as though she were pleading with them to complete Alex’s bidding. She was still fighting the battle to push him away, but soon, she would acknowledge their bargain.
    Slowly he undid the four remaining fasteners on her blouse. Laying the garment open he was surprised to see a chemise underneath. It hadn’t been there this morning. Fingering the thin cotton, he could tell it was her Sunday best. Had she put it on to please him, or to hide herself from him? With great care, he unfastened the buttons.
    “We can lay our heads on this.” He slipped off her blouse and tossed it on the skinny mattress.
    The woman’s eyes still hadn’t opened. Alex slid his hand from her waist up between the open chemise as he pushed the garment off her body. Threads of silvery moonlight shone across her breasts. Alex struggled to catch his breath. Her nipples looked like lumps of nutmeg ready for the Christmas baking sitting atop a high-mounded cinnamon bun. His own fingers began to tremble as he encircled each nipple, letting his fingers explore in ever-widening circles. He tried to cup each breast, but the fullness overflowed even his large hands. He felt Laura’s shaking increase with each breath she took, pushing her breasts even more firmly into his hands.
    Alex sat heavily onto the corn husk mattress, his thoughts refusing to marshal themselves into coherent order. He