Read Saving Her: BWWM Interracial Romance Online
Authors: Mandi Moane,BWWM Team
Tags: #bwwm interracial romance
Saving Her: BWWM Interracial Romance
SAVING HER
by Mandi Moane
Copyright © 2015 Mandi Moane
All rights reserved.
This is for all my readers - and Tim.
This BMWW interracial romance novella contains adult language, situations, and themes. The characters are all entirely fictional and not based on reality.
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ONE
I reached out and snatched another flute of champagne as a waitress passed. My fourth fundraiser of the week was the most important, and I needed to settle my nerves a little. The party was progressing fabulously so far, but I had a bad habit of attracting disasters.
As the daughter of one of the few black billionaires in the world, I always seemed able to handle whatever life threw at me. At least that’s how it looked to people on the outside. Inside my mind was another story entirely.
“Wonderful party, Tasha,” a female voice said.
I turned around and put on a smile.
“Thank you. So good to see you here,” I lied.
To be honest, I couldn’t remember the woman's name. I drifted away, losing myself in the crowd. Well, as lost as I could be as one of the most active socialites in California.
I walked from one end of the crowded ballroom to the other, appearing as if I was in a hurry. In actuality, I wanted the night to end so I could go home and relax.
“Excuse me. Are you Tasha Lords?”
I turned toward the voice. “Yes.”
“I wanted to thank you for speaking to my wife's Wednesday club this week.”
“No problem at all. I hope to do even more.”
“We appreciate your kindness.”
I smiled politely and once again excused myself. The rest of the evening, I floated from one group of people to another, briefly giving them my attention, acting as if I really cared. I tried to make them all think they were the most important person I was talking to that night, which wasn't even possible.
Over the years, I had learned how to please people without really caring, an ability that drained me.
“There you are darling,” my father’s voice said behind me.
I turned. “Hello, Father,” I said formally.
“Pleasant evening,” he continued.
“Yes, but I think I will leave soon.”
“Me too. Are you coming over to the house tonight?”
“No, I think I will head home myself. Do you mind?”
“I don't, but your mother might.” He smiled. “You can talk to her tomorrow. Let's get out together now while we can.”
I returned the smile as he held out his arm. He led me through the sea of people as if he were Moses on a Holy Mission from God. People parted for him, and we made it to the front entrance. As he waited for his limousine, I walked down the street to where I had parked my Mercedes.
Driving myself made me feel like a normal person, something I desired deeply. Just before I got to my car, a figure walked out from the darkness between two buildings. My heart beat faster as I wondered if I should scream or take off running.
“Hey, lady,” an unkempt man said - complete with a nasty smell of vomit and liquor.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
He held out his hand.
“Got some spare change? I'm a vet.”
My father and many other advisers in my life had always told me to keep walking when asked for money, but something about him made me stop. I doubted he was a vet at all, but if I had been born to different parents, I could have been in his place.
Whatever the reason he had fallen on hard times, I had a chance to help him – even if he was a white man - and I should do something. At the same time, I hesitated to get into my purse in front of him.
Will he rob me?
I wondered.
“Never mind,” he said, turning to walk away.
“Hold on,” I said.
I reached into my purse and pulled out the first bill I could find, a hundred. His gaze darted to the money as if I was holding a million dollars.
“Here. Take this,” I said, handing it to him. “Just don't buy drugs or anything, okay?”
He snatched the crisp, clean bill. “Yeah, sure lady. Thanks.”
Before I could say anything else, he rushed off, back into the darkness. I turned and walked to my car. My phone rang as I got in.
“Hey, dad. Everything okay?” I asked as I turned the key.
“Young lady…” He stopped and took a deep breath, which meant I was in trouble.
“What did I do now?” I asked.
“I saw what you did. I almost stopped…”
“He looked hungry,” I interrupted. “Aren’t we supposed to help people?”
“Yes, but there are ways to do it. Look, darling, he will not buy food with that money. Do you think you're helping him by giving him money to feed his habits?”
“No,” I said, tired of the lectures.
My father was a very shrewd and intelligent man. While I didn't always enjoy the lessons he tried to instill in me, part of me acknowledged they were important. He was one of the most powerful men in California, and one day all of his wealth would be bestowed on me, his only daughter.
“I love you,” I said, trying to fix the situation.
“I'll come over and visit you and your mother tomorrow, okay?”
He disconnected the call without a goodbye, which was normal for him. I started the car up and drove away from the banquet hall, headed toward Baldwin Hills, what everyone called Black Beverly Hills.
My house - tucked away from the others - was also larger than most of the other houses in the neighborhood. A staff of twelve (who lived on-site) took care of the property and, if I’m completely honest, they took care of me too.
TWO
I stepped in my walk-in shower and turned the water on. The high-end faucet had favorite temperatures built in. I choose hot enough for steam and sat down on the far side of the shower, out of the reach of the spraying water.
Loneliness washed over me. My father had tried to hook me up with plenty of eligible black men, but none of them did anything for me. He wanted me to marry someone the same as me, but I wanted love no matter the color.
The marble of the seat built into the wall was cold, but my ass warmed it quickly. My left elbow – which I’d recently injured during a tennis lesson – throbbed with pain. While all my thoughts of men made me want to touch myself, the pain changed my mind.
With a sigh, I got out of the shower and walked over to the medicine cabinet. After opening it, a bottle of Oxycontin stared at me. Three lonely pills sat in the bottom, waiting for me. Because of my tolerance, I had gone through nearly thirty of them in just over two weeks.
A trip to any pharmacy would give me another thirty-day supply whenever I wanted, which is another reason I took so many. They were available. My prescription had no expiration date thanks to big donations from my father to our family doctor.
I popped two pills in my mouth and swallowed them with a drink of water. My doctor had lectured me about overdosing more than once, but I didn’t really care anymore. If it wasn't for my money and connections, I wouldn’t have access to them and would have to turn to street drugs – like the guy who had asked me for money. Thoughts of him filtered through my mind as the pain went away.
The idea of being homeless was foreign to me, and I put him out of my mind as I got back in the shower, which was now full of steam. Sitting back down on the marble bench built into the wall, I took a deep breath. Images of other men – and their muscular bodies – replaced those of the homeless man. My fingers ran up and down my thighs, causing me to sigh.
A moment later, I brushed my hand against my shaved pussy lips. The drugs in my blood began to take hold of me as I spread my legs and concentrated on making myself come. While many men wanted to fuck me, I had to be careful because of my net-worth. As a result, I usually just pleased myself. It wasn’t as good as the real thing, but it got me by without going crazy from being too horny.
My real pleasure in life derived from the little white pills, of which I had an unending supply. If I didn’t buy my drugs on the street, I couldn’t possibly be an addict. All I had to do was stop taking them, which I could do at any time.
I slid a finger inside me as I sat back against the wet wall. The other thoughts in my mind faded as pleasure took over. After I came and my body stopped shaking, I rinsed off under the water before turning it off.
By that time, the pills were in full effect. I made it back to my bedroom and collapsed on my oversize bed. Sleep overtook me almost immediately. I dreamed of being a nurse during some sort of war. In the dream, I had to help a man who had lost his legs in battle, but I couldn’t.
The dream quickly turned into a nightmare.
THREE
I woke up the next morning covered in sweat. Looking at the clock on the nightstand didn’t help make me feel any better. Fuck, I thought. While I didn’t have to worry about going to work, I had other duties. I threw off the covers and took a deep breath.
Should I take a pill now?
After getting out of bed, I dressed quickly, throwing on some jeans and a white blouse so I didn’t stick out at the pharmacy. I always found it crazy there were more pharmacies in Beverly Hills than churches.
Or maybe I didn’t find it too insane. People were crazy. If I’d learned anything in life, it was that you could never tell about people. They always surprised you no matter what precautions you took. While my elbow no longer throbbed in pain, it would start aching again.
The morning flew by quickly with my one goal in mind – get to the pharmacy and refill my prescription. Once I had the brand new bottle of ninety pills in my thousand-dollar Gucci purse, I stopped at a café to get something to eat for lunch.
A salad would hit the spot before driving all the way home. The street I'd parked on the night before looked different in the light of day. I locked the Mercedes and walked around to the sidewalk. Almost immediately, the unkempt man from the night before walked up and stuck his hand out.
Does he even remember me?
I wondered.
“Help me out, lady?” His voice sounded like gravel.
I frowned in a condescending way. “What did you do with the hundred I gave you last night?”
He shielded the sun from his eyes with his hand and looked into my eyes.
“You got me confused with someone else,” he said.
“Nope. I don't think so. I remember your smell.”
A frown fell over his face as he turned to walk away.
“Wait. I'm not going to give you more money, but I'll buy you lunch. How does that sound?”
The military jacket he had on intrigued me. A charity I had recently started working with centered on veterans.
“How about this? I'll bet you a hundred dollars I'll get thrown out of any restaurant I walk into...”
“Okay.”
“Hold on, I'm not done. If I walk in alone, I will get kicked out.”
