Contemplating a Cultural Shift

Moses lay, still awake at 4 a.m. Elizabeth was cutely snoozing beside him. He looked at her pert, round asscheeks. Her belly swollen almost impossibly large with his son, Samson. It was curious -- her family had enslaved his. Yet he'd gotten the final ****, marrying the prize of the Castle lineage.

And part of him wanted to immerse his wife so much in Blackness, that she had only Black friends. Watched movies with all-Black casts. Listened to Black music. So much so, that the only thing to differentiate her from any other prime Black woman was her skin color.

Or he could go the opposite way. Keep his wife immersed even moreso in white privilege. Golf and tennis at the country club. Maybe make her a Swiftie. The whitest girl in an already white neighborhood, whose only temptation to the dark side was her big Black husband at home. Something to make all those wives wonder about.

He cupped her bare asscheek, giving it a squeeze. She rolled over onto her back, her legs parting.

"Just be careful," she mewled. God, he loved her.