Enter your mobile number or email address below and we'll send you a link to download the free Kindle App. Then you can start reading Kindle books on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required. To get the free app, enter your mobile phone number. Chapter One Soiled How come you motherfuckers don't bring no white bitches when you come up here? Not consensual, by any means. It was born out of rape, humility, and control. During slavery, whites "introduced the house slaves to white ways, minimal education and non-consensual sexual relations. He reportedly caught pneumonia because of his frequent visits to the slave quarters, which were less fit for human habitation.
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Enter your mobile number or email address below and we'll send you a link to download the free Kindle App. Then you can start reading Kindle books on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required. To get the free app, enter your mobile phone number. Would you like to tell us about a lower price? If you are a seller for this product, would you like to suggest updates through seller support? If you're a White man interested in dating Black women, this book shows you how to make it happen. Learn how Black women think, what they like and don't like to see in White men, and where and how to go about meeting them. Find out how to cope with public reaction to interracial couples, learn how to counteract the psychological inhibitions that can hold you back from getting involved and understand why those who oppose interracial relationships feel compelled to think and act the way they do. Find out what works and get involved.
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I had been with my partner for six years when she announced, abruptly, that it was over. I remember she was crying. I was not: I was too stunned. It was as if, in the rulebook of how to end a relationship, she had torn out the last chapter. Disagreements, rows, eating meals in silence, sleeping in separate rooms: these things were all missing from our end sequence.
My friend Miranda has accompanied me here for moral support. We scale a no-frills metal staircase at the end of an alleyway behind the high street, where a weary blond woman is ruling a domain of coats, cash and lists. She has a defeated manner, like the only sober person at a party when everyone is drunk. I have no idea why I decided to make myself look so dowdy. Miranda is doing much better; she has obediently put on a basque, along with a skirt much shorter than mine, and boots that elongate her long legs. It was the easiest way of manipulating our actual names without revealing the fact that we are both black. His presence is comforting; he seems like an island of sanity in a sea of grotesque chaos.