When I said Sa’afia hit me, I was trying to make two points. Both of which were true. The first was that Sa’afia was hurt when I asked her a question about Ana, while we two were in the middle of doing something very intense and sexually powerful. I’d re-awoken her worry that I was with her for reasons that weren’t about her.
I’d got her to suspend disbelief on one of her worries, which was that I might be interested in her because she was Samoan. There were white boys who went after Samoan girls, because they thought they were easy, or they had a fetish-y thing for them, or whatever. She wanted always to be certain that I liked and desired the individual she was: Sa’afia.
She was right to give me the benefit of the doubt on that one. I do and think lots of dodgy things, but I’ve never found that I get turned on, or turned off, a woman because of her race. Once we were lovers, then I liked the brown of her skin and the shape of her nose, slightly broad and slightly snub, and I loved the firmness of her flesh and the strength of her body. I loved a lot of things, some of which were Samoan things.
Actually, there was something I really liked about her nipples, but I’ll save that for tomorrow.