Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 01

My life has changed in the past three years. It has been turned upside down and inside out in the most unbelieveable, unimagineable and dramatic fashion. I could never have envisioned such a change could ever occur, not to someone like me. But, it was changed. And, it was changed by an extremely beautiful, dominant, young black lesbian woman named Alexis.

To the outside world, I was a woman who seemingly had it all. I was blessed with above average looks, a financially secure husband, a nice home in the suburbs and an apparent career as the President of my very own company.

At this particular time in my life I don't think anyone in the world could have had a different perception of me. Yet, this image that I presented was not who I was inside. It was also a far cry from what I have become since the day that I met Alexis Barron.

I was born and raised in a small town just outside Oslo, Norway. The country of Norway is a relatively quiet and peaceful country that is almost hidden away from the rest of the world.

My father worked as an engineer for a large automobile manufacturer, and my mother as a hotel manager.

My two sisters and I were raised in an upper to middle-class environment, and we were sent to some of the best schools in the country. I was the youngest of the three and began learning the english language at an early age.

I was a diligent and moderately successful student. My grades were on the higher end of an unchallenging curriculum.

By the time I had reached my 14th birthday, my family decided to move to America, and we eventually settled into a comfortable life in the pacific northwest.

My two older sisters were 18 and 20 then, and they began attending college in the midwest almost immediately. I was placed into a very private and exclusive prep school for young women.

With the exception of one asian girl for only one of those years, this all-female prep school was exclusively white. There were never any black, asian or hispanic girls in the entire school of about 400 students.

The coursework at Saint Gertrude's was relatively easy. It resembled one of those finishing schools of the early 20th century that one might see in an old black and white movie. The daily curriculum was geared towards teaching us young women the proper manners and appropriate social etiquette of the upper class world. Most of the young women attending this school would eventually end up as the wife of a wealthy husband, and not much more than that.

Academically, I did quite well. I excelled in all my studies and felt comfortable in this quiet and unassuming environment. With the exception of my above average height, I never did stand out from most of the other girls.

At the start of high school, I had already reached my present height of 6'1" tall. My figure was a trim, yet voluptuous 36-26-37, and I already possessed a full "D" cup. Perhaps, I was about ten pounds lighter than the trim 141 pounds which I carry now.

My personality was always a huge contradiction to my physical appearance. Many would have viewed me as this stautuesque, young blonde woman with a pretty face and a mature figure, and one who might have had an outside chance of becoming a runway model someday.

I wasn't that person.

I was actually quite shy, timid and introverted. Most of the time I just hid behind these conservative dark-rimmed glasses, a result of a strict upbringing by a father who kept us protected from the all the terrors of the outside world. Despite my appearance, I felt clumsier and socially inadequate.

I wasn't nearly as confident or dominant as someone with my size, shape and looks usually is. Simply put, I wasn't this imperial Norwegian goddess many thought I should have been.

There were very few girls at Saint Gertrude's that were different. They were a little more assertive and popular than the rest of us, and they intimidated me.

From a distance, I secretly admired how these types of women could be so self-assured and in control of themselves. I marveled at the way their beauty and their natural social skills seemed to give them the ability to make so many friends. It was like they had some sort of secret power over the others. And, I was fascinated by them.

It didn't seem like a sexual attraction. Not during this period of time. The qualities they possessed were simply the qualities that I admired and felt humbled by.

Like most young women back then, I still had my dreams and fantasies of meeting an attractive and successful man, then becoming his wife. It was the stability and security I sought, and needed. But, at the time I was vaguely aware of it.

After graduating from this private high school, I went on to finish my bachelor's degree and swiftly moved through graduate school. I completed my Master's degree in less than two years.

During my academic career, I continued to have very little interaction with the other students. Mostly, I kept to myself and did not socialize with any of the groups or "clicks" of the schools I attended. There were a few dates that I was coaxed into taking, and this would be the only social life that I can claim. None of them would amount to anything. Mainly, I just focused on my studies and my family life.

My parents were certainly quite proud of me when I finally graduated.

But, I was really more confused than anything else. I was about to turn 25, and I was quite uncertain about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.

After taking several months off, I took a job as an office administrator. My very first job was with an firm my father referred me to. Basically, he set me up with a nice job because he knew someone at a norwegian-owned company. I would spend the next five years of my life slowly and methodically crawling up the corporate ladder of the business world.

This was a rather shallow existence for me, to say the least.

My career in the world of international advertising was not all peaches and cream. My roles were less than exciting, as they were always in more secluded "behind the scenes" roles. My professional duties were simplistic, despite the impressive titles that I was given. And, it soom became obvious that my good looks and heritage were playing a much greater role to my advancement than my actual skills were.

I was not very aggressive or authoritative during my short-lived business career, although I became proficient from the administrative side. But, it would be nothing more than that. Never could one say that I was able to make any of the tougher decisions in business, or that I had the ability to make a business operate in a profitable way.

It was about this time when my feelings of ineptitude began. I was about to become 30 years old and I was beginning to have second thoughts about a business career. My thoughts of moving back to Oslo grew stronger since my family had just made that same decision a few weeks earlier. They were already set to move back to Norway when they invited me to a nice dinner one evening.

That is the night I met Jeff.

Jeff was an older gentleman of 50. We met at a small restaurant just outside Tacoma. I was there with my parents to have dinner when he suddenly approached me as I made my way to the ladies room. When my parents witnessed this brief verbal exchange from our table across the room, they began to drill me about him.

Moments later, they were asking him to join us and I wasn't excited about this at all.

My parents never made any secret about the fact they have always wanted me to find a nice man. To them, I was already too old to be a single woman in America and they seemed desperate to find me a husband to settle down with before they moved back to Norway. It was embarrassing for me.

Much to my surprise, Jeff turned out to be a really nice man. He was a tall man that owned a small, but very sucessful buiness in the perfume industry. He was an educated man who had a lot going for him at the time.

Jeff had a beautiful home in the suburbs, which was a short drive from the most elite part of the city from where he ran his business. He liked automobiles and I suppose that he felt some sort of connection to my father and his career in the automobile industry. They talked about automobiles from the first hour, and into the night.

Jeff had a modest collection of 6 older cars that he described as "vintage." Back then, I thought that just meant having a bunch of old, rusted out cars. He said they were worth a lot of money, but it really wasn't something that I found interesting, or cared too much about.

Nevertheless, we began dating right away and within just a few months he proposed. I was about to turn 31.

Obviously, my parents were ecstatic about this new venture. They even made a special trip in from Oslo for a celebration dinner with Jeff's family. They tossed my glasses into a chest of drawers and purchased a pair of contact lenses for me. It was just one of their less than subtle ways to prepare me for my future husband and marriage. In their minds, they weren't going to let this one get away.

We married only a few short months later in that same year.

My new husband was a gentle man. He was a bit shy and never overbearing, yet somehow he had such great ability in the business world. He really knew how to make things work within his own business.

His office was fairly small with a staff of only 8 administrative and clerical women. His company made a very good amount of money.

Money was never the reason that I liked Jeff. It was a very nice thing to have. We were financially well off but not in any extreme or vulgar sort of way. We were moderately rich but not wealthy.

Jeff's modest 5-bedroom home was valued at a little more than 700,000 dollars back in the year 2000, which was about a year after we married. His business brought us a moderate 200,000 dollar annual profit after his personal 250,000 dollar salary as the President of his company. Most of that, he would put back into his business.

To me, it was still a lot of money. It was more money than I had ever known before. The security it provided was nice and we had a comfortable life. Despite my uneasy feelings, I knew that I didn't have to worry about money.

When Jeff made me the vice-president of his small company, I was taken by surprise. I never expected to be in this type of role in my previous years in business. It happened shortly after we married.

My husband gave me a 125,000 dollar salary and a fancy title. But, he made no secret about the fact that he didn't want me doing the nine to five grind everyday. Rather, he preferred that I be the primary homemaker and come into the office "to help out with things" only when they needed me.

This was no more than once or twice a week, at the very most.

It was easy to see that this decision didn't sit well with the other 8 women working for my husband at the time. They were not in leadership roles. They were in administrative positions. To them, I was merely a "trophy" wife who was benefitting from my marriage to a successful man.

The other women were all older than I was. They were in their mid to late 40's, and they had been with Jeff for many years. It was my husband who really ran the business and made all the decisions. My occasional appearance in the office seemed to be more for "show" than anything else. All that I was asked to do was a little filing and accounting, and occasionally answering phone calls to set up appointments. These brief appearances were merely a way to justify my less than deserving high salary.

As Jeff's wife, my life became rather uneventful.

My life was quiet, pleasant and comfortable. I didn't have to work much, and I had this large home with a beautiful in-ground pool set onto a stone deck. I could spend much of my time relaxing if I wanted to.

Most of my time away from his business was spent shopping for expensive clothes and designer high heeled shoes, or planning our next dinner for the night. Yes, despite my 6'1" tall frame, my husband preferred me in 4 inch heels. Over time, I grew accustomed to wearing them and it was beginning to feel natural to be so tall.

The only real work that I was doing around the house was cleaning and paying a few bills. I never liked having someone else cleaning my own home, so I took tremendous pride in doing so.

But, in the years of our marriage it never occurred to me that I was losing most of the few business skills I had acquired before meeting Jeff.

Then, after only 9 years of marriage tragedy struck. Jeff passed away at the age of 59, and I was quite saddened by this.

Now, I was 40. And, I would be on my own for the very first time in a long time.

By then, my parents had already settled back in Norway and I didn't have many friends at all. My sisters were now married and living out east. I suddenly found myself in a situation where I didn't know exactly what I was going to do. My late husband left me the business, the home and everything else, with the exception of two of his six vintage cars.

He left those to his nephews.

I still had my personal car, a BMW. I also had the pending insurance money and the house was already paid for. But, things weren't as secure as they seemed.

When I began going over all the financial obligations with our attorney, I began to realize that there were still many expenses that needed to be taken care of.

The house had very high taxes to pay each year and the insurance on the 4 remaining vintage cars I now owned were quite high. The lease on the office building was almost like paying a mortgage. The insurance money was being held up for what they called "cause," and it was being investigated.

To make matters more difficult, the business was beginning to fail. It was not making as much as it did in the previous years. It was only enough to make a small profit after all the expenses, salaries and taxes were paid. This included my 125,000 salary, of course, and there wasn't much more left after all the monthly bills were paid.

Looking back, I could have sold everything and lived for a few years on the little money I would earn. But, what would I do then?

"What could I do after all the money ran out?" I thought.

Eventually, I came to the realization that I actually needed to work for my salary just to keep up with all the bills. So, I did. And, it was challenging form the start.

Three of the 8 employees I was left with had quit their jobs within just a few months. Others were threatening to go onto different jobs. The 3 employees that left were, perhaps, the best and most knowledgeable women in the entire company.

The other five women who remained were reluctant, yet stayed on. They were very passive and meek secretarial type women who were now in their mid to late 40's, or early 50's. They were more like I was, educated and very good at the administrative parts of the job, but they would never be managers, decision makers or leaders.

One minor thing that did go well was that I was able to sell 3 of the 4 remaining vintage automobiles that my late husband had left me. Those sold so fast I couldn't believe it.

I put away the 95,000 dollars earned from them. The one car I was unable to sell was a 1963 lipstick red convertible Corvette that my late husband had stashed away under some covers in the private garage out back.

Back then, I was very scared and unsure about most everything I was doing. Yet, I made the conscious decision to at least try to salvage the business and create a new life for myself.

That first year after Jeff's passing things didn't go well. I tried everything. But, I was failing in a big way.

The business was beginning to lose more money now and the 5 women still employed were beginning to sense that the end was near. I could see the concern on their faces every morning when I walked in.

All of them had very comfortable salaries and I'm sure they knew it. I don't think they could have possibly done much better anywhere else, despite their education. I believe their ages and being so late into their careers had something to do with their decision to stay.

For one moment, I thought about cutting their salaries. I would cut mine too. But, I seriously did not have the heart or strength to lower their salaries. Eventually, I just took a little less for myself.

As things continued to go downhill faster I tried my very best to keep most of the financial failures of our business a secret from the others. I didn't understand the financial books too well, anyway. I simply didn't know what many of the items on this big report meant.

But, I could see that sales were down and we weren't getting any new business coming in.

It was just me and these 5 older white women in their 40's and 50's trying to do our best to keep things afloat.

They began to rely on me.

Perhaps, we were all just hoping for things to turn around.

"Maybe they would?" I thought.

"Maybe the reason we were getting less business was the poor market?" I reasoned.

I know now that we really didn't know what we were doing. The business just kept losing money.

I also knew that I had to do something else. I thought that maybe I could hire someone who had more experience to help me out in the areas I was failing, which was practically every area.

But, I had absolutely no experience hiring people. I had never done that before. It had always been my late husband's job to bring in new employees.

Still, I tried.

After placing an ad in the newspaper, I hired another two white women in their mid 40's. They seemed much more qualified than I was and they both had very sweet personalities. I thought they would fit in nicely with the rest of the staff.

Their resumes seemed professional, but as it turned out they were more like executive secretaries than business managers. After just a few short months, I realized they were just like the rest of us. They weren't close to being managers or leaders, either.

Now, there were 8 of us - myself and the other 7 forty-plus year old white women who were in the latter part of our careers, struggling to run a small business. We all worked on drumming up more business and calling our existing customers to find out why sales were dropping off so dramatically. Perhaps, we were all trying to prompt them into increasing purchases.

This seemed like the right way to do things.

We kept pushing and pushing the existing product lines my husband had worked so hard to develop.

But, that wasn't working.

We didn't even think about new product development. It didn't even cross our minds back then.

As things began to spiral even further out of control, we went from barely making a profit in my first full year as President to losing over 300,000 dollars in the second year.

The insurance policy was still unresolved, and continued being contested by the insurance company, as well as my late husband's sister. It had been nearly two years and it was costing me a great deal of money for attorneys.

Eventually, I took out a bank loan from a good friend of my late husbands, who was a loan officer at one of our banks.

I had to do this just to make up for the losses.

I think that he knew that I was a huge risk. But, I also knew that he was very attracted to me.

Stupidly, I agreed to a lunch date with him although he was a married man. I knew what I was about to do was wrong, but we really needed the money. I also knew that he was taking a fair amount of pity on me and all my failures.

I was sure that he wouldn't have said yes to a loan if I didn't agree to meet with him.

I walked out of the bank that day feeling like such a whore. Ultimately, I couldn't go through with it and I never met him like I had promised to.