The Ghastly Ashley Affair

        Stretched across the bed on her stomach in the dorm room, Natalie frowned as she studied the cryptic passages in her chemistry textbook. Her long brown legs, bare in a pair of Nike jogging shorts, entwined at the ankles. Her fingers idly teased one of the seemingly thousands of tightly woven strands of jet black hair that sprang haphazardly from her scalp, and she wondered if maybe pre-pharmacy was not such a good major after all.
        The complicated formulas were as foreign to her as the Ugandan love chants her mother had been practicing of late in an effort to find what she called her "roots." Natalie sighed and tried to concentrate on her reading. It wasn't easy. Her dark eyes were continually distracted by the bip, bop, bustle of her dipsy roommate preparing for a date.
        Ashley, of course, had no idea that she was impeding the progress of scientific knowledge. The tall blonde was totally immersed in a beauty ritual that was as thorough as it was unnecessary.
        Through the open bathroom doorway, Natalie watched as her energetic roommate whisked the fluffy white towel from around her body and stretched upward on her tiptoes as gracefully as a cat to drape it over the top of the shower stall. Even Natalie had to admit that Ashley had a really wonderful figure. Her large conical shaped breasts jutted outward from her chest without the slightest hint of droop, and the narrowness of her waist was emphasized by the awesome flare of her shapely hips. As Ashley stepped into the shower stall, Natalie's lips puckered in a moue of disapproval at the perfectly rounded spheres of the blonde's heart shaped bottom. The black girl would have died for a rear as high and firm and sexy as that!
        Natalie heaved a long, wistful sigh, then returned her gaze to page 87 of her text, managing to decipher a few sentences . . . nothing remarkable, just stray data that floated disconnectedly in the vacuum of her mind . . . each piece tumbling over the other in no particular order . . . but the disjointed learning process halted abruptly when the soothing hum of the shower water stopped and the frosted glass door creaked open.
        Ashley was at it again, wrapped shoulder to hip in her damp white towel, leaning over the sink, pushing her freshly scrubbed face close to the mirror as she applied eyeliner and lip gloss and just a hint of rouge and innumerable other cosmetical confectioneries, all done with the exacting patience of a master artisan.         The blond girl made faces at herself in the mirror, twisting her even features this way and that, cocking her head at just the right angle, making a touch-up here and a total reconstruction there, applying a dab of this and a dollop of that, and finally bouncing back from the mirror with an audible squeal of approval . . . and then it was on to the job of her hair. Natalie buried her face in her textbook and groaned as her roommate began removing hairpins, letting the long. silky, golden strands drop helter-skelter around
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her shining face and cover her gleaming shoulders. One hundred brush strokes, administered with measured precision and a subtle poof of hair spray, reduced the thick, tawny mass to an orderly perfection that swept from cheek to shoulder to curve of back with sparkle, effervescence and effortless grace.
        Ashley padded back into the dorm room and sat at her computer desk to do her nails: bright red, shiny and wet, from stem to tip and side to side with nary a slip nor slight in sight. She waggled her long fingers approvingly, waiting for the gloss to dry, and there was a lull in the proceedings. To fill the gap, the long-limbed, limber blonde leaned forward and carefully extracted her mail from her purse, slit the envelopes with a well-used file, and perused the posts while Natalie stared with dull eyes at the words swimming randomly on page 88 of her text.
        "Oh, my God!"
        The cry was heart-rending, torn from Ashley's throat with such force that it brought Natalie back to life. "Say what?" the black girl's voice rose in a mixture of alarm and irritation. "What is it, Ashley? Did you break a nail?"
        "This!" the blonde responded tearfully, flinging the offending missive on her desk. "I've been--been drafted!"
        "Drafted?" Natalie pondered the import of that message without success. "Like what--the army or--"
        "The meat lottery!"
        "Oh . . . . . . Oh! "
        The tumblers clicked in Natalie's mind, racing over the events of recent history--the coronation of George II by the Supreme Court, the advent of the Great Depression of the 21st century, race riots, bread riots, soccer riots, the indictment of former President Clinton by a Republican judiciary, and finally the Constitutional Convention called by the Republican Congress to clean up the mess.
        "Oh, I'm so sorry." Natalie tried to sound appropriately subdued but the effect was spoiled when she added quickly, "When do you report?"
        "I only have a month!" Ashley wailed. "If only I'd married Freddie when he asked . . . "
        "You mean the guy you dumped two months ago?"
        "Yeah, poor Freddie." Ashley wiped a line of mascara from her smooth cheek. "Now he's engaged to that Phys Ed major with the big boobs."
        Natalie glanced at the bulky front of her roommate's towel. "You know, somehow that kind of figures about Freddie, but it's too bad he's taken. The lottery only applies to single women from 18 to
25."
        "I know and that's so unfair!" [4]

        "Part of the Clinton Compromise at the Convention," Natalie muttered, showing off her erudition. "The Republicans got to outlaw abortion, contraception, and the right of women to vote--but Clinton got the two-term limit on Presidents lifted. Of course, the Republicans countered by forcing all young single females to sign up for the meat lottery."
        "But that's so cruel!" Ashley protested. "I mean, if you get picked, you have to report to one of those government centers where they . . . they process you and distribute you to the poor as meat!"
        "The Republicans thought it would encourage marriage." The black girl shrugged. "And they figured if Clinton was elected again, it would reduce the pool of available White House interns."
        "But I don't want to get married!"
        "Well, there's always a couple of alternatives," Natalie suggested, waving at the slip of paper on the computer desk. "That ticket could be worth a lot of money, and you can do whatever you want with it."
        "Like sell it? Sell me?" Ashley's eyes widened for a moment in distress. The idea was obviously disturbing. Then she grumped sarcastically, "Yeah, right! I'll just march right down to that creepy, old Mr. Wiffle behind the counter at the Shop-N-Go and hand it over to him. He's always saying if my number comes up to come and see him!"
        "So you're--"
        "No way!" Ashley snapped. "Not even if he looked human--which he doesn't!"
        "Some girls have given their tickets to charity to be auctioned off to the highest bidder."
        The blonde rolled her eyes in despair. "You not helping any! I'm in trouble here. I have to find someone to marry me before it's too late--and it has to be someone who doesn't want to . . . to . . . you know! What I need is a fake marriage where I don't have to cook or clean or have sex with someone disgusting."
        "You mean a marriage for appearances only?"
        "Whatever." Ashley shrugged. "Unless he was like really good looking and had lots of money
and--"
        "That reminds me of something." Natalie sat up and swung her legs off the bed. "I met a man at a B.U.N.K. meeting with kind of the same problem."
        "B.U.N.K.? You mean that nutsy student club you hang with?
        Natalie's temper flared. "The Black Union for National Kwanza is not a . . . " She choked and stopped, then hung her head in resignation. "God, why do I bother with a dumbass honky white--"
        "No, no," Ashley interjected, "tell me more! What's this guy's problem?"
        "Not that you care-- "
        "Well, I don't, really, but if it helps me . . ." [5]

        "Oh, well, there is that consideration," Natalie agreed with a wry smile. "Just try to follow what I'm saying for once. Okay?"
        "No problem."
        "You see, this grad student is over here from Africa working on his doctorate but the government is about to have him deported for some revolutionary stuff he did back home when he was younger. However, if he married an American citizen, they couldn't touch him."
        Ashley nodded. "So he needs like an American wife--but only for what you said--appearances only?"
        "Exactly."
        Ashley's glossy, moist-looking lips twisted into a pout. "Hey, this isn't just some trick of his to get a white girl, is it? Because I know some of your friends see a really hot looking blonde like me and--"
        "He doesn't even know you!" Natalie snapped. "Besides, he said he'd prefer a black wife for political reasons--that it would look better--but it doesn't really matter because the whole thing would just be for show anyway."
        "My parents wouldn't approve of this guy," Ashley said slowly. "It's not that they're racists or anything, but they're Republicans and they voted for George W. . . . not that their vote counted . . . "
        "Your parents didn't lose the damned lottery!"
        "That's true, and they really wouldn't want parts of me distributed to homeless people as a food supplement either."
        "So what do you think?"
        Ashley settled back in her chair and picked thoughtfully at the front of her skimpy towel. "Well, okay. I guess I could meet him." She lifted a long, silky smooth, recently-razored leg, and Natalie noticed with a touch of pique that the leg wasn't the only thing Ashley had shaved clean. Her pubes were as smooth as a new pat of butter. "But once he sees me--"
        "He may strangle you," Natalie muttered under her breath.
        "What?"
        "I said trust me," the black girl corrected, leaning back to survey the bountiful curves of her blond roommate. "Shalongo Kuto isn't like that. He's an intellectual, so no matter how cute you might think your lily white ass is, the last thing on his mind would be to have it in his bed!"

As Ashley stepped into the cafeteria at the student union, several heads turned abruptly in her direction, admiring the way the tall blonde filled out her frolicsome pink shift and matching shoes with the conservative two-and-a-half-inch heels. Despite the outwardly polite appearance on the faces of her

[6]

admirers, there was a hungry, yearning look in their eyes, eyes which were almost totally male, except for aset in the far corner that belonged to an angularly shaped female with green and silver hair and a gold ring in the side of her nose.
        Ashley ignored the multi-colored vampyra and searched for the chocolatey face of her roommate, which was not hard to find since the Republicans had eliminated affirmative action and all student financial aid. Natalie and her table partner were like two stray chips of fudge on a white sugar cookie. Ashley smiled and waved and hurried over to their table.
        Sliding into the booth beside her roommate, she regarded the man sitting across from them with a tinge of disappointment. He certainly didn't look like a wild African revolutionary about to be deported for scandalous shenanigans done in his youth. He looked more like the lawn ornament in front of her parents' modestly ostentatious two-story-with-pillars-and-attached-three-car-garage home in Brentwood Estates.
        Shalongo Kuto was a small, rather dumpy man in his middle fifties with a fringe of fuzzy white hair around a gleaming bald pate. His face was deeply lined and pitted but the loose wrinkles of brown flesh were drawn back in a not altogether unpleasant smile that revealed an enormous set of badly fitting dentures. He was dressed in a seedy wool sportcoat and a dingy white turtleneck.
        Natalie made the introductions. "Shalongo Kuto, may I present my friend, Ashley?"
        "You may, indeed," Shalongo said, smiling even more broadly. His voice was a deep, reedy baritone. "I'm charmed!"
        "I'm sure," Ashley said demurely with a slight nod of her head.
        "So you're the young missy in need of a husband?"
        "Actually, I don't need a husband," the blond coed corrected. "I just need to be married."
        "Ah, yes." Shalongo chuckled at her answer. "Your friend Natalie has explained your situation and how it can be a benefit to my own plans of matrimony. As a stranger in your country, I had almost given up hope in that regard. I was quite amazed by this lottery notion."
        "You and me both!" Ashley said sincerely. "I mean, like I was freaked when I got the letter with the ticket. I knew they'd passed that dumb old law with a lot of others, but the odds were like humongous! A zillion to one! Who would have thought?"
        "An odd bit of luck, indeed," Shalongo agreed.
        "I know--downright weird--but can you imagine it?" Ashley was aghast. "That someone would actually want to eat me? I mean, me?" She spread her hands and leaned across the table, revealing more than a hint of her deep cleavage.
        Shalongo nodded. "As you say, that would be quite the . . . the remarkable thing . . . would it not? A young lady of such beauty and promise? Arrested in the prime of young womanhood and served up hot [7]

and spicy as a special offering for some glorious occasion?"
        "Well, yeah," Ashley grumped. "And they just chop and box you at the distribution center, like some kind of cheap hamburger or something."
        "Now, that is a shame." Shalongo shook his head in commiseration. "I will never understand your country, and yet your government calls us savages."
        "Oh, you mean the deportation thing?"
        "Yes, that too," Shalongo said absently, "but more importantly . . . " he turned to the black girl and favored her with a beaming smile, "I must commend my new friend, Natalie. She has done extremely well at sizing up the . . . the situation, as it were. Surely, her eyes and hands were guided by the ancient gods of my country to reach such a delightful solution to my pressing problem."
        Natalie smiled. "You're really too kind."
        "Not at all." Still beaming, Shalongo looked back at Ashley and spoke in a grandiloquent tone that bordered on reverence. "And you, my dear, what can I say? You are the answer to my most fervent prayer, your face and form are truly divine--inspiring--a wondrous blessing to be bestowed upon only the most sacred of unions. I must admit that at first I had my doubts but . . ." he touched his fingers to his lips and blew a kiss to the room ". . . but now that I've actually seen you, I realize that Natalie's stories hardly do you justice. Oh, yes, she has described you to me quite well in every particular!"
        Ashley frowned for a moment, then shot her roommate a suspicious glance. "Just what did you tell him about me?"
        "Only the truth," Natalie said. "He talks like that a lot."
        "So, Mr. Kuto," Ashley turned back to the grinning black man, "I was wondering . . . about this marriage . . .uh . . ." she paused, blushing faintly. "What I mean is that you do understand how it works, about me not actually becoming your wife."
        "Of course, I understand perfectly."
        "Well, good." Ashley tossed her head, sending a flash of golden hair skimming across her shoulder. "Then the wedding--"
        "Is all arranged," he supplied.
        "All--"
        "Meaning," he explained quickly, "that I will take care of everything, all of the details. It will be a traditional African wedding in the style of my homeland."
        "Really?" Ashley brightened. "That sounds cool. See, like I'm a Christian, and a church wedding would be--"
        "Not a Christian wedding by any means," he assured her. [8]

       "Well, good. Then it won't mean anything but I still want to look my best--"
        "You will!"
        "And my gown--"
        "You will be attired in the appropriate fashion for your exalted status. I guarantee your appearance will create quite a stir with the guests."
        "Yeah?"
        "I am a man of some substance in my country, which is why I was hoping . . . well, let us just say that I know now that the festivities will be quite grand. Quite grand, indeed! Natalie will give you all the details as necessary."
        "Then it's settled." Ashley smiled brightly and rose to her feet. "I hate to rush off but I have an aerobics class at the gym. Now that I'm not headed to the distribution center, I have a reason to stay in shape!"
        She started to turn away, then stopped and stepped around the table to offer Shalongo her hand. As he gripped it warmly, she said quietly, "I hope you're not disappointed. Natalie said you would have preferred a black woman."
        Shalongo threw back his head and laughed with unabashed amusement. "My dear Ashley," he said, clasping her smooth, young hand in both of his. "Among the many emotions coursing through this old bag of bones, disappointment is not one of them!"
        With a final smile, Ashley withdrew her hand and headed for the door. Shalongo watched until she had disappeared, then leaned across the table to say, "She is exquisite!"
        "You don't have to live with her," Natalie observed dryly.

        During the next two weeks, peace reigned over the dorm room, and Ashley and Natalie even developed a kind of rapport. They chatted, not about the wedding and not often, but they chatted. On the appointed day, they drove in Natalie's car to the wedding site, a cluster of tents in a sunny meadow well back from the main highway.
        Shalongo, resplendent in the flowing gown of his country, greeted them as they left the car. Behind him, four middle-aged women, similarly garbed, stood in a row.
        "These are my sisters," he said, making the introductions.
        Ashley nodded politely at the splendidly dressed women, feeling a little self-conscious in her lime green shorts and matching halter. She was also a bit overwhelmed by the other exotic sights that surrounded her. It was as though a piece of Africa had been transplanted in the good old USA, and not a white face was to be seen.

[9]

        "Well, I made it," she said, a nervous tremor in her voice. "Now the party can begin!"
        "And so it shall." Shalongo stared at her with obvious approval. "You are even more beautiful than I remember."
        "Thank you." Ashley smiled modestly. "I did spend some time getting ready this morning."
        "Hours and hours," Natalie muttered.
        "And time well spent," Shalongo agreed. "Now, if you will accompany my sisters to that large tent, they will prepare you for the ceremonies."
        "Wow, okay . . . "Ashley glanced at Natalie.
        "I'll be coming too," the black girl said, taking Ashley's arm.
        Shalongo watched the group of females disappear into the tent, then rejoined his guests. As the sun climbed to its zenith and moved to the West, the party warmed into a gala affair. There was dancing and singing as old friends met each other again and as strangers became old friends.
        Finally, a long, steady drum beat signaled that the wedding was to begin. The guests assembled before a freshly fashioned altar, redolent with fragrant smelling flowers, where the bride and groom stood before an ancient shaman imported for the occasion. The old man went through the ceremony with slow deliberation, following the ancient ritual which was largely lost on the American bride.
        Even Shalongo puzzled over some of the secret incantations muttered by the venerable holy man but his heart swelled with pride as he glanced at the look of wonder on the faces of his guests. It was good to get back to the basics. With a final dash of ram's horn tossed in the air, the shaman signaled that the ceremony was over, and the bride and groom dashed hand in hand to the marriage tent through a spray of flowers thrown by the guests.
        They stopped at the head of several long tables covered with traditional native dishes and bowls filled with frothy beverages. The tables were arranged in a long row, and the wedding party filed in to surround them, laughing and talking in high spirits. As Shalongo raised his hand, a hush of anticipation fell over the crowd, an anticipation that grew even keener as one by one the guests noticed the unexpected dish reposing before the bride and groom.
        While the recipe was strictly in accordance with the ancient traditions, the dish was a rare delicacy that few had had the privilege of tasting. It was said that such a feast would bring good fortune and happiness to all who were lucky enough to partake.
        "My friends," Shalongo said, "this is truly a glorious day. I have a new bride, a chance to finish my studies in this country, and a future of hope and promise when I return to my own country--hopefully to help lead my people into a brighter tomorrow." [10]

        There were murmurings of assent from the crowd mingled with the rustle of fabric as the guests pressed closer to the head table. "But I am also an old man," Shalongo continued, "and I follow the old gods. I prayed to those gods for a chance to honor them and you in the ways of our ancestors. By the hand of my new daughter, those prayers have been answered."
        He turned to glance at Natalie, now attired in a flowing multi-colored robe, and she came forward to stand before Shalongo and his new bride, who smiled with pride at her daughter.
        "My father," Natalie said, bowing to Shalongo, "allow me to present the wedding gift that you wanted more than anything else to crown this occasion. May this token of my respect bring joy and happiness to all the days of your marriage!"
        With that, she pressed Ashley's lottery ticket into her stepfather's hand and stepped close to kiss his cheek. Shalongo accepted the kiss and the ticket even as he turned his head for a long, lingering look at Natalie's roommate, the dish that had everyone's mouth watering.
        Under the wise guidance of the ancient shaman, Shalongo's sisters had truly worked a miraculous transformation in the beautiful American blonde. Just as the shaman had predicted, steaming her in the ground had preserved every delicious line and curve of Ashley's fabulous figure, and she presented an inspiring sight to the delighted party goers.
        Crouched on her knees in a thick, saucy bed of rice and nuts, her delicate chin resting on her crossed forearms, her long blond tresses swept up one side of her head to fall over her opposite shoulder, she was a vision. Her eyes were closed but even her long dark lashes were still intact. In fact, except for a slight but even darkening of her skin which only added to her beauty, she looked much the same as when Shalongo last saw her walking into the cooking tent with his sisters.
        Of course, there were a couple of other changes. A large juicy apple protruded from her mouth and a fluting of curled banana leaves sprouted more than a foot from the delicate aperture of her butt, but that was part of the tradition--and a damned fine tradition it was, Shalongo decided.
        He whispered in Natalie's ear, "You were right, my daughter. That is the most beautiful ass I have ever seen. My guests will eat well this day!"
        Natalie laughed happily and stepped back. Shalongo turned to his bride, a tall handsome black woman in a splendid dress decorated with beads and gems.
        "Come, woman," he said gaily, handing her a long fork and carving knife. "Serve your husband his favorite meat and then attend to our hungry guests!"
        "As my husband wishes," she replied with a smile, stepping around to plunge the fork deep into Ashley's steaming behind. The carving knife easily parted the tender flesh, eliciting a murmur of approval from the drooling crowd, and the party began in earnest. [11]

        The guests lined up, holding out their plates and jostling each other for position as they called out their requests. After a few minutes, the aged shaman took over the carving so the bride could eat with her husband. The shaman had personally supervised the preparation of the college girl, so he was intimately acquainted with the choicest pieces of her anatomy, and now that the bride and groom had made their selections, he felt no need to deny himself a hearty meal. A generous slice of rump and an entire breast with nipple attached were piled on his plate and put aside for his personal pleasure.
        Then he noticed something so unexpected that it made his old eyes start from the wrinkles on his face. Ashley's cunt was completely untouched, perhaps due to a shyness on the part of the server or perhaps only from the ignorance of the guests. It was impossible to tell.
        Of course, the shaman had recommended the piece to the bride and groom for its magical sexual properties, after first cautioning them that they must be careful to share the feast between themselves. According to the old legends, if any one person ate the entire cunt, they would capture the girl's soul and she would come to them every night for all of eternity to do their bidding--which would certainly be an inauspicious way to start a new marriage.
        But none of that really mattered now. The ultimate prize was still nestled between the girl's smooth thighs, waiting to be claimed. Besides, the shaman was an old man with neither a wife nor the prospects of one, so the risk to him from a bit of fabled folklore was at best only slight. Two deft strokes with his knife and the entire sexual essence of the young blonde was suspended from the long serving fork.
        As the shaman lifted the incredibly juicy morsel into his plate, there were outraged squawks from some standing in line, but he blithely ignored them. He had done his job well, and he deserved a proper reward.
        The shaman had been doing traditional weddings for over fifty years, and he loved them. As he covered his overflowing plate with a napkin, he decided that this was the best ever!

On a promontory overlooking a bend of the Congo River, moonlight filtered through the window of a solitary hut. It played across the dirt floor of the bamboo structure, just touching the woven mat where the old man reclined at his ease. He sipped from a bowl of fruity native beer as he watched the silvery moonbeam swirl in the night air, revolving like a wisp of semi-transparent smoke, moving faster now, churning and growing thicker as it widened and altered its shape, changing colors as its hue drifted from silver to golden blond hair above a wealth of creamy white flesh.
Naked, standing perplexed in the restored moonlight, Ashley looked around the Spartan accommodations. "So," she said to the shaman, "this is like getting to be a habit with you, isn't it?"

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The End