Author's Note…
Now that we're getting into the proverbial good stuff, I wanted to take a moment to talk to you about the style this story is written with. Black Coffee, White Milk features a monologue structure, which I'm not even sure I really like. It's an experiment, and as an experiment, I've been happy with it so far.
Certainly, between this story and A Disappearance at Bear Lake, I've found some new inspiration from adopting unusual formats of story-telling. Whether or not either of them were successful, they both felt like the literary equivalent of Viagra when I was writing them. If any of it has worked for you, please send me a PM and let me know. Like all experiments, I'll take the good results and work with them, while leaving the less favourable results behind.
"Black Coffee, White Milk #2"
It's far too early in the morning for me go into any unnecessary details here, but the whole ordeal shocked me. I never knew a negro’s ass could glow so red. I marvelled at how silently she took blow after blow, be it from my hand or from the ruler I took from my desk. Nyomi had mean sweat breaking out of her forehead when I was done with her.