Charlotte Mae: My Interracial Gangbang!

A young woman has been waiting for the love of her life and he has finally arrived. But, blindfolded, she’ll have to pick the needle from a haystack. But soon is crazy Gangbang . . .

Maya had spent twenty-six years imagining this moment. Not the specifics—she was never one of those girls who planned her wedding down to the flower arrangements—but the feeling of it. The certainty. The knowing, deep in her bones, that somewhere out in the world was a person who would feel like home.

She’d dated. Of course she’d dated. There was Liam in college, who wrote her poetry and forgot her birthday. There was David, the lawyer, who looked perfect on paper and felt like a stranger in person. There was Jamie, who made her laugh until she cried and then admitted he didn’t believe in monogamy. Each relationship taught her something: what she wanted, what she wouldn’t tolerate, what her heart was capable of feeling even when her head knew better.

But none of them had been him.

Her grandmother, the family’s unofficial philosopher, had a theory about love. “It’s like picking a needle from a haystack,” she’d told Maya when she was sixteen and heartbroken over a boy who’d moved away. “You can search and search, run your hands through all that straw until they’re raw and bleeding. But you won’t find the needle by looking harder. You find it by knowing what it feels like. By trusting your fingers to recognize the difference between hay and steel when they touch it.”

Maya hadn’t understood then. She understood now.

The blindfold was her own idea.

“You’re serious about this?” Her best friend Jess held the strip of black silk like it might bite her. “You want me to actually…?”

“I want you to actually.” Maya settled onto Jess’s couch, tucking her legs beneath her. “I’ve spent years looking. Analyzing. Making lists of pros and cons and compatibility scores. And you know what that’s gotten me? A lot of hay.”

Jess sighed, the sigh of someone who’d watched her friend date every eligible man in a fifty-mile radius and declare each one wrong for reasons that were probably valid but definitely exhausting. “And you think not being able to see will help?”

“I think my eyes have been doing the choosing for too long.” Maya closed her eyes, even though the blindfold wasn’t on yet. “I want to feel someone for once. Literally. I want to sit in a room with strangers, unable to see their faces or their clothes or their job titles, and just… talk. Listen. See if my heart knows something my head doesn’t.”

Jess was quiet for a long moment. Then: “This is either the smartest thing you’ve ever done or the setup to a very specific horror movie.”

“Can it be both?”

The setup took a week to arrange. Jess enlisted her boyfriend and his roommates, who enlisted their friends, and somehow a network of strangers willing to participate in Maya’s experiment materialized. The rules were simple: five men, one blindfolded woman, thirty minutes each. No names. No physical descriptions. Just conversation, in low lighting, in Jess’s carefully neutral living room.

“You can back out,” Jess said for the hundredth time, adjusting the blindfold over Maya’s eyes. “We can call the whole thing off and order pizza and pretend this never happened.”

“I don’t want pizza. I want answers.” Maya settled into the armchair, her heart hammering against her ribs. “Send in number one.”

She heard the door open. Footsteps. The creak of the couch across from her. Then a voice—pleasant, unremarkable, slightly nervous.

“Hi. This is… weird, right?”

Maya smiled despite herself. “Extremely weird. But we’re doing it anyway.”

They talked for thirty minutes. He was an accountant, she learned. He liked hiking and his mother’s lasagna and thought reality TV was “a waste of neural pathways.” He was perfectly nice. Perfectly fine. When his time ended and the door closed behind him, Maya felt nothing but polite interest.

Number two was a teacher. Number three was in grad school for something she couldn’t quite follow. Number four made her laugh twice but admitted he’d recently gotten out of a long relationship and wasn’t sure he was ready for anything serious.

By the time the door opened for number five, Maya was tired. Her ears ached from listening. Her heart ached from hoping. She’d almost convinced herself this was a beautiful failure when a new voice filled the room.

“Hey.” Just that. One word. But the sound of it—low, warm, somehow familiar in a way that made no sense—sent a shiver down her spine.

“Hey yourself.” Her voice came out softer than she intended.

He settled onto the couch. She heard the rustle of fabric, the exhale of breath, and then silence. Not awkward silence. The kind of silence that felt like an invitation.

“So,” he said finally, “you’re the woman who’s brave enough to fall in love blind.”

“I’m the woman who’s tired of falling in love with wh…