by Marilyn Lee
“No, but if you read the letters he wrote her, you know he never stopped loving her.”
“Yeah, right. He was so in love with her that he let his family separate them.”
“Come on, Steve. It was a different place and a different time.”
“Whatever. I'll bet she could do without that kind of love. Besides, Uncle Chandler, that story only serves to prove that this family isn't color blind.”
He couldn't deny that Steve had a point there. “That was a different time and place, Steve,” he said again. “This isn't Louisiana and your mom and I are not prejudiced.”
“I know you're not, Uncle Chandler.”
“You do? How?”
Steve had given him a sly grin. “Come on. I've seen her you know.”
“Who?”
“Her.”
“Her who?”
“The Ebony Venus on the desk in your office at home. Any man who has that on his desk can't be prejudiced. Doesn't looking at her make you want to get with a real live black woman? That's what made me want one—seeing her.”
Great. That was all he needed—for Ellen to find out that his statuette had been responsible for sending Steve into this Tia's arms.
“I can see why mom wouldn't let Dad have her. How could a guy not want a black woman after looking at her?”
He'd frowned. “So you only want to date this Tia because she's black?”
“No! At first that was my reason, but not now. Now that I've gotten to know her. She's funny, sweet, warm, and pretty. But most of all she makes me feel special.”
He sighed. “I didn't really intend for you to see The Ebony Venus, Steve.”
“Why not? Want to keep her all for yourself?”
“Steve, it might interest you to know that I've had the statuette for nearly ten years now and it has yet to drive me into the arms of anyone. So let's get back to the fact that your mom is not prejudiced.”
“You know, Uncle Chandler, I'm not so sure about that. I know she makes all the right politically correct noises, but the first time she finds me dating a back girl, she loses it. How prejudiced is that?”
“Oh, come on, Steve,” he said impatiently. “You were doing more than dating her. Your mom caught you sleeping with her!”
Steve grinned unrepentantly. “Mom always did have bad timing. She came home at a bad time. Tia is an incredible person with the most amazing pussy. She has a way of squeezing my cock with it that drives me wild. I was balls deep in that sweet cunt of hers, about to blow my load when—”
Chandler held up a hand, hoping that his face wasn't as red as it felt. “Look, Steve, I know I said you could tell me anything in any way and I mean that. But do you have to be so graphic?”
Steve looked at him in surprise. “Graphic? Are you embarrassed, Uncle Chandler?”
“No!” He hadn't heard such crude language since the last time he'd talked to Serge. “Well...maybe a little with all this talk of cocks, pussies, and cunts.”
“You want me to say penis and vagina?” Steve sounded surprised and amused.
To his annoyance, Chandler felt the heat rising up the back of his neck. “Say whatever you like, Steven, but that kind of talk tends to make it sound as if you don't really care about this girl. As if you're only interested in sex.”
Steve shook his head. “Oh, no! It's not just sex. That's what Mom would like to think, but she's wrong. And so are you, if that's what you think. I like Tia...a lot. More than any other girl I've ever met. It's almost as if we were meant to be together. She knows how deeply I care about her. That's why she's still seeing me, even though her parents don't approve.”
“Why don't they approve?” he asked, curious.
Steve grinned at him. “Because they're a proud black family with lots of money. Her father expects her to marry well to a black man and give him a couple of all black grandchildren. No white guys need apply.”
“Are you saying her father is prejudiced?”
He shrugged. “Not according to him. Like, Mom, he says his objection to me has nothing to do with the fact that I'm not black. Yeah, right.”
“Steve, isn't the fact that your mom and her parents object to your relationship reason enough to tread lightly with this girl?”
“No. I'm nineteen and she's eighteen. We can see and sleep with who we like. And that's each other.”
With that he'd dropped the subject.
He shook his head. He found himself in the same position: that of getting big time horny over a black woman. A woman he'd just hired. He considered again Steve's question about his ever having wanted to ‘fuck’ a black woman. His reaction to Cassy Thompson had been disturbing, to say the least. He had found her attractive, but he had not thought in terms of ‘fucking’ her. Kissing her full, luscious looking lips until they were both breathless? Yes. Sliding his aching, throbbing rod deep in her willing body until they both came? Absolutely. But fucking her? No.
He didn't want to fuck her. He'd done enough of that in his college days. To him fucking implied a sexual act devoid of tenderness and consideration for the other person. A man interested in fucking had one thing on his mind: getting his cock into a woman and shooting a load of come in her as quickly as possible. If the woman managed to find satisfaction before that happened, fine. If she didn't, well, what did she expect from a fuck?
He wanted to make love to Cassy Thompson; slowly, sweetly; all night long, night after night.
Of course that was also out of the question. He sighed. It was that damned statuette. He'd looked at it too long; developed hidden passions he hadn't even been aware of. He'd have to make sure that he stayed well away from Cassy Thompson. When he got home the Ebony Venus was going into the nearest closet…
Now, lying in bed, Chandler frowned. After he'd stopped reminiscing about his conversation with Steve, things had only gotten sticker. Closing his eyes and settling back against his pillow, he let his thoughts drift back to the day he'd met Cassy Thompson when his secretary had questioned his quick hiring of her…
He'd looked up as his office door opened after a cursory tap. Jennifer Johnson, came in. She carried several folders and a cup of coffee. She sank down into the chair in front of his desk and put her cup down. “You look lost in thought.”
“I suppose I was.”
“Pleasant ones?”
“Not entirely, no.”
“Hmm. So, who looks good?”
“What?”
“Which applicant do you want to discuss first?”
“What applicant...“ Damn! How could he have forgotten? For the last four years, after each interview, he and Jennifer, who'd been with him since he started the company twelve years earlier, discussed the merits of each applicant before he made the final decision.
How was he supposed to tell her that one look at Cassy Thompson and his whole procedure for interviewing had been tossed out the window? That all he'd thought of was giving her the job so he could occasionally see her?
“Chandler? What's wrong?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Ah....nothing. It's just that I offered the job to Miss Thompson.”
She blinked at him, her green eyes wide with surprise and ran a hand through her short, gray hair. “You already offered her the job?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
She sat back in her chair. “She must have been very impressive, indeed.” She glanced through the folders in her lap. “Any special reason why you choose her over the other two so quickly? Ms. Wilder's grade point average was 4.0 and Ms. Dilworth's was 3.9.” She'd paused, looking at him over the tops of her glasses.
“And Miss Thompson's was 3.7. I know, but she had other qualities that compensated for the lower grade point average. And really, Jen, you'll have to admit that 3.7 isn't too shabby.” He flicked through Cassy Thompson's application folder on his desk. “And her current employer gave her an outstanding performance report. In fact...“ he'd trailed off, abruptly aware that he was protesting far too much.
<
br /> Jennifer took off her glasses and looked at him. “Chandler?”
During the last four years, Jennifer had become his confidant and sounding board. She knew him better than he was comfortable with. Now she clearly knew he wasn't being straight with her.
“She went to school at night while working full time as a domestic and being a Big Sister.” That had impressed him since he'd spent several years as a Big Brother. “I thought she demonstrated a willingness to work hard and she deserves the job.”
Jennifer titled her head to one side and studied his face. “Chandler, your face is red,” she said lightly. “And you sound like you've been rehearsing that spiel.”
He stared at her in silence, wondering if she knew the affect Cassy Thompson had on him. But she didn't. She couldn't.
Some of his discomfort must have been obvious because she looked worried. “You want to talk about it, Chandler?”
“No.” He spoke more sharply than he'd intended. He took a deep breath before going on. “No because there's nothing to talk about. She deserved the job. I offered it to her and she accepted. She'll call you tomorrow to make the arrangements.”
“Okay.” She flashed him the cool, professional smile that signaled he'd offended her, gathered her folders and cup, and left the office.
He'd sat back in his seat, feeling like a fool. He was worse than Steve. At least Steve was young enough so that being ruled by his hormones was understandable. At thirty-nine, Chandler himself had no such excuse. And these days, he wasn't a man given to allowing his dick to dictate to him. He'd learned the folly of that in his last year of college when he lived in feared that he'd have to get married before he was ready when a female he'd had a one-night stand with told him she might be pregnant. After several weeks of sleepless nights, she'd found out she wasn't pregnant.
Then there was his miserable excuse for a marriage. He'd married Karen because she'd had the best pussy he'd ever had and she'd given it to him just enough to get him thinking he couldn't live without it. When she'd cut off the sex, he'd proposed. It had taken a full year before he admitted that maybe it had been a mistake to marry a woman with whom he'd shared nothing more binding than a raging desire. Yet, one look at Cassy Thompson and he was feeling horny as hell.
He resisted the urge to slip his hand inside his pants and palm the bulge hardening against his thigh. That was all he needed: to have Jennifer walk in and catch him playing with himself like some desperate teenager who couldn't buy himself a date. But damn he needed a woman.
Still lying in bed, Chandler gave a shake of his head and decided to get up, shower, and get his Saturday morning started. As he headed for the shower, he wondered briefly what Cassy Thompson was doing? Was she awake already? Maybe thinking of him and the day they met? Or did she still sleep? Maybe dreaming of him?
Yeah, boy, in your dreams, he told himself and let the cool water of the shower wash over him in an attempt to clear his head. It didn't help much. He couldn't shake the feeling that she was somehow thinking of him.
* * * * *
Their thoughts and feelings were intertwined? Cassy, girl, you are living in fantasy big time. The man doesn't even know you're alive, for heaven sakes.
Cassy rolled onto her back, frowning. It was the damned Talisman. If only she'd tossed it the day she met Chandler Raven, she wouldn't now be so obsessed with him. Moving restlessly, she allowed her thoughts to drift back to that day...
The first thing she'd done when she got home was to look into her panty drawer. Pausing to take a deep breath, she opened the jeweler's box and gasped. The copulating couple was no longer golden. The tiny figures were now flesh colored. Which she had half expected. After all, that was one of the signs her mother had warned her to watch out for. What she didn't expect was that they were no longer the same color. The male now plowed his tiny pink cock between a pair of ebony cheeks to reach the woman's anus.
She reached out a trembling hand to touch the tiny buns. As before, his cock came out of the small hole and hung in front of him. The small white drops hanging from the tip of his dick were a new wrinkle. Feeling her twat moisten, Cassy touched the tip of the tiny rod. The small dick began pumping and her finger was covered with cum.
Oh, Lord, she was losing her mind. She slammed the drawer shut and leaned against the dresser, breathing hard and fast. Unable to stop herself, she lifted her fingers to her lips and licked it clean. Then, ashamed that she felt no shame, she stumbled over to the bed and lay face down.
She would not take the next step. She wouldn't.
Lying in bed now, unable to clear her thoughts of the day she and Chandler Raven had met, Cassy knew she'd made a grave mistake in not getting rid of The Talisman. She had a feeling that it was too late to do it now. She had a feeling now that with or without The Talisman, her destiny was somehow linked to Chandler Raven's. Rather that was a good or bad thing, time would tell.
* * * * *
Settling into her new job was easier than Cassy had expected. Her immediate supervisor, Mai Lee, was professional, but approachable and the other employees were quick to invite her to join them for lunch whenever their schedules permitted. Her only regret was that she rarely saw Chandler Raven. She sometimes caught sight of him in the employee dining room or walking across the parking lot to his car. If they came face to face, he always nodded politely but looked as if he weren't quite sure who she was.
The certainty that he didn't even remember her name didn't stop her from weaving romantic fantasies around him. She often wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him; to feel his hands caressing her face, stroking her body; holding her close as he made love to her.
She'd been on the job for a month when Chandler Raven's secretary called and said he wanted to see her.
She panicked. Her last job, her biggest to date, had been repairing the mainframe of an office supply company. Granted the job had taken longer than she'd expected, but not so long that the owner had complained to Chandler Raven. At least she hoped he hadn't.
“Is everything okay, Mrs. Johnson?”
Jennifer Johnson's voice was soothing when she replied. “I'm sure this is just routine. Mr. Raven likes to keep in touch with new employees to make sure everything is proceeding as it should. Come along as soon as you can. He doesn't like to be kept waiting.”
Ten minutes later Cassy found herself sitting in Chandler Raven's office facing him across his desk. Today he wore a dark gray suit a few shades darker than his eyes and a smile that was so warm it seemed to seep into her pores and spread heat through her whole body. Damn, but the man was sexy as hell.
She swallowed several times. Did he smile at everyone that way? And if he did, did it have the same affect on others as it did on her? Did his smile make other women fantasize about long nights of endless lovemaking?
Aware that her face was burning, she bit her lip and lowered her gaze so that she looked at the knot in his silk tie instead of at his smiling face.
“You...you wanted to see me, sir,” she said.
“Yes,” he agreed.
She waited for more. When he remained silent, she reluctantly lifted her gaze to meet his.
“That's better. I dislike talking to the tops of heads.”
The smile he flashed at her mitigated any sting his words might otherwise have had. She relaxed and tentatively returned his smile. Maybe this was routine after all.
“You've been with us for a month now, Ms. Thompson. I just wanted to see how you're making out.”
“Oh.” The final bit of tension left her and her smile this time was warm and genuine. “I'm still getting my bearings, but I find the work interesting and challenging.”
“And your coworkers?”
“They've been great; friendly, helpful and supportive.”
“You're 1/6 through your probationary period, Miss Thompson. Miss Lee tells me you're punctual and that you complete each assignment in a timely and professional manner. Tell me, has this job met your expectation
s?”
He sat forward in his seat, his gray gaze locking with her brown one. “Can we expect you to remain with us, Miss Thompson?”
It was a perfectly innocent question without hidden meanings or innuendoes, but Cassy found herself feeling that she'd just been propositioned. She wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, his gaze intense, his smile sexy and intimate. It was the look of a familiar lover.
A fresh wave of heat flooded her cheeks and she resisted the urge to avert her gaze. “What...what do you mean?”