The Man Handler

by Cairo

  Without thought, I shift in my seat, uncrossing, then crossing my legs again to ease the tingling sensation between my thighs.

  “…Does anyone have any questions?” I hear him asking, snapping me out of my trance. I feel a dampness clinging between my legs. At some point during Mr. Lennon’s speech I have cum in my panties. I am thankful I’m wearing a panty-liner. I glance around the room, taking in the faces of those present. When no one raises their hand or stands, he remains planted in his spot, waiting. But no one is interested in prolonging this meeting. He finally realizes this. “Well, I guess that’s it for now. We’ll keep you posted as things progress. I’ll be meeting with all department heads in the coming weeks. Thanks for your time. This meeting is adjourned.”

  Before I can make a mad dash to the ladies’ room to remove my wet liner, which now feels like it is sticking to my pussy lips, Everett’s voice drifts toward me, stopping me in my tracks. Shit!“Bianca,” he says, quickly walking over to me. He smiles. Fuck! I don’t need this right now, I think, forcing a smile of my own.

  “Oh hey, Everett,” I say, turning around and willing my eyes to stay on his instead of allowing them to roam his manly body. “How are you?”

  “I’m good,” he says. “But I’d be even better if you’d stop running from me and let me take you out.”

  I playfully roll my eyes, sucking my teeth. “Running, Me?” I ask coyly, looking around the room. I laugh. “Oh, you’ve got me confused. I’m not running from you. I’m keeping my interaction with you strictly professional. There’s a difference.”

  “Is that so? Are you heading back to your office?”

  “Yes, Everett,” I say, feeling myself getting lightheaded from his cologne, and from the lack of dick in my life this week. I envision myself on my knees wearing nothing but a red G-string and my six-inch red Christian Louboutin pumps, being fucked doggie-style by him. I imagine that he knows I like it when a man yanks my string to the side and slides his dick in. And he gives it to me precisely how I like it, pumping deep inside of me while pulling the string and letting it pop against my soft ass. I’m throwing my ass up on his dick, taking it all in, allowing him to feed my cum-soaked pussy every inch of his goodness. I swallow hard, blink away the image, and make a mental note to schedule a tune-up.

  “Good. I’ll walk with you to the elevators.” He lowers his voice. “So, when you gonna let me take you out?” he asks as we slowly stroll out of the conference room. “You know I’m gonna keep asking you until I get a ‘yes’ from you.”

  “There’ll be no ‘yes.’ I told you before, I don’t mix pleasure with business, so you’re wasting your breath and your time.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard all that before.” He moves in closer. “Listen, I know you’re all private and all. But I can assure you, it’ll be discreet.”

  “Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “Not interested.”

  “Okay, then how ’bout we get together for a business dinner, two colleagues merely unwinding after a long day at the office?”

  I laugh, shaking my head. This man doesn’t give up, and I like that about him. His persistence is appealing. Too bad it doesn’t change my mind about workplace dating.

  In the six years I’ve been here, I have seen at least ten colleagues get involved with coworkers, and none of those situations have worked out. If anything, it made their working conditions practically unbearable ’cause everybody and their mother knew their business. A chick who was fucking one of the graphic designers ended up losing her job because she couldn’t bring her ass to work like she was supposed to because she was too depressed over their break-up. Give me a damn break! I’m sorry, but there is no damn way I’m going to lose a job over some nigga and his dick. Anyway, workplace romances can get too messy and complicated for me, and I’m not the one.

  “We don’t work in the same department, so what would we need to talk about?” I ask. There’s a large crowd of people waiting to get on one of the three elevators on each side of the hallway.

  “Here,” he says, gently taking me by the arm and ushering me past the crowd. “Let’s catch the ones on the other end of the building.” I follow along. “Anyway, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure we could. But if it’s only you and me out to dinner, then it’s a date. And I’m not up for dating, especially not someone I work with.”

  “But we don’t work in the same department; your words, not mine. So what’s the harm? It’s only an innocent dinner between two adults, trying to get to know each other.”

  “Nice try, but no cigar,” I say, catching sight of Nahdirah talking to another one of these phony bitches up in here.

  He tosses his arms open in mock defeat, flashing a beautiful, ultra-white smile as we step into the elevator. “Can’t knock a brotha for trying,” he says, shaking his head. “You win for now.”

  “I didn’t know this was a game.”

  “It’s not,” he states, eye-fucking me. He steps into my space. He lowers his voice. “You’re the one tryna make it one.”

  “Hardly,” I say, stepping back from him. I can tell he’s not used to women brushing him off so easily. He’s probably used to them falling at his feet, worshipping him. I’m certain the only reason he continues to push the issue of me going out with him is because I’m one of the few women in this building who hasn’t taken him up on his offer. Yes, I’ve played in my pussy while imagining what it would be like riding his dick, but there’ll be no office rendezvous. “I’m sure you have enough women already on your fan club roster you can call up for a dinner date.”

  “Yeah, I could,” he says, laughing. “But they ain’t you.”

  The elevator door opens. “And they’ll never be,” I say, stepping off. I turn to face him as the door starts to close. “Thanks for the ride.” He opens his mouth to say something, but the doors shut in his face.

  I finally make it to the bathroom and rush to an empty stall to remove my liner. I reach into my bag, pull out a small container of wet wipes, then pull up my skirt and pull down my panties. I wipe my pussy. Now, I don’t know about you, but I use wet wipes after every piss and shit. I am a stickler for keeping a baby-fresh snatch and ass, no matter what time of day it is. I place a dry liner in the center of my underwear, then pull ’em up. I wash and dry my hands, then reach into my bag and pull out my designer make-up case, pulling out my supplies: lip liner and lip gloss. I’ve never been one for a bunch of make up because I don’t need it, but I’m telling you, I love the Queen Collection by Cover Girl. It keeps me looking flawless all day, every day.

  Nahdirah walks into the bathroom as I am gliding a coat of pearled peach lip gloss over my succulent lips. “Hey, girl,” she says, coming up to the sink next to me to wash her hands. “What’d you think about that meeting downstairs?”

  “Well, if they are really going to look at each department like they say they are, then I think some of us are about to be on the unemployment line.” I didn’t want to sound like the prophet of doom or anything, but companies are downsizing all over the country, so I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised. I really hope my ass won’t be one of the ones scrambling for another job.

  “Let’s hope not,” she says, drying her hands. “I have almost ten years here, and the last thing I wanna be doing is looking for another job.”

  “I know that’s right,” I say.

  “I saw you over there talking to Everett’s fine ass. He still tryna take you out?”

  I shrug, fixing a few loose strands of hair. “Girl, I don’t know what he’s trying to do.”

  “Oh, please. Even a blind man can see he has it bad for you. He practically salivates and pants every time he sees you.”

  That’s because he’s a two-legged dog. I roll my eyes, heading toward the door. “Well, he can keep wagging and salivating all he wants. I’m not interested.”

  She follows behind me. “You on your way to your office?”

  “Yep,” I state, silently
hoping she’s not going to come sit up in my space and beat me in the head with stories about her and her man, or any of the dumb-ass bitches around here—not today. Unfortunately, I can’t be so lucky.

  “Good, I’ll walk with you.”

  Fucking great!

  “Me, Samantha, and Regina are going to the Cheesecake Factory for lunch today; you wanna go?”

  I shoot her a look, opening my office door. “No, thanks,” I say, closing the door behind us. “You know I’m not beat for going out to eat with any of these chicks around here.”

  She grunts, plopping down into one of the leather chairs. “Humph. I know, I know. I thought I’d ask anyway. I don’t know how you can come to work every day and not have one friend here, other than me. You know, most of the women here aren’t as bad as you think they are.”

  I sit in the chair across from her. “Well, that may be true. But I’m not interested in finding out. I’ve never been one for being overly friendly with a bunch of chicks, and I don’t think I need to start now. The little I know about them, and the little they know about me, is perfectly fine with me.”

  “Okay, anywaaaaay,” she says, quickly changing the subject, “why won’t you go out with that fine hunk of man upstairs?”

  “Who you talking about? Everett?”

  “Uh, yeah…you know who I’m talking about.”

  “Because I’m not interested.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because I’m not,” I insist, slowly getting annoyed that this nosey bitch is trying to press the issue.

  “Well, there has to be a reason,” she pushes. “So, what is it?”

  “For the thousandth time, I don’t believe in dating anyone I work with, or around, or who works for the same company as me. That is a no-no for me.”

  “Why?”

  I sigh. Oh my God, I think, shifting in my seat, this bitch is going to have me curse her out. I stare at her, trying to figure out what part of the “I’m not interested” she doesn’t get. “I really think it’s bad business to get too personal with someone you work with. When shit doesn’t work, then someone ends up feeling some kind of way, which creates a bunch of drama for you, or makes it unbearable to work in the same place. Most of the time, it just doesn’t work.”

  “That’s not true. Look at Sabrina and Nathan. They’ve been together almost eight years.”

  I blink, blink again.

  Nathan hasn’t worked here in almost three years because of all the drama that came with his workplace romance with Sabrina’s dumb ass, which is exactly my point. So what the fuck is this dumb bitch talking about? Go figure! Anyway, Sabrina is another office tramp who is always trying to keep shit stirred up. I can’t stand her. She’s the same bitch whose man I fucked right under her damn nose. She’s always talking about what her man would never do, how she has him wrapped around her finger, blah, blah, blah. Bitches like her need to wake the fuck up with that dumb shit. You don’t know what the fuck your man wouldn’t do. Trust me. And because I don’t like her bogus ass, I slipped him my cell number last year at our tired-ass holiday party (the one I was forced to attend because the president and his cronies were attending). Nathan, along with a few other chicks’ men, was checking me out on the sly the whole night. All while Sabrina’s all hugged up on him, laughing and smiling like she was the happiest woman in the world, her so-called “perfect man” was ogling me.

  Obviously, he didn’t share her sentiments because if he had, he wouldn’t have called me, and he damn sure wouldn’t have been fucking me as if my pussy was his life support, begging me for more. He moaned and groaned louder than me. He whispered and whimpered, and mumbled shit I didn’t understand. And he got on my damn nerves so bad with all his screaming about how good the pussy was and yelling out my name, that I literally shoved my damn panties in his mouth to shut him the hell up so I could concentrate. And, yes, I fucked him again because I could. Definitely not because the dick was all that. It was a nice, sturdy eight inches but his balls were about the size of cashews. He had about as much rhythm as a paraplegic. And this was that bitch’s door prize. Go figure! Now whenever I look at her dumb ass, I chuckle to myself.

  “Nathan is a dog, and you know it. How many times did Sabrina come to work all stressed out, looking like a damn raggedy Ann doll ’cause she had caught him screwing some chick from the job? He fucked at least four chicks, black and white, on at least three floors in this building. She worked herself up so much over his sorry ass that her damn hair started falling out. So, please, let’s not use them as an example to state your case.”

  “Okay, then. Look at me and Jake. We dated and worked together. And now, here we are, almost four years later, still going strong.”

  “And how many times before you started going strong did you come to work worrying about what he was doing, what someone was saying, or finding out who else he had fucked? Every week you were catching attitudes with chicks you saw all up in his face ’cause you didn’t trust his ass.”

  A few times this bitch was about to get her ass beat in the parking lot, but I won’t remind her of that. We work with a bunch of Union and Essex County switchblade bitches, and trust me when I tell you, a few of them are fucking nutty as hell. Nahdirah almost caught it several times, fucking with Jake’s ass.

  She waves me off. “Oh, please. That was in the beginning of our relationship. I am so over that now.”

  “Oh, really? Is that before or after he left this place? Or before or after baby number two? ’Cause you know like I know, if he was still working here, you’d be going through the same shit.”

  “Now, I didn’t say messing with someone you work with doesn’t come with a set of challenges. ’Cause it does, but it can still work. Besides, Jake and I have both grown since then. And my boo is all about me.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  She places her hand on her hip, raising up in her seat. “Do you know something I don’t? ’Cause if so, then fill me in.”

  “No, I’m only asking the question.” I must have hit a nerve, I think, smiling. These women crack me the hell up. This bitch is sitting in front of a certified dick-loving ho. I know for a fact that if I wanted to fuck her man—not that I do or would ’cause he isn’t my flavor—I could ride his dick, or have his tongue shoved in my asshole in the blink of an eye. There’s no question in my mind. It’s all in his eyes. Every time dude is around me—which isn’t that often now that he no longer works here—he looks at me like he’s trying to undress me with his eyes. And then he has this habit of licking his lips, looking me up and down when he speaks to me, drooling—and basically eye fucking me!

  “Well, like I said, there’s nothing wrong with dating someone you work with.”

  She fails to answer the question, and I won’t press. The bitch obviously doesn’t know how Jake really feels. Women kill me, putting their men up on pedestals, and men kill me, too. No one can predict what another human being will or won’t do. You can only hope they do what’s right, and not only when they believe someone is watching them. But we all know there are so many who don’t, and won’t. “Yeah, okay, if you say so. And how many women here had Jake before you did?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. A few, I guess.”

  “A few?” I repeat, laughing. “Nahdirah, get real. Jake was worse than Nathan, and you know it.”

  “Okay,” she says, getting defensive, “and?”

  “And how long did the two of you date before you got into a relationship with him?”

  “A few months; why?”

  “And what did you really know about him?”

  I can tell her mind’s scrambling to come up with an answer, one that will hold truth. The dumbfounded look on her face tells me she can’t locate one that makes any sense to her, or me. “Well, we were still getting to know each other,” she offers.

  I roll my eyes. “And during that time of ‘getting to know each other,’ did you ever ask him how many of his coworkers he screwed?” />
  She looks at me like I have said something stupid. But girlfriend forgets I know they were only dating three weeks before her ass got knocked up by him, so that says to me the only thing she was getting to know was his dick. The whole time her ass was pregnant, she stressed because bitches were flaunting the fact that they had fucked him first, or were still getting a ride on his chocolate joystick. Not to mention, his other baby’s momma, who works down in the mailroom, was causing havoc in his life because he was fucking “that ugly bitch in promotions.” But, of course, girlfriend had no clue that he had two other children until after it was too late.

  “Why? We all have a past, so why do you feel the need to always bring shit up and be so damn negative all the time? Why can’t you leave shit alone?”

  I blink, blink again.

  Poor thing, she truly doesn’t get it. That’s exactly why men and women have problems in their relationships, ’cause they don’t fucking ask questions. I roll my eyes and shake my head. Like I told you before, I use the term friend loosely with this chick. If anything, it’s more of a friendly working relationship than anything else. ’Cause ain’t no fucking way I’d ever be real friends with a ditsy bitch like her.

  I glance at my watch; it’s almost noon. I’m done with her ass. She’s exhausted all the time she’s going to get out of me today. I don’t have the strength or the energy to continue on with her.

  I sigh. “You’re absolutely right. We all have a past.” I get up from my seat, walking over to my desk. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I have a ton of reports to get done. So I better get to ’em.”

  I busy myself at my desk, shuffling papers, pretending to be reading shit I have no interest in. She gets up from her seat. “Yeah, girl, I’d better get going. I gotta meet Samantha and them downstairs in a few, anyway.”