by Tia Siren
The man sat at his richly lacquered mahogany desk, typing on his laptop. She was glad he wasn’t on his phone, she knew he would be annoyed to be interrupted, but he would have been furious to be pulled off of a call with one of his clients.
“This woman just barged in,” Aisha said, feeling foolish. Of course, she had, and she knew Mr. Conner would be able to tell that since the woman was in the process of barging in. Her boss looked up, and his eyes widened a bit when he saw the white woman.
“It’s fine,” Mr. Conner said to Aisha, holding his hand up, indicating she should leave. Aisha felt anger swell inside of her for a moment, an anger that confused her, and she left silently, thinking about it. Why had she gotten angry? A woman barged in, and her boss was letting her stay. So what? Why would that make Aisha angry?
As she sat at her desk once more, she realized it had not been anger, not exactly, but more so jealous. Mr. Conner was a powerful man, and one that Aisha was simultaneously attracted to, and respectful of. She had wanted him to send the lady out, to get mad, to rise from his chair and point to the door, and tell her to leave. Instead, he had held up his hand to her, and Aisha had been the one sent away.
Mr. Conner was a nice man and a great boss. Aisha was sure he was attracted to her, the same way she was attracted to him, and he paid her the same attention most men did. She was gorgeous, and she knew it, and she wasn’t the type of woman to be ashamed by that. Nor did she have a problem flaunting some aspects of her body. To put it simply, it made life easier sometimes. The job with Mr. Conner was an important first step to a career in her field, and it had been sought after by quite a few applicants. Men and women alike. So she had interviewed in professional but somewhat sexual clothes. Low cut tops, short skirts. She knew some women would balk at such tactics, but Aisha thought it was foolish not to use whatever you could to get ahead, and she knew thinking like that would only help her in her chosen field, one that was filled with backstabbing and people looking to do nothing but further themselves.
Of course, Aisha drew the line in places too. She would never sleep with anyone for a job. That wasn’t the kind of thing she was comfortable with, and it wasn’t the sort of thing she respected. Of course showing off her tits and her legs, and her ass in a tight skirt was different. She wouldn’t sleep with Mr. Conner for her career, but she didn’t mind if he wanted to fuck her. If he did, that was only good for her. He was a man who had everything. Making him want something he couldn’t have would be good for him as well.
The hard thing was Aisha wanted to fuck him too. Badly. But she had dealt with crushes before. Having them, being wanted, it was no big deal, and she was going to control herself, and she was going to keep teasing her boss, and make it on her own.
She got back to typing up the contract Mr. Conner needed, but she couldn’t help but overhear the woman and her boss in his office. Overhear wasn’t the right word, not exactly. She couldn’t tell what was being said; she could only make out that the woman was speaking very loudly, almost yelling. She didn’t hear her boss raise his voice at all, but due to the pauses between the screeching woman’s words, she was sure he was trying to speak to her.
After ten minutes or so, the door to Mr. Conner’s office swung open and banged loudly against the wall. The tall woman stormed out, her face red and pulled into an angry scowl. “Of course,” she said as she stopped just long enough to look at Aisha, and then she was going again. As she stomped on sky-high heels towards the elevator that would lead down to the lobby, heads turned in cubicles to watch her go.
Aisha swiveled in her chair to see that her boss was standing in his doorway. She smiled and cracked a joke. “Another satisfied client?”
Anthony Conner laughed. “Something like that,” he said, and then he wiped his forehead, feigning exasperation. “I need a drink.”
“It’s only ten in the morning,” Aisha said.
“Well, tell me when it’s noon. I’ll take you to lunch. As long as you don’t mind if I drink mine.”
Aisha giggled and shook her head. “Fine by me,” she said, and Anthony turned into his office and shut the door.
Mr. Connor had never asked her to lunch, but she had been hoping he would. Any time spent with her boss, so she could impress him with her natural talent when it came to their very specific work, was good. Great in fact. She typed up the contract and took it into his office, and then went back and watched the clock on the corner of her computer screen slowly click upwards towards twelve.
Right at noon, she went into her boss's office and waited until he got off the phone. She leaned against the wall next to the door, listening as he spoke to a very famous baseball player who was nearing the end of his contract, and who desperately wanted off of the small market team he played for. When the conversation was done, Anthony looked to his gorgeous assistant and let his head tilt to the side.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Well, it’s time for-” Aisha started, but Anthony spoke over her, cutting her off. “Do you always listen in on people’s conversations?”
“Oh, I should have waited out-” Aisha started again, but once more she was cut off, this time by Mr. Conner’s infectious laugh. It was booming and loud, and it made Aisha laugh every time she heard it, but, this time, she fought her own laughter away and remained stone-faced.
“I’m kidding,” Anthony said. “I like messing with new people,” he said.
“Well I don’t like it at all,” the young woman snapped.
“I’m sorry,” Anthony said, holding his hands up, suddenly taken aback.
“I don’t care if you're sorry,” Aisha said, she then stormed forward and slapped her palms down on his desk, leaning over, so he would surely get a nice view of her supple cleavage. “I quit.”
“Aisha!” Anthony stammered, trying to keep his eyes on hers, but failing spectacularly in the face of her large, perfect, breasts.
“Kidding,” Aisha said, standing upright and laughing. “And my eyes are up here,” she added before she laughed harder. Anthony sat wide eyed for a moment, and then he too burst into infectious laughter.
“Are you busting my chops?” he asked as he stood and grabbed the suit jacket he had draped over the back of his chair and pulled it on over his very expensive shirt and tie.
“I think so,” Aisha said, and they walked out of his office together.
She paused for a moment to gather her things, a coat to fight off the oncoming autumn air, and her purse, and then they walked together down the row of cubicles and to the elevator. Aisha couldn’t help but notice a number of people watched as they walked by, and she wondered if they thought Mr. Connor, who was her boss and theirs, of course, was taking her to lunch or is she was going to sit in the backseat of his car with her and suck him off. She knew what some women did to get ahead, and she admitted to herself she would be wondering the same thing if she saw Anthony and another pretty young woman walk by together at noon.
She knew tongues would be wagging as soon as they were out of earshot, and she stole a glance at her boss. If he was thinking the same thing, his impassive face didn’t show it. They got to the elevator, and Mr. Conner pressed the button to call it up to their floor. As they waited, Aisha let her mind run wild some more. First she thought about going down to the parking garage and indeed slipping into the backseat. Would he slip in with her? If she just sat back there, and held the door open for him, leaning out of the car to do so and affording him another great view of her tits, would he get in with her? Would he be hard? Would he object if she pulled his engorged member out of his pants and went to town on it? She bet he would get in with her, but he wouldn’t object.
And then she thought again of her co-workers, and she had to hide a smile. She liked the idea of them wondering. She knew that there was a whole other level, with her being black, as sad as that was in the modern age. He was a successful white man, almost double her age. She was a young black girl. She wondered if he had ever been with a black girl.
He didn’t seem like the type who would discriminate, but most people felt more comfortable with lovers of their own race, even if they weren’t discriminatory. You were just drawn to people like you. And it was true for Aisha as well. She had never dated anything other than black men though in college she had spent one wild night with her Asian roommate, who was a woman.
In the elevator Aisha felt something, standing so close to her boss, alone with him in the small box. It felt as though there was an attraction there, something tangible in the air though Aisha was sure she could just be imagining it.
Down in the parking garage, Mr. Conner led the way to his car. Aisha paused as he unlocked the doors, and tried to keep from gaping. She had never seen what he drove, but she should have known it would be something expensive. And it was. It was a Ferrari, Aisha didn’t know more than that, but she recognized the little emblem on the front of the car. It was as black as midnight, with shining silver hubcaps. Her boss opened her door for her, and it swung out slightly and then lifted straight up, and she dropped down onto the passenger seat.
As they pulled out of the garage, she could tell Anthony was yearning to push the pedal down to the floorboard and speed off, but the insane traffic of New York kept him from doing that.
“This car is amazing,” Aisha said, and her boss smiled.
“Thanks,” he said. “I love taking it upstate; it’s a nice car to actually drive. This city is not built for driving, but I hate cabs.”
“How long have you lived here?” Aisha asked. She craned her neck and looked at the skyscrapers as they drove slowly by them, as she always did. She still couldn’t get over some of the buildings in New York. How massively tall they were, and how packed into a small area they all seemed.
They stopped at a red light, the massive engine of the expensive car purring like a jungle cat. Mr. Conner looked over to Aisha, and she noticed his eyes dipped, following the long line of her crossed legs, down to her knee and then back to her dark thigh, where they disappeared under her skirt.
“All my life,” Anthony answered finally. “Born and raised.”
“Wow. I still can’t get used to this place.”
“It’s nuts, and it’s a crazy way to grow up. My dad wanted something for us, for his family, so he and my mother and my older brother moved here just before I was born. He never made it, always worked a couple of jobs, just managed to get by, but there’s something about living here, right here in the city, and it inspired me.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Aisha said.
“He moved away as soon as he could. He didn’t take to the city like I did. I don’t see him much.”
“I’m sorry.”
The light turned green, and the car pulled forward, and Aisha’s boss shrugged. “It is what it is.”
Aisha laughed. “My grandmother used to say that. I thought it sounded good. When I was in highschool I wrecked my mom’s car. He was yelling at me, and I said it is what it is. He didn’t find it funny, or profound.”
Anthony Conner laughed. “Do you have any siblings?”
“Three. Well, three half-siblings. That’s typical, right? My mom had me first, and then two with her second husband. The third is only six, and she doesn’t know who the dad is exactly. She had just gotten divorced again.”
“What do you mean that’s typical? Mr. Connor asked as they pulled into a small parking lot, next to a very expensive Italian restaurant that had a name Aisha didn’t quite know how to pronounce.
“Black girl with a bunch of half-siblings,” Aisha said, wondering if Anthony was that sheltered, or trying to spare her feelings. She wasn’t ashamed of where she came from, but she was proud of herself from getting away from that sort of life.
Anthony parked and looked to his assistant. “Who cares about that shit, right?”
Aisha smiled and nodded, and her boss reached over and put his hand on her leg. It seemed friendly, just a little touch between a man trying to make sure a woman knew he didn’t care about things like that, but his hand wasn’t on her knee, it was closer to her thigh, his pinkie finger touching the hem of her short skirt. The touch was like electricity, sending a shock of pleasure through Aisha’s body. His hand was strong and warm, and she found herself wishing the older man would slide it under her skirt.
But then he took his hand away, and opened his door, and it was time for lunch.
2
Inside there was a small line of well-dressed business men and a few women waiting for a table, but Mr. Conner didn’t have to wait at all. He led her past the line, right to a smartly dressed maitre d’ who stood next to an oak podium. He was a tall man, older than Aisha but younger than her boss. He had slicked back hair and a thin mustache.
“Mr. Conner,” he said with a smile as he motioned them both back towards the dining room with his hands. “Glad to see you.”
“Thanks, Tom,” Anthony said, pulling a crisp bill from his pocket and palming it, so after they were shown to their table, and when Tom shook his hand, he could discreetly take the tip. It was hard to be sure, but it looked to Aisha like her boss had handed the man a hundred dollar bill.
The restaurant was small and dimly lit, with the tables and chairs and other furnishings looking more expensive than anything the young black girl owned. She had worked hard to get where she was, but there, at the table with her boss, she felt out of place. She shoved the thoughts from her mind, though and smiled across the table to Anthony.
“I’ve never been here before,” she said. “What’s good?”
“The wine,” Anthony Conner said, and they both laughed. “Really, though, you can’t go wrong with anything. Do you like seafood? They have a great pasta with shellfish. I always add an order of crab cakes as well.”
Aisha nodded. “I’ll have whatever you recommend,” she said, and her boss nodded and ended up ordering for both of them. Each dish had a complicated Italian name, and Aisha found herself wondering if her boss was saving her a bit of embarrassment. Soon after ordering their waitress, who was a thin white blonde girl with a massive chest and an even bigger butt, clad in a crisp white shirt and tight black pants, brought a bottle of wine which Aisha was pretty sure cost more than she made in a month.
“Bring another, will you?” Mr. Connor said with a smile, and the waitress nodded.
“That woman must be a Hell of a client,” Aisha said wryly.
“She’s a Hell of a pain in the ass, I’ll tell you that much,” Anthony said, as he poured two glasses of wine.
Lunch wore on, for an hour, and then another, and Aisha and her boss slowly got drunk. When they left the restaurant, there was a cab waiting for them. Anthony had called and asked for one twenty minutes before they had left.
“I’ll come back after work for my car. Hopefully I’ll be sober by then.”
Aisha was drunk as well, and she felt light headed, and she stumbled a bit as she made her way to the cab, so that her boss had to catch her and steady her.
“I didn’t think you could get drunk at work,” she said after they were both in the backseat.
“Hey, we aren’t at work,” Anthony said, which made Aisha giggle. “And I’m the boss, so what I say goes.”
The cab driver pulled into the busy traffic, and Aisha closed her eyes for a moment, fighting to sober up before they got back to work. When she opened her soft brown eyes, she was surprised to see her boss was looking at her.
“What?” she asked.
“You have beautiful eyes,” he said, and Aisha felt warmth flood her cheeks.
“Thank you,” she said. “You’re drunk.”
“You’re beautiful,” her boss added, and this time, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she leaned towards the man and kissed him. She pressed her full, pouty lips to his, and their lips parted, and their tongues danced together. He tasted of the wine, and the mint he had after. She pulled away.
“I’m sorry. I’m drunk,” she said, and once again, they both laughed.
When Aisha and her boss returned to the office, they both managed to get through the long walk to the back of the floor, where her desk was, and his office sat, the door closed, without stumbling or looking drunk. People watched them pass of course, but they were trying to find any sign of sexual dalliances, not the fact that they had polished off two bottles of wine. But despite the kiss, there was no sign of romance. No clothes on backward, no lipstick marks on his collar and Aisha’s co-workers were disappointed, and went about their jobs.
An hour after returning, the phone on Aisha’s desk beeped, indicating a call from Mr. Conner. She lifted the receiver to her ear.
“Yes sir?” she asked.
“Can you work late tonight?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said.
“Good, come in here.”
Aisha stood and went into her boss’ office. He sat behind his desk, rubbing his temples with the pads of his fingers. “Wine at lunch was a bad idea.”
“What’s going on?”
“Tommy Wilson just got arrested for drunk driving,” Mr. Conner said. Tommy Wilson was a football running back, one of Anthony Conner’s more famous, and infamous clients. He was also a lot of trouble.
“Alright, let’s spin,” Aisha said, nodding. Mr. Conner smiled to her, and they got to work. It was a long day, trying to track Wilson down first, and then speaking with him on the phone, and then emailing his lawyer. A statement had to be drafted, and then Mr. Conner sent it to ESPN, and the NFL Network, and other appropriate outlets. The long day slowly turned into a long night.
Finally, with an empty and dark office space beyond Mr. Conner’s door, and a black sky that was starless due to the light pollution from New York City, Aisha’s boss let her off the hook.
“Go get some sleep,” he said. Come in an hour late tomorrow.”
Aisha looked at the handsome man. “What about you?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, waving her off. “I’m going to wrap a few things up.”
Aisha was sitting at his desk, but across from Anthony. They had been like that for hours. Now she stood, and something was taking a hold of her. The day had turned out to be stressful, but she was working so closely with the man who was considered one of the best, at exactly what she yearned to do, and it had injected her with adrenalin. The work was writing, and talking, and sending emails, but somehow it had been exciting. And Anthony Conner had known Aisha was up for it. He told her to do something, and she did it. He didn’t check up on her; he trusted her.