Fantasy (15 page)

It was Monday morning, 11:45 sharp. Jameer walked inside Debra’s office as if he owned the world. It immediately turned her on. He was definitely attractive with his freshly edged and trimmed hair. Although he looked young for his age, his physique was something to behold—the upper body of a middleweight boxer, the lower body of a runner, and smooth Brazilian nut skin. The small scar on his cheek seemed more like a beauty mark than a blemish; it rounded out his rugged prettyboy look, made him even sexier. Debra had heard about his reputation for being a cocky, smart-alecky jock, but she’d dealt with his kind before. Her last boyfriend fit the same bad boy mold. For some reason she was attracted to that type, but she reminded herself that he was off limits. Everything had to be kept professional. Besides, her sexual toys served her just fine— although they weren’t anything like the real thing. She knew the real thing when she saw it, when she felt it. Part of her wanted to know if Jameer was the real thing.

“I’m Ms. Clark. Nice to meet you,” Debra extended her hand. Jameer shook it reluctantly. “I know.”
“Sit,” she said, in a slightly commanding tone. She knew his

kind had issues with women in authority—unless it was in bed. She planned on using it to get under his skin just for fun, just because she could. Browsing through a manila folder on the desk, she said, “I’ve heard about you, Mr. Lovett. You’re some piece of work.”

“Whatever you heard is all true.” He smiled slowly. Debra closed the folder. “You’re proud of this?”
“Why am I in here? What we meeting for?”
“What
are
we meeting for is the proper English, Mr. Lovett.” “Is that you?” Jameer asked, looking at Debra’s picture on

He had known her less than sixty seconds and was already making moves. Typical.
Debra took a sip of Pepsi and cleared her throat. “You should know up front that I’m nothing like the people you’ve dealt with. I don’t mess around. I can make this a miserable place if you don’t cooperate. Understand?”
Jameer picked at his nails and smiled.
Debra stood. “We’re done, Mr. Lovett, but I want you to check in Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays until you’re acclimated.”
“Check in? What kind of place is this?”
“Like I said, I don’t play games.”
“Okay, Deb.”
“Ms. Clark!”
“I have some work to do. See you Wednesday . . .
Ms. Clark
,” he smiled deviously.
Debra licked her lips at the shapeliness of his butt as he left. It looked juicy but firm. She wanted to slap it, squeeze it, lick it, bite it—she wanted to do everything. He was the macho type but she could handle that. His attitude sent sexual thoughts through her head: various sex positions and locales; she could use her entire arsenal of toys, or maybe even do some role-playing. Oh what fun they could have but only in a fantasy world. Nothing could ever happen in reality—or could it? She took another sip of Pepsi to cool off. Two years at her job and finally, she had some eye-candy, something she could look forward to. Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough.

Debra woke up thirty minutes early to get ready on Wednesday. She had a red skirt with a matching blouse that she had been dying to wear but never did. The outfit accentuated the curves of her chest, hips, and butt, and it tested the rules of acceptable and unacceptable work attire. She convinced herself that being sent home was the worst that could happen. Why not live on the edge for once? Besides, she wanted to catch Jameer’s attention. She had no real intentions other than showing him she wasn’t conservative in appearance. That was just her work persona. Outside of work, she could mix things up and get loose like the next person.

Just before lunch time, she worked feverishly on an excel spreadsheet. She hoped to finish before Jameer arrived. A few times she glanced at the clock, anticipating him. Before she knew it, he stood in her office looking good, smelling good. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought that he too had put extra effort in his appearance today. He said hello with a crooked smirk. He appeared as though he knew she had been thinking of him, knew she dressed up to impress him.

“Wow, 11:45 on the dot,” she said.
He tapped his watch. “I believe in being on time.” “That’s a good quality,” she said flatly. She didn’t want to

acknowledge any of his flirting attempts. “I have some forms I need you to fill out.”
“Can I borrow your pen?”
Debra’s pen accidentally fell on the floor as she handed it to him.
“I’ll get it,” he said, ducking underneath the desk.
“Ahh!” she jumped when his arm brushed her leg.
“Sorry, my bad. Why are you so jumpy?”
“I wasn’t expecting that. You scared me.”
“I can see if it was my tongue but it was just my arm . . .”
“That was an inappropriate comment, Mr. Lovett.”
Jameer laughed.
“Um . . . did you find the pen yet?” she asked uneasily.
“Nope, still looking.” He caught sight of her smooth, slender legs and hadn’t stopped staring. His eyes moved from the tip of her red pumps, up her calves, to her crossed caramel thighs. He wondered what kind of goodies she hid under her skirt. He felt himself getting hard. “Still . . . looking . . . ”
Debra could feel him looking at her under the desk. “ . . . Maybe I need to help you.”
“No!” He grabbed her legs before she could stand. “I have it under control.” He moved his hands across her calves. “How do you get your skin so soft?”
“Mr. Lovett, this is extremely unpro . . . ” she felt his tongue, moist and warm, moving up the back of her left leg. “Unprofessional . . . ”
“You’re right, Ms. Clark,” his voice was muffled under the desk. “I guess . . . I should . . . stop . . . ” He slowly uncrossed her legs, raised her skirt just enough to expose her lower thighs. His tongue moved slow and controlled, then wild and fast, almost as if playing tic-tac-toe on her skin. “If you want me to stop just say so.”
“Huh?” Debra swallowed the lump in her throat and exhaled slowly.
This is wrong, so wrong but it feels so good,
she thought. And he was no where close to her goodies yet.
“Tell me to stop if that’s what you want.”
“Huh?”
“Do-you-want-me to stop?” He slid his hand up the opening of her skirt, across the trail of saliva he made.
“ . . . Huh?” she said again, even though she’d heard him perfectly the first two times. Her voice was weaker, almost trembling.
Using his index finger, Jameer lightly tapped the moist center of her panties. “I asked you a question; don’t be rude, Ms. Clark.”
Feeling him under the desk without actually seeing him drove her crazy. It was mysterious, adventurous, and stimulating. Without saying a word, she slid her skirt up as far as it would go and spread her legs wide. He was free to do whatever he wanted, however he wanted, as long as he wanted.
He licked his lips, nodded, and smiled. “That’s what I thought . . . ” He reached under her skirt and slowly pulled her panties down her legs.
She shifted her body so he would have no difficulty.
“This is what you wanted, right?”
She said nothing.
“Ms. Clark!”
“Huh? What?” Debra snapped out of her short-lived fantasy.
“This is what you wanted, right? You wanted to see my work.” Jameer walked to the desk and handed her a folder.
“Oh, yes. Thank you.”
“You looked zoned out for a minute. You all right?”
“I’m fine. Just a little tired. I need more caffeine.” She rubbed her eyes then took a sip of Pepsi. “I drink too much soda . . . ”
“Maybe you should get some rest tonight. Pretty women should always get their rest . . . ”
Debra stared for a moment before the comment registered in her head. She wasn’t that easy! He would need more than that to impress the Lady Scorpio. She decided not to comment. Instead she said, “I’ll look this over and get it back to you ASAP.”

Debra stayed at work for a few more hours before leaving. Attending numerous staff meetings, preparing a presentation for a conference, daily office duties, and general administrative work began taking its toll. Not getting enough sleep wasn’t good for a light-skinned woman like her; dark circles would easily show under her eyes. Her plan, when she got home, was to eat, shower, finish Michael T. Owens’ latest book, and go to bed early.

When she made it home, she noticed all the things she meant to do but hadn’t: take out the trash, load the dishwasher, and open the mail on the counter.

“I’m too tired. I’ll do that later,” she said out loud, looking over the place. She kicked off her shoes, let her plum highlighted hair down, and slipped out of her clothes. She looked over her naked body in the mirror: five-seven, a size eight, and curvy where she needed curves, slim where she needed to be. She turned to the side to look at the small scorpion tattoo on her left shoulder blade. It had the words “Lady Scorpio” below it. Her ex thought it was sexy. “You had a good woman,” she said, grabbing her breasts while thinking about him. “I know you miss this.”

Thoughts of those hot and steamy nights made her nipples stiffen. Moving her hands across her chest, down her sides, and between her thighs, she then thought about the fantasy from earlier. At first she refused to let her mind take that path. Jameer was younger and probably inexperienced—she wasn’t in the business of training anyone. As she touched herself, all she kept hearing in her head was:
Do you want me to stop?

She pulled one of her pleasure toys from the closet. It was long, thick, and flexible. It was her favorite and even had a remote control. Propping herself on two pillows, she began stimulating herself. Slow, soft, and steady—something her ex never mastered. Fast and hard was all he seemed to know. She was moist now, ready for her treat. Seductively, she licked her toy, covering it with saliva before pushing it inside. No remote was needed; she would do it manually this time.

“Mmmm . . . ” She slid it in.
She slid it out. “Ohh . . . ”
In. “Unghh . . .”
“Ahhh . . . ” Out.
Her mind drifted to Jameer and the casual innuendos he had

For a moment, she felt awkward because she rarely let anyone or anything at work affect her personal life.
Oh well. It’s just a silly fantasy,
she reminded herself.
It’s not real. It’s all in fun.
Once she convinced herself, it was back to the matter at hand.

“Yeahh. Hmm Mmm. I . . . I’ll control you like a-a-a little dog,” she said to an imaginary Jameer. “You think you’re sooo . . . b . . . bad, huh? Mmmm . . .”

In.
Out.
IN.
OUT.
“Yep,” she heard him say. “I’ll have you worshipping the

ground I walk on . . . ” He pushed deeper inside, his testicles squishing against her, his chest against her breast.
Sweat on sweat.
Heat on heat.
Thrust after thrust.
“You’re just a little boy to me! I’ll break you in h-h-haaalf— oohh . . . ”
“Yeah?” He pulled her hair while thrusting harder. “A little boy?”
“Y-Yeah—oooooooooh . . . ah . . . ”
He gripped underneath her chin with his hand, looked dead into her teary eyes, and then removed himself.
“Wha? What are you doing? Put it back in!”
He licked his lips. “Nope.”
“
Put it back innnnnn now
!”

Jameer wiped his sweaty forehead and smiled. “What’s the magic word?”
“Pleeease! Pleeeeeeeeease put it—” Before she could finish, he was already inside churning diagonal, up, down, and side to side. He left no area untouched.
“Do you want me to stop?” she heard his voice in her ears again.
This time she answered quickly. “Noooo! I don’t want you to stop . . . ”
“Didn’t-think-so!” Jameer’s three deep thrusts lit her insides.
“Mmmm . . . oh…my . . . goddddddd, that feels so . . . ” Her sentence was cut short by an internal tidal wave of pleasure gushing from her body onto the sheets. She eased her toy from her body, sitting it aside while she caught her breath. Fantasy over. Looking up at the ceiling, she lay on the sweaty sheets thinking about what had just happened. It made her laugh out loud. “I can’t believe I just did that!”

Debra felt uneasy when Jameer walked into her office Friday. Wednesday night she pleased herself while thinking of him, and today it was back to being professional. It just didn’t seem right, but it sure felt good!

“How are things going, Mr. Lovett. Are you adjusting to your new environment?”
“I’m doing all right. I’ll tell you one thing, the ladies around here are crazy!”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging, but they keep throwing themselves at me.”
“I thought guys liked that.”
“Immature women don’t do anything for me.” He leaned in close, walking his fingers across her desk. “I like mature women. Women who know what they want and aren’t afraid to get it.”
Debra adjusted her hair, even though it didn’t need it. It threw her off every time he talked like that, especially since she was his superior. How was she supposed to reply to his comment? “Well, Mr. Lovett, that’s good. Uh, I read over your work and—”
“How come you’re not married?”
“Excuse me?”
“How come you don’t have a husband? You seem like a nice woman.”
“That's none of your business, Mr. Lovett.”
“It’s just a simple question. Why you getting so uptight?”
Debra ignored his question. “Your work was surprisingly good. It flowed well and your analysis of the—”
“All the things you heard about me made you think I was dumb?”
“No. No, that’s not it at all. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Tell me how you meant it, then.” He leaned back in his chair and waited for an answer.
“Well . . . ”
“Why aren’t you looking me in the face?”
Debra couldn’t look him in the face because of fantasies she’d had. But she couldn’t tell him that. Usually Scorpios were good at hiding emotions, but her face hinted of guilt. “Mr. Lovett . . .”
“It’s okay. People doubted me my whole life; I’m use to it,” his voice rose. “They doubted my cousin, too, and now he’s out in L.A. making moves.”
She cleared her throat. “All I was saying is—”
“I’ll see you Monday.” He stood up and sarcastically said, “Have a good weekend.”
He walked out.
Debra stared at the door, trying her best to figure out what just happened. One minute she was talking about his work, the next minute he was asking about her personal life, the next minute he was gone
. I think I hurt his feelings
, she said to herself. Seeing flashes of his sensitive side made her curious— more curious than she already was. She already wanted to know basic things like:
What size is penis? Is he a two-minute man or a marathon man in bed? Are his orgasms silent or loud?
Now she wondered who Jameer Lovett really was. What made him tick? And why did seeing him get upset turn her on?
Late that night Debra awoke with an insatiable craving for something sweet: key lime pie, lemon pound cake and icecream, or Jameer would do. In addition to her cravings, her breasts felt tender, and she had been feeling hornier than usual. She knew it was close to that time of month. She felt clammy and hot inside, heat flashes were another monthly symptom of hers. To cool down, she slipped out of her panties and Mickey Mouse T-shirt, opting to sleep in the nude. Maybe she could fall back to sleep.
Fifteen minutes later she was still awake, staring at the numbers on her digital clock: 10:52PM. 10:52PM on a Friday night and she was in bed. Back in the days, she would be getting ready to hit the club. She rolled on her back. Every little sound seemed ten times louder than usual. The crickets outside sounded like an orchestra. The cars driving by sounded like trains. Even with those miscellaneous noises, her room still seemed lonely—and Scorpios didn’t like being alone. She had gotten use to it, but around this time of the month it bothered her. If she could just get to sleep she would be fine. A good, body-rocking orgasm would knock her out for the night. But she tried to avoid any sexual thoughts; it would only make matters worse. Instead, she counted backwards from one hundred. By the time she reached the seventies, her eyes were fluttering.
Seventy-eight
. . .
Seventy-sev
. . .
Seventy-si
. . .
She yawned twice and off to dreamland she went.
A noise from her squeaky bedroom door woke her an hour into her slumber. Standing in the doorway was a shadowy male figure. He stood motionless with his arms folded. She jumped from the pillow, covering her breasts with the sheets.
“Who are you?” she asked. “How did you get pass the alarm?”
The figure stepped forward. Looking harder, she realized it was Jameer. “Shhh,” he said. “It’s the middle of the night, why you talking so loud?”
“How did you get in my house?”
“The front door, how else?”
“What do you want?”
“Do you always sleep naked?”
“Answer me!”
“I want what you want . . . ” He smiled and took off his shirt. “Leave!”
“That’s not what you want . . . ” He loosened his belt, dropped his pants and boxers to the floor. “Playtime is over,” he said, walking closer to the bed. “I know what you
really
want.” His body was more muscular than she had imagined. And that big trophy hanging between his thighs sent lustful thoughts through her mind. “Touch it. You know you want to.”
She bit her top lip. He looked good and tasty, thick and juicy—just what she liked. It took all she had to keep from attacking him.
“I said touch it!” Using his lower muscles, Jameer bounced his manhood up and down, enticing her to take it into her hands, mouth, or wherever else. Seeing his “talent” was all it took. In one motion, she pulled him to her face, taking as much of him in her mouth as possible, grabbing his butt for leverage. She feasted on him while he stroked her hair, smiling with pleasure as her head moved as if bobbing for apples. Using her warm tongue, she made spiral designs up, down, and around his crown. She trapped it between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, pressed her lips together and squeezed. Every time he moaned, she got wetter. Every time he groaned, she licked, slurped, and sucked harder.
“Mmm gooood . . . ” she moaned. With a loud popping sound, she removed her lips and looked at him. His facial expression, squinted eyes, and open mouth begged for more, though he said nothing. She took a deep breath and returned to her post.
“Look at you. So greedy.” He smiled.
“Unh huh . . . ” she mumbled.
He felt a bubbling sensation building in his abdomen. Debra sucked with great determination, as if charming it out of him against his will. His muscles constricted as he buckled forward. Grabbing her head, he tried to push her away. She refused. She would not move until she was ready. He grunted, cursed, shook his head while the pressure seeped downward, swelling in his loins.
“That’s enough!” He snatched himself from her wet mouth before her job was done. He pulled up his pants.
“Where are you going? Don’t leave!”
“Bye.”
“Don’t leave . . . don’t leave . . . don’t l—”
Debra opened her eyes and looked around the room. The bedspread was laying on the floor; her pillows were sideways. The clock read: 1:17AM. She put a hand on her forehead. She was hot and sweaty, and her thighs were moist. The dream seemed so real, she smacked her lips to see if she tasted anything unusual.