My Revelation 1

Chapter 1

Looking back, I guess I'd have to say that that moment was the turning point. I was at my desk, running through files of policy holders who had lapsed, gone elsewhere with their business. In any case, I was going through a dry spell and wasn't beneath calling these people to see if I could lure them back into the fold and back to my personal plus column. I was a salesman, a policy man, and not a very good one. In any case, there was Stephanie beside me.

"Jack, that cocky bastard James just pawed me in the copy room! The pig!" Stephanie blurted out, her voice shaking.

"Whoa! Hold on, now." I said, closing the window on the screen, my pulse racing a bit. "He did what?"

"I was sorting through some papers with my back to the door, and out of nowhere, he grabs me from behind. He grabbed my tits, Jack! One hand on one, one hand on the other, squeezing them. Oh, Jesus!" She was crying now. I pulled a chair up beside mine, guided her into it, and tried to calm her. I wasn't sure if anyone was hearing this. I preferred that they didn't. Stephanie and I were dating, and this was the kind of complication I could very well do without.

"Calm down, Steph. Sit here and Ill get you some tea."

I don't want any fucking tea, Jack! Oh! That miserable prick! It's bad enough watching him strut around the office. So very important! Such a big deal. This is crossing the line, Jack. This is assault, for Christ's sake! Something's got to be done!"

It sounded ominously as if she wanted me to do something, and this had my mind going every which way. What could I possibly say to him? "Now that wasn't right, James. Women don't like being groped, you know. Please don't do that again, okay?" What I suppose I really ought to have done is walk right up to him and give him one in the chops. Make him bleed. The only drawback to this would be me getting my ass whipped later. James had an air of being able to handle himself.

The women in the office certainly knew things about James that the guy's didn't. I certainly didn't. But I'd hear them whispering excitedly in small groups, and I'd hear his name mentioned when I passed by. I do know that he'd been dating Dolores, Max's secretary. Max is our supervisor. That was about a month ago. Dolores would just drift around in a way that bespoke a thoroughly satisfied body and mind. Everyone knew. Max did, as well, but raised no objection. James, after all, was his top salesman. He got nearly all the awards for revenue. I don't know how many plaques and trophies I've seen him accepting. It hurt, too. I'd never won anything. He'd accept, Max beaming beside him. James liked to stand before a crowd, especially one of his peers. Somehow I think we all were charmed by what we saw before us. Some of us resented him, too. The slim, wiry African-American with the self-satisfied look, the finely tailored suit that subtly revealed the gentle curve of his endowment pressed against the front of his trousers. Yeah, he was the rooster in this henhouse. Now I was expected to challenge that. Boy, what a mess.

I'm not a confrontational guy. I've shamed myself many times - swallowing my pride when I should have stood up for myself. The punk who took my parking space as I was about to pull into it. He just told me to drop dead. I thought about keying his car, but was afraid of being caught. Or the time a woman who wasn't paying attention walked into me on the sidewalk. The man she was with demanded an apology from me while she kept calling me an asshole. I finally said "sorry" and walked away, red-faced. That's me. A pussy to the core. A wimp. How was I going to take someone like James to task. In fact, I was secretly in awe of him. He had an easy way of talking with Max and even to those above Max. He was polite with me, but it always seemed that I was nothing more than something to walk around, like a piece of discarded gum in the street. To him, I sensed, I registered somewhere near zero.

Once, at a convention in Chicago, I went to the restroom and opened the door to find James approaching a urinal, his hand on his zipper. There was one other urinal, and it was right next to him, of course. I saw with a bit of a shock that there was no courtesy divider between them. I headed instinctively to the stalls, but they were occupied. I felt trapped. I couldn't leave. That would be ridiculous. I get very self-conscious when peeing next to someone. Sometimes nothing comes out, and I hastily zip and run. Sometimes I shake my penis a bit as if I'd actually done something. Those situations always took a toll on my self-esteem. On top of that, I'm afraid the guy next to me will secretly judge the size of my penis by the sound of the stream in the water. I'm not blessed with much of a cock. Sometimes it looks like it's a good size, but it's often shriveled and retracted.

As I approached, James was just beginning to pee." Good lord!", I thought. His urine fairly thundered into the water, and he gave a long, relieved sigh. I pressed up as far as I could so that my meager member wouldn't be visible to him. I tried to act nonchalant. Someone came out of one of the stalls and was washing up. James continued to pee with no sign of abatement. A vision of just what was hanging between his legs forced itself into my consciousness, and it has been there ever since.

That weekend, after the "assault", as Steph insisted of calling it, we were barbecueing on her deck accompanied by a pitcher of stiff margaritas I'd blended up.

"Don't get so hammered that you screw up the food." Steph said to me in an unusually surly tone.

"Well", I replied slowly, waving the tongs for emphasis, "I'd be happy to step aside and let you stand over the hot coals."

"Yeah. In your dreams." she said. "Just pay attention. Last week the chicken was black on the outside and raw in the middle."

I wiped my hands on a towel and walked over to where she was stretched out on the chaise lounge. "What is it with you, anyway." I said in as sober a voice as I could manage. I was, in fact, getting pretty fucked-up. "You've been all over my ass the last couple of days. Ease up, will you?"

She was dressed in an outfit I thought looked fantastic on her - a turquoise swimsuit top and a very short pair of cut-off jeans. I felt my indignation melt some as I looked at her long, tanned legs, the beautiful thighs I loved to kiss and press my face against. As if to assert the power that Steph knew so well she held over me in this moment, she drew one foot up and langurously allowed that leg to ease down laterally onto the lounge chair. My loins stirred in obedient response as I gazed at the smooth flesh that faded from golden tan to creamy white as it entered the shadow of her groin.

"Look, honey." I said as I knelt beside her. "Tell me what's bugging you. I hate to see you unhappy." I took her hand in mine and stroked it gently.

" I saw you talking to James yesterday. Did you lay it on the line for him? I figured, what else could you be talking about."

"I did, baby." I said emphatically. "He won't bother you any more. Believe me."

"That's nice. What did you tell him exactly?" Steph said sweetly, stroking my face.

" Honey, I told him, point blank, that if he ever even looked at you the wrong way, I'd take a two-by- four to his face. I told him he could mend himself in his jail cell."

"Is that so, Jack", Steph said with a steely flatness in her voice, "Then how is it that Jan heard you asking him what his secret was in getting commercial accounts? In the same conversation? This was when you two were in the hallway in view of my desk, wasn't it? You were asking him for advice!"

"Well", I said, dropping her hand and sitting back on my heels, "The one topic led to another and..."

"Do I look like I just had a lobotomy?" Steph spat. " You didn't confront him at all. You were too busy sucking his ass. You make me sick!"

"I...I...didn't..."

"That's right. You didn't. "

"Wait, Steph. Please!"

"Wait for what? For you to grow a pair of balls!? No, thank you! Such a clever little charade. A serious talk with James, conveniently conducted so that I could see it. " Steph said, with a look off contempt that made me feel sick inside. I dropped my gaze.

"Let's talk this through." I said, not feeling hopeful at all that we could.

"Sure,Jack. Sometime next year. Why don't you take your food to go. I'm going inside." Steph shot back, knocking me over as she rose suddenly and headed for the sliding glass doors of her apartment. For all I knew, it was the last time I would see her gorgeous ass move the way that only it can. The door slid shut, and I heard the lock click. I stood barefoot in the yard as I watched the curtains close violently across Steph's back door, A neighbor seemed to be watching from the adjacent property. I heard the meat cooking on the grill. I felt my heart thud methodically. I felt my throat tighten and my eyes fill with tears. I walked home, barefoot in shorts and a tanktop. It was a mile and a half to my place across the city. I walked in a daze.

Two months later, things couldn't have been more different - at work, in my life, in every way. In the evenings, where once I would have been out clubbing with Steph, or enjoying time at home with her, I just went home and started drinking. That, and watching movies or porn on the internet. I was living the life of the consummate loser. And, boy, had I ever lost. Steph had moved on as if we'd been no more than acquaintances. She seemed completely indifferent to me. I would cringe when I passed her at work. But she would just breeze on by. She may as well have been walking past a hat rack. Steph had also shifted into a new phase of social life. She spent time on the weekends with Dolores and Connie. They'd go skiing in the winter and to the shore in the warmer months. Once, they arranged their vacations to overlap, and went on one of those "cruises to nowhere". After that outing, they were high-fiving each other and whooping it up on their breaks at work. It seemed they had had quite a time for themselves. I noticed, too, that Dolores and Connie began treating me differently. When either of them had occasion to get information from me, they did it brusquely. Obviously, the girls had been talking. No doubt, they'd become privy to my spineless behavior. At first, I was fearful that the whole office would know what I chicken-shit I was. What would I do then? Get a new job? Move to another town? But, it seemed to go no further than that, thankfully. Of course one other person knew. James knew.

When the holiday office party rolled around, I wasn't sure what I would do. People would be bringing their wives, husbands, partners, and all. I felt alone just thinking about it. But it would be too conspicuous for me to not go. Max was proud of how much money he spent on the event, and he saw it as a way for us all to bond. That day in december came around and I found myself putting on a clean shirt and a blue silk tie as I stared at my face in the mirror.

"You fucking loser" I suddenly muttered, working on the windsor knot. "You are one sad sack of shit. Did you know that? They'll be giving awards tonight. You've got 'most exceptional lowlife' all sewn up, pal." I whispered, my voice quivering. I finished dressing and made a drink for myself in the kitchen. Then I made another.

I had the good sense to take a taxi to the hotel. Drinking was my way of coping with social situations. I'd been through the hell of getting a DUI, and once was enough for me. As the taxi pulled into the crescent driveway of the hotel, I spotted James's BMW idling by the entrance. It was an M5, a fast car to be sure, and just a couple of years old. James emerged from the driver's side, brushing off his sleeve. As the valet attendant approached, the doorman opened the passenger side. Steph stepped out. My mind froze. A feeling of electric shock ran through my body, then ran through it again. Had her car broken down and he found her on the side of the road? No. Nothing of the sort. I knew exactly what this was. I paid my fare and waited until they'd made their way into the lobby. Then I entered quietly through a side door.

On my third bourbon, I walked around the spacious party room, spending time in small clusters of coworkers, then moving on. Throughout, I kept a discreet eye on the latest couple. I was mortified by the sight of them. I was seething inside. It was as though their coming together had been facilitated by my weakness and my fear. Standing there, feeling like an impotent clown, I imagined a conversation that might have taken place between the two of them, say, a few weeks back. Picture James jogging up to her in the parking lot...

"Hey, Stephanie. Hey, wait up a sec."

"Fuck off, jerk!" Steph shoots over her shoulder, not breaking her stride.

Hey, come on. I just want to apologize. Give a guy a break."

Apologize? Really? For what?

You know. You know what I'm talking about."

Oh. Are you referring to the time you tried to mount me in the copy room. Did you think you were back in the jungle, or something"?

James grabs her wrist. He's not accustomed to taking shit from women. Don't you talk to me that way, missy." As quickly, he releases her, looking sheepish. "That's a low blow, don't you think?"

Steph gives a bit of a sneer. "Um,,,, and your behavior is strictly okay?"

"No'' James, says, looking straight at her. "No, it wasn't. Look, that's what I came to tell you. I behaved badly. I mean, what I did was just unacceptable. The fact is, I'd been partying the night before and hadn't quite switched over into work mode. I was still pretty high, to be honest. I'm truly sorry. I think you're a terrific person, Stephanie. Smart, funny, competent at your work. You didn't deserve anything like that."

Then Steph crosses her arms and looks at him. He doesn't look hangdog. He's not pleading. Still, he seems sincere. He gives a brief smile - pained and contrite.

" Come have a drink with me, will you? I'd be grateful if you did."

Grateful, she muses. James grateful. It always seemed to her that he just took all that came to him as his due. This was something new.

"Sure", she says. "I'll do that. Why not."

James, for his part,looks relieved. " On me, of course."

Steph turns as she opens the door to her car. "Yeah. No kidding."

So, who knows what happened after that. Shit. I do. Not exactly, you know, but here was the result, parading around for all to see. My theory: She went home with him either that night or another, fell in love with the feeling of James's thick black hard-on exploring the outer limits of her pussy, and the rest is history. I could just see her moaning with her pretty feet wrapped around his back, and him pumping slow, allowing her to feel just how much dick was making its way inside of her. I went back to the bar and got a double.

Around eleven, I saw the two of them saying their goodbyes. I immediately left and found a taxi.

The driver didn't think much of the idea of following someone, but I gave him a fifty, and that shut him up. We followed James's beamer, hanging back a block or two. When it pulled into a driveway, I had the cabbie pull over, and I got out. I hung in the shadow of a tree two houses down and watched. They were getting out now. Then they walked, arms around each other, up the steps to the door.

I was weaving a bit, but my eyes were glued to them. I wasn't at all sure just what I was doing, but I felt utterly compelled to witness the events of the evening, however they played out. If I could, I would look upon the foul, abject extent to which Stephanie had betrayed me, dismissed me, written me off. The cunt. I began to sob softly, and kept saying under my breath: "That stinking bitch. That whore."

The street was quiet. I walked along, trying to look as though I belonged there. As I came to the edge of the lawn of James's house, I saw a light come on at the rear of the building. I took a furtive look around and saw no one. I walked quickly along the side of the property. Thankfully, there was a tall hedge between his house and the neighbor's. I came to a point where I was across from the lighted window, but the curtain was drawn. Then I noticed that the light spilling out of the rear-facing window was a bit brighter on the lawn. I crept around to the back, eventually ducking behind a table and chair set. Sure enough, the view into the room was unobstructed.

James stood in the middle of the room, naked from the waist up. He was lean and smooth,

athletic without being muscle-bound. Moving with an ease that bespoke complete familiarity with the process of undressing in the company of women, he undid his belt, unzipped, and stepped out of his pants. There was a generous protuberance pushing at the front of his boxer shorts and no sooner had the pants been folded and put aside, then a hand entered the frame of the window to cradle and pet the shifting mass through the thin cotton. I could see, even from across the yard, the immediate response this attention called forth from within the tented shorts. In a moment, there was every indication that a turgid cock was at full attention, waiting patiently to feel the bliss of air, and hands, and lips upon it. Steph came fully into the frame now. She wore her brassiere. No doubt, she was waiting for James to unhook it and hold in his hands the breasts he had so rudely pawed at that day.

He did just that, holding them gently this time, and pressing his face between them. Steph's neck arched back and I could hear her deep-throated moan even through the glass. She aided James's cock through the pee hole of his shorts, and there it was, jerking excitedly every few seconds, clearly ready for a serious workout. As I had already surmised from various unmistakeable signs, James's penis was large. Jesus. It was absolute stud quality. They were kissing now. Watching this was anguishing, but it stimulated me at the same time. I was completely surrendering to my own intrinsic fecklessness as a man. If I could, I would stay with it, stay right there, and watch the fevered union of these two very hot and driven people ; two people who loved what they saw at this moment. Loved and craved what the other offered. They were a perfect fit in mind and body. I could sense their great erotic happiness at being in each others' arms. I was strangely elated and turned on. I don't exactly approve of spying on people, but the chance to see what would transpire in this bedroom, to see lovemaking as it was meant to be - sometimes sensually slow-humping, their sweating bodies wrapped tightly in embrace, endearing and encouraging words whispered into the other's ear. Or, a full-out pounding fuck. I wanted to see that, and more.

Suddenly, both of them disappeared from view. Clearly, I'd have to find a new vantage point if I were to be privy to what promised to be quite a show. I drew closer to the window, but the closer I came the less advantage there was to see in. The window sill was about at eye level, so that even if they were visible, I'd not be able to see more than their heads. Looking about, aided by the dim light falling through the window, I espied a metal garbage can by the corner of the house. I slowly dragged this over to the window. Fortunately, it was empty. I inverted the can, and carefully hiked myself up onto the bottom, first kneeling, then, with great care, standing. I braced myself against the side of the house. I was situated so that the light from the room did not fall directly on me. I steadied myself.

The can proved to be a sturdy foundation. Lowering into a crouch, I peered into the room. James's back was to me as he stood facing the bed. I looked enviously at his tapered waist. I bitterly admired the muscularity of his legs. Steph sat at the edge of the bed, her hands providing a lovely contrast of color as they stroked and petted his ass. She was, one could see, spending some quality time with James's sleek, black cock.! I became quite erect. God! I thought, if only I could see Steph filling her mouth with it! I became so aroused at the prospect of this that I felt momentarily dizzy. I pressed my face to the wood siding. Then, as if clouds had parted and God had appeared in the sky, James changed his position, now standing at the foot of the bed. His full length was now visible to me. The patch of hair above his cock seemed neatly trimmed. There is something so exciting about the tightly coiled pubic hairs of a black man.