Living in L.A. has been very good to me. It has allowed me the opportunity to sample many flavors. Let's face it, I like dick...a lot.
Being a whore to the entertainment industry is a farce, but it has its benefits. I sat down to work that morning going through my regular routine of checking my email, scanning the trades, etc. when my computer alerted me to the meeting scheduled in 15 minutes. I rolled my eyes and tired at the thought that it was to be another boring session of the no talent, my daddy gave me this job so I can throw a temper tantrum if I want to VP OK'ing his weak ideas whilst shooting down all of those coming from the rest of the staff. I got up and walked to the ladies' room and refreshed my extra dark berry lipstick, played with my long wavy hair, and studied my gorgeous image in the mirror. I was wearing my standard work day gear of dark jeans with a wide leather belt and large buckle riding low on my shapely hips, a navy and white ¾ sleeve baseball t-shirt with a local lingerie store's logo stretched across my full breasts, and of course my Adidas. Being cute doesn't hurt when dealing with this guy; he's smarmy and thinks with his dick.
I made my way from the ladies' room upstairs to the meeting, and filtered in with the rest of the crew. I caught the smarmy VP's eye as I took my seat in the conference room. I smiled at him when I made eye contact. He 's not my style, but a little harmless flirting helps to promote my career in this game. The VP ended his lecherous scan of the female contingent, and began with the business of the items on the development list. I was asking myself, "Why am I here?" when the new project teams were introducing themselves, since my production is in its second season, when a voice broke into my consciousness. It belonged to a golden, spiky haired, nicely muscled piece of work clad in a black t-shirt that showed off the contours of his broad chest, and a pair of Levi's covered his nice ass. Wow! That's why.
It's been some time since this sista has had the Asian persuasion, but I think I'm due again.
After the meeting, the silken threads of his voice permeated my thoughts the rest of the morning. I needed to know what he was about. All I had to go on was from what he said at the meeting. His name was Kenji, and he was the associate producer for a new pilot we were working on. Three cheers for the diversity in the media initiative. I broke for lunch and walked down to the studio commissary to pick up my usual turkey sandwich and raspberry iced tea. Amid the other lunching studio whores I saw Kenji, sitting alone at a table contemplating the attack of what supposedly was a cheeseburger from the commissary grill.
"I think you better shoot it before it multiplies," I said as I came upon his table.
"It really is some incredible shit," he said looking up at me.
"Don't worry, your stomach will build up a tolerance to it. Hi, I'm Diana. I didn't get a chance to introduce myself at the development meeting this morning." I flashed him a winning smile.
This was the time to do some genuine flirting. I was standing beside his table with my torso in his eye line, the word "Trashy" over my breasts and my navel peeking from under my shirttail and above my belt buckle.
"Kenji. Nice to meet you." He said offering me a handshake but then realizing my hands were full, gestured to offer me a seat at his table. I put down my tray, and extended my hand.
"Nice to meet you too. So is this your first tour of duty here on the farm?"
"Yeah, I was working in New York for a while but I decided to come back home, cause I couldn't take the winters there."
"Don't I know it? So, you're homegrown, where abouts?"
"Oh, right here, in L.A. I miss the sun, and I miss my car." He said while still negotiating the burger.
"Your car? That's a new one. I'd expect maybe an 'I miss my Mom', or 'I miss my girl friend', or something."
He laughed. "My passion is for my car, I've dedicated a lot of time to it." He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "I street race." He then sat back up straight in his chair. "It was a shame to be in New York where owning a car was a complete liability."
"Wow, you're so hot, I'm really intrigued." I stopped and realized my Freudian slip and tried to play it off. "I mean that's really hot, street racing I mean." I said reaching for my iced tea.
He caught my slip up, and blushed a bit. "Well maybe if you're good I'll show her to you."
"Oh, I can be good alright." I responded to his flirt volley. He raised an eyebrow, smiled and took a bite of the burger. "You know," I said "There's no reason to subject ourselves to junior high cafeteria flashbacks by eating lunch in here. We can always take this back to the 1st floor conference room and bask in the glory of basic cable television on a giant screen."
"That sounds like a great idea to me, lead the way."
We left the commissary and made our way to the conference room, the blinds to the glass walled room were closed, and I opened the door to find it empty. I put my lunch down onto the large table, and sat in one of the leather seats, Kenji followed suit. He picked up the remote sitting on the table and switched on the tube, flipping through the channels until he settled on BET.
"You like to watch this stuff?" I asked.
"Yeah, they show all the decent hip-hop videos that aren't all played out on MTV, plus I like seeing all the fine honeys."
" So you like watching the ebony sistas, huh?"
"Ain't nothing finer."
"That's good to know." I turned my attention to the screen, which was an array of scantily clad big booty girls, fast cars, and rappers mugging the camera. I understood the appeal. I can't hate on him for it. A new video started and I was seduced by the beat and had to start shaking my ass. I got up from my seat and started to dance a bit. Kenji chuckled, while enjoying the show. I moved over toward him and extended my hand for him to join in the lunchtime dance party. He stood up and began to dance some. I giggled, and took his hands and placed them on my swaying hips, his thumbs resting on the exposed caramel skin of my waist. I got a bit carried away, he was so sexy. His deep-set eyes were trained on my body's movements. I got closer. The warmth of his hands radiated through the denim of my jeans, and moved around to my fine ass, as I danced closer to him. I felt his breath on me. My movements ceased, and I lifted my eyelids to look up at him as he pulled my body against his. His hand crept up to the small of my back under my t-shirt and gripped my flesh. I felt his hard on through those well-fit Levi's. He bent his head to mine and said in my ear in a low tone, "Lunchtime is about over, but I'd like to see you later on." I nodded my head, because I was too breathless to speak I felt like I was on fire, my nipples fought against the cotton of my bra and t-shirt, and honey had started to flow in my panties. We broke the embrace as the TV went to commercial. I turned away to collect the remnants of my half eaten lunch. He sat down to let the tent in his pants subside. I walked past him toward the door, "Thanks for lunch, we should do it again tomorrow."
"I was thinking after work tonight."
"Good plan, I'll meet you at the Black Lilly. Do you know where it is?"
" I live close by."
"Good, I'll see you there at 8:30" I opened the door, and walked out past some intern making copies at the machine nearby.
The only thing that would have kept my mind on work for the rest of the afternoon had to be a bathtub full of ice.
I came home, fed my pets, and stepped into the shower to rinse off. I finished my shower, toweled off, and creamed lavender baby lotion all over my body lightly scenting my skin, in lieu of applying cologne. I dressed in my pink fitted t-shirt with the words "dirty girl" written in black cursive writing at the bottom of the scoop neckline, so as to bring focus to my breasts encased in a black satin and lace bra. A sheer black thong which gave my ass an inverted heart shape, my ¾ length black a-line cut skirt, and my favorite pair of black leather boots, high heeled and stop just below the knee. The ones that screamed "Come fuck me". I pulled up my thick hair into a French twist and secured it with a single black lacquered chopstick. I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror after applying my trademark lipstick. Damn, I looked good. I grabbed my short leather jacket, keys, walked out the door, started up the Jeep, and took off.
I entered the Black Lilly, a really nice upscale bar decorated in deep red leather booths; red velvet drapes and dark wood, bathed in dim light. The sounds of new school R&B spinning, giving the whole place a laid back groove. I walked up to the bar and ordered a Tanqueray and tonic, from the bartender. He winked and nodded, as he looked me over. Nice looking ebony brother, but I was here for something else. I gave him a smile back, as he turned to pour my drink. The bartender laid a cocktail napkin in front of me and set down a highball glass, with a lime suspended in the bubbly liquid and a stirrer straw piercing it. I heard the low silken voice behind me. "I'll get that" it said and handed the bartender a ten-dollar bill. I turned my back against the bar. Kenji was standing before me. Dressed head to toe in all black, which I always thought was a very sexy look. The only variation in color to his ensemble was the golden skin of his exposed face. He wore a cashmere black turtleneck sweater, which clung to his toned physique, and black casual/dress trousers. He gave me a kiss and handed me my drink.
"C'mon, I'm sitting back there" He exchanged looks with the bartender and collected his change and left a tip on the bar.
" I saw you come in, but I didn't want to get up right away. I wanted to see you move again." He placed his hand on the small of my back and led me to the crescent shaped booth. His touch made me tingle. I sat down and set my glass on the small round table next to his bottle of Newcastle and half full glass of dark ale, as he slid in next to me.
I guess he likes everything dark.
We nursed our drinks, talked casually about the asshole VP at work, and laughed.
