Returning The Favor 6

I sat behind my desk, trying to read an article online about how Penn State had protected that pervert Jerry Sandusky. But it was getting difficult to concentrate.

Voices from the hallway were audible from my desk.

My secretary Tangi Smith was having some kind of conversation with someone. I knew that someone was a man because he had a deep voice, and he was trying to be smooth. Keep the conversation just between them. The hubbub outside from all the other conversations going on was almost loud enough.

Judging by her end, I'd say it wasn't going well.

"Look, would you just leave me alone, okay? I'm fine. I'll be fine, I am fine."

"That's not what I heard. I heard you need help with your rent."

"And you're my prince charming who's going to ride to my rescue?"

"That's right, Tangi. What else is a man supposed to do for a woman?"

"Provided I let you help me, what would you expect in return for riding to my rescue?"

"Oh...I'm sure we could work something out..."

"Oh yes, I'm sure we could. Don't touch me! Like you could get your ass up from my desk and leave."

I got up from my desk and went to the door.

My secretary Tangi was not alone, as I thought.

There was a man standing at her desk, standing uncomfortably close, leaning his butt against her desk, his arms folded over a beefy chest. He was black, too, about a shade darker than she was, his black hair cut very short, wearing a dark grey blazer and slacks with spit-shined black shoes.

She said, "Andre, please, leave me alone. My boss hates it when I don't get any work done because I sit and talk all day."

That's when I said, "Yes, I do."

Andre jumped like he'd been stuck with a hot poker. "Oh. You must be Jack O'Neill."

"Yes, I am. Vice President of Marketing, to boot. Please let my secretary get back to her work now."

"I'm very sorry. I'll just be going."

I said, "Thank you."

He stood up and left as quickly as his pride would let him.

Tangi turned in her chair to look at me and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. O'Neill. He just wouldn't take the hint."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Tangi. I think we might have to install a little signal button or something under your desk that turns on a light in my office, so I can rescue you from being a little too popular."

Tangi giggled. "Yes, sir."

"Speaking of work, can you come into my office for a minute, please? I need you to take a letter."

She picked up a notepad and a pen. "Certainly, Mr. O'Neill."

I turned around and headed back into my office, trying to ignore the very unprofessional but still very tight feeling in my trousers.

Tangi had decided, for whatever reason, to wear an outfit that wasn't necessarily provocative, but it sure as hell was sexy. She wore a tight-fitting black leather pencil skirt, and a tight purple sweater with a plunging v-neck that showed off perhaps a bit too much of her plentiful chocolate breasts, and black patent-leather pumps with sky-high stiletto heels and quarter-inch platforms.

My cock twitched in reaction to the clicking of Tangi's heels on the tile floor, and the swishing of her black leather pencil skirt.

My erection only got worse as I wondered if she wore panties under that skirt. Or not.

I quickly sat back down at my desk, so I could hide the raging erection threatening to show through my slacks. But that was impossible, because now I could see the breath taking valley of deep luscious chocolate cleavage down the middle of her purple sweater.

Damn!

I cleared my throat, managed to somehow tear my line of sight and my brain away from Tangi's cleavage, and started to rattle off the letter.

But I quickly got the impression that Tangi was having a difficult time concentrating, as well. She kept getting this anxious look on her face. Then she sighed like the weight of the world was on her small brown shoulders.

Finally I said, "Is everything okay, Tangi? You seem a little distracted."

"No, everything is not okay, Mr. O'Neill. In fact, I'm in a bit of a sticky wicket, as the British would say."

"What's wrong?"

Tangi put her notepad and pen down on my desk. "Do you mind if I close the door?"

"No, go ahead."

I had the pleasure of watching Tangi get up, walk to the door and close it, then walk back and sit down. The office hubbub was for once gone.

I said, "Talk to me, Tangi. What's wrong?"

"Well, I haven't been here that long, as you know. I haven't even gotten my first paycheck yet."

"Yes, I'm afraid you started right at the beginning of a new pay period. Amy likes to do that."

"Right. Well, the way the days fall, I won't get paid until the end of the first week next month."

"And I take it you have bills due at the first?"

Tangi sighed again. "Yes."

"Like what? Surely to Pete there's no bill so important that they don't have a grace period or something."

Tangi's lips twisted. "There's no grace period for the rent, at least according to my landlord."

"Didn't you tell me you have a room mate? Can't she pay the rent by herself for once? Then you can just give her your half when you get paid."

Tangi rolled her eyes. "My room mate has her own problems. She only works part time. That was why we moved in together."

"Ah. And I take it this was why Andre was chatting with you just now?"

"Yes. He was offering to come to my rescue and give me the rent money. And he made it quite clear what he wanted in exchange. I should call Human Resources on his trifling ass."

At the very mention of HR, I decided to tread carefully, very carefully, indeed. "What about your family? Can't they help?"

Tangi again rolled her eyes as she shook her head. "No, sir. Believe me, they were the first people I thought of, and naturally they're all tapped out. Or so they say."

"If you don't mind me asking, why didn't you take Andre's help?"

"Because my fellow black brothers are the most selfish people on the planet, who feel entitled to everything. Including but not limited to feeling entitled to a woman's pussy when they feel like it's owed to them. And I don't feel like being indebted to Andre in that way."

I chuckled, mostly to myself. "Tangi. Let me help you. I hate to see you all stressed out."

She eyed me warily. "And what would you want in return?"

"Let me take you out to dinner."

Tangi raised one jet-black eyebrow ever so slightly. "Dinner?"

"Yes, dinner. You, me, and a fancy restaurant."

"Are you serious?"

"Perfectly serious."

"I just meant - that's all you want in exchange?"

"That's all. When's the last time someone has taken care of you? I would think that whole strong independent woman thing has to get tiring after a while."

She smiled faintly. Her reply was dry. "You would think correctly."

"So, how about it? Let's have dinner this weekend."

"I must admit, the last few weeks have not given me much time to date."

"Let me help you, Tangi. I can write you a check today and you'll have the money in your bank account just in time to pay the rent. No worries to lose sleep over."

"And all you want in return is to take me to dinner?"

"Scout's honor. Dinner. That's it."

"OK. Thank you for your help, then. I'll go out to dinner with you. Although that doesn't exactly sound like I'd be even close to returning the huge favor you're about to do for me."

I smiled easily. "On the contrary, Tangi, the honor would be all mine to be seen in public with a beautiful black woman such as yourself."

Tangi smiled a real smile for once, as she picked up her notepad and pen off my desk. "You are too much! But while we're on the subject, I hope you liked this outfit I wore today."

"Yes, I do like it. Especially that skirt."

"I rather thought you would. I love the way it goes swish-swish-swish when I walk across the floor. And it's not even real leather."

"It's not?"

"Nope. It's imitation leather. Wet look spandex. Pleather, if you will. But it looks like real leather and, to me, that's the whole point."

"And I'm not even going to start on that sweater."

Tangi laughed out loud. "I just knew that when I came in wearing this sweater, you were gonna have me go straight home to change, with all the cleavage I was showing off."

"Yeah. HR would definitely have a fit."

"I know, right?"

"But I don't mind."

"Be careful when you say that, Mr. O'Neill."

"Please, Tangi, call me Jack. The sir thing is OK but please, call me Jack instead."

"OK. Jack. But you should still be careful."

"OK, let me say this, instead. If you were to wear that outfit more often, I would not object. Or at least that skirt, anyway."

Tangi giggled as she stood up. "I'll just go get this typed up and printed for you. Don't let me leave tonight without giving you my cell phone number so we can talk later."

* * * * * * * *

I don't think I will ever forget the first time I saw Tangi Smith.

I was sitting at my desk in my office, trying to get some damn work done, working through lunch because the secretaries outside my office were gone. No hubbub outside the office to distract me.

Alternating bites of a cheeseburger with typing an email to a possible client, I heard the elevator down the hall ding open.

Right after, I could hear the clicking of two pairs of stiletto heels in the hallway, coming down the hall towards my office.

"And here's the executive level..."

My ears perked up when I heard Amy Edwards talking. She must have been giving someone the grand tour. I started getting hopeful. Amy was in HR. She wouldn't be giving someone the grand tour just for the hell of it. She had just hired someone, and with any luck, she had just hired my new secretary.

Another female voice said, "Wow, it's way up here, isn't it?"

And hopefully the woman who owned that sexy voice was my new secretary. The voice was feminine and soft, low and pleasantly husky. I could listen to that voice just about all day.

My previous secretary just got up from her desk one day, left for her lunch break - and never came back. I suspect she either got a better offer from another company, or just didn't care any more. Either way I quite suddenly lost my secretary that day.

So for the last few days, unless I had a temp filling in, I have been having to answer my own phone. Kinda sucks, to be honest. Hadn't really appreciated how much I depended on having a secretary, until now.

Then I realized that clicking noice was not only coming down the hall towards my office, but right to my office door.

"Yes, it's way up on the top floor. You should see the city lights from here. And here's where you'll be working. Your cubicle is right outside. This is the office of John Patrick O'Neill, our Vice President of Marketing."

"Okay. Wow, big desk."

"Yes, you need the space."

"Yes, I do see. My printer and everything. Wow."

Amy's voice said, "Hopefully if we're lucky, he'll be here, and you can meet him."

"Okay."

"Jack?"

I looked up at the knock on the door. "Hey, Amy."

"Hi, Jack. I'm glad we were able to catch you. I was afraid you'd be out on lunch."

My mouth full, I said, "Working lunch. What's up?"

"I thought you might like to meet your new secretary."

I stood up. "I sure would."

Amy turned to someone and said, "Come on in."

There was a slow easy click-click-click of high heels, slow easy swishing of a skirt, and through the door came the most beautiful chocolate woman I had ever seen.

She was almost as tall as I was, but that was thanks to the five inch open-toed patent-leather stiletto heels on her feet. If she were a man, she'd be called stocky, but thankfully she was very much a woman. She had a short torso with a breathtakingly deep valley of cleavage peeking from in between a plain white sweater, and a slim waist and wide hips which filled out a plain white pencil skirt with a black patent-leather belt.

She was not only very much a woman, but a black woman as well. Her skin was just like chocolate pudding, and probably just as soft. Her hair was like a shiny jet black curtain running down her back. And as I said before, she had more curves than a mountain road.

Cliche'd, I know. But it definitely applied.

She smiled and extended her hand. "Hi. I'm Tangi Smith. I guess I'll be your new secretary."

God, that voice!

I cleared my throat and said, "I guess so. I'm Jack O'Neill, Vice President of Marketing. Nice to meet you."

Amy smiled. "Yes, she will, Jack. I just hired her and decided to give her the grand tour this afternoon while she was still here."

I said, "Well, Tangi, welcome aboard."

She smiled and said, "Thank you, Mr. O'Neill."

"I expect I'll be seeing you soon. When do you start?"

She smiled politely. "Yes, quite soon, Mr. O'Neill. I start on Monday."

I said, "The sooner the better."

Amy said to Tangi, "The poor thing has been having to answer his own phone. Now maybe he might have a better respect for what our secretaries do."

Tangi laughed as she looked at me, although it was a kindly laugh. "I'm sure he will."

I got lost for a minute in those beautiful brown eyes.

Amy said to me, "Well, if she's going to start first thing Monday, then I'd better have her fill out the paperwork, too. See you later, Jack."

Rather jarringly, I came back down to earth. "Yeah. Later, Amy."

In that super sexy voice, Tangi said, "Goodbye, Mr. O'Neill. It was nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too, Tangi."

"Have a nice lunch."

"Thanks."

As she walked out of my office, I watched her booty moving under her skirt. I was caught when I realized Tangi had turned to look back at me.

But she didn't look mad. In fact she had this look of frank interest on her face.

* * * * * * * * *

That was more than two weeks ago.

I could not believe that I had offered to help Tangi like that. It had taken me fifteen years of hard work to get where I am, and here I was, taking my secretary out to dinner.

Risky behavior, to be sure.

I wasn't looking to become anyone's sugar daddy.

Yeah, sure, she was OMG hot. And yeah, sure, she was in need. But if this gets misconstrued, I would be the one out on my ass looking for a new job, in this down economy.

The USA may be the country of due process, of being presumed innocent until proven guilty, but when it comes to any kind of sexual harrassment claim, it's "Let's fire the man first and ask questions later."

Political correctness has made companies wary of lawsuits resulting from sexual harrassment claims. They aren't concerned about lawsuits from men for wrongful termination, apparently.

But anyway here I was on a Saturday afternoon, driving my BMW, headed towards Tangi's apartment. Traffic was pretty light, even for a Saturday.

Finally I arrived at the place and pulled into the parking lot.

Dressed in a navy jacket and slacks over a white button down shirt open at the collar, and soft black shoes, I got out of my car and strode across the parking lot.

Looking at the slip of paper Tangi had given me with her address written down in her feminine hand, I went to what I hoped was the right building, found what I hoped was the right apartment, and knocked on the door.

A voice said, "Give me a minute."

I stood there impatiently.

Finally the door got yanked open. A girl with skin several shades lighter than Tangi's stood there, wearing pink velour sweats, no shoes, and a sour expression. The sour face changed instantly to pleasant but still sarcastic surprise when she saw me.

She folded her arms across her chest. "Well, look at you. I think you've got the wrong apartment, sugar."

"This is where Tangi Smith lives, right?"

"Yeah. It is. Hang on a minute." She turned around and shouted, "Tangi! Your date is here!"

A door opened, and Tangi's voice called back, "Let him come in and have a seat. Be just a minute."

The girl in pink stood aside and opened the door. "You heard the lady. Come in. Have a seat."

I said, "Thank you."

I stepped forward into the living room. It was a small living room, with a quite small kitchen, with a hallway that led to the bedrooms.

I took a seat on the couch, which was overstuffed and upholstered in green velour.

The lady in pink sat next to me, unwillingly. The silence was quite thick. Finally she said, "So. You got a name?"

"Jack O'Neill." I stuck my hand out. She didn't take it.

"Name's Angela. You must be her boss from work."

"What makes you think that?"

Angela rolled her eyes. When she spoke her voice was still dry and sarcastic. "Listen, she has been talking non stop for the last two weeks, all about this tall handsome white man she works for. Got to be you, sugar."

I smiled. "Guilty as charged."

And then, quite suddenly, Tangi came out. I didn't know what to say.

Tangi stood there, smiling, lips painted in classic lustrous honey brown lipstick, wearing a very tight knee-length strapless black dress made of wet-look spandex with a peek-a-boo opening right between her breasts, and matching black suede open-toed pumps with sky high rapier thin stiletto heels. She even got her nails done in honey brown glamour length acrylics to match her lipstick.

Her shiny black hair was slicked back in a bun and held back with lots of hairpins. I snuck in a quick glance at her hands again. No rings of any kind.

Those perfectly plump honey lips parted, showing her perfect white teeth, and her voice came out. "Hi, Jack."

She sounded a little breathless, her voice softer than usual.

"Hi, Tangi."

"I hope you like the way I look."

Swallowing, I stood up and slowly approached her. "Yes, indeed, I do like this."

Tangi giggled. "Hmmm...Thank you!"

"You ready to go?"

"Yes, baby, I'm all ready." Tangi then slipped her hand into mine and said, "Let's go. I'm hungry."

"Okay. Our chariot awaits."

Tangi said to Angela, "Bye. Don't wait up."

Angela's reply was dry and sarcastic. "I won't."

We breezed on out the door and back across the parking lot.

Tangi said, "Where did you have to park?"

I pointed. "Oh, just right over there. After you."

I deliberately walked behind Tangi, cock already starting to harden. I couldn't keep my eyes off her plump round booty as it swung pendulum-like under her dress. It was especially difficult to banish thinking about whether she was going commando under that dress. It sure looked like it. I couldn't see any panty lines, but that didn't mean anything.

As we walked, I got the distinct impression that Tangi was enjoying herself making me hot under the collar. And elsewhere.

I held open the car door for Tangi.

"Why, thank you, sir!" She poured herself inside. Then I went around and quickly got in.

As I slid the key into the ignition and turned it, she smiled, ran her hands over the leather interior and said, "Wow. Nice ride."

"Thanks. I rather like it, too."

"I'll bet. So. Where are we going?"

I smiled back. "You said you always wanted to go to Giorgio's, right?"

"Oh my god! Yes, I've always wanted to go there!"

"So that's where we're going. I made reservations and everything."

She took my hand and squeezed it. "Oh my god, thank you, baby! You're so good to me."

"I try."

"Can I ask you something, Jack?"

"Sure. What?"

"Have you ever dated a black woman before?"

"No, actually, I haven't."

"Can I ask why not?"

"Well, it wasn't a matter of 'I'll never go out with black women,' it was just a simple case of black women having never really caught my eye."

"Until now?"

I grinned and looked at her as we stopped at a red light. "Not until now. Have you ever been with a white guy?"

"No, I haven't. I have wondered what the attraction was, many times."

"Friends of yours had white boyfriends?"

"Yes, they did. I couldn't understand what the attraction was. Plus, black women don't want to admit, even to each other, that we like white men. It's that whole interracial taboo thing, you see."