This story is part of a series based (loosely) on the women in my life, including myself, and the men who love *cough* ops I mean fuck them. If you like it please let me know so I can continue. If you don't then please let me know why so I can improve. Hope you enjoy.
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It was insane, like he had a super power or something. This man could read me like a book. When he looked at me, it was as if he could see into me. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time. I had known Harvey for a few months. I somehow stumbled into a job at a greeting card company right after finishing my bachelors and he was one of my co-workers. He was a smug little bastard. He oozed sex from every pore and knew it. He had the look of a bad boy, who was good at hiding it. On top of that, he had stunning emerald eyes. He was the type of guy that made women wet with one flash of his green beauties. He also managed to look equally as sexy in his business suits as he did in a tee shirt and jeans. He was solid; a good 230 pounds and well-toned but not over done muscles. It was a refreshing vacation from all the frat boys who tried to poke me with their skinny little dicks all through college.
Then there is me. It is kind of strange for me to describe myself. Where to start, well, my brother calls me dimples because of the two prominent ones I get on my cheeks when I smile. I think they make me look to young and I get tired of people teasing me about them, so I learned to hide them as much as possible. However, if I laugh or smile to large they usually appear. The first things men usually notice about me are my large breasts. Growing up I never really realized how much attention they got me. I saw them as more of a hassle then an asset. Until I started dating Fred who treated them like they were gold. Being with him taught me the value of my sweater twins. I can't say what bra size I wear. I never have been able to find one that fit properly. I wouldn't wear one at all but if for some reason I needed to run they would be continually slapping me in the face. I am also fairly tall. I am 5'7 or 5'8in of cinnamon brown. I have always been what Fred called "bootylicous". It is one of those ridiculous phrases that the few African Americans that went to my school used on a regular basis to describe a woman with a... lets just say healthy derrière. Although, my ass is not one of those obnoxiously huge ones you see in a rap music video. It is large but more proportional to my frame. When I was younger, I used to be on the thin side but since I have been in college for the past 4 1/2 years, my weight has fluctuated. Not that I am huge or anything, I have more of an hourglass shape. I am somewhere around 139 pounds now, minus a few pounds for the sweater twins of course.
But enough about me it's starting to get awkward. Let's get back to talking about this man. This man who my Latina girl friend Alba refers to as my perfeccione el igual sexual or perfect sexual match. I am not completely sure how he got me. I never liked him. Like I said he was a smug little bastered. He was so used to women fawning over him that he walked around as if the sun shined out his ass. Although I will admit he was good looking, his attitude was nearly unbearable. He would always stroll over to my desk flashing those eyes of his trying to manipulate me into doing him some sort of favor. It may have worked on all the other little white tarts that traipsed around the office but this sista was not one of them. Plus, he was a white guy. I trust white people about as far as I can throw them. I was born in the hood but my family moved into a nearly all white suburb when my parents got their money right. My brother and I only had each other as we suffered through racism on a frequent basis. It wasn't until high school when Alba and her family moved into town that I finally had someone who understood what I was going through.
To be perfectly honest I never really valued or held men in much high esteem either. Fred was my first boyfriend. He was pretty much my first everything. He was pretty cute. His mother was Hispanic but died during childbirth so his black father raised him. He had all the traits of someone who was raised alone by his father. His father did a good job of teaching him how to treat women. He always treated me with respect, which I guess is how he managed to weasel his way into my pants. However, he was extremely messy. I supposed that is one of the negative side effects of not having your mother around. Fred was no dynamo but he had a 6 ½ inch dick (he measured it in front of me once) and he knew how to use it. I usually orgasmed when we were together so I couldn't really complain about the sex. The sex was good. However, I don't think I will ever be able to go back to just having good sex ever since I had mind-bogglingly amazing sex! Fred and I dated for almost a year, but it ended when he realized how uninterested and unimportant our relationship was to me. I can't say I was hurt by the break up, I was looking for a way out anyway. After Fred, I dated some. Pretty much any guy in my predominantly white college (yeah, even in college I couldn't escape them) with a hard on for black girls asked me out. I always accepted the offers enjoying the free meals and movies. Out of all the guys I dated after Fred I only slept with one of them. He played for the schools basketball team and was one of the few Blacks at the school; we dated a few times. Then one night I was blowing off some steam after midterms and...well what do you want me to say? I was drunk and horny. I don't really remember much about that night but it sufficed to satisfy my urge for a while. I suppose he must have really enjoyed it because mini Jordan was practically ready to marry me afterwards. I am not going to say I enjoy breaking guys' hearts but caring about them just takes a little more time then I am willing to put in. Needless to say, I shot a hole in that dream real quick.
Alba thinks I can be a bitch to men. She decided to minor in psychology, so now suddenly she is an amateur psychologist and I have daddy issues. Please! Men are just not important to me. I have other things in my life that are a higher priority. However, I suppose the daddy issue diagnosis is better than what she used to tease me about before she began her minor. I am not a lesbian and I don't hate men. Most of the time I don't even respond to her teasing, but I will tell you this: if I wanted to be with a girl I would. Unfortunately, vaginas and boobs just don't do it for me. As for hating men it is not that I hate them, I am just indifferent towards them. It simply comes down to me not having much use for them.
I was finishing my masters in Graphic Design and working at the greeting card company. I been there for about 5 months and I was finally getting used to balancing school and work. Harvey was one of my co-workers. Everyone was divided into divisions; I worked the children's holiday division. I help with the designs for all those cards that were meant to look like they were from a child to an adult. It was October so we were finishing the last batch of cards for New Years. It was always a little strange to me to be creating fireworks designs when it was so close to Halloween but, in the greeting card business you do everything months ahead. All in all, I liked my job. It was no dream but it was kinda fun and it left room for me to be creative. I was actually the person who came up with a new technique to make the artwork look like it was drawn in crayon. I quickly became well known around the office as one of the best graphic designers. It was nice to be recognized but it had its down side because it meant more work and requests for favors.
Harvey must have caught wind of this too because the next thing I know Mr. Green eyes is sautéing over to my desk trying to get me to finish up some designs for his Christmas project. Harvey was head of his division; it was small. They were responsible for grandparents. Apparently, he was behind because he wanted me to work on the cover art for 2 of his cards. Harvey already had Marcy from the anniversary female division and Lacy from the anytime division working on some for him. Before Harvey could even finish his request for me to work on some cards for him I cut him off.
"No!" I said sternly
"Oh come on honey pot, you know you are going to have some extra time. Couldn't you please just do me this one favor," he said flashing an enchanting smile.
I let out an aggravated sigh.
"Do you know you make the cutest face when your irritated honey pot?"
Ok I will admit he did make me laugh a little (internally) but I know he was just trying to cut the tension and butter me up so I hid my amusement from him.
"My extra time is for me not you, AND what did I tell you about calling me honey pot."
"You know you love it hon-ney po..."
"Harvey!"
"Ok ok fine I will try and find someone else," he said throwing his hands up and giving a crooked smile.
