I work in the home office of one of the largest life and health insurance companies in the country. There are more than 1,500 employees in the building where I work, including more than 900 women. Needless to say, the scenery is amazing. The women come in all shapes, all sizes, all ages, and all colors. Many are so beautiful that they take my breath away when I’m around them.
It is certainly a tough work environment for a married man. Temptation is everywhere: sitting next to you, sitting down the hall, sitting on the next floor. With so many beautiful women walking around, there are days when I think I'm in heaven.
Like most people (at least those people who will admit it), there are specific traits in women that just drive me crazy. I guess you can call these fetishes since everyone does not share them. I have no doubt what my fetish is and I don't hesitate to admit it to myself. I know that I love black women. I love everything about them. To me there is no greater sight on earth than a beautiful black woman. Their full lips, their beautiful brown skin, their sweet way of talking, all of this just drives me crazy. Black women also have a spirit and presence about them that you just don’t see in women of other races. Adding to all this is the indisputable fact that many black women have some of the most spectacular bodies in the world.
While beautiful black women quickly get my pulse racing, there is another aspect of black women that really, really, drives me crazy. I guess you can call this a fetish within a fetish, or a desire within a desire. I am fascinated by the asses on black women. The most spectacular asses I have ever seen were usually on beautiful black women.
This is not to say that I am not turned on by women of all varieties because I am. But there is something about black women that transcend my desire for any other type of woman. The sight of a spectacular, sexy black woman with an equally spectacular ass sends me into a frenzy.
Such is the case with one of my co-workers. Yolanda is a black woman who works in our Accounting department. She is probably in her early 40's now, short in stature with a compact, sexy body. I first noticed Yolanda at an all-employee meeting. We were both in the same session since our last names start with the same letter. I was already seated, in an aisle seat, when she walked past me, the most gorgeous ass I've ever seen almost brushing my face. There is nothing like the scent of a beautiful woman and hers was so overwhelming that it made me slightly dizzy.
I was immediately struck by the way she was dressed. Even though she is a long way from her teen-age years, this woman obviously had no qualms about wearing short skirts or tight fitting tops. She had on a leather skirt that was at least a foot above her knees. When she sat down in the row in front of me, her skirt rose up to the tops of her legs and I could see the tops of her black stockings. She had on a tight fitting top that didn't reveal too much, but was certainly tight enough to accentuate the extraordinary size of her chest.
Needless to say, I didn't remember too many details about the meeting. My glances were transfixed on Yolanda. She had that sexiness about her that some women are just born with. Her every move exuded sex. She was a stunning sexual animal.
After this initial sighting, I was determined that I had to at least try to meet her. It became almost an obsession. Sure, I wanted to make love to this woman but I was also realistic. I told myself that I would be satisfied to just talk to her. I had to at least accomplish that.
The next time I saw her was a few days later in the break room around lunchtime. She was sitting at a table alone eating her lunch. I made a mental note to come back around this time every day until the opportunity presented itself for me to talk to her.
That opportunity came three days later. I entered the break room just as she was putting her money into the soft drink vending machine. Immediately I knew this was my chance.
I walked up to her with my change in hand, pretending that I was waiting on her to finish so I could use the drink machine. When she glanced my way, I was polite but not overt.
"Hello," I said. "Hi," she replied back as she took her soft drink from the tray. I was shaking but I forced myself to continue. I reached out my hand and said, "I don't believe I've met you. My name is Joseph." She took my hand, smiled slightly, and said, ''I'm Yolanda."
"Nice to meet you Yolanda,” I said, trying desperately to hide my nervousness. “What department do you work in?"
"Accounting. Accounts receivable to be exact,” she said.
The small talk lasted for less than a minute. I concluded by saying. "Nice meeting you Yolanda. Don't work too hard." She laughed. "You don't have to worry about that. I won't."
I was on cloud nine. It couldn't have gone better. She was polite, cordial and we were now on a first-name basis. She also had a very good personality, very friendly.
I saw her occasionally over the next several weeks. I always made it a point to say and hello and ask how she was doing. I never really had the opportunity for more than that. My mind raced constantly trying to think of a way to make closer contact. But I kept coming up with only one answer: the direct approach. And I knew I didn't have the courage to do that. Sure I fantasized about just going up to her and saying, "Look, when can we get together and fuck?" And naturally, in my fantasy, she always replied, "Just say when."
It was about six months later when I got my first real chance to talk to her for more than a few minutes. I had noticed that she ate lunch every day at 12:30 in the break room. Some days she sat with other people but some days she sat alone. So I began bringing my lunch and sitting at another table in the room. After a week or two of this, I came into the break room one day while she was sitting alone. Getting up all the courage I could muster, I went up to her and said. "Hi, do you mind if I join you?"
She hesitated a second but smiled and said, "No, sit down." I started with small talk, asking about her specific job, her family, her children, etc. Finally, I decided to try to steer the conversation in the direction I wanted it to go.
"Can I ask you something?" I said. "Has anyone ever told you that you look just like that lady on the old Star Trek show? Did you ever watch that?”
"No, I never watched that one,” she said.
“Well, there was a beautiful black lady on this show and they always implied that that she was having an affair with the white captain of the space ship."
She started laughing. "Really?" she asked.
“Yes, and you look just like her,” I said. “No, I take that back. You are more beautiful. Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to be forward but I just think you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. I mean that as a compliment and I hope you take it that way."
"Oh, well thank you," she said. That's really nice."
I stalled at this point and the conversation soon came to a near halt. I got up to leave feeling somewhat disappointed. "I better get back to work," I said. "I appreciate you letting me eat lunch with you. Again, I hope I didn’t offend you. I wasn’t trying to be forward.”
