Wednesday, 12:41 p.m.
Nicollette stared at her limp salad and chuckled lightly. Limp! Just like my sex life, she thought wistfully. Michael McLaughlin sat across the table from her. He seemed to be gazing in her direction longingly, ever so often. Nicollette looked behind her and saw an extremely thin, yet pretty blond at a nearby table. Aahh, that explains it, she figured. Nicci was sure that Mike was practically drooling over the "hot young thang," just like any other guy of his caliber would. The blond was very..."waif." That would be the way that Vogue magazine probably would have described her. Perhaps, even earning the prestigious title of "heroin chic." Nicollete had no idea when heroin had become chic and not simply addictive. But hey, she knew how white people loved to make up silly, trendy names for describing models.
Nicollette herself was also thin (but she had curves in alll the right places). Standing 5'8" tall, she had caramel-colored, brown skin, 36B breasts, shoulder-length, jet-black hair, and flashing, light-brown eyes. Her lips were full and thick, the kind that many Hollywood actresses paid big money for. But unlike theirs, her's were all natural. As well as her ass. Plump, tight and round would probably be the way that Ebony or Essence magazine would have described it. Maybe even..."healthy."
As Mike and Nicci were ascending in the elevator, to their respective departments on the 15th floor, Mike leaned over and whispered into Nicollete's ear:
"I need to talk to you," he said.
"Why?"
"I'll tell you when we get upstairs."
...
Nicollette led him to her cubicle.
"Okay, now what did you want to talk about, Michael?" Nicollete wanted to know.
Mike knew how nosy the people within the company could be, especially the old lady who was in the cube across the wall from Nicollete.
"Let's go to my office."
Mike had come to the company about a year ago as a junior VP. He had made quick friends with the people in the department on the other side of his floor from his office, especially, Nicollette.
They reached Michael's medium-sized, corner office. He closed the door behind him. Nicollette was now genuinely perplexed. She had been pretty, good friends with Mike for the past 10 months, and he had never insisted on talking to her in such close quarters.
"You can sit down if you want," Mike said.
Nicci lowered herself onto the small, black leather couch in the corner. As she sat, her knee-length, smooth skirt rose a bit. But, she didn't notice the light sigh that escaped Mike's lips as he caught a glimpse of her thighs. Michael sat on the edge of his desk, straight across from her. Then, he started to speak.
"Nicollette, I've been trying to think of a way to tell you this for a very, long time. So, I've decided to keep this as short and sweet as possible. Basically, it boils down to this: I think it's extremely difficult to find many women who have intelligence, beauty, charm, and grace. And, a sense of humor." He chuckled nervously. "But, in my opinion, you have all of all of those combined. To put it simply...I want you."
Nicci gasped in surprise. She couldn't help but notice the slight bulge developing in Michael's dark pants. But, before she could speak, Mike continued:
"It's been a very, long time since I've felt this way about someone. When you first walked into that board meeting, all those months ago, something stirred in my heart. And I knew that I had to have you. From the moment I laid eyes on I've wanted to touch your beautiful, brown skin...to kiss those full, luscious lips of yours..." His words tapered off and he appeared deep in thought. Apparently, about Nicollete.
Nicci had noticed how the bulge in has slacks had begin to grow as he spoke of her physical characteristics. Now, she was growing a little sexually excited herself, and her nipples begin to harden.
She had thought of Michael many times as a handsome, intelligent, and physically attractive man herself. He was 27 and she was 24. But, it wasn't the small age difference that made her hesitant about being with Mike. It was the fact that he was white. Albeit, 6'2" tall, with short, curly, chocolate-brown hair, and sparkling, green eyes that made all of the secretaries practically swoon, but white none the less.
At that point, it occurred to Nicci that Mike was probably gazing so adoringly at her, during lunch, and not the blond girl. Well, good!, she thought. I'm tired of blondes anyway! With Britney, Christina, Jessica, and Mandy, I wish people would pick a new hair color! It's as if they think blond = automatically attractive.
"So it was me...not the waif..." Nicci muttered to herself unconsciously.
"What?" Mike asked.
"Nevermind."
"Listen, sweetheart," Mike said. "I know you probably can't say whether or not you'll be with me now. I'll just give you time to think about this."
Friday, 5:12 p.m.
Nicollette sat at her desk, thinking about Michael. He seemed so sincere with his words two days ago. She no longer cared about his race. He was pretty cool despite that. Besides, she was lonely, and it had been nearly a year and a half since she'd been with a man. She had had her heart broken, gotten over it, and was now ready to move on. With someone new, someone fresh, someone different, and someone...Micheal.
Friday, 11:20 p.m.
Mike and Nicci were on the phone with each other, talking things out. She was telling him about her past relationship and how difficult the breakup was. He too, revealed to her that he hadn't had a sexual relationship with someone in a about a year. He evidently was holding out for her. He said that he was tired of the ditzy bimbos that were only good for one thing. And half the time they weren't even GOOD at that. They had seemed to just go through the motions. He needed a girl that appealed to his brain as well as his body. Michael said that woman was her.
Nicollette had never been so flattered and moved by a man in her life. To think that he had actually ceased having sex, in a vow to try and win her over. This notion propelled her to drive across town to his apartment and surprise him. Nicci bathed, and put on her sexiest undergarments: a red, lacy bra, and red, silky panties with a lacy trim. Over the lingerie, she put on a slinky, black dress that accentuated her curvaceous features. Nicollette slipped on some black sandals, and waltzed out the front door. She thought to take her toothbrush, just in case.
Saturday, 12:23 a.m.
Mike rose from his computer desk to answer the door. He had been finishing a project for work to try and get his mind off of Nicci. He couldn't stop thinking about how sensual she looked when he had revealed his feelings for her. Her almond-shaped, cinnamon-colored eyes widened with disbelief, and her kissable lips formed an astonished "O." That in itself made Mike want Nicci even more. That's why he had ended their conversation quickly; he could barely contain himself when she was around. I need help. I can't stop thinking about this woman for five seconds, he thought. He opened the door, and there stood Nicollette, looking sexy as hell. Micheal started to speak.
