Office Sex: a Tiny Corporate Novella Chpt. 1



by Eco.Soul.Intellectual

Nia’s Longing
Nia Indigo had been hanging out with Fabio for about four months and had not even given him a quick kiss. She hadn’t given him the ass, or not even her specialty, some mind blowing head. And it was wearing on her.

It wasn’t because he was unaesthetically pleasing, otherwise known as, ugly. Oh, he was finer than a mu’fuckah. Even her mama drooled and tried to poke out her 50-plus old booty when she saw him. Fabio made the sisters in her office trample each other to get a good view when he brought her lunch every Friday.

She swore Fabio was this God who had dropped from the skies of Brazil all dipped in Africa’s chocolate with hints of red clay from the Amazon. His body was chiseled from the hands of a genius. And he was indeed a great to look at.

His dick was massive. Well, at least she assumed it was from the way his pants hugged him when he flexed his body in intricate positions in Capoeira class they took together some nights.

Even the men were ogling Fabio when he took off his shirt in Capoeira because he was just that gourgeous. Nia knew that if you could have a straight man consider switching his sexual preference you were in another a whole other kind of category of attractiveness.

His personality was uber inviting. Fabio was peace. He was a proud man who boasted about his daughter in Sao Paolo and his Afro-Brazilian roots; but never once did he dog out African-Americans like her previous lovers of the African Diaspora who took time to bash black Americans at every chance.

If she heard one more West Indian or African call an African-American man a criminal or a woman look her with disgust, she would call immigration her damn self. Then again, some days she wanted to call the body snatchers to remove a block full of ingrates that included a few cousins and a crack-head uncle or two.

On the other hand, Fabio was as sweet as Louisiana praline fresh off her grandmother’s plate. Plus he could sing in a falsetto that made panties melt into volcanic liquid.

And he had a job! Yes, he willingly paid for meals and was honest when they had to make a McDonald’s run. It was all love. He worked his ass off. As a matter of fact, he just opened up his own barbershop down the street from where she worked and it was jumping.

For the first time, Nia, who was known for her cockiness and bravado thought that Fabio might be a little out of her league. He was damn near too fine.

In fact, she didn’t know how to respond to his subtle, yet graceful advances that were often in Portuguese. They sometimes threw her off because she just didn’t have one of her famous one-liners as a reply. In many instances, Fabio made her feel like panting like a damn dog as she stuttered her way out of awkward, but potentially steamy situations.

Really, she was scared of him. She liked him with a ferocity she never experience. However, she didn’t know what he wanted from her. That led to a dilemma that she could not figure out. What could he be or what should he be to her?

Friend. One with benefits. Lover. Hubby. Baby Daddy. Or significant other? Hmmm, she wanted all of the above.

Damn, why couldn’t she just be a slut and fuck the shit out of him in her car on a lunch break? She had done it before, but this was something different. Something quite powerful that she could not explain.

Fabio didn’t speak good English. That didn’t mean shit because the intense connection they were cultivating did not require words. With her Portuguese-English dictionary and his ESL classes, they were beginning to make sense of the jabber-like communication.

Nia thought it was powerful to speak to someone through jibberish and non-verbal language then understand it as if they were having a very clear conversation. She just hoped he didn’t catch the times she had to squeeze her legs extra tight so her clitoris would not jump out of her panties and slap his tongue in a move that dared him to lick.

Fabio often told Nia that her family looked like his people in Bahia—beautiful, shapely and loud women with generous smiles; and strong men who allowed themselves to be loved and often led by black women.

She could never articulate to him that she thought he was too good to be true. She wanted to break out of her cool demeanor in those times a question burned at the back of her throat and yell, “Nigga, do you want a green card or something?”

However, she had to stay as collected as possible because one flex of emotion and she knew she would jump on his dick.

And today was not the day. Nia did not expect him to bring her lunch on a Wednesday, hump day of all days. And her ass was ovulating, therefore she was extremely horny and on the prawl.

Fabio’s Desire: Could you be Yemaya, damn, you must be Osun
Earlier that Wednesday morning, Fabio made a decision that would either get him to the next level with Nia or get him slapped.

He couldn’t stand another morning of masturbation while smelling the scarf that Nia left on his barber chair a couple of weeks ago. He gave her low cut a nice fade and a quick eyebrow arch.

He wanted to swallow the nape of her neck, but held his breath as he carefully sculpted a perfect hairline.

As Fabio made a cup of coffee that Wednsday morning. He made a decision. He would tell her how much he adored her. Or would she reject him? Should he wait? Hell, he didn’t know.

One thing he was sure about, Fabio was getting impatient and he had to do something drastic. Though the videos and American movies tell you to slap a bitch, grab her butt, or call her bitch before you grab her hair and fuck her, he couldn’t do that. Plus Nia seemed like she would cut him if he even dared.

He was a musician, a singer. To him love was like a sensuous melody full of surprises. It was something like his life.

He came to the United States on a Visa to teach music students at the University to learn Candomblé songs. It was some new initiative to revive the relationship that Jazz musicians from the States once had with Brazilian artists.

He missed Brazil. He missed the foods, the smells, his Amazon ganja tree and his beloved family. He longed for the freedom that inhabited the bones of Brazilians; but quite honestly, he was also happy to be somewhere new and different that pushed him to be a better man.

It was shocking to come to the United States. The people were like rigid robots running a rat race he could never understand nor keep up with. They frowned all the time or plastered-on fake smiles when he told them where he was from. They treated like a charity case or some exotic species.

He felt as if he was on constant display. As if Brazil was a third-world slum and he, this illiterate Afro-Brazilian singing for coins.

What was a relief to Fabio was that the guest house he was staying at was in the middle of black community called Zora’s Cove. It was a pocket of vibrant, African energy that was conjured up nightly in the small mom-and-pop businesses that lined about six streets.

On any given night, he could go to jazz, or take a Capoeira class, or drum with some of the elders in park without having to talk. He vibed on the people and that became his solace. He became a people watcher, looking at the movements of homeless women to transvestite prostitutes that bobbed between urban shamans and street philosophers.

His nightly ritual of immersing himself in Zora’s Cove was something that helped him deal with so much trouble of the world.

Fabio stayed at a guest home of a woman who was an anthropologist. An African-American woman named Jenetta Jewel. She was a saint, but her daughter, Jendayi, was an evil lunatic.

Jendayi refused to accept his declines when she offered him money in exchange for sexual favors. Not only was she ugly to him, her spirit was nasty. She thought she could fuck him at her leisure by denying him access to food and even the house when her mother was out of town.

The tension in the house grew and made him uncomfortable. But he had nowhere else to go; yet he was plotting a getaway. He prided on being a man. He had survived the favellas of Rio de Janiero, so the streets of the city were nothing to him. Sleeping in a park or at the nearby beach was a mini-vacation. His spiritual mothers and fathers would take care of him, thus take care of that piece of trash Jendayi.

Some days he tried to tell Nia his situation. His words would come out wrong and she could never get the full story. He didn’t want her to know anyway because he didn’t want it to seem as if he wanted to move in with her. He just wanted to be caressed by someone he admired and who listened to him, even if she did not understand.

With his limited English, he tried to tell her that he was digging the shit out of Nia. He had never met a woman so passionate, so refined, yet so rooted.

She inspired songs in him that were stuck in his heart for years. Songs that made his dick, rock solid hard when he sang them to her.

He knew she was delicious. Her ass carried a rhythm when she walked that reminded him of the warm Atlantic ocean. Her eyes sparkled when she smiled and her ample breasts bounced like the drums of his mother’s village.

Working on Langston Hughes Avenue at the barbershop between teaching classes at the university, he could have many of women of all colors and sizes. A professor of Portuguese slipped her keys in his pocket. One of the hairstylists at the salon down the street from his shop came in and sat in front of him without any panties on. Even the health-food woman sent him free smoothies and gift cards for a free back massage.

And yes, he did get aroused. These women were beautiful and sexy. He just didn’t want them. He wanted her.

Lunch by Any Other Name
Fabio knew the location of Nia’s office by heart. It was the last office on the south side of the building, just after the bathrooms.

He had been visiting every Friday for 9 weeks and became quite familiar. He could close his eyes and map out the building of the magazine’s headquarters.

Fabio knew he was taking a chance by visiting on a Wednesday. Tuesday was deadline day at Eco.Soul Magazine and she ususally didn’t come into the office. He waited until after 2 o’clock just in case she decided to come in late.

If she was there, Fabio knew that the Orisa were paving the way.

Luckily, most of the cubicles were empty. Fabio hated to make a scene while there. Though he appreciate the warm invitation of women, he didn’t like all the attention.

The only person in the front was teh reception, Jake Pa-tah. He gave the male receptionist a pound and asked if he could surprise Ms. Indigo. Jake Pa-tah was this cool, old school guy who lived a hard life, and knew all the tricks. He smiled wide and winked at Fabio’s request then waved him in quitely after saluting Fabio as Fabio rounded the corner.

Fabio could smell Nia’s cinnamon-myrhh candle burning from down the hall. She was there. Adupe Orisa.

Fabio inhaled deeply. The scent of love. Then peaked into her small inside-window. Nia was typing something on her computer with headphones on. She was bobbing to a good tune becuase her eyes were half-closed and it seemed as if she was grooving more than typing. She was so deep into her project that Fabio realized that Nia did not know he was watching. Oh, she was breath-taking.

He ducked under the window and crept into her office as if he was on an intelligence recognizance mission. Slowly he walked up to her and ever so softly, put his hand on her shoulder. She jumped and turned around with a envelope opener in her hand ready to stab.

When Nia saw Fabio, her look of attack turned into one of anger then surprise and finally a wide smile. They both laughed.

Nia quickly closed the blinds to her office so her nosy female colleagues would not peak in like they usually did. She pulled up a chair for Fabio to sit in her modest-sized work-space. She looked around at her office and it seemed as if a hurricane passed through.

Nia was a little embarassed because papers and mess was strewn all over the place from last night’s mad dash to complete another weekly issue. She started picking up old water bottles and files from the floor.

Fabio grabbed her hand and told her not to worry. However, Nia slapped his hand away and continued to pick up odd items while apologizing.

As she was about to apologize for the tenth time, Fabio stood up in front of her. His large body next to her short frame made her pause. She forgot that he was at least 6 feet 4 inches. Damn, he was big and fine.

Fabio, gently took the trash from her hands and put it in an overflowing bin. He then put his hands on her waist and sat her down. She gasped ever so slightly.

After a second of silence, Fabio mustered up his courage and said, “Nia, I want you to be a good friend?”

“Fabio, I am your good friend. You are my friend.” Nia quickly responded. She didn’t know what he was saying. She thought he was telling her goodbye. Maybe he was being deported. Oh shit.

She started shaking her head to signal that she did not understand.

“Nia, Nia, I love you. I want to, I want to fucky, fucky.” Said Fabio in frustration and lust.

“What the fuck did you say?” Nia frowned. Damn, it was going down like this. What the hell is a grown man asking for sex saying fucky, fucky?

“Yes, fucky, fucky. I want to fucky, fucky you,” he said faster.

Fabio got nervous. By the way Nia’s mouth turned down he knew he said the wrong thing. He should not have listened to his cousin from back home who swore that American women liked that term, “fucky, fucky.” His stupid ass cousin said it was romantic to them.

Apparently, Nia felt the opposite.

“Dude, I don’t know where you got that shit from, but that is not cool. That is not even. I don’t know what to say.” And Nia’s frown reversed as she began to laugh. Poor Fabio, it must be hard trying to get some pussy.

Nia got up and opened the door as she told Fabio she had a lot to do. She walked him to the door and gave him a hug. “All he wants is a fucking green card,” she said to herself as she went back to her office.

As she turned her door a warm hand was placed over hers. Seh looked back. It was Fabio again. He opened the door and backed her into the room. She sat down with an attitude. This nigga did not get it, he was not going to get citizenship on her account.

She started, “Fabio look,” and could not finish when he lifted up her skirt and stuck his hands up her thighs.

As if the response was natural, she lifted up her ass so he could pull off her grannie panties. Why out of all days did she have on big mama drawers.

Fabio seemed as if he did not care. The cloth fabric was like this intricate labyrinth to get to an area she hadn’t waxed in like six months.

“OMG, my pussy is a hairy beast,” Nia thought. But her body did not respond to any of her insecurities. It gave in.

Fabio reached up her thighs and almost fainted. Her skin was the softest he ever felt. And she was normal. She had on regular underwear and none of those thongs that made women’s vagina’s smell like old tilapia.

He grabbed her panties and pulled. Rather he ripped them off of her and smelled that she was already hot and wet. It smelled like a river of Osun’s water. He had to and he did, his face plunged into the warm baptismal waters.

Nia spread like a flexible porn-star. She was dumb-founded and fucked up in the head, and horny, as Fabio put his whole mouth on her pussy, swallowing every ounce of juice she released.

About 10 minutes into Fabio’s oral pleasure she lost consciousness; especially when he put his tongue in her ass and she came…twice.

When she came to, Fabio was wiping his mouth and chest with the shreds of her grannie panties. He had this wicked smile on his face as he sang in falsetto, a song for her.

“He can fucky, fucky me all day,” Nia thought.

Nia went to the bathroom to get some water and paper towels. When she came back she was embarassed. Her office smelled like couchie juice and sweaty nut sacs. She needed more than a candle. She needed Febreeze and incense.

As Nia lit her Nag Champa and Fabio put back on his shirt. She realized that she was sprung and he only penetrated her with his tongue. She smiled. “Definitely a lover, a friend with benefits, maybe a significant other,” she thought.

Enjoy the rest of the novella next Friday