She really wanted to fuck that young man, for he was an absolute babe and completely fuckable. That he was probably twenty years her junior mattered not one bit; he wouldn’t be the first tenderoni she fucked and he would not be the last. She liked them young; liked their strong hard bodies, liked their exuberance, liked everything about a younger man. Dick control was an issue at times and she was loathe to let them give her head, but never let it be said that Mahogany couldn’t teach a tenderoni how to fuck. An older man could do nothing for her except point her in the direction of his son. Mahogany didn’t give a shit; she liked what she liked and she didn’t care what anybody thought about her sexual preferences. She was grown.
The young man in question was the mail clerk. He was friendly; at least he was to her. He didn’t speak much other than to greet people; just dropped off the mail and kept on pushing the cart. Even though Mahogany had a secretary, the kid always poked his head in to speak to her whenever her door was open. Mahogany got to where she made sure her door was ajar whenever it was time for him to deliver the mail. He was ridiculously prompt and his five-second visit tended to be the highlight of her day. He was Japanese and he was beautiful in the way a young man could be; bronzed skin, well-built, dark almond-shaped eyes, silky black hair that he wore in a neat ponytail, and a pair of lips that she had imagined more than once against her clit, in spite of her reservations to the contrary. He was neat and dressed well; he wasn’t inclined to wear excessively saggy clothes (it was against company policy, at any rate). And his ears were oh-so-cute! He smelled good; it was a scent she could not name, but it was sexy as hell. On him, that was. Mahogany didn’t think it would work as well on another man.
Oh, but she wanted to fuck him. Mahogany didn’t know how she would get into a situation where she could entice him to her house and give him the night of his life. It was the lure to the Venus flytrap that was problematic. They did not run in the same circles. The mailroom closed at 3:30 and Mahogany didn’t leave work until late most evenings. She had no idea if she would ever see him in a place where she could get her considerable clutches into him. It was playing hell with her sexual tension; it had been a while since she had a nice young tenderoni in her bed. Once she figured out who he was, he would be a perfect little toy for her to play with for a few hours. And then she would get rid of him. That was her way.
Mahogany loved to read and tried to hit the bookstore three or four times a month. She had an eBook reader on her phone, but she liked the idea of a book: the actual weight of the story, the snap of the cover, the smell of the paper and the words on the page. It was against her religion to work at home unless absolutely necessary, so she read a lot on the weekends. But oftentimes, her book trips were exercises in frustration, for most of the African-American section (that there was an actual “section” was another irritant) consisted of hood lit, and she was not a fan of hood lit. She enjoyed a variety of subject matter and while she had no problems reading anything by anyone, she liked stories that featured people of color as protagonists, especially women, but quality reading on that was scarce at times.
Mahogany stood on one foot, absently turning the page of a novel and biting her lip when she heard, “Do you need some help?”
She snapped out of her reverie and looked up. The book slid out of her hands and hit the floor with a loud WHAP! The novel, a 500-page behemoth by her favorite author, landed on her foot. She sported red open-toed stilettos and nearly swore when the book crashed into her toe.
“Ow!” she cried. Fuck, she thought. It was him. The tenderoni from the mail room. His nametag read JORDAN and she could not believe he was standing right next to her, neat as a pin in khakis and a dark blue shirt. The shirt was loose enough that she could not discern any specific chest musculature, but his arms hinted at marvelous goodies underneath the clothes. She should have been focusing on her throbbing toe, but Jordan, the babe of her current fantasy, had her complete attention.
He looked at her and knelt to retrieve the book. “Are you all right?”
Mahogany winced as she stared down at him. He was looking at her feet and she sighed; her next breath was a squeak. She mustered enough spit to speak.
“Um…well…yeah.”
“Good,” he said. “Nice shoes.” He stood up, holding her book and smiled. “How may I assist you?”
Even his teeth were gorgeous. Lord have mercy. She so wanted to fuck him.
“I was looking for…” She averted her eyes for a moment, still trying to get her head around the fact that her prey was in the vicinity and she could not pounce. He caught her completely unawares and that was unwise for a predator. “I was hoping to find something decent to read.”
“What do you like?”
“Umm, well…I wanted to get some quality fiction from the Black section,” she made a tsking sound, “but it seems to be in short supply today. Or maybe my standards are just a bit too high to get caught up in Tynesha’s difficult decision of choosing between her thuggish baby’s daddy and the drug dealer who gives her multiple-O’s.”
He laughed. “I understand.”
“So,” Mahogany said, trying to get her bearings. “When did you start working here? Am I to understand that you won’t be delivering my mail anymore?” She prayed that wasn’t the case.
“Not at all. This is a part-time gig. And I’ve been working here for a couple of months.”
“Oh. So you’re holding down two jobs.”
“Pays the bills,” he said, reaching past her to pick up a book. The nearness of him combined with his distinctive scent made her head swim and she inhaled.
“You smell so good,” she murmured, and then closed her eyes in mortification. She was usually so much smoother than this. First, a bruised toe and second, a total loss of cool. She was definitely not her usual, suave, sexy self.
“Thank you,” he said. “It’s patchouli. And maybe you’ll like this. It’s one of my personal favorites.” He put the book in her hands. She glanced down at it, barely able to read the title.
“Anything else I can help you with?” Jordan asked, not shy about staring her down. Mahogany didn’t notice his casual perusal of her and it took her a moment to answer.
“Um, yes, I mean no, uh….” She put a hand against her face. “It’s just a surprise to see you here…Jordan.”
“Not for me,” he said. “I see you here all the time, Ms. Carroll.”
“You know my name?”
“Of course I do. Who in that place doesn’t?”
“Oh, it’s that bad?” She had a rep for being a hard-ass, but it came with the job and the money.
“I personally don’t think so, but a lot of my colleagues would disagree.” He looked her over once more.
Mahogany shrugged. “Oh well. I’m there to stay, so they’ll get over it.” She held the book with both hands and took another breath. “Do you have any horror or sci-fi recommendations?”
He smiled at her again. “Follow me.”
She did so, walking around a number of crammed shelves, trying not to stare at his shoulders or his backside. Jordan never wore anything fitting; no boy his age did, so she could not discern anything about his ass. It didn’t matter; she had the feeling it was as firm and as tight as the rest of him. In a matter of moments, he had two more books for her. Mahogany didn’t bother reading the titles, but it didn’t matter because she was going to purchase them.
“I think you’ll like these, Miss Carroll. It is Miss, right?”
She held up her hand. “It most certainly is.” Marriage sounded like a horrific nightmare and she wasn’t about to conform to any man’s standard for a wife. She liked to fuck, and if she understood her friends and colleagues correctly, married people didn’t fuck. That was not a lifestyle she was interested in. Besides, she wanted it made clear that she was available. “I’m a single diva, Jordan.” She still didn’t look at the books.
“Aren’t you going to read the titles?”
“No,” she said. “I trust you.”
“Okay,” he said. He smiled again and took the books she held. “If you don’t need anything else, I’ll carry these to the counter for you.”
She wondered if he was as attentive to all of his customers but it seemed as if he read her mind. “I don’t usually provide such personal service, but I know who you are.”
Mahogany stifled a groan and closed her eyes again. Dirty, nasty, freaky thoughts permeated her brain. He could service the hell out of her if she could figure out a way to get him into her flytrap. She took a moment to get herself together and then followed him to the counter. Jordan was waiting for her and she smiled at him. The clerk behind the counter smiled at him too, but he appeared not to notice. His eyes were trained on Mahogany.
“Enjoy the rest of your day,” he said and then flicked his eyes to the book on the top of the pile. Then he walked away. Mahogany watched him go, smiling, and then turned to the clerk, who was also watching Jordan retreat to the back of the store. The clerk, probably no more than nineteen, ogled him as if he were her future husband. Clearly, the girl liked the young man.
The clerk looked at Mahogany, blushing. Then she leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. “He is so sexy,” she said. “I have been trying to get with him for almost two months.”
Mahogany replied with a nod of her head and smirked as she looked at the clerk. “He is a cutie,” she said. But the look on her face was clear: Stay on the porch, young pup, because you can’t run with a big dog. The girl was way out of her league. She was no match for a grown woman on a mission.
It was sometime later on that day before she actually got around to looking at the books he chose for her, and to her surprise, a hastily scribbled note was stuck between the pages of the book she dropped on her foot.
I want to have dinner with you, it read.
Mahogany closed her eyes and shivered with pleasure. She was going to enjoy the hell out of the rest of her day. She didn’t know when Jordan had slipped the note inside the book, but it did not matter. He had made the first move and that was all she needed. She could do the rest. Mahogany was moist with anticipation; she was finally going to be able to fuck that delectable young man.
