She had served with him on the Board of Directors. He had become a friend. She didn’t know many Black men personally in her lifetime.  Oh, she had indirectly made acquaintances from time to time, either at work or through her first husband, or through friends of her children.  She had simply never developed any close inter-racial experiences herself.  She didn’t have any problems with Black men that she knew of… she had never given it much consideration.               

Now at the age of 59, she could not believe what she was feeling.  She was the same slender, trim figure she had always been.  It was only when she examined her naked form in the mirror, that she acknowledged the insistence of gravity over the years.  Things simply weren’t located in the same place they used to be… but they still worked.  

Her own personal examinations routinely confirmed that everything still functioned according to design.  Her second husband was of some assistance in confirming this as well, but his attentions were of little help now that her interests were piqued.   

The more she thought about her new friend, the more he became the subject of her private fantasies.  Over a period of almost two years, she became comfortable with the friendship and the idea that it could be something special for her.   It was easier when she traveled on business.  Alone in her hotel room, she would writhe with pleasure in her bath or beneath the covers as she imagined his head buried between her thighs.  Her fantasy image of his naked body took on storybook proportions that drove her to muffle her screams of passion, as her own fingers gripped and twisted within her sex.   It became a private obsession that she shared with no one. 

At a party of the Board members, she had become terrified that she might have had a bit too much to drink.  Had she hugged him just a little too long and too tightly when she greeted him at the door?   Did she linger too closely or laugh too long in their conversations with him?  Had she successfully kept her eyes from lingering on his trousers in search of answers to unspoken questions?  She didn’t know… but as she rode her husband that night, she had closed her eyes tightly and imagined impossible realities. 

It was finally time to put her plan into action.

She genuinely needed his assistance in creating a brochure with his desktop publishing skills.   After a series of phone calls, she was ringing his doorbell on Saturday afternoon.   He was single and long divorced.   She was expected. 

She had dressed carefully in loose fitting shorts and a matching, dress tank top blouse.  Thankfully, the weather had cooperated and the heat of the day made her attire a logical choice. 

Similarly he was comfortably dressed in his jeans and an undershirt. She could see muscular definition in his arms and shoulders that she found agreeable.  The paunch above his belt was easy to ignore… and it was far less than her husband’s anyway.  They chatted amiably and drank iced tea as they moved into his office to work on her project.  

As he sat at his desk in front of no less than three computer screens, she settled herself comfortably on the couch in his office.  As they discussed her project she relaxed and drew her legs up beneath her.  While her document gradually took shape on his central screen, they talked about past relationships and experiences.  Laughter came easily.   Then, as he looked at her at one point, she finally saw his eyes drift down to her legs which were revealed high up on her hip beneath her shorts.   She gave no indication that she had seen his eyes, but this was what she had been looking for.

She lazily resettled herself again, as if seeking yet a more comfortable position, until she was sitting back on her haunches with her arms around her legs… her knees drawn up almost beneath her chin.   If he looked now… he would not only see the underside of her thighs, but possibly the barest hint of her white cotton panties.   She watched him closely as he continued to work and talk to her.  

Then he looked over and his eyes smoothly wandered over the backs of her thighs.  His gaze then rose and looked into her eyes … and held it for an extra beat. She held her breath as she looked at him.  She dared not smile, but she didn’t want to create an awkward moment either. His expression was patient, as if knowing somehow that a pivotal point had been reached.  He allowed only the faintest smile to tug at his lips.  When he returned his gaze to his computer screen, she exhaled as silently as she possibly could… feeling the flush creep up her bosom and across her neck.   As she shifted again... she put her legs back down.

They finished the mock up of the document, and chatted a bit more before she got up to leave.  She smelled his scent and tried to hold it in her mind as she hugged him briefly in gratitude.  She was tingling all over, and imagined that she could feel the outline of him through her thin cotton shorts just before they parted from the hug. 

As she hurried home, she knew that she probably only had an hour before her husband returned home.  She almost ran up the stairs and into her sewing room, where she felt comfortable in closing the door and locking it behind her, in case he returned early.  As she collapsed down on the settee, she reached down beneath the hem of her shorts and probed beneath the very wet fabric beneath that.

"Yes..." she sighed closing her eyes and summoning the images that would sate her fantasies for many months to come.

"Everything was still working just fine."