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About book -Sensual Noir/Romance/Erotic Intrigue

Sheryl Banks started this diary of …(well, she doesn’t know yet, LOL). She just knows she has this fascination about being wickedly sensual all the time.

Join her to find what every woman wants: a man. A good man! 

Her life isn’t that exciting, but she thinks it’s sure to keep you on your toes.

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Entry Seven

When I arrived to work Friday morning – late, like I told you – I found two-dozen roses on my desk from Mack. I smiled to myself and read the card:

Thanks for just being you. Too bad I had to leave the country on business, but I wanted to let you know you are thought of. I’ll see you when I return. Mack

I smiled to myself and sighed. Now that I had a lot of time to think about it – on my drive to work – I would have to rate Mack at a seven and a half as a lover. I didn’t expect him to be perfect (because no one is and I know that). Nor did I expect him to be Rick (that’s a nine, LOL.)

The problem was, though Mack knew how to get the job done, he had some reservations. Reservations that now bothered me in the light of day.

Last night when we fully explored each other’s bodies, I saw that he had some inhibitions about kissing me after I kissed him below his waist. I was too caught up in the moment to take note of it then, but as I really thought about it, it did kind of bother me. But then I won’t think too much into it.

Peter cornered me as soon as I got settled into my office. He was about two inches taller than me and had a black man’s lips – all thick and juicy. But since he was married, I never say anything about his lips. I just enjoy seeing him talk.

“You’re the best!” he exclaimed, coming in my office.

“Oh really?”

“Yes! Mackeroy happily signed on the dotted line before he left on his vacation to Europe. He got me looking like I’m the shit.”

“So you’ll be cutting me a check, right?” I teased.

He laughed. “Give me something else to give you, Sheryl.”

“Tickets to a great concert?”

“Brian McKnight is coming in next week,” he suggested.

“Two of them, good seats,” I said firmly.

He kissed me on the cheek and started to leave the office.

“Peter,” I called.

“Yeah, Sheryl?”

“Congrats to you.”

“Thanks.”

“I meant on being a new father.”

“Oh yeah.” He flushed embarrassed. “Thanks on that.” Quickly he rushed away.

By the afternoon, Cassandra Stanton, my new assistant, was sitting in the seat reserved for such a position. Soon as I walked up to her, she jumped up and outstretched her hand in greeting.

She was a nice black woman – although I hadn’t known I had chosen a black woman at the time. Usually all my assistants were white, young and eager. I like those because they were always hardworking and focused. Black women usually harbored a lot of jealousy towards a sista with power, so I choose to stay away from the drama and hire people who really wanted to come and work.

“I’m Cassandra-”

“I know your name.” I cut her off briskly, set in the fact that I’d be choosing another assistant in about a couple of weeks once I wore this one out and pissed about it. “And I’m sure you’re aware of mine.” I nodded toward the door with my name on it that she’d been staring at before I walked up. “Look, could you take my palm, upload all my appointments until next week and then download my meeting notes for today, format them and then get them on my desk in the next hour. I have a dinner appointment with James Kaffey and-”

She cut me off as politely as possible. “He canceled.”

“What?” I snapped.

“Mr. Kaffey called while you were gone and said his daughter had to be rushed to the hospital. He wanted to know if you could move the dinner ‘til next week.”

Fuck! I said to myself. I had to fly to New York next week to present the information Mr. Kaffey was going to give me to some clients.

“No, I can’t move the dinner. I’ll be in New York next week,” I told Cassandra.

“I know that, Ms. Banks. I saw the plane tickets on your desk, so I asked if he could at least see you quickly tomorrow afternoon, if everything’s okay with his daughter,” Cassandra replied.

I was mildly impressed, but I didn’t show it. “And did he accept?”

“Not until I threw in that you were personally sending over to the hospital a great get–well-soon basket from Neiman Marcus that would be every nine-year-old’s dream.”

“I did?”

She laughed. “Well, you are if you’d just sign the petty cash receipt.”

I smiled, but only a little to show how proud I was of her. “Thanks. Keep on top of that, so I won’t overbook. I really need that information.”

“Yes, Ms. Banks. Would you like me to get you anything else?” Her spirit shone through. She made me feel like she could take care of things.

This was the first time I felt like that with a black woman at a job.

“No, I’m fine,” I replied. “Let me get this report through and I’m waiting on a call from the Florida office.”

“Yes, Ms. Banks.”

I assessed her all over. She was about a buck fifty, with short hair like Halle Berry. Except she reminded me of Gabrielle Union in Breaking all the Rules, trying to look like Halle Berry. Instead of black, Cassandra’s hair was naturally light brown and honey golden. I like to watch it as I dictate my letters.

It had always been a habit of mine to just stare as I concentrated. Usually my assistants would say it creeped them out, but Cassandra didn’t seem to mind. Matter of fact, I think she kind of liked knowing I was staring at her.

In the first day we worked together, not only did I find myself impressed by my new assistant’s intelligence, but also by her ability to get the work done without me reminding her all the time. I hate that.

We worked until midnight and then we found a Coney Island to get a chicken salad. I dropped her off at her home about three in the morning, hoping she didn’t get in trouble with her husband because we had found so much to speak about.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Banks. He’s just happy I’m making some kind of money,” Cassandra reassured me. “And I’ll help you with your sister’s stuff, but maybe we won’t call her crazy just yet.”

Somehow I had let it slip about my sister, but I didn’t know who else to turn to and Cassandra really made me feel comfortable.

“Thanks, Cassandra,” I said. “See you Monday.”

 When she was in the house, I drove off.

Now my weekend was a whole different story.

Diary Of A… (c) Sylvia Hubbard. All Rights Reserved 2010 | Published by HubBooks

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