I had this co-worker buddy of mine named Terrance. He fit the prefect cliche for a man: tall, dark (in this case, Black) and fucking handsome nice ass...with a huge bugle in his pants. Yes we girls notice. And his voice . . . Ohhhh, it was like Barry White. I wanted him. I wanted him bad . . .One afternoon it was nearing closing time. I'd switched off my computer and was putting stuff away in my drawers when I saw him across in his own cubicle still working. The office is empty—wasn't nobody. Nothinghappened at all. Nothing like what you're thinking anyway. Well whatwere you thinking then? Oh. I see. You mean if it was nothing like whatyou were thinking, then it must have been something else. Well maybe itwas what you were thinking. Were you thinking he was looking at thebacks of my stockings? At the seams as they disappear beneath the hemof my skirt? The ones that get Julia so desperate? Well, yes, he mayhave been when I was putting the groceries away with my back to him. Upon the. More

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