My workplace fun with "Mac"

I remember when I was in the same regional office location with a stocky handsome black man who was 19 years my senior. I was 24, right out of grad school and he was 43. I worked in personnel, and he was the trucking and warehouse supervisor.

I was 5-3, curvy, but not exceptionally busty. However, I was told by many in college that my “upside down-apple” rounded derriere and big brunette hair were two of my exceptional features. It’s probably worth noting that I converted to a blonde within a year of my employment at the urging of my husband whom I had married 2 years earlier. My co-worker, Mac was a very large black man, 6-5, heavy-set, military veteran, former trucker, and logistics expert who cast a large powerful presence whenever he entered a room. I had heard through the company grapevine that he loved the ladies but was not one who would “kiss and tell”.

To this day, I cannot explain it, but Mac and I seemed to have this unspoken, flirty vibe between us right from the start. In fact, we made it a point to communicate this “frisky” mutual interest in each other, yet always be as outwardly professional as possible. I still can't identify the catalyst that fueled this paradox. Maybe it was our age difference, diverse backgrounds, or the interracial taboo at that time? Whatever it was, it was most appealing!

It was like we each tried to telepathically convey dirty thoughts just by looking at each other, yet still discussing business. Of course, we never talked about what we thought was going on between us because I think we both really enjoyed the intrigue and mystery of our relationship.

On a routine basis, when he came in to check on paperwork, I always tried to give him a "peak" down my blouse as he would stand over me or give him a flash between my legs once he sat down to talk in my office. I almost always wore a skirt or dress in those days.

Even though we never spoke outwardly about it, I knew he was looking, and he knew I was showing. Of course, he (and I) both really felt the heat, when I stopped wearing underwear, and I conveniently left my legs open when it was just the two of us, but I did it just enough to make him wonder if it was intentional or just by chance? Either way, he got to see my trimmed, but extraordinarily thick "brunette Mohawk” against my pale white skin.

Remember, I was a blonde by now, so my secret was out (only to him) that my “carpet and drapes” did not match. (lol!) I would watch his eyes and he made sure I knew he liked what he saw. Yet, still, no direct talk about the subject! On some days it got so steamy I felt the need for a cigarette after he left the room, and I didn’t even smoke!

Then I noticed occasionally when he came in with an armful of paperwork, he would turn to me and stand in my door entrance, so I had full view of his stiff BBC tenting up in his pants. He would then find a reason to walk over to my desk and place a document in front of me so we could both review it while his stiffness was just inches from my face. Yet, we still said nothing; and the sexual tension just kept getting hotter and hotter!

Of course, as I mentioned earlier, I was married, and I knew our passionate “mental dialogue” couldn't go much further without me getting into trouble, so, for the time being, we just left it at that. However, the harmless, playful teasing was fun, I must admit, and this routine carried on for almost two years. I viewed it as a brief, but harmless periodic fantasy escape that doubled as a stress reliever. My husband didn’t complain either as he was the beneficiary of my physical release when I got home!

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