Julia swept into the office like a hurricane.
Tall, dark skinned, big breasted and blessed with legs that seemed to go on forever, her gap toothed smile was like the sun breaking out of the clouds after rain. She was lovely in her white top and short black skirt.
“Good afternoon guys. Who is Chijioke?” she asked as she stepped into the office I shared with two other colleagues, her perfume chasing away the mustiness.
Our office is called the Mortuary because it’s the data centre set right at the back of our building, in what was the Boy’s Quarters before a connecting passage was built.
“Me,” I said my breath catching in my throat.
She was lovely.
She had on lacy white bras which were clearly imprinted on her blouse and looking I thought I could make out her dark nipples.
“They say you can help me.”
“What do you need?” I asked straightening my tie. I would have walked through fire for her.
Julia told me what she wanted and we agreed to spend an hour after work for five days to put her through.
Those five hours we spent alone in the Mortuary, my colleagues gone, as I showed her how to use the Excel spread sheet for her work was pure torture. My dick was hard most of the time and every time her body – a hand, her breast or hair brushed against me I thought I would come in my pants. She had such a huge effect on me.
“How is it going with your girlfriend,” Cecilia, our female colleague, asked on the third day.
“Girlfriend ke?” Damian, my other colleague sneered before I could answer. “Chijioke can never see that one’s pant na. She is way above his level.”
And the two of them; the fat Cecilia with greasy hair and Damian with the mouth odour cackled like hyenas.
“Damian, you are too funny,” Cecilia said digging her handkerchief out of her hand bag and mopping her fat cheeks.
I said nothing because there really was nothing to say. Julia seemed way out of my league. I mean, where would I start from? Girls like that didn’t go out with Data processors like me who are so unimportant they put us in the mortuary.
But that did not stop me from hoping, from believing that one day, she would look at me the way a woman looks at a man.
But I was wrong. Julia had her boyfriend who came by to pick her sometimes. He was tall and always looked like he had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Not to talk of the fact that he drove a Range Rover jeep while I scooted around town with a Kia Soul.
It would never happen I told myself. All I could hope for was stare at the picture I took of her with my cheap phone while I wanked off in my self-contained apartment.
That was the sum of my ambitions but then something happened.
On the Friday after our last lesson she turned to me and said “Pick. Dinner at a Protea or home cooked meal at my place tomorrow. I need to say a proper thank you.”
“Oh, Julia it’s not necessary,” I said stupidly.
“I insist. My place tomorrow. 6pm. I am a great cook,” she said as she scribbled her address on a piece of paper then as I stood up to walk her out she turned and enfolded me in a hug, her breasts flat against my chest.
I came in my pants.
Continues next week.