….“Knock, knock, knock,” Mr. Lovelace made a knocking motion on my door less cubical. “You’re gonna work yourself to death. You’re not gonna to eat today?”

“Mr. Lovelace--------,”
“Please, I told you, Roger’s fine. Mr. Lovelace is much too formal.”
“I’m just trying to be professional and respectful.”
“Like I said, Roger is fine with me. I don’t let just anyone call me by my first name,” he said as if it was supposed to be a privilege. Then he moved into my personal working space which made me a little uncomfortable. I quickly took my focus off of what was on my desk and made myself aware of  his actions.

“Well….uh…..I have a lot to cover in a little bit of time. You know how that is don’t you?” It seemed unusually quiet in the office, so I stood to see why it was so serene. To my surprise, the office was empty. I guess I was so engrossed in my work, I didn’t bother to look at the clock or hear the people filing out, for that matter.

“Yeah, you can’t get ahead without working hard,” he said with a seductive gleam in his eye. There was an uncomfortable silence between us. I fiddled with one of my locks nervously,  while subtly trying not to make eye contact. Normally, this type of closeness would call for a severe checking and in my younger days I would have let my Latino roots show on this arrogant ass nigga, but now was not the time. I had my future to think about, one blow up could cost me my house or even my car. Hell, I’m still making  payments on both.

“I think I’ll take that break now,” I said easing past him.
“Am I making you uncomfortable, Marisha?” I wanted to say ‘Hell yes, you old Muthafucka. And why are you calling me by my first name, you don’t have that right.’ But I kept it cool.

“I don’t know,  You tell me,” I said sarcastically, with my hands on my hips. “We’re alone and you’re up in my space breathing heavy. What you think?”

“What?…….I’m just being personable, what’s the problem?” he tried to sound innocent. I tried to keep my volume down but couldn’t.
“The problem is, you are in a position of power and right now you’re abusing it.”
“What are you implying, Ms. Thomas?”
“C’mon Roger” I held the last syllable long enough for him to hear my angst. “You and I both know what the deal is. This is hardly the first advance you’ve made towards me, probably the most determined, but hardly the first.”

By the time I finished the sentence, he walked up on me and planted a kiss right smack on the lips. I still had my eyes open watching him conjure up every bit of passion in those few seconds. Instinct took over me and made me react. Just when he though he was enjoying the moment, I released myself from his suction and bit down hard on his top lip. He screamed out in pain.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, bitch!”
“Ask yourself that question. Where do you get off pulling a stunt like that? You openly flirt with me in front of everybody, I let it pass. You, so  called, accidentally brushed up against me in the copy room, I let that go too. Like I ain’t gonna notice that old ass dick of yours rubbing up on my ass, I shoulda let you have it then. Now, you get all in my space tryin’ to mack me like Denzel or something and expect me to be cool about it. NIGGA PLEASE! And what about Mrs. Lovelace?”

“Who?”
“Your wife. The one that has your last name and bore your kids.”
“Oh…..what about her?” he said like I was speaking a foreign language
“What about her? I see how much she loves you when she drops you off. Sometimes she even brings your kids.”
“Now, why you have to go and bring them up into this?”
“Because, you brought them into this by trying to push up on me. I’m trying to let you know, in a nice way, that a piece of ass can cost you your family.”
“And not giving up the ass can cost you your job.”
“You just don’t get it, do you?”
I was about to unleash the beast when some of my co-workers started to filter in, two and three at a time. I wanted so bad to respond to that mild form of blackmail that my palms began to perspire. He, on the other hand, played it off smoothly, sliding unsuspectingly out of their view like nothing, out of the ordinary just took place.

“Think about that and I’ll get back to you on those issues,” he said in a business tone, covering his bruised lip. He touched it, noticed the trickle of blood, then he looked over his shoulder and cracked a devious smile. He walked into his office, closed the door,  letting down the Venetian blinds.

I returned to my work station and tried to resume where I left off. After about fifteen minutes, I could no longer stand being in the office, so I decided to flip my schedule and cover some of my on-site accounts. Normally, the procedure calls for you fill out a form listing the clients and location for Mr. Lovelace but my first mind told me to get the hell out of there, and I went with it. I told Sybil, in the cubical next to mine, to let the boss man know that I was going to be out for the rest of the day.

When I got home that evening, stress was still weighing on my shoulders like straps to a loaded backpack.. The only thing that seemed sensible was to draw a hot bath and let the steam engulf me. I tested the water temperature with my fingers, set it just right, then continued to let it run from the swan figured faucet.

While the tub filled, I poured in some Aveeno Stress Relief Body Wash. I’d purchased it a few weeks ago but had never used it, I hope it does what it says ‘relieve stress’. It bubbled when it mixed with the warm water  reminding me of my baths as a little girl. Once the water reached a steady level, I undressed and slid into a soft terry cloth robe. I pinned my dreads up off my neck then retreated to the kitchen. I pulled out a champagne glass and a bottle of Remy Red. It’s a combination of champagne and cranberry juice. I keep it chilled in the event of a special occasion, I guess tonight is as good as any.

I walked back into the bathroom and the cold tile sent a chill through my bones. I sat the bottle down and checked the water. It was rising steadily so I shot to my bedroom and went to my hiding place in my panty drawer and pulled out a sterling silver cigarette case. Inside were seven carefully rolled marijuana joints. I took two out, grabbed an ashtray and a lighter and returned to the sanctuary of peace.

The water was just about right and the whole bathroom took on the aroma of sweet apricots. I turned off the faucet and disrobed. Before I got in,  I went over to the small AM/FM radio I had on the shelf above the toilet, and turned it to the Quiet Storm. Prince’s high pitched tone resonated through the speakers, telling some unappreciated woman how much he adored her.

I stood in front of the mirror for a few moments, letting my green eyes stare back at me. God has truly blessed me to be a beautiful woman. I can say that because I remember when I wished to have a figure like this. I was voluptuous in all the right places. Some women are ashamed to have too much in their backyard. I’m proud of my booty, it’s an obvious product of my Black and Latino roots. In fact, it’s so perfectly shaped it’ll make J-lo and Beyonce go dress up like nuns to hide their frames.

I smiled in appreciation then eased into the welcoming suds. I got into a comfortable position letting the water surround the contours of my body. I reached over the side of the tub and grabbed the glass of sweet nectar. I thought about how hard of a day I just had and put the glass down, opting for the bottle instead. I took a healthy swig allowing the alcohol to take its course in my blood stream.

Its sweetness was so good it was hard for me to let go. I wanted so bad to erase what that arrogant bastard did that I was willing to turn myself into a lush. I placed the bottle on the floor, nearly toppling it, then reached over my shoulder, picked up the joint and lit it. The smoked danced in the air like it was mimicking the rhythm of Prince’s erotic groove.

Between the liquor and a series of inhalations, I could finally feel the tension seep from my pores. A couple more puffs and the days events became a vague memory. I came to the end of the joint and put it out, I couldn’t have burn marks on my manicured nails. I laid back, closed my eyes and thought back to my college days when I was introduced to weed’s full intoxication.

I’m just a recreational user now, but back then, you could’ve sworn I was an extra in a Cheech and Chong movie. One afternoon, my roommate brought in a little blue plastic bag, she called it her goody bag. We got lit up and tripped out on each other all night.

I’ve never been ashamed of my body. Sure, it has caused me some unwanted attention, but that’s part of being a woman. Between the stares, the whistles, or the cat-calls, I consider my looks to be a gift and a curse. Despite all of that, everyday I find a new way to love my self.

The elements in the body wash began to sink into my golden skin, making it slippery to the touch. I took one hand and ran it across the opposite shoulder. My skin felt like fine silk. I traced down my shoulder, outlining my right breast. In the process, I subconsciously brushed against my nipple. It tingled then erected. With closed eyes, I felt its hardness and repeated the process with the other one.

I couldn’t resist the impulse to continue the practice until I fell into the Rapture that Anita Baker was crooning about through the radio. I cupped my 36c's  a couple more times, letting the water splash between the cleavage. My thoughts focused on a place far from there.

I passed curiosity two exits ago and was headed steadily towards a land called arousal. My hand delved deeper into the abyss until it reached the underbrush concealing a hidden treasure within the thicket. I fingered my way through using my own heat sensor. Once I got to the intended destination, there was nothing in the way of achieving pure pleasure.

My two fore fingers sipped smoothly into the soft crevices of my vagina. I skillfully maneuvered them to locate the spot that puts me “there”. Let me explain where “there” is. “There” is that place where your body submits all resistance. “There” has no boundaries, no restrictions, and no rules. “There” is where your inhibitions are  thrown to wind and your body says “FUCK IT”, do as you please.

I found that little man that navigates the boat and started stroking his ego. He sent me his gratitude by emitting gestures through soft moans. Ironically, the sounds that were released, came from my mouth, in my voice.

I continued, lifting my legs up and bracing them against the back of tub, enabling my fingers to go deeper. My breaths became heavier the more friction I created. My hand moved so rapidly that when I heard the splashes, I opened my eyes and saw the water rippling against the tub walls.

My gyrations became more exaggerated the closer I came to climaxing. The shrills echoed off of the linoleum, drowning out Maxwell’s high octaves. He should’ve made the video for “A Woman’s Work” featuring me, the way I was performing. The euphoria felt after I reached my peak was so extreme, it surprised me how freaky I could get. My chest heaved as I slowed to a stop, then just paused there for a moment, head resting against the swan. Damn, I needed that…….