Every unmarried man who loves women has a little black book where he keeps a catalog of the females he has had and desires to have. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not really a book-book; it’s just a repertoire of doable daughters of Eve. Could be stored in his head or his phone as just contacts or his Facebook friends but never a book. If you meet a guy with a literal black book, run! He’s a manwhore!
In the case of my boss, I am his little black book but he has no idea. I never really wanted to be a personal assistant to a hotel mogul; it just sort of happened as I sat down lost amongst a throng of sexy girls viable for the position in his secretary’s office. I had come for the systems analyst job because computers are my thing. Physically, I geeky-looking and very, very uninviting but he picked me. I tried to explain that I wasn’t there for the position he was offering me and he said he didn’t really need a personal assistant, that he just wanted somebody he wouldn’t jump right into bed with. I cried all night but I took the job the next day and came in fully clad in my Ugly Betty attire (without the excessive colors). The salary was extremely attractive, though.
That was four years ago. And I am still there. And I have seen women come and go and I am still there, untouched, unwanted, unseen by him… That’s not the point. You see, my boss can get any woman he wants with absolutely no commitment and keep her on all fours, literally crawling for more. I’m not mincing words if I call him a legendary ladies’ man. There are only a few who can do what he does and come out unscathed with no screaming baby tagging along and a nagging baby mama with unending drama.
I will share some of his stories and guys, you could learn a thing or two about this brother (name withheld) who is real and not a fiction of my imagination.
Bad to the Bone
No matter the age, occupation, orientation or status, every woman loves a bad boy. If not all the time, at least once in her life. Why? Do I need to be redundant and tell you nice guys finish last? Obviously they’re tedious. They always ask women how they are feeling, if they want to talk about it, where they would want to have dinner, blah blah blah. yawn. A woman would rather have you say ‘I know you’re still feeling balmy after last night. Shhh, don’t talk about it right now, wait till after dinner at my place tonight. By the way, you’re cooking.’ I remember those lines word for word because I overheard my boss saying them to the guest executive chef who had been invited to train the kitchen staff for two weeks. When she first began working, no one knew she was female underneath the double-breasted, baggy white jacket she always had on. Even her hair was hidden beneath the long hat thingy and there was a debate over if she was bald or cone head. By day, she was a regular boa constrictor in the kitchen; at night, she was a lonely bat like me. No one knew this, well, except for the only bad boy we had in the building.
The first time he spoke to her was after a staff meeting. She had come in late and squeezed herself into a hidden corner but he had picked her out. The moment he looked at her, I saw something familiar in his eyes and I knew he was going to be hitting that in less than forty-eight hours. No, scratch that and make it thirty-six. Sporting all black on that hot Monday morning indicated he was either really, really pissed or in the mood for mystery. Mystery it was and the moment the meeting ended, the games began.
He asked me when I walked into his office, “Anna, do you think I should start seeing someone again? I’m trying to remove the dating fatwa I put over myself for the past four months. I need a woman that is down to earth, easy going and very crazy in the sack. Know anyone like that?”
She’s standing before you.
“Why are you asking me that type of question, sir? Am I a lesbian?”
He looked at me from top to bottom and said seriously, “excuse my language but you do have a vagina, don’t you?”
“Sir, that chef woman has been waiting for you for the past twenty minutes.”
“Oh! I forgot!”
That was a lie.
He got up and followed me out to the waiting room, apologized to her for keeping her waiting and with all the charm of a gentleman, asked if she could teach him to prepare a light but exotic meal that he could use to win a woman’s heart. Her full lips spread into a smile and she was hooked.
That night, as I doubled as kitchen assistant, I watched him shamelessly creep into her without her even noticing it. He turned the humor on and had her ROTFL like they were old friends. I caught the occasional casual hand on his thigh each time she wanted to emphasize a point and the manner in which her voice husked into bedroom tones each time she resumed tutoring as if food was supposed to be sexual. The chemistry was way over the roof and I felt they were going to do it right on the kitchen counter once I walked out but halfway, with no prior warning, he apologized and told her he had to run. When he left, she asked me if he was coming back and I shook my head. My guess was he was up in his suite watching football. I informed her I was also leaving and she asked where she could find him so she could send the food up to him afterward. I told her. Two hours later, 12 am exactly, while doing my random strolling thing around the hotel, I spotted her pushing a trolley into the elevator, heading for the penthouse. Ten minutes after that, she returned. He was not in, she told me but I knew he was rolled up in his bed, snoring away.
Deliberately, he made himself scarce the next day and after work when she finally caught up with him in the elevator at about 7 pm, he apologized with an unexpected kiss. Of course, I was there and I waited to see if she would slap him or kiss him back. She did the latter and that did it for me. I got off on the third floor which was totally not my floor but I couldn’t stand watching him kiss someone else. I don’t have the full details of what happened after that but the next day, she came to work wearing a dress and a very annoying smile on her face. Hmmm…Ada is definitely a girl. And a very sexy one at that. At least, someone proved she had a vagina.
That night, in front of her – and me as the kitchen assistant again, he prepared the exact meal she had taught him and though it tasted terrible at the end, she was laughing and all over him. They didn’t notice when I slipped away. I got into my room and added Doreen (not her real name) to the list. He got this one through mystery, by doing the unpredictable and with good old humor that I wasn’t finding funny. I switched on my laptop and his picture came up on my screen. 253 days more to go. It was a long wait for me but nothing would stop me from getting my bad boy. I would have him by hook or by crook.