Black Female Read online

  Black Female

  By

  Kim J. West

  Black Female

  Copyright © 2018 Kim J. West Publications

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ****

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons; living or dead, events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  *

  Email: [email protected]

  Twitter: @westkimj

  Instagram: @westkimj

  Facebook: @Author Kim J West

  Website: http://www.kimjwest.com

  Table of Contents

  A Note from the Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Chapter Sixty Nine

  A Note from the Author

  White Male was written from Lena’s point of view. This new book Black Female, is written entirely from Jonathan’s point of view; his thoughts, his life and his challenges.

  Putting together Jonathan’s perspective was a lot more challenging than I thought! I got a lot of input from my beau who, because he’s a lot like Jonathan, would tell me exactly what Jonathan was thinking. Those of you who can’t get enough of these two must know that this was a labor of love; I wrote it because I was encouraged by your feedback and support for me during this challenging year.

  So sit back and relax; I hope you enjoy it!

  Please note: The dialogue between Lena and Jonathan is exactly the same as White Male.

  Chapter One

  My alarm buzzed at 6.00am as it did every day. I stretched sleepily and jumped out of bed, going over to my large windows with a fantastic view of the greenery that was the city of Atlanta. I took in this view every day; it never got boring for me. But I didn’t have time to stand there and enjoy it for too long; today was weights day and I needed to hit the gym in my building before a long day at work. I pulled on my sweat pants, a tank-top and my Nike sneakers then went downstairs, taking the regular elevators to the residents’ gym.

  My apartment was the premier penthouse in the Regent Oriental Hotel in Buckhead and I loved it. Living here as a bachelor, I didn’t have to worry about additional staff; everything was readily available for my needs.

  When I entered the gym, a few residents had already started working out and we nodded to each other in greeting. I said a quick congratulations to a Hollywood movie director who’d just released a blockbuster, wore my headphones and began to run full blast on the treadmill for my twenty minute warm up. The headphones were essential; if I didn’t wear them, everyone approached me to make inane small talk. I didn’t come to the gym for mindless chatter. Unlike some of these wealthy show business people, my work wasn’t seasonal. Every day was filled with endless challenges and decisions that needed to be made at all hours of the day and night.

  The only time I was unavailable to my staff was when I was training or fucking; and the latter wasn’t exactly inspiring right now. I was seeing Nadine Bishop on and off. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a relationship, though she might have a different take on that. We met a couple of times a week to fuck and that was basically it. The sex was average and I often had to stifle a laugh when she dressed up for weird, kinky, role playing that did absolutely nothing for me. This past Friday when I went to see her at her apartment and found her dressed in a bloody, vampire nurse’s outfit, no doubt paid for by the credit card I gave her, I had to fake an orgasm for the first time ever. It was empowering to fake it convincingly, now that I think about it.

  After I’d run hard for twenty minutes, I quickly completed the free weight circuit doing compound exercises. A few over-friendly people came over to say ‘hi’ and as always, I made a show of fumbling with my iPod and headphones, as a huge hint to discourage future interruptions.

  I spotted Mrs. Epstein across the room, eyeing me longingly as she always did. She’d secured a giant payout from divorcing her millionaire older husband who was a friend of my father’s and a client of our company, Strauss Carter Financial Management. Her son Adam was my classmate back in high school and most of us boys back then were only friends with him so we could speak to his hot milf-mom. Now in her fifties with bleached blonde hair and a fake tan, she was an aggressive cougar, constantly on the prowl for new victims to devour with her artificially plumped lips and sculpted body, thanks to multiple plastic surgeries. Despite her large, perfectly round double D sized breasts, she was petite; not over 5’3” and kept herself in tip top shape. I had banged her for sport almost a year ago in her condo a few floors below mine, leaving her purring contentedly while I made my way out of there as fast as possible. Ever since then, she’s been after me for round two; but I wasn’t biting. You don’t go for seconds with a high-mileage broad like Mrs. Epstein.

  After I finished my work out, I nodded politely to the twin daughters of a hedge fund manager who were giggling and staring at me, then headed for the elevator.

  When the elevator doors were about to close, a deeply tanned hand with inch-long, pink talons, slipped between the doors and they automatically opened. Mrs. Epstein slinked in, sliding her lustful eyes over me. I smiled and moved back to make room for her, standing there with my towel around my neck and my hands in my pockets. As soon as the elevator began to rise, she turned around and faced me, shamelessly placing her hand on my dick, grabb
ing it over my sweats. I didn’t flinch or stop her because at that point, why the hell not? She wanted to shock me but all she got from me was a questioning smirk while I waited to see what she would do.

  “So, Jonathan,” she began in her throaty voice, “when are we going to fuck?”

  I felt my dick thickening in her hand and despite seeing her delighted expression, I knew for certain it wasn’t going to happen.

  “Not any time soon, I’m afraid,” I replied, smiling down at her.

  “They all say that, until they’ve had a taste,” she replied, trying to give me what I assumed was her best ‘bedroom-eyes’ look.

  I snorted. “Been there, done that,” I reminded her, “and I still have the scratches to prove it,” I added conspiratorially, just as the elevator arrived at her floor.

  “Are you going to let go?” I asked her, nodding down towards her hand on my dick.

  “Fuck you,” she hissed, as she snatched her hand away and pranced out of the elevator to her apartment. I knew she thought I’d follow, but I carried on up to my floor, stifling laughter at her latest attempt to lure me into her lair.

  When I got to my penthouse, Rosanna, the lovely middle-aged, Hispanic housekeeper employed by the building’s maintenance department was already cleaning my apartment. I called down to the restaurant and asked them to send my breakfast up in 20 minutes while I took a quick shower.

  After eating a breakfast of oatmeal and scrambled eggs, I grabbed my laptop bag and travel mug of coffee and was in my private elevator by 7.30am, headed for the basement parking.

  Most days, I preferred to drive myself in my Porsche Cayenne, but my personal security officer Jackson, always followed closely behind when he wasn’t driving me.

  I’d employed Jackson soon after I joined Strauss Carter after my life had been threatened. He was an African American former special operations and intelligence marine who’d served our country, so guarding me was playground stuff to him. He’d been discharged from the military after some classified shit went wrong, and I was more than happy to have him handling all my security, transportation and most of my personal errands. He was efficient, trustworthy and often gave me information he’d picked up that I’d never have gotten, if it wasn’t for his covert skills. He knew a lot of my personal shit and stoically passed no judgment, but that wasn’t the reason I overpaid him a salary on par with some of Strauss Carter’s managers. I genuinely liked him and he’d served our country regardless of how his military career ended.

  I arrived in my reserved parking spot in our building in downtown Atlanta, Jackson parking beside me and out of his car while I was still reaching for my laptop and coffee mug.

  We made our way to the elevators and I decided to pass through the lobby to see how our recently updated front desk area looked after the renovation work had been completed. It was still early and only a few of the staff we employed was arriving for work at that hour.

  As I was walking towards the front desk, I caught sight of a young black woman, checking me out. She was dressed elegantly in a white linen skirt just below her knees, a black blouse and had her white jacket draped over her arm. A purse was over her left shoulder and a laptop bag was in her other hand. I watched as she swept large, almond-shaped, dark brown eyes over me, totally undressing me right there in the lobby. I raised a questioning eyebrow and she quickly looked away mortified, apparently embarrassed that I’d caught her out. As she walked off, I did a double take, noticing her round ass swaying with a zigzag motion beneath a tiny waist.

  What the fuck? I said to myself. That’s just fucking too much for my tastes. I felt my dick twitching as I glanced at her once more, just as she entered the elevator. I shook my head and turned away. Why the hell am I responding like a teenage boy? I’m not interested in that if it’s even real, I laughed to myself. I liked my women tall and slender; if their body types deprived them of boobs then I was more than happy to fund cosmetic surgeries. I dismissed her from my thoughts and continued my inspection, before heading upstairs to my office.

  Chapter Two

  When I got to my office, I switched on my laptop and drank in the view while drinking my coffee. Although I was the Chief of Business Development, many decisions ranked CEO were already being dropped in my lap. My father was soon to retire and was already referring most major decisions to me. Ever since he’d had a health scare two years previously, he’d severely scaled down his duties. When he’d fully recovered without obvious long term damage, I’d asked him to remain with the company for the time being, to allow a gradual transition between his generation and mine. Many of our long established clients who we’d helped grow their fortunes still preferred to deal with our company when he was involved, so he came to work for a few hours a day and was often at corporate functions and launches where necessary. To me, being CEO was just a title so I was in no rush to claim it. My goal was to grow the business and I was glad when the big horses like Morgan Stanley and Berkshire Hathaway began to feel our presence.

  By the time my Personal Assistant Janice Wilkerson arrived, I was already deep into my work and had completed several pertinent tasks. When I’d first employed her, it’d been part of a sweetheart deal we had when her uncle, business magnate Thomas Wilkerson brought the majority of his wealth for us to manage. We’d interviewed her for the post already and he was happy to give us the business once we indicated our willingness to employ her as my PA. Since then, I was quite happy with my choice; she was pleasant enough and thoroughly efficient at her job.

  She walked into my office carrying another mug of coffee for me.

  “Good morning, Mr. Carter,” she said pleasantly.

  “Morning, Janice,” I replied without looking up from my laptop where I was rapidly typing an email.

  When I noticed she hadn’t immediately left my office, I looked up expectantly. She looked at me with a bright wide smile and walked out shaking her head. What’s that about? I thought to myself. She probably wants to take extra vacation days off or something. Well, I’m not a mind reader, I thought going back to my email. If she wanted time off she’d have to speak up.

  The rest of the week, I kept busy with my routine, going to work as usual, including a trip to New York where we had a high value client we needed to impress.

  The next Monday, I was back at work and entered the elevator in the basement parking to go up to my office. I’d gone to work early, knowing the office would be mostly deserted and this would give me at least a full hour before people began knocking on my door. The elevator stopped at the street level lobby; evidently someone else was going up.

  As the doors opened, the young, black woman I’d seen the previous week in the lobby stepped forward, intending to enter the elevator. When she looked up and saw me, I watched as she froze, holding my gaze. She was pretty; no, she was beautiful with the clearest, dark brown eyes I’d ever seen. Her chocolate brown skin was glowing; evidently she took great care of herself and she was very attractive. I stepped aside to make room. I was surprised to see her step back, turn around and walk off, away from the elevator. I watched her walking away, with a sway in her hips until the elevator doors closed, taking me up to my floor. I was puzzled. Perhaps she’d forgotten something and had to go back for it? I stepped out of the elevator headed to my office, smiling to myself about her curvaceous body. Her legs were sexy and fit; evidently she did some type of working out despite those dangerous curves. I wondered if she worked for us at Strauss Carter. While the building had been ours for some years, we leased out several floors to three other companies and she could just as easily be working for any one of them. I shrugged it off; after all, she wasn’t my type.

  Over the next few weeks, I bumped into her a few more times and began to notice something; she was avoiding me. If she came to an elevator I was in, she waited for another one. If she saw me walking in her direction, she changed course. Whenever she turned away, she always had an air of superiority and walked confidently, as though she didn’t rea
lly belong here. I didn’t know what to make of it. Like many women I encountered, she’d given me that lustful glance when I first saw her. But unlike most of those women, instead of doing all she could to interact with me, she was avoiding me, as though she was too good for me. I laughed to myself wondering why; surely she knew who I was, I thought arrogantly.

  One day when I spotted her crossing the lobby while I was with Jackson, I pointed her out with a furtive jerk of my chin.

  “Jackson; her. Find out where she works.”

  “At Strauss Carter, sir.”

  Oh, so she worked for us.

  “Which department?”

  “Finance, Sir.”

  Interesting. I wondered how Jackson already knew her.

  “How do you know this already?”

  “It’s my business to know, sir.”

  I nodded, understanding that his position as my security meant he’d know a lot about the people who worked in our building.

  I wondered what her story was. She didn’t seem to fully fit into the Atlanta scene and I was interested in finding out more.

  “Jackson, can I see her employee file, please?”

  “I’ll have it for you shortly, sir.”

  As promised, Jackson delivered the mystery black girl’s file to my desk within half an hour. I was nonchalant about it, letting him leave my office first before I opened it casually.

  Her name was Lena Williams. Lena; pretty name. She’d recently moved from California and had been working for Strauss Carter for three months as a Junior Financial Analyst. She’d graduated from UCLA with a degree in Finance and a minor in Marketing. Mmm, interesting, I thought. She could actually work in my department. Fuck. What the hell was I thinking? A girl I’d seen a few times in the lobby was now being considered for a job? I shook my head and browsed the rest of her file, noting health reports and copies of certificates, then set it aside. I had to stop this bullshit inquisitiveness and get back to my work.