tagInterracial LoveLet's Make A Deal

Let's Make A Deal

byJonB1969©

Andrew Gibson sat back in his office chair -- and smiled. And who could blame him?

His life was an incredibly happy one, to be sure, and all because of the formula. He stroked his chin in thought, staring out the picture windows in his plush corner office with a view of the park. There had to be someone worthy enough to pass it on to, he thought.

Andrew riffled through his rolodex and took out a card with a grunt. One of his friends, and one of the few people he trusted to get something done for his publishing firm, was Mark O'Bryan. Mark was an entertainment lawyer whom Andrew consulted or hired frequently, usually on issues related to copyright and such. Mark was also a real lady-killer, with straight dark brown hair, bright green eyes, a well-scrubbed all American face, and a smile fit to make traffic stop, especially if a woman was driving.

Mark was content, though, Andrew had to admit. Otherwise it was a real pity that Mark couldn't seem to find a good woman -- or at least a good date -- or find some larger purpose as a lawyer, as he had as a publisher.

Andrew thought deeply, considering. Mark was a lawyer in a large firm, but if it wasn't for Andrew's.... certain way with people, Mark might have still been languishing in his original position, stuck with traffic court cases. Andrew remembered vividly the looks on their faces when he asked to deal with Mark and Mark only. It was funny.

Then Andrew's phone buzzed. "Yes?"

"Just reminding you that you have lunch scheduled with Mark O'Bryan today."

"Thank you," Andrew smiled. He quickly gathered his suit jacket, adjusted his tie somewhat, and left the office.

* * * * * *

Well, one thing's for sure, Andrew thought. Mark was still a fun guy, even dressed as he was in a navy-blue pinstriped suit. All the waitresses were practically hanging on his every word.

Service was excellent. There was nothing they couldn't get.

In the middle of telling a funny story, Mark put his napkin on the table and said, "Excuse me for a second."

Andrew watched him get up and approach a beautiful black woman. Actually, he thought, beautiful didn't begin to come close. She wore a spanking white blazer and skirt with white high heeled sandals, her hair pulled up in a bun.

Andrew was very surprised. Mark had never told him he liked black women. But it made the decision to send him the formula that much easier.

In any case, she had smooth skin like cocoa, medium brown straight hair with light brown highlights, big friendly brown eyes, and had a gorgeous smile that could light up a whole room, which she did with it when Mark approached her and touched her arm.

"Hey, Rachel."

She turned, smiled, and squeezed his arms with long delicate fingers bearing long fingernails. And no jewelry. "Mark, how are you, baby?" she said in a warm, friendly voice.

"I'm good," he said. "I'm having lunch with a friend of mine. Would you like to join us?"

The woman's smile broadened, but she shook her head. "No, Mark, but thank you for asking. I'm having lunch with my divorce attorney. Otherwise I would join you."

"Divorce attorney?" Mark repeated stupidly.

Her smile drooped a little. "Yes, my divorce attorney. My divorce became final today. So she and I are celebrating."

"You deserve it," Mark smiled.

Suddenly the woman gave him a quick nervous hug, then pulled back and said, "Give me a call or send me an email sometime. We'll have to meet and catch up."

"Absolutely," Mark nodded. "I'd like that."

The woman smiled, rubbed his arms. Kissed him on the cheek. "As would I, Mark."

"I'll see ya later, then," Mark grinned foolishly.

"I hope so," Rachel smiled. She gave him a cute little feminine wave. "Bye, baby." And she went to her table.

Mark sat back down at the table with Andrew, grinning. "Sorry about that."

"No problem," Andrew grinned back. "Who was she?"

"Rachel White, she's a good friend of mine I knew way back from college," Mark explained as picked up his fork again and speared a shrimp.

"She sure is beautiful," Andrew commented.

"Yes, very," Mark agreed. "She was having lunch with her divorce attorney."

"I heard," Andrew nodded soberly. His was none too pleasant.

"I didn't even know she was married," Mark said, baffled and shocked.

"Maybe she didn't want you to know," Andrew suggested.

"Maybe," Mark said doubtfully. "He would have to have been a real dickwad."

"Which reminds me," Andrew said, sipping his glass of wine. "I never knew you liked black women. At least, you never told me you did."

Mark shrugged and grinned. "I like black women," he paused, "just as much as I like every other type of woman."

They both chuckled. "You haven't changed, dude," Andrew grinned.

"Well, one thing's for sure," Mark said, looking towards Rachel's table. "I'd give a million bucks to know what she's thinking right now."

Andrew got a weird gleam in his eye then. "Don't forget to give me your new email address before you leave."

"Oh, right," Mark said. "Thanks for reminding me." He pulled out his wallet and gave Andrew his business card. "There you go. As always, just email me or call if you need me."

"As always," Andrew grinned. "Now, what was this story you were telling me...?"

"Right," Mark said, grinning. "So I said to the judge, 'Your Honor, he can't have registered this first if he just read it last week...'"

* * * * * *

An hour later, Mark was back in his office, his suit jacket draped over his chair.

He was in the middle of contemplating joining the law firm's department that worked with the record companies. As distasteful as the prospect was, the record companies paid through the nose to protect their property. He would get a big raise. If he said yes.

But suing some teenage kid for what was on his hard drive wasn't exactly his kind of law.

On to other things, he smiled, and went to his email. There was the requisite spam which he deleted -- too bad they didn't have a department for that, he thought -- after which two emails were left, one from his friend Rachel, and one from Andrew.

He clicked on Andrew's first. The tag line had grabbed his attention -- "The Secret of My Happiness."

Mark's eyebrows rose. He would have deleted it as spam if he hadn't seen Andrew's email address. Intrigued, he clicked on Read.

"Dear Mark," he read.

"You mentioned at lunch that you wanted to know what your friend was thinking. I don't blame you -- she certainly is beautiful. At any rate, the attachment at the end of this email is for a formula that will get you everything you need and or want. You will be able to not only read, but change people's minds, as easily as making a phone call. And you will also experience some physical changes. Amazing physical changes.

"There is nothing artificial in here, just natural herbs and plants, but please do not share this with anybody, at least not until you've gotten where you want to be. Then choose one person to pass it on to. And choose carefully.

"Good luck and best regards, Andrew Gibson."

Mark snorted derisively, but he downloaded the attachment anyway. Then he started to read Rachel's email, but was so curious to read this mysterious document from Andrew that he signed off right away instead, and opened the file.

"The Secret Of My Life

June 1853

I, Jebediah Harrington, feel the end of my life approaching. I have lived these many years in the glow of great happiness. I feel the need to write down the great secret of that happiness. If it was undeserved, I leave it to posterity to judge.

Fifty-eight years ago, I engaged myself in the scientific study of how various substances occurring in nature affected the human body. In the course of my experimentations, I concocted a mixture which I believed would, if consumed only once, fight off diseases and increase bodily strength and stamina. Not wanting to create an unknown risk in any other person, I swallowed the mixture myself. Its effect was immediate, increasing my body's strength and endurance to many times the human norm. But that was not the only effect. To my great amazement, I found it also increased the strength of my mind. I discovered that with little effort I could see within the minds of anyone I chose, read their thoughts, memories, passions as clearly as one might read words on a page. Beyond that, I discovered that with little more effort I could rearrange the thoughts and passions as easily as moving chess pieces across a board. I could release hidden passions, turn enemies into friends, create desires where there were none.

Once I discovered this remarkable ability, I selfishly kept it to myself. In the years since, I have used it to my advantage, accumulating wealth and power, basking in the flesh of my beautiful African women. But now, as I reach the end, I wonder if I could have been a benefactor to the world instead. I write down the ingredients and instructions for creating my original mixture. If posterity finds them, may they have some beneficial use.

J. Harrington"

Mark sat back against his chair, more than slightly incredulous. After the letter, was a simple formula and recipe for combining the ingredients.

It was all ridiculous, Mark thought -- a scam, a practical joke. It had to be.

But he had to admit, he was more than a little curious to find out what this stuff could really do. And to see if it really was just a practical joke. Andrew Gibson had been an incurable practical jokester during their college days. But this seemed legit. Seemed.

So he went to an organic food store after he got off work and bought the stuff, made the formula and slowly drank it down. He had expected it to taste bitter, to say the least, but it hadn't really tasted like anything.

Then he sat down to watch TV. And wait.

Mark woke up in the middle of the night. Blearily, he realized that he'd fallen asleep watching TV. He turned off the TV, then stumbled to the bathroom.

He unzipped his trousers and gawked at his penis -- it was huge! After he finished, he found a tape measure and actually measured his manhood. And it was at least seven, almost eight inches long.

Holy shit, he thought. Maybe this stuff really does work.

* * * * * *

The next morning he took the stairs instead of the elevator -- he felt good this morning -- to the upper floor where his office was, and went into the foyer, to get his messages from one of the secretaries at the front desk.

As an associate attorney, he only rated sharing one secretary with other attorneys in his office, like a doctor's office. The secretary in this case was Toni Evans, a strikingly pretty black woman with dark chocolate skin, matching eyes, high cheek bones, straight jet black hair to her shoulders, and delicately full bee-stung lips.

"Good morning, Mark," she smiled.

"Good morning, Toni," he smiled back. "Feeling better today, I see." He'd personally delivered some cold medicine to her apartment yesterday because the temp they'd had last week was terrible.

"Yes, I am, thank you," Toni said, her smile widening. "Here's your phone messages and faxes." She handed him a thick folder and winked.

"Jesus," Mark said, staring at the folder.

"Tell me about it," Toni grinned at him. "You must be very popular."

Mark leaned over the counter top. "Just don't tell anybody," he whispered. Then Toni's phone rang and she answered it, laughing heartily as Mark walked away.

Suddenly he stopped on a dime when he realized he could read her mind! It started off pretty tame -- "Damn, does he look good in that suit, yum yum!" -- but then quickly moved on to heartier stuff, like, "God, I wish I could follow him into that office and suck his dick."

Mark pretended to read a fax while he stood there. Then he carefully closed the folder and slowly went to his office door. After making sure there was nobody in his office, he left the door open, then sat down at his desk.

It was a nice roomy office, considering he was little more than a cog in the machine. As he came in, a huge desk was against the right wall. Behind the desk were a couple of big windows and a comfortable leather chair. On the left hand wall was a big book case.

He relocated Toni's mind and read a little more. "It's too bad I can't just go in there. I'd need a really good legit reason."

Grinning, he lifted his phone. It was time to give her a legit reason. "Yes, Mark?" her slightly throaty voice filtered through.

"Toni, can you come in here a second? I need you to take a letter."

"Certainly," her voice said. "Just a minute."

As Toni got her pen and legal notepad, Mark's cell phone rang. "Mark O'Bryan."

"Hey, baby," Rachel's voice came through.

"Hi, Rachel," he grinned.

"Did you get the email I sent you?"

"About dinner? Yeah, I was just about to email you back," he said.

"I hope you can join me," she asked softly.

"Absolutely," Mark grinned. "As long as I can bring the wine."

"You certainly may," Rachel smiled. "You have excellent taste in wine." Among other things, she thought but didn't say.

"Thanks," Mark replied, to both sentiments. "What time should I come over?"

"About six will do. That's enough time for you, isn't it?"

"Sure," Mark nodded. "Unless this is a black tie dinner."

Rachel laughed. "You know how I am, baby. I won't even be wearing shoes."

"Sounds good," Mark chuckled. "See ya then."

"I can't wait, baby," she chirped.

Even as he thumbed the kill button on his phone, there was a knock on the door. "Come in, Toni," he said.

The door opened a little more, and Toni came in. Mark's jaw nearly brushed his desk, and for good reason. When she was sitting at the front desk, he couldn't tell what she was wearing, but now he got a full view.

She wore a long-sleeved gold silk button-down shirt, fastened at the collar with a brooch, with a black leather miniskirt and black leather high heeled pumps. Flesh-toned silk stockings. As she opened the door and came in, walked over to a chair and sat down, light played across the silk and leather.

Mark got an instant hard-on, especially when she sat down and crossed her legs. He cleared his throat and said, "Toni, could you please close the door?"

"Sure," she smiled. She got up, walked over to the door and closed it. Mark got the supreme pleasure of watching her booty move under the leather, as well as her long slim legs. He picked up her thinking, I hope he's getting a good show. I wore these clothes for him.

Damn, he thought.

As she turned around and headed back towards his desk, he entered her mind and removed all the inhibitions she might have had for acting on her desire, now that she was in here for a perfectly legit reason.

The effect was immediate.

Toni gently placed her pen and notepad on the desk, then slowly moved around behind his desk and swiveled his desk chair to face her. She saw his hard on and smiled. "Looks like great minds think alike."

And she bent down and kissed him.

Both of them moaned as they kissed for a good fifteen minutes. Then Toni stood up and unbuttoned a couple of buttons on her blouse, enough to bare her breasts, which Mark eagerly accepted. Soon Toni's nipples were visible through her silk blouse as two hard brown points.

Grinning, Toni spread Mark's legs and moved in between, getting down on her knees. Looking up at Mark, she slowly unzipped his trousers and watched it pop up and grow to nearly eight inches.

Lightly, she licked his manhood, running the tip of her tongue along the head of his cock, then along the shaft. Mark moaned and groaned with her efforts. But that was nothing compared to what it felt like when she took it in her mouth and eagerly started sucking. She couldn't take the whole thing but that didn't matter -- Mark was one happy dude.

It wasn't long before Mark came in her mouth. Toni was a trooper, swallowing it all down.

But Mark wasn't finished. Not by a long shot. After Toni wiped her mouth with a tissue, Mark had her sit on his desk, facing him, and gently spread her legs. Toni pulled her skirt up and spread them more.

Soon Mark was feasting on the tastiest chocolate cream pie he'd ever had. There was hardly any hair, except for a small patch of curly hair above her clit. Mark felt her fingers grab hold of his hair and grab hard as she came quickly, once and then again.

Then Mark stood up and kissed her. "There's more?" Toni asked softly, perspiring slightly, trying to catch her breath.

"You bet," Mark grinned, as he moved in between her legs. He dropped his trousers to the floor, then he reached around her waist and unzipped her skirt, and pushed it up more. He gently placed the head of his cock at her still-wet pussy and slipped it inside.

Toni gasped out loud and held onto him tightly by the shoulders.

Mark began to move, slowly at first, to tease her.

"Oh, baby, please...faster," she begged him softly.

Mark couldn't take it for very long, either. Her pussy was the best. He began fucking her hard and fast. But before he came, she had at least three more orgasms. Finally Mark came again, and it was a powerful orgasm.

Mark sat down and Toni sat in his lap. They kissed softly. "What was that letter you wanted me to take?" Toni asked softly.

Mark chuckled. So did Toni.

She smoothed his hair back and kissed his sweaty forehead. "I don't know what came over me," she confessed. "But I've wanted to do that for a while now."

Mark looked up at her. "Oh, for a while?" he teased her.

Toni laughed. "Okay, for a long while."

"Glad you acted on it," Mark said, trying to get his breath back. In surprisingly little time, he was ready to go again.

"Me too," Toni smiled. They sat in silence for a little longer, then Toni said, "I suppose I should tell you that you have a meeting with an agent from Zane and Rogers in the conference room at eleven this morning."

"Great!" Mark grinned. At Toni's look he said, "They're my realtors."

"I see," Toni nodded and smiled. "They're well-known about town, aren't they?"

Mark nodded. "Yes, very prestigious. I'm lucky to be represented by them."

"They're lucky to have you as a client," she smiled, loosening his tie. Then she went to unbutton her blouse some more and push the straps of her bra down around her shoulders. "In the meantime, how about this real estate?"

Mark feasted on the generously offered chocolate nipples, a bud of fudge against creamy smooth chocolate. And just as delicious.

* * * * * * *

I forgot to mention they're also the most conservative real estate agents in town, he thought to himself as he walked down the hall to the conference room, confidently adjusting his tie.

Zane and Rogers had a reputation around town as being the most picky real estate firms around town, as well as the most prestigious. They had a habit of finding the most obscure item on someone's credit record and using it against them.

But I have the edge, he thought. And I want that house. It was a two-story beach house, with a living room and den, and a roomy kitchen on the first floor, and three bedrooms and a big bathroom on the second floor. The beach was the back yard.

He snapped himself back to reality, and cautioned himself not to count his chickens before his eggs were hatched. Instead, he concentrated on the task at hand.

His hand on the door handle, he saw that the agent had an edge, too. Two edges, in fact. She was black. And female. And beautiful.

Three strikes, Mark thought to himself. But maybe I can still hit a home run. Be careful mixing baseball analogies with real estate, dude, he grinned to himself.

He opened the door and went inside, and went to a seat at the conference table across from the real estate agent. Yep, she was a real beauty, alright, a shoulder-length halo of curly brown hair surrounding an elegantly formed face with clean lines -- full lips, Asian-looking coffee colored eyes, and most of all, smooth ebony skin about a shade lighter than Toni's.

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byJonB1969© 4 comments/ 19495 views/ 3 favorites

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