Graciela

My work takes me to a non-profit where non-cash benefits abound.

John, a good friend from college, was working in DC for a non-profit organization. They had an impressive board of directors and what they considered a noble cause, but the Director and her management staff knew vaguely that they could do better. They had a crew of interested and dedicated workers, mostly young university graduates drawn to causes and still undecided on their futures, but as their organization grew, they realized they needed more than enthusiasm to get to the next level.

That's where I came in. John contacted me in the hope of contracting my services to improve their organization, and he wasn't shy about asking whether I'd consider lowering my rate so they could afford me. I chuckled at this, and couldn't help but give him a little ribbing about it. It seems in these situations not a little ironic that the mega-rich didn't mind buying the glamour and influence of a board position on prestigious organizations, but they expected everyone else to sacrifice. John didn't see the humor of it though, and I eventually agreed partly because I figured the change of pace to a non-profit would be interesting.

In the interest of further reducing expenses, I also agreed to stay at John's house, a huge old 3 story not that far from K Street that he and 5 other fellows shared. It was an interesting arrangement since they all worked at the same organization. Talk about dedication to the work; these guys never got away from each other. It worked out well for me though, since they had a spare bedroom in a beautiful, old rambling house, and I was there only to work anyway.

It turned out their vague suspicions were correct. Their fundraising was atrocious by any even middling marketing standard and their use of technology and administrative process was downright scary. In private enterprise, I doubted whether their records would pass an audit even while it failed so miserably to give them an effective and measurable impact or ROI. Their organization was also hugely inefficient, principally relying on dedicated volunteers for their hiring strategy as opposed to recruiting specialized marketing and accounting talent to fill at least key positions.

Over the course of a few weeks, I made several propositions to the Board, to which they eventually enthusiastically agreed. It was little wonder since I was basically telling them I could increase their donations by approximately $10m a year while increasing expenses perhaps $150,000. Their only hesitancy was that it sounded too good to be true, and it required a number of presentations and private discussions in order for them to warm to my ideas, and assure them that I was not in fact going to do anything special or unique as much as I was going to bring them up to speed on modern management practice.

With Board approval in hand, I made arrangements with a real estate firm to take care of my house, and prepared to move to DC with John for a couple months while we got down to execution. As is my practice, I worked every day for the first 20 days. The immersion gives me a good solid jump on any project, and helps me understand the lay of the land. It also tends to have the effect of not only displaying my engagement, but measuring that of others as well; either jump in and help, or get out of the way. Since balance is ultimately required in anyone's life to be effective, my habit was also then to back off and manage progress in a more traditional manner before fatigue set in and I performed at less than optimum.

The 21st day was a Friday and a number of the office staff, knowing of my plan to relax, suggested we all hit the town for a big dinner and then move to a dance club for the evening. It sounded fantastic to me. We ate Italian (is that a surprise?) and I felt a sense of accomplishment and relaxation to have negotiated the first stage in my plan.

The next thing I knew we were inside a huge dance hall with two capable bars on either side of the room, complete with an outdoor arboretum at the opposite end of the entrance. I'm not a dancer, but they did have Crown Royal, and they did know how to serve it. I was feeling good about my work, had completed a stage of the project, and I was surrounded by dedicated, enthusiastic team members while I drank my favorite whiskey. The evening seemed perfect, and I smiled to myself. I didn't realize it at the time, but it was about to get even better.

My first realization that the bar was a little different occurred during my first trip to the washroom. Inside, I found four or five girls in dresses clustered around several mirrors. My first thought was that I'd walked into the wrong washroom by mistake, and I mumbled an "Excuse me" and backed out the door.

But no; it was clearly marked 'Men' on the door, and there was the 'Women' door just down the hall. I re-entered, this time to a small chorus of tittering. The four girls were all Spanish, with flashing eyes and dark gleaming hair, all slight and open and laughing, clearly at me. One of them stopped snickering long enough to say, "Ah, a real man. We don't see too many big guys like you here." And she waved her hand at me.

I just smiled, said "Excuse me," again and headed to the stall to do my business. They all stopped primping in front of the mirror and parted when I approached the sinks to wash my hands. Four sets of eyes were on me, along with silent smiles and little giggles. One of the girls gave me some paper towels, and I dried my hands, and offered her a "thank you," and slight bow, and left.

As I walked to the door, I heard a voice say, "You're welcome to my help anytime," which of course started the giggling all over again.

As I walked back to the bar I noticed many couples of the same sex, both male and female, as well as what on closer inspection were quite a few transsexuals, although given how beautiful most of them are, it is impossible to tell.

As I reclaimed my drink and stool at the bar, I noticed another gaggle of Latina girls had claimed the stools around a bar table next to us. While two of them were obviously transvestites, it was impossible to determine the sexes of the others given my experience in the washroom. Who cares, I thought? They were obviously celebrating the end of the week, as we were, and enjoying the beautiful early fall weather. It was satisfying to hear them laugh and it lent to the carefree ambiance that I was feeling.

One in particular seemed extraordinarily attractive to me. She was a slender yet curvy 5'5" in height, with smooth, dark copper skin that set off her midnight black hair. It was cut in a layered style that spread out as it reached her shoulders, emphasizing its rich thickness and curl. Her eyebrows were black and thick, framing her flashing black eyes and engaging white smile.

She was impeccably dressed. She wore a white dress frilled at the hem about 3" above the knee, striped in patterns of turquoise. Her ear rings were large turquoise circles with white trim, and her stockings were also turquoise, along with turquoise leather high heels. Her necklace, lipstick and fingernails were a deep burnished red. She was magnificent, and her unrestrained laughter and smiling face made her doubly attractive. I couldn't resist taking frequent glances her way. Luckily they were quite close and since they were a little rambunctious from time to time, my glances were not out of the ordinary. Certainly I didn't wish to appear to be ogling them or engender their self-consciousness.

As it turned out one of John's colleagues had been clearer about his intentions, for he and one of the transvestites chatted for a few minutes and then went off to dance. It wasn't long before two more in our group had taken the cue and were dancing with two of the girls as well. That left the beautiful girl I had noticed, and one of her friends. It also left John and me. John was in a solid yet unusual relationship with his girlfriend, who although wasn't physically there that evening, was most definitely there in mind.

I had no such relationship issues, and as the girls glanced our way, I looked squarely at the beauty and asked her, "You do not like to dance? I noticed you turned down my colleague."

She smiled at me, flashing her beautiful white teeth, and replied, "I was waiting for the big gringo to overcome his shyness despite his obvious interest."

I smiled a little as well, and looked around me in an expression of mock confusion. "Who, me?"

She laughed and dismissed me with a flash of her hand. "Are you always silly?"

"Only when I am flummoxed by a beautiful girl."

"Flummoxed?" And she laughed even harder, bending over the table a little before taking a sip of her drink. "I do not believe I have ever heard the word 'flummoxed' mentioned in the same sentence with me."

"Perhaps 'impressed' or 'taken' would have been a better word," I managed, "although my natural shyness with beautiful girls brought 'flummoxed' to mind." I smiled as I stared into her playful, flashing eyes. "Would you care to honor me with a dance?"

"I don't believe you have ever been shy in your life. And I'd be happy to dance with you, as long as you are not too flummoxed to move your feet," she teased, rising from her stool and taking the hand I offered. I followed her out into the middle of the dance floor. No sideline participation for her!

The song was a Spanish one, with melodic guitars and horns, sung by a South American crooner. I felt lucky since I do better with slower rhythms than dance beats. I'm the stereotypical white guy where dancing is concerned. I took her hand and her waist and we began. She smelled like jasmine and vanilla at the same time, and the fresh smell of her hair excited my nostrils. She had a certain grace that only thousands of hours of dancing can produce.

We danced quite formally, although with all the people on the dance floor, and the inevitable movement, it was hardly possible for her not to notice the effect she was having on me below the belt as she brushed against me from time to time and my straining cock made contact with her belly button. I smiled sheepishly, but she was not offended in any way. In fact, she seemed flattered, and smiled knowingly and naughtily at me as we twirled slowly across the floor. We both knew what we were smiling about and there wasn't any need to comment.

"My name is Jim. What is yours?" I asked as we adjusted ourselves to the pressing crowd.

"Graciela." She looked up into my eyes.

"What a beautiful name," I observed. "Helpful and pleasing, right?"

"Do you know Spanish?" she asked.

"Some. I'm afraid I'm terrible at languages, but I spent some time in South America and couldn't help pick up at least part of the language."

"Well, that's better than most big white lugs like you," she teased.

"Are you always teasing?" I asked her.

"Only when I'm impressed by a big strong handsome man like you," returning my line to me before quickly twirling in my hands and coming back into my arms.

She came closer and I bent my ear to her pretty mouth so as to hear her over the music. "So you work for Nxxxxx now?"

Surprised that she had somehow guessed our group's work arrangements, I responded without thinking, "No I don't. I am contracting my services to them for a few months. How did you know of our organization, if you don't mind me asking?"

She flashed her eyes again. "Didn't John tell you? I worked there for a time. I knew all those guys at your table, except you. I took another position in a Senator's office about a year ago."

I nodded with understanding. It is a small world after all. We finished our dance, smiling into each other's eyes, and she led me off the floor to gain some refreshment. Her fashionable late summer dress switched on her hips and bottom, her turquoise stockings accentuated her sexy legs, and my cock yearned in my pants.

When we returned to the table, John was paying the check and preparing for his departure. He looked up and explained, "My girlfriend is just getting off work, and I said I'd meet her at her apartment. The rest of the guys are still out dancing. I assume you want to stay for a few more drinks, but I'd be more than happy to drive you back to the house if you wish. I'm gonna stay over at Sue's place tonight."

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm sure I can find my own way," I answered. "You didn't mention you knew Graciela," I half teased.

John looked at Graciela, standing beside me, her hand in mine, and responded rather sheepishly, "Her hair was much shorter then, and for a time I wasn't exactly sure it was her."

I took his answer at its face value, and nodded in understanding. "Say 'hi' to Sue for me."

"Say 'hi' for me too, John," Graciela offered. "As I recall, you were just starting to go out with her when I left. In fact, I think I introduced you two."

"You did at that. Maybe we can get together this weekend if you want to. Sue said something about a barbeque."

"That's kind of you. Do you still have the same number? If not, I'll get it from Jim."

"Yeah, I do. Or just call Sue and tell her you're inviting yourself. She'll be happy to hear from you." He turned to me and said, "Jim, it's an incredible start you've made these first three weeks. I can't say how much of a difference you're already making. It looks like asking you to help with 'Nxxxx' is going to make me look like a hero. I'll see you sometime this weekend if you decide to come to the BBQ." And with that he turned and made his way to the door.

"Now what makes me think I didn't hear the whole story there?" I wondered out loud.

Graciela looked at me and then appeared to make up her mind about something. "Just as I was deciding to move to the Senator's job, John and I were thinking of a fling, but it never happened. Part of it was because as soon as he met Sue and her big tits, he forgot all about me." She giggled a little.

"I find that hard to believe. But John always was a tit man. Me, I'm a sucker for pretty bottoms and flashing copper skin." I didn't giggle (what guy does?), but my smile conveyed the same idea.

"Something tells me I'm glad I didn't fall for temptation back then, especially since I didn't think a fling with John was a good idea anyway. Besides, I'm a sucker for big strong older men." We sat close together and ordered another drink, her dark eyes flashing at me while I drank her perfume and felt her hair on my shoulder whenever she turned her head.

She placed her hand on my arm as the waiter brought the fresh drinks. I had my Crown on the rocks, and she had ordered a martini. The olive immediately disappeared.

"To meeting new friends," I toasted as I raised my glass.

"I agree," she said, and then with her little hand she pulled my head down and gave me a kiss. Her lips were warm and soft and yielding. The word 'pleasing' came to mind. Oh Graciela. What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

"Tell me what you are doing for Nxxxx, Jim. That is, if you won't be telling secrets."

"I'm just updating their systems and bringing them into the 21st century," I answered. "I'm putting a new accounting and marketing structure in place, updating their computer system and databases, and setting up a group to begin a more formalized donor relations program. I'm trying to hire a Marketing Manager and a certified accountant to act as a formal Controller so they don't stray after I leave."

"Is that all?" she laughed. "I knew we were all running around like chickens there, but I didn't think they would ever fix it. How did John ever find a guy like you?"

"We were friends in college. He knew about my little firm."

"Fantastic," she breathed, as I kissed her again. This time it was a little longer, and my heart raced ahead of the music in the background. I touched her lips with my tongue, and her mouth opened as I traced her full lips before pulling away. She looked up at me, her face and skin so beautiful and smooth in the soft glow of the bar.

She ran her hand through my hair. "Were you a Marine?"

"That's a question I get a lot. No, I never joined that brave group. I just like my hair this short during the summer. In the winter I sometimes let it grow a little longer, but it's so curly it gets out of hand."

"I like it. It looks so manly on you. But you must scare some people."

"Well, I hope not," I laughed.

"You don't scare me," she whispered as we kissed again. One little hand drifted to my thigh as I took her lips and she sucked on my tongue as I drank in the sweetness of her mouth and her martini.

We stayed for another hour talking and exploring each other's lives. She had been born in Puerto Rico but come to DC as a child when her father accepted a transfer with the valve company where he was employed. There's a lot of manufacturing in Puerto Rico, partly because of the reputation the island has for its hard working culture. Graciela was proud of her father, but I could tell she was especially proud of her 'sexy' and devoted mother. Who could argue with the double whammy of successfully transferring her genes while nurturing Graciela's intoxicating personality?

I had fallen in lust early in the evening. Now I was intrigued by this vivacious, care-free girl.

The other six in our enjoined parties had paired off, and they were interested in making a long night of it dancing until dawn. My interest was of a more personal nature.

"I don't have my car here, but may I take you for a coffee?" I asked her.

"I have a car. Why don't we stop off and get a nightcap, and then I'll take you home?"

"That's delightful. But why don't I just buy something at the bar, and then we won't have to stop?" She obviously thought that idea deserved another kiss, even though they were coming quite frequently anyway. I thought it was a good idea as well, although the reward was even better.

"I like the way you think. But I have a better one. Why don't you buy something at the bar, and we'll drop off at my place since it's closer than John's big old house, because I have my own drinks there already." I thought that idea definitely deserved another kiss. So did Graciela.

I made my arrangements with the bartender and cleaned up the bill for the group while Graciela told our group we were leaving. We headed out to her Camry and at the door I pulled her into my arms and tasted her sweet sexy lips one more time. My cock snaked into her belly and she rubbed against it. Further down, I felt a protuberance as well.

"So now you know," she whispered as we finally broke our embrace a couple minutes later.

"It makes you even sexier, you pretty girl." And I meant every word.

We drove back to her apartment mostly in silence, my eyes on her face most of the way, while she flashed her dark eyes at me in a sexy smile whenever she could afford to spare her attention from the road. Her scent filled the small vehicle, and I couldn't help but run my hand through her thick, curly hair.

"You're making me crazy," she said as we slid into her parking spot.

"I'm happy to hear that. I hope to drive you completely insane quite soon."

"I'd follow you anywhere Jim." And we kissed again while we sat in the dark. She grabbed my cock which was doing its best to rip through my pants leg, and I drank from her sweet mouth.

We finally made it into her apartment without making a mess. Graciela turned and directed me to the kitchen. "I'm going to go freshen up and put on something more comfortable. Why don't you fix us some drinks? I'll have another martini." And she turned and walked down the short hallway towards her bedroom. I watched her every step just to make sure she was ok (gentle reader, if you believe that, you're an idiot). Mostly I watched every step to see her in that beautiful dress, and that beautiful body inside that beautiful dress. My mouth was dry and I was filling with need.