tagInterracial LoveThe Lies We Tell Ourselves: Deana’s

The Lies We Tell Ourselves: Deana’s


This story is part of a series based (loosely) on the women in my life, including myself, and the men who love *cough* ops I mean fuck them. If you like it please let me know so I can continue. If you don't then please let me know why so I can improve. Hope you enjoy.


It was insane, like he had a super power or something. This man could read me like a book. When he looked at me, it was as if he could see into me. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time. I had known Harvey for a few months. I somehow stumbled into a job at a greeting card company right after finishing my bachelors and he was one of my co-workers. He was a smug little bastard. He oozed sex from every pore and knew it. He had the look of a bad boy, who was good at hiding it. On top of that, he had stunning emerald eyes. He was the type of guy that made women wet with one flash of his green beauties. He also managed to look equally as sexy in his business suits as he did in a tee shirt and jeans. He was solid; a good 230 pounds and well-toned but not over done muscles. It was a refreshing vacation from all the frat boys who tried to poke me with their skinny little dicks all through college.

Then there is me. It is kind of strange for me to describe myself. Where to start, well, my brother calls me dimples because of the two prominent ones I get on my cheeks when I smile. I think they make me look to young and I get tired of people teasing me about them, so I learned to hide them as much as possible. However, if I laugh or smile to large they usually appear. The first things men usually notice about me are my large breasts. Growing up I never really realized how much attention they got me. I saw them as more of a hassle then an asset. Until I started dating Fred who treated them like they were gold. Being with him taught me the value of my sweater twins. I can't say what bra size I wear. I never have been able to find one that fit properly. I wouldn't wear one at all but if for some reason I needed to run they would be continually slapping me in the face. I am also fairly tall. I am 5'7 or 5'8in of cinnamon brown. I have always been what Fred called "bootylicous". It is one of those ridiculous phrases that the few African Americans that went to my school used on a regular basis to describe a woman with a... lets just say healthy derrière. Although, my ass is not one of those obnoxiously huge ones you see in a rap music video. It is large but more proportional to my frame. When I was younger, I used to be on the thin side but since I have been in college for the past 4 1/2 years, my weight has fluctuated. Not that I am huge or anything, I have more of an hourglass shape. I am somewhere around 139 pounds now, minus a few pounds for the sweater twins of course.

But enough about me it's starting to get awkward. Let's get back to talking about this man. This man who my Latina girl friend Alba refers to as my perfeccione el igual sexual or perfect sexual match. I am not completely sure how he got me. I never liked him. Like I said he was a smug little bastered. He was so used to women fawning over him that he walked around as if the sun shined out his ass. Although I will admit he was good looking, his attitude was nearly unbearable. He would always stroll over to my desk flashing those eyes of his trying to manipulate me into doing him some sort of favor. It may have worked on all the other little white tarts that traipsed around the office but this sista was not one of them. Plus, he was a white guy. I trust white people about as far as I can throw them. I was born in the hood but my family moved into a nearly all white suburb when my parents got their money right. My brother and I only had each other as we suffered through racism on a frequent basis. It wasn't until high school when Alba and her family moved into town that I finally had someone who understood what I was going through.

To be perfectly honest I never really valued or held men in much high esteem either. Fred was my first boyfriend. He was pretty much my first everything. He was pretty cute. His mother was Hispanic but died during childbirth so his black father raised him. He had all the traits of someone who was raised alone by his father. His father did a good job of teaching him how to treat women. He always treated me with respect, which I guess is how he managed to weasel his way into my pants. However, he was extremely messy. I supposed that is one of the negative side effects of not having your mother around. Fred was no dynamo but he had a 6 ½ inch dick (he measured it in front of me once) and he knew how to use it. I usually orgasmed when we were together so I couldn't really complain about the sex. The sex was good. However, I don't think I will ever be able to go back to just having good sex ever since I had mind-bogglingly amazing sex! Fred and I dated for almost a year, but it ended when he realized how uninterested and unimportant our relationship was to me. I can't say I was hurt by the break up, I was looking for a way out anyway. After Fred, I dated some. Pretty much any guy in my predominantly white college (yeah, even in college I couldn't escape them) with a hard on for black girls asked me out. I always accepted the offers enjoying the free meals and movies. Out of all the guys I dated after Fred I only slept with one of them. He played for the schools basketball team and was one of the few Blacks at the school; we dated a few times. Then one night I was blowing off some steam after midterms and...well what do you want me to say? I was drunk and horny. I don't really remember much about that night but it sufficed to satisfy my urge for a while. I suppose he must have really enjoyed it because mini Jordan was practically ready to marry me afterwards. I am not going to say I enjoy breaking guys' hearts but caring about them just takes a little more time then I am willing to put in. Needless to say, I shot a hole in that dream real quick.

Alba thinks I can be a bitch to men. She decided to minor in psychology, so now suddenly she is an amateur psychologist and I have daddy issues. Please! Men are just not important to me. I have other things in my life that are a higher priority. However, I suppose the daddy issue diagnosis is better than what she used to tease me about before she began her minor. I am not a lesbian and I don't hate men. Most of the time I don't even respond to her teasing, but I will tell you this: if I wanted to be with a girl I would. Unfortunately, vaginas and boobs just don't do it for me. As for hating men it is not that I hate them, I am just indifferent towards them. It simply comes down to me not having much use for them.

I was finishing my masters in Graphic Design and working at the greeting card company. I been there for about 5 months and I was finally getting used to balancing school and work. Harvey was one of my co-workers. Everyone was divided into divisions; I worked the children's holiday division. I help with the designs for all those cards that were meant to look like they were from a child to an adult. It was October so we were finishing the last batch of cards for New Years. It was always a little strange to me to be creating fireworks designs when it was so close to Halloween but, in the greeting card business you do everything months ahead. All in all, I liked my job. It was no dream but it was kinda fun and it left room for me to be creative. I was actually the person who came up with a new technique to make the artwork look like it was drawn in crayon. I quickly became well known around the office as one of the best graphic designers. It was nice to be recognized but it had its down side because it meant more work and requests for favors.

Harvey must have caught wind of this too because the next thing I know Mr. Green eyes is sautéing over to my desk trying to get me to finish up some designs for his Christmas project. Harvey was head of his division; it was small. They were responsible for grandparents. Apparently, he was behind because he wanted me to work on the cover art for 2 of his cards. Harvey already had Marcy from the anniversary female division and Lacy from the anytime division working on some for him. Before Harvey could even finish his request for me to work on some cards for him I cut him off.

"No!" I said sternly

"Oh come on honey pot, you know you are going to have some extra time. Couldn't you please just do me this one favor," he said flashing an enchanting smile.

I let out an aggravated sigh.

"Do you know you make the cutest face when your irritated honey pot?"

Ok I will admit he did make me laugh a little (internally) but I know he was just trying to cut the tension and butter me up so I hid my amusement from him.

"My extra time is for me not you, AND what did I tell you about calling me honey pot."

"You know you love it hon-ney po..."


"Ok ok fine I will try and find someone else," he said throwing his hands up and giving a crooked smile.

He walked over to the intern. I suppose he was going to try to get her help. Where does he get off calling me Honey pot? I don't even know where that came from. I hate pet names. Well, I supposed it is better than all the other generic ones like baby, sweetie and boo. Honey pot is much more tolerable. Ok ok I will admit it, Honey pot is slightly endearing. Nevertheless, I still hate pet names!

The boss's secretary sent and e-mail reminding everyone that we were going to have an office Halloween party and that everyone was supposed to dress up. I had almost forgotten about the party. When I got home I called up Alba.

"Ay Chica. How was work today?"

"It was ok I guess Harvey tried to seduce me into picking up some of his load."

"Oh you mean the gorgeous guy with the green eyes? Gringo had it going on, I wish he would try to seduce me."

"Alba you saw the man once when you picked me up for lunch how do you remember him."

"Sweetheart I never forget a cute guy, especially one who takes the time out to introduce himself to me."

"Whatever Alba he is just another one of those conceited white boys."

"Oh you know he is cute."

"He may be cute but he is still and ass hole."

"If you say so Deana. What did you call for anyway?"

"Ooo yeah, I almost forgot. I have to go to this Halloween party at work and you gotta help me find a costume."

"OOH! Shopping. I love shopping I will be right over."

Alba hung up.

Alba may be my best friend but we have many differences. For one, she loves to shop and I hate it. It is probably because Alba has one of those bodies that looks good in everything. While I have a much more difficult time finding clothes that, fit my curves. Alba and I went to two different costume stores before I gave up. All the clothes that were sold for women were way to sluty; it was a work party I had to be appropriate. I was going to buy the grim reaper costume but Alba bout had a fit. Apparently, it made me seem frigid and did nothing for my figure. However, there was no in-between; it was either sluty nurse or Grim reaper. I was about to just come to work as plain old Deana but Alba suddenly got a great idea. We stopped off at her place and she let me borrow her police uniform. She was a security guard during her sophomore year of college and still had it in her closet. Alba is thinner than I am so the uniform hugged all my curves very tightly but at least it didn't show too much skin. While I looked myself over in the mirror, Alba went into the box in her closet and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. I told Alba I didn't want her sex cuffs but she insisted so I added them to my costume. Atleast they weren't fuzzy or covered in any suspicious liquids.

The morning of the office party, I showered in my new body wash. I forget what it was called but it was from bath and body works. It was one of those things people give you as a gift when they don't know what to buy, but it smelled great. I had not done laundry in a while so all I had was my matching set of bra and underwear. You know the kind. The kind you pull out for when you know you are going to get laid. I had not used those in a while. I put on the matching purple underwear and bra with lace details. Then I squeezed my ass back into the uniform and attached the cuffs to my side. I have to admit I looked kinda hot.

At work I got plenty of comments about my costume. Twiddle Dee the ditsy blonde receptionist (whos costume was her high school Cheerleader uniform) pointed out that my uniform was not actually a police costume like I was telling everyone. I suppose she just felt like being a bitch that day, but I was at work so I let it go. I was surprised that everyone at work was dressed up. As I did my work, some of my male co-workers approached my desk commenting on my uniform with obvious lust behind their voices. Mr. Green eyes must have been swamped because I did not see him all day. To be honest I was a little offended that he didn't take this opportunity to make some inappropriate joke about my costume. If the lothario that is Harvey Swanson did not approach me then perhaps I was not as hot as I thought I was. Either way I figure it was a good thing that Harvey wasn't bothering me.

As the workday dwindled down I went with some of the other ladies in the office to help set up for the party. It was nothing spectacular. A couple pumpkins here and there, some fake cobwebs, you get the picture. I borrowed Lacy's ridiculously high heels so I could reach the high places to put up the cobwebs. Lacy was dressed as a slutier version of Dorothy from the wizard of OZ and it came with 4 inch platform heels. She was busy with other stuff so she gave me the heels to save the time of getting a ladder. As my back was turn to affix one of the decorations, I felt hot breath on my neck. It startled me so I stumbled backwards.

"mmmm Honey Pot you look great today." I heard whispering in my ear as I am caught around the waist.

Oh great its Mr. Green eyes again, I thought. I push myself off him and turn to face him. I was irritated at his forwardness but I decided to let it go.

"I know," I said with a smirk before swaying away to give Lacy back her shoes.

Ok so I will admit it. I am not the most responsible drinker. I had already snuck one drink as I helped get ready for the party. Which is probably why I was flirting with Harvey. By the time the party really hit full swing I was already good and tipsy. Harvey had dressed up as a fireman. The costume was obviously not real, it had glitter details and velcro down the back to keep it secure or maybe to make it easier to take off. Maybe it was the alcohol but for some reason instead of looking like a cheesy male stripper he looked, looked sexy. I always did have a fireman fantasy. All this combined was why, I guess, I put up with all Harvey's advances. The next thing I know we are in the bosses' bathroom. It was a blur of cuffs, clothes dropping to the floor and moaning. Ok ok I will try to give you as much detail as I can remember since I know the sex is what you're all here for.

I was dancing with Tina, on of my teammates, off in the corner. It was nothing to sluty but it would definitely qualify as drunk dancing. It must have gotten a little to crazy because my top ripped at the chest. I was immediately embarrassed and scurried to the bathroom. The party was after work hours and the Janitors had already locked the door. I had forgotten that the boss let us know if we needed to use the bathroom to use the private one in his office. So I went back into the party room and tried to make my way through the crowd unnoticed. Looking back to see if anyone noticed me, I walked right into Harvey. Noticing a theme here? I never did master that whole grace thing. I backed away from his hard chest and looked up to see his green eyes staring down at me. I fully expected him to make some lewd comment but he didn't. It was clear he had to tear his eyes away from my nearly exposed breast, but he must have sensed my embarrassment because he didn't say a word. He merely backed up and pointed my way towards the bathroom. He even went as far as to run interference by distracting the others who were in my path. A modern day night in shining armor, right? Ok not really, but I was drunk. So sue me.

I was so embarrassed. It was bad enough I got that drunk at a work party but I didn't want to become the office skank. My mind filled with images of the women whispering behind my back and the men taking it as an opportunity to sexually harass me. I kept fidgeting with the top trying to make it close more but I only succeeded in making the tear larger. It was only about a ½ inch from my very low cut bra at that point. I considered quitting but I liked this job I was hoping to stick around and move up once I finished grad school. So I burst into tears (Did I mention I get emotional when I am drunk?). I decided the best thing to do would be to wait it out. So, I made myself comfortable on the chaise lounge in the bathroom and listened for the end of the party. I don't know how long I waited nor do I remember what I did to kill time.

At some point I started to hear everyone's goodbyes. Before I could get myself together and leave the bathroom, I heard a knock on the door.

"Deana, are you ok."

I panicked; someone knew I was hiding out in the bathroom. I decided to stay silent hoping they would assume know one was there and give up.

"Honey Pot are you there?"

Oh it is just Harvey, I thought.

"Yeah yeah I am fine what do you want," I snapped back

"Damn. I just wanted to make sure you were ok. You looked really upset," He said with a sad irritation.

I felt bad about my harsh tone so I opened the door. He was leaning into the door so when I opened it he fell into me. I grabbed onto him in am attempt to help him regain his balance. The hugging position we were in started to last uncomfortably long so I tried to pull away.

Instead he grabbed onto my waist pulling me closer and saying, "You smell wonderful" in a low suggestive tone.

I tried to pull away again but he just held on tighter and continued, "Almost good enough to eat".

I stepped on Harvey's toe then pulled away from him harder. He gave me a sharp slap on the ass, "No Honey Pot! I intend to atleast taste you tonight".

Damit, I was horny and the slap on my ass sent vibrations through my body making me feel things I hadn't felt in a while. I wanted to say something. To turn on the sass and wit that I always have but I couldn't. To my total shock, this cocky white boy had my pussy twitching. I kept trying to will my mouth to speak but before I could get some words together, he kissed me. Lightly sucking my tongue into his and sliding his hands down to squeeze my ass. Harvey was touching my ass! A white boy was touching my ass! My mind was screaming what the hell are you doing letting him touch you like this but, there was a little voice that said you know it feels good just let him have it. For some reason the little voice was the only one my body was listening to. When he released my lips from the passionate kiss, I involuntarily moaned. He loosened his grip on me and stepped back. His eyes lit up when he realized the moan was coming from me. He looked surprised at first but suddenly his eyes went from a bright green to a darker shade of emerald. I was still in shock as I studied his face trying to read this new emotion. Then I realized where his eyes were looking. My bountiful breasts were now completely exposed, only covered by the minimal area that my lacy purple bra enclosed. I instinctively went to cover my breast, but almost lighting fast Harvey grabbed my arms pushing me into a wall and pinning my arms above my head. Once again I couldn't speak.

"No honey pot don't you dare hide those from my view", he said possessively.

Report Story

byyougotmoxie© 8 comments/ 42055 views/ 25 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

2 Pages:12

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar: