Chapter 1: The First Meeting

I didn't want to come to this party and neither did my husband, only it's a work's thing in a swanky hotel and it would have looked bad if we hadn't showed. I don't mind the guys, they're all right, it's the women, all bitchy and stuck up as if they're something really special.

The women all talk to me like I'm dirt, just because I don't play along and act all impressed by their holiday in Barbados, or whatever it is they're bragging about. When I tell the silly cow I'm stuck with that our last holiday abroad was to Greece, I get:

"Oh you didn't? that's so passé."

I'd love to tell her we both got off with a couple of hot German lesbians and had a brilliant time, but I'm pretty sure that such a revelation wouldn't go down too well and I think better of it.

The women here are sneery about my clothes as well, which is stupid because I know damn well I look ten times sexier than they do. None of the guys' heads turn at their hideous designer frocks, while my cute little butt all nicely packaged in my tight fitting pencil skirt gets plenty of admiring glances. My seamed stockings and high heels go down a treat with the boys as well.

"A bit tarty for my taste, if you don't mind me saying so."

I don't mind at all, being 'a bit tarty' is the whole point. I'm his cute little fuck slut and I'll be getting my brains banged out later tonight - will you? I don't think so.

The guys daren't talk to me for more than a few seconds at a time, their wives give them the evil eye if they so much as say hello to me. I'm the company whore as far as the other women are concerned, but I wouldn't dream of dropping my panties for anyone here, except my husband of course. Although there is someone who's caught my attention, a girl around my age who keeps looking my way. She doesn't look comfortable here either, sat all alone in her little black dress.

I escape from the dead end conversation I'm lumbered with by wandering over to the bar to have my glass refreshed, as I stand there the sexy black girl who's been watching me comes over and stands beside me.

"I like your skirt," she says.

"Oh thanks," I reply. "I like your dress." Which is true, she looks brilliant.

"They're awful here aren't they?" she remarks.

"The women you mean?"

"Yeah, not my type at all," she says.

"Oh, what's your type then?" I ask her.

"Little blonde white girls in tight skirts and seamed stockings."

"Er..."

"I'm joking," she says.

"Oh."

"Well no, I'm not actually. I think you're gorgeous."

"Really?" I can hardly believe she said that.

"Yes really," she replies. "I really fancy you if you want to know the truth."

I'm lost for words. I look at her in a different way after her nice compliments about me. I was attracted to her before without thinking why, now I realize just how very lovely she is. Her jet black face is so pretty with neatly plucked eyebrows, big brown eyes, and such luscious and kissable glossy lips. Her frizzy hair looks nice as well, cut short and neatly following the shape of her head.

Her short, tight dress shows off her fit looking body to perfection, her shapely, bare legs are exposed to high up the thigh. Not much fat on this girl and her tits are little more than bumps, no need for a bra and her nipples poke proud and free against the fabric pulled taught across them.

Well I never, a black girl this beautiful fancies little old me.

"I'm Steffanie," I tell her.

"I'm Chloe," she replies.

"That your husband then?" she asks, nodding towards my man.

She must have been watching me all evening because I haven't spoken or stood near him for quite a while now.

"That's him all right," I tell her. "Are you on your own then?"

"Yeah, I only just joined. I'm Mr Robinson's new P.A."

"He's OK isn't he?" I ask her.

"He's all right, but I think I only got the job because he wants to fuck a black girl."

I think she's great, she's so upfront, honest and cheeky with it. None of the stuck up bullshit like you get from all the other women here. I bet they already hate Chloe even more than they hate me.

She talks a lot too, she soon explains why her new boss has no chance whatsoever of fucking her, no man has, well maybe someone really, really special. But for the moment it's girls she likes and a certain little blonde white girl is now top of her list.

"I love your hair," she tells me.

"Why thank you, I er..."

"Just being honest," she says.

"That's OK, I'm very flattered, thank you."

"Can I touch it?" she asks.

"Er ... yes, if you like,"

She gathers a few strands of my blonde hair and runs her fingers through it. I feel like a pussy cat being petted and her tender touch sends tingles down my spine.

"It's so soft," she says and I'm being overwhelmed by her forthright approach.

"Ever been with a girl then?" she asks, diving straight in again.

I'm left speechless by her frankness, I've had girls come on to me before but never so fast and blatantly as this. I don't know what to say but she doesn't mind, she knows she must have shocked me coming out with it all like she has. Finally I get my thoughts together and answer her question.

"Well, I met a girl in Greece I really liked."

"Oh yeah, what happened then?" she asks, as bluntly as ever.

I tell her all about my holiday romance in Lesbos with the adorable Lara. I tell her the whole story, which is nice because I like talking about it and seldom get the chance. I'm almost in tears by the end as all my precious memories of my dear German girl come flooding back.

"Ah, that's so sweet," she says. "Didn't your husband mind?"

"Well him and Lara's friend got together, but anyway, he says girl on girl doesn't count."

"Why's that then?" she asks.

"Because he'll get off on it as well."

"I fancy you Steffanie, not your husband."

"He means just thinking about it."

"Dirty bastard," she says, jokingly.

"That's him," I tell her, not joking.

I've dropped myself right in it now, I've as good as told Chloe that hubby won't mind her making advances on me. He's not even fantasised about this scenario happening and neither have I, there are very few black girls in our town, so I've never met one to dream of.

"Well, do you like me then?" she asks. "Do you fancy black girls?"

I feel awful that she has to ask, she's been turning me on with all her compliments and I've hardly said one nice thing in response. I'd feel awkward now if I told her how beautiful I think she is.

So instead of using words to flatter her I do something physical, I gently stroke her bare arm, she smiles at me and I look deep into her eyes. My awkwardness drains away and I tell her I think she's lovely and one of the sexiest women I've ever met. Chloe smiles again and says thank you because she can tell I sincerely mean it.

I can't help staring at her arm, with my pale, white hand upon it she seems even blacker. I'm fascinated by her deep ebony color, I have to say something because I find her skin so attractive.

"You're so ... so very..."

"Black?" she says.

"Yes ... I..."

"And you're so very white," and she strokes my arm now.

"You can say black you know," she tells me.

.

"I'm sorry. I've never really known any black girls."