Amy Choi stood by the open window of her 16th floor apartment and watched the sun slowing fade beneath the horizon. It was Friday night and the 36-year-old Korean was not looking forward to another night of what the television networks insisted in calling 'must see TV.'

She really hated the winter, with darkness falling as soon as she got home. That and the long hours she had been putting in at work lately had given her a first class case of the blues.

She'd left work early in order to stop off at D'Angelo's book store to pick up the latest Anne O'Donnell book that she ordered. In keeping with the way this day had unfolded, the book had not come in. Amy had been really looking forward to reading that novel over the weekend.

A successful businesswoman, the short black haired woman had been divorced for four years. The cause had been listed in the court papers as irreconcilable differences. In reality it had come down to her husband's inability to accept the fact that she been more successful in her chosen career than he had been in his.

Originally she'd had a dinner engagement for this evening, but that had fallen through when her date had hurt his back playing handball. It was no great loss she told herself. Stephen Shapiro was a nice guy and all, but he wasn't really anything more than someone to have dinner with. Dancing afterwards was also a possibility. Then again, if things really went well, an early morning breakfast might've been in the cards as well.

In retrospect, Amy thought it was the last possibility that she was really missing. It had been too long since she'd had male companionship in her life. She might as well be honest with herself, she was looking forward to having a man in her bed come the morning.

"Might as well face it," Amy said to herself. "Looks like it's another Friday night with a couple of D batteries for companionship."

That idle thought made her remember that the last time she had wanted to use her "old reliable" the batteries had been dead.

"There should be a fresh pack in the junk drawer." she recalled, deciding to make sure while it was still early enough to go out to the corner store if there wasn't.

The junk drawer, as Amy liked to call it, was the large top drawer of the buffet in her small dining room. Filled with papers, small booklets, old bills and assorted odds and ends, she was always promising herself that she would sit down one day and clean it out. As it were, it was so full that she was barely able to open the drawer.

"I really have to clean this." she admitted as she finally pulled it open, sending some of the overflow spilling onto the floor.

Sifting through the pile, she quickly found the batteries. She also found two years worth of birthday and various other holiday cards. Enough pens and pencils to equip a first grade class. A combination lock to which she had long ago forgotten the combination to, and a varied collection of souvenirs.

Carefully she sorted through a pile of envelopes. Old bills, advertisements, two letters she had written to friends, but had forgotten to mail. A bright red envelope caught her eyes. Popping it open and shaking it out, a card fell into her hand.

"I can't believe I kept this." Amy said as she turned over the small embossed business card.

She remembered the day she had won the card. She had been attending what was supposed to be a serious business luncheon, but instead turned out to be just another meeting of the old boys network. Originally, Peter Larson was supposed to be her company's representative, but he had a family emergency at the last moment.

The other members of the circle were quite surprised when she walked in and sat down. Still, she always tried to fit in and keep her contacts current. It was in that spirit that she tossed in her twenty dollars for their monthly raffle, even if she wasn't exactly sure what they were raffling off. It must be something worthwhile, she concluded. With over twenty people around the table, the pot was almost five hundred dollars.

The funny look on the face of the guy collecting the money should have told her that something was wrong. That look was reflected across the table when it turned out she was holding the winning ticket.

"I guess this is my lucky day." Amy laughed as she reached for the prize envelope in the middle of the table."

She wondered what the prize was as she dropped the envelope into her purse. Probably theater tickets or something like that. She wondered why were some of the men around the table were grinning from ear to ear.

She noticed Jim Shoeman, the unofficial leader of their little association, wasn't smiling as he whispering something to George Haleman. He'd been a late arrival to the meeting and hadn't been in on the raffle. The silver haired gentleman seemed none too happy about it all.

Twenty minutes later when the luncheon was breaking up, George pulled her over to the side and told her what Jim had told him.

"There's been a little mistake." George said in a quiet tone. "You really weren't supposed to be in that raffle."

"I don't understand." Amy replied, a little confused.

"You haven't looked in the envelope yet, have you?" George asked.

Now very curious, Amy reached into her purse and pulled out the bright red envelope. Opening it, she found a small business card. It simply read, 'Special Delivery' and had a small twelve digit number in the lower left hand corner.

"I still don't understand." Amy repeated.

"How do I explain this..." George said hesitantly.

"I've always found that straight out is the best way." Amy suggested. "I'm a big girl, I don't offend easily."

"Well simply put, that card you're holding is sort of a gift certificate." he said.

"What's 'Special Delivery'?" Amy asked, more than a little curious now.

"It's sort of an escort service." George said a little embarrassed.

It all made sense now. They were raffling off a night with a hooker. No wonder Shoeman was so worried when she won. If that kind of thing got around it would be trouble for everyone at that table.

"Mr. Shoeman said he offers his apologies and he'd be happy to replace the card with something more appropriate." George said with a smile.

Amy thought about it a little and then smiled back. She didn't get where she was by making enemies over little things. You fought the battles that were important and let the little ones slide on by.

"Tell Shoeman that his apology is accepted." she said. "But I think I'll keep this little card as a souvenir. One of these days I might have to ask him for a favor."

"Of course." George agreed. He knew, after all, how the game was played.

Amy had never called in that favor, but it was nice to know she could have.

"Maybe I should just call Special Delivery." Amy joked as she tossed the card on top of the buffet. "That's one sure way to get laid."

A half hour later, three quarters of the junk drawer filled the waste paper basket. She picked up the last few papers that were left and one by one they followed into the trash. Then only the gift card was left.

"I must be really bored." Amy mused. "I'm wondering how this works."

She stared at the card for a while and then thought.

"What the hell, it couldn't hurt just to call up and ask. Not that I'd really do anything like that."

Making herself comfortable on the end of the couch, Amy dialed the number. It rang a few times, then a soft feminine voice came on the line.

"Special Delivery, Laura speaking" she said. "May I have your certificate number?

Impressed by the professionalism in her voice, Amy read off the twelve-digit number.

"Thank you." Laura replied as she paused a few moments, no doubt checking the number on her computer.

Amy tried to picture what Laura might look like, but came up blank. The stereotype would be to imagine her as some scantily clad, sexy young thing. The reality was more likely that she was someone's grandmother. A second later, Laura came back on the line.

"How may I help you this evening?" she asked.

"I'm not very sure." Amy replied. "I sort of won this as a prize in a raffle and I was wondering how it works."

"Well I'll be happy to explain it to you." Laura went on. "Are you interested in a male or female escort?"

The question took Amy by surprise. Female? She didn't think she could ever be that adventurous.

"Definitely male." Amy answered.

"All right." Laura said. "Any preferences ... age, race, body type."

"I'm not sure, I really haven't given this much forethought." the 36 year old replied.

"Perhaps I might make a few suggestions." Laura said. "We do like our clients to enjoy their evenings."

"Well I do like surprises." Amy said, a little surprised that she was really getting into this.

"Perhaps a fantasy then." Laura offered.

"That sounds right." Amy replied.

"We do specialize in making fantasies come true." Laura said. "Can you tell me a little about yourself?"

Without even thinking about it, Amy did just that.

"I think I have just the thing for you." Laura said, the smile on her voice evident in her voice. "If you could just give me your address and phone number, we could have your package delivered in about an hour."

This should have been the point where Amy simply hung up the phone. Her little game had gone as far as it should have. Instead, she heard herself giving Laura her address. The phone representative thanked her and hoped she had a good time.

"Oh shit, what did I do?" Amy asked herself as she looked at the receiver in her hand in shock. "What did I do?"

A little voice in her head said to call them back, cancel the order. Then a second, more urgent voice told her not to. After all, what was life without a little adventure.

It took a few more minutes for Amy to become fully comfortable with the idea of what she had done. Surprisingly, that acceptance came easier than she would've expected. A few months without sex did wonders for the lowering of inhibitions.

The decision made, Amy turned her thoughts to what kind of fantasy Laura had in mind for her. It was so exciting, knowing that is less than an hour, she was going to share a fantasy with a man she'd never met. A man who wanted nothing more than to bring her pleasure. It was crazy. It was absurd. It was intoxicating.

The night was still early, the clock on the wall just nearing seven. Amy had taken a few minutes to have a quick bite to eat and clean herself up. She was still wearing the simple gold blouse and blue skirt she'd worn at the office. Since she didn't really know what form her little adventure was going to take, it made little sense to change.

Every few minutes she glanced at the wall clock. It was been almost an hour since she'd hung up the phone. At times, she could hear both the rise and fall of her breaths and the excited beat of her heart.

When the intercom buzzer to her apartment finally went off at seven nineteen, Amy jumped as if someone had dropped a hot poker in her lap. She took a deep breath before hitting the talk button on the intercom by the door.

"Yes." she said a little nervously.

"I have a special delivery for ... Amy Choi." the voice over the intercom said.

"Young, the voice sounds young." Amy thought as she pressed the access button. "Come on up." she said.

Standing behind the door, Amy wondered how she would react when she opened the door. Would she slam it shut and tell him to go away? Or would she drop to her knees and blow him right there and then? Hopefully her reaction would be something in between. She heard the elevator door opening just two doors down, but resisted the urge to look through the peephole. Better to get a good look when she opened the door.

"Who is it?" Amy called out automatically as three strong knocks rapped against the door.

"I have a delivery for..." the intercom voice began to say as Amy pulled open the door, unable to take the suspense any longer.

"I'm Amy." she said as she looked into the face of her fantasy.

He looked as young as his voice had suggested, no more than 17 or 18. Of course he really wasn't that young, she thought, just one of those people who still look like a teen even into their twenties.

At least two inches taller then her own 5'6", he had a nice smile and was generally cute in appearance. Short black hair framed a handsome dark face, which in turn sat atop a trim body. Dressed in sneakers, jeans and a red sports jacket, he really looked like a delivery boy. Right down to the plain brown package he was carrying in his hand.

"Please come in." Amy said, her own face flush with excitement.

"Thank you." the young dark skinned man said as he stepped inside.

"It must be pretty cold out there?" Amy said, thinking that his jacket was way too light for this time of year.

"It's cold enough to freeze your ... I mean, yes, it's pretty cold out there." he replied.

"I have some hot chocolate if you'd like some." Amy offered. "It'll only take a minutes in the microwave."

"That would be nice, thank you." The young man said, his smile ever brighter.

"I assume this is your last delivery for the night." Amy said as she mixed the drink, enjoying getting into the fantasy more that she expected.

"Yes it is." he said. "Where should I put this?" he asked, remembering the package in his hand.

"Oh just drop it on the table." Amy said, dismissing the prop from her mind, concentrating more on the physique beneath his jacket. "Why don't you take off your jacket and warm up." she suggested.

"Thank you again. I wish all my customers were as considerate as you." he replied as he took off his coat and draped it over the back of the kitchen chair.

While not muscle bound, the body beneath his jacket had a smooth, well-defined look to it. More a swimmer's form than a weightlifter's. The white shirt formed a start contrast against his midnight skin. One that Amy found very erotic.

"Here you go." The older woman said as she handed him a large mug of steaming liquid.

"I keep having to say thank you." he grinned. "I feel I should be giving you something back for your kindness."

"What don't we start with your name?" Amy suggested.

"Tyree." he said as he took a sip of the drink. "Tyree Greene."

"Well then you're welcome, Tyree Greene." Amy said warmly.

As Tyree enjoyed the hot chocolate, Amy took a good hard look at the young man. What lovers she'd had before and after marriage had all been either Asian or White. She'd never before considered the idea of a black lover and now found herself wondering why. Clearly she found him attractive, his dark skin being a turn on just as some men were turned on just by the fact that a woman was a blonde or redhead. Or in her own case, just because she was Asian.

It wasn't prejudice she thought, at least she hoped it wasn't. As a Korean, she'd been subjected to racial comments in her life but they'd been few and far in-between. In that regard she knew that she'd been lucky. For every taunt of gook or slant-eyes she heard in her life, there'd always been a dozen more people who saw her as a person first.

The pretty woman was also intelligent enough to realize that she was more accepted in some situations because she was just that - a pretty woman. Had she been male or unattractive, she might not have fared as well. There was still a great deal of racial discrimination in the world and not all of it was obvious. In fact, the one racial comment said to her that bothered her above all others was when one of her roommates during her single days had made a joke about little brown people. Amy had pointed out to her that as an Asian she was technically one of those little brown people. Her friend had replied that she always thought of her as white - or almost white anyways. That had bothered her the most, her friend's denial of what she was and being recategorized into something she found more comfortable.