New Career

Jamal Durant looked to have a promising future in the NBA, until he blew out his knee during a Final Four game of March Madness. After his graduation, the handsome, 6'8" black man had no idea what to make of his life. Being a skilled athlete was pretty much his entire focus in college, although he was also smart, and had maintained a good grade point average.

He was surprised when a letter arrived from the Willow College. After all, it was a very exclusive all female school. His eyes flew wide open as he read its contents. It was a job offer! The Dean of Human Resources, Mrs. Electra Velde, was offering him the position to teach Physical Education at their institution, a job for which he certainly had the necessary skills. His heart accelerated when he read the details - the salary, while nowhere near the NBA range, was enough to make him feel very comfortable, especially because the offer included accommodations in off-campus housing, rent-free.

When he met her in person, Mrs. Velde couldn't have been more supportive. "Good morning, Mr. Durant. Please call me Electra," she said in greeting. That was about as familiar as she'd allow, however. In her tailored business suit, with her horn rimmed glasses for reading, her blonde hair twisted into a stern bun, and her only cosmetics a swipe of neutral colored lipstick, she looked quite formidable behind her desk. This was a woman that had a lot of power, and knew it. This was especially due to the fact that her husband, Duane, was the college's president.

Not wanting to make a bad first impression, Jamal smiled politely and made a lot of eye contact, forcing his eyes not to dip down and scope out Electra's bust, which, although encased in that suit, seemed to be making its top button work hard to keep from popping off. He formally accepted the job, and formally shook her hand. Electra even walked him around the campus, giving him a brief tour, and introducing him to other faculty members. During their walk, Jamal was startled that Electra could travel without even swaying her hips. As she clipped along on her heels, she held herself ramrod straight.

His first weeks at Willow were nearly perfect. One main challenge he faced seemed to be finding gracious ways to deflect the 'come-ons' from his female colleagues - the college had a strict 'no fraternization' rule. And, he had difficulty in keeping his erections under control when teaching the horny, pampered young women in his classes, most of whom were white, and of legal age - but they were definitely forbidden fruit, and he knew it.

Like many black men, he was rather fascinated with many things about white women. He'd had little interaction with them when he was at his college. Their looks, their smells, the texture of their skin when they'd accidentally bump into him were very attractive and provoking. Sometimes, when they were huddled together while he gave them instructions during a basketball game timeout, their soft silky hair would brush against his neck. If he walked through their locker room after they'd all gone to their dorms, and inhaled, the scent quickly had his cock straining at the confinement of his pants.

In those first months, when his female colleagues referred to him as the 'big man on campus' he suspected that they weren't just referring to his height, or his academic skills, but he didn't let it faze him. Sure, the stereotype of the massively hung black man could be demeaning, alright. "But what the hell," he thought. "At long last a racist stereotype is working in my favor." It looked like he'd found a lovely place to begin his new career.

Jamal received a phone call from Mrs. Velde. "Hello, Jamal," she began. Yes, they were both now on a first name basis with each other. "Some friends of mine would like to meet you, so I'd like to have a dinner party in your honor at my home. Would you be available Saturday evening?"

"That sounds delightful, Electra. Thank you for the invitation. I'll be there. I'm looking forward to meeting your friends." After fixing a time, they hung up.

Unfortunately, when Saturday arrived, during the afternoon, Jamal met up with some of his old college teammate buddies to go to a sports bar, watch the game, and have some beers. It was just what Jamal needed. Being together with his friends allowed him to 'depressurize' and let go. He hadn't realized how much stress he'd been under, walking the tightrope around all those women, teachers and students alike. One thing led to another, and Jamal completely forgot about the Dean's dinner party. When he got back to his apartment, in the wee hours of the morning, he saw he had a new voicemail.

"Hello, Jamal," he heard the recording begin, "This is Electra. All my guests are here. Are you on your way?"

His stomach knotted, and his heart lurched. "Oh shit!" he thought. "Shit, shit shit!" That proved to be an accurate foretelling of his future at Willow College. But the next morning, he tried a little damage control by visiting the Dean in her office.

"Hi, Electra," he said in greeting. "I got your message, and I'm truly very sorry that I missed your dinner party."

"Yes? What happened?" she asked, with a bit of ice in her tone of voice.

"Well. This is embarrassing," he replied. "Some of my buddies invited me out in the afternoon, and to be very honest, I just plumb lost track of the time. Again, I'm sorry, Electra."

Her voice now went frigid. "That's Mrs. Velde, or Dean Velde, Mr. Durant. I see that the gathering that I worked so hard to put together to honor you wasn't important enough to be foremost in your mind. They do say that familiarity breeds contempt."

"But I..." he started to say, but she cut him off.

Brusquely, she said, "That will be all. I have work to do. Good day." She was really pissed! It didn't escape his notice that she was no longer on a first name basis with him, adopting a more formal tone in her anger. The knot in his stomach returned in full force.

It remained there over the next couple of weeks as Mrs. Velde (he daren't call her Electra now) seemed to be going out of her way to make his life miserable. She, who'd been so instrumental in his hiring, had decided to make his life pure hell. It seemed like every day she called him to her office to address some new failure on his part. He expected her carpet to start showing a path from her door to her desk, he'd been called onto it so many times.

Jamal feared losing his job now. He still liked teaching his classes, but the constant berating by the Dean was taking its toll. He wasn't sure if this constituted harassment, but, of course, he couldn't ask the Human Resources Department about it, since Electra was head of that department. Finally, Jamal turned to a female colleague, Kim Short, who taught Psychology. Living her life openly as a lesbian, Kim showed no romantic interest in Jamal, merely offering him solid friendship. That, combined with the fact that she was, herself, a psychologist, seemed to make her the perfect person to act as a sounding board.

Since this issue was so sensitive, Jamal called Kim, and said, "Kim, this is Jamal. I've got a problem that I'd like to discuss with you, both as a friend and sort of a counselor. Not over the phone though, and I'd like to make certain that no one overhears us. Can we meet at the coffee shop over in Marleysburg?"

"Wow, Jamal. This sounds serious if you want a clandestine meeting two towns away. I'm intrigued, and I'd love to hear what's bothering you. When shall we meet?" she replied. They fixed a time.

When they met, Jamal poured out all that had happened, from his point of view, and what was bothering him. He spoke clearly, and honestly, and admitted his poor behavior on the day of the dinner party. But, in light of what followed, he asked Kim, "Is Electra Velde prejudiced? Is she acting this way because I'm a black man?"

Kim leaned forward and touched the back of Jamal's hand for emphasis as she answered, "No, Jamal, Mrs. Velde isn't prejudiced, nor is her husband, the President of the College. I've known Electra for years, and I've never heard her utter anything that might be construed as even vaguely racist. I know this may sound funny, but she and her wealthy husband have a great many friends who are black. They've also been major contributors to The United Negro College Fund and over the years have personally 'mentored' more black students there at the college than I can count."

Her expression was serious as she continued. "You're in trouble because you failed to show up at her dinner in your honor. It has nothing to do with race. She's just lost patience with you and now may have a bad case of buyer's remorse, judging you to be unreliable, and perhaps even boorish." She sat quietly for a moment, keeping eye contact. "The dinner party, though, may only have been a triggering event for a deeper seated problem."

Jamal looked confused. "Deeper problem? What do you mean?"

Kim leaned closer. "This goes no further than this table, agreed?" Jamal's eyelids flew up, but he nodded. "On the surface, Electra Velde is a textbook example of a stuck up, frigid bitch with the proverbial pole up her ass. Look at the way she dresses, the way she styles her hair, and her virtual lack of makeup."

Jamal nodded, mentally visualizing the Dean.

"But things are seldom what they seem," Kim warned him. "That's only a surface viewpoint. It's quite possible that beneath her attacks on you, and her sanctimonious arrogance, Electra Velde is deeply infatuated with you. You know that sometimes a trivial thing can turn love to hate - they're both very strong emotions. She may have been looking for a roll in the hay with you, to use a more earthy expression."

Jamal looked shocked. "Electra - infatuated? I don't believe it. She's never acted like that toward me. And the way she talks to me, full of loathing - it's impossible."

"Don't be so sure, Jamal. After all, we women know other women better than men do," Kim advised. She looked around, took a deep breath, leaned closer and whispered, "It's widely rumored that Electra has a thing for young black men and would prefer the title of 'Headmistress' - literally - rather than Dean. Don't look so surprised, Jamal. Sure, she's in her forties but she's still a head turner." She muttered, perhaps more to herself than him, "I'd sure like a chance to suck on those mammoth love melons she has stuffed inside her blouse." Shaking herself a little, Kim went on, "Cock tease, too, if what I hear is true."

She thought a moment, shrugged, and added, "It's also rumored that in her marriage, she's the one that 'wears the pants' rather than that wimpy husband of hers. There have been reports, now and then, and completely unverified, that black men have been visitors to their house, rather late at night. I've heard the expression 'once you go black you never go back' in the course of my training. Maybe this is true in Electra's case."

Jamal's mouth had formed into an 'O' shape as he heard what Kim was saying. "Oh my god, Kim," he gasped quietly. "You may be right. She's been heaping so much crap on me that I might be completely missing the signs. I guess fear of losing my job scrambled my wits." He was silent, reviewing his recent interactions with Electra. "You know, lately whenever she's been lambasting me over some nonsense, she's constantly crossing and uncrossing her long shapely legs and adjusting her blouse and suit coat." Something else clicked. "Why, just this afternoon after ripping into me for lack of classroom discipline, she asked me how I felt about corporal punishment!"

"What?" Kim hissed.

"Yes. She said something like 'Would spanking the girls combined with suspension be an effective deterrent for serious misbehavior, Mr. Durant? Why are you smiling so? Do you think I literally meant hanging the girls from the rafters and then paddling them?' and grinned at me wickedly. The bitch has been playing me, but I don't know what to do about it. If I make a move on her she could charge me with sexual harassment. And we both know how that'll work out for a black man and a white woman. And if I do nothing, I can only expect more of the same treatment, and the probability of being terminated at the end of the school year. What do you think I should do, Kim?"

Kim had no quick answer. They each had another cup of coffee, giving her shrewd mind a chance to weigh the pros and cons.

"You must exercise discretion, Jamal, at least until you understand how the wind blows, so to speak. Our dear Willow is a rumor mill, like most colleges," she warned him. "If indeed her husband condones her... ummm... adventures, you can see why she can take those men into her home, and no one dares challenge her openly." Her eyes took on a strange luster. "Consider this. Since school policy strictly forbids fraternization among the faculty and staff, Mrs. Velde has even more to lose than you do. But, if I'm right - and hearsay evidence seems to indicate that I am - there may be a way forward. But, you'll have to cut Electra some slack and take care not to trap yourself in a corner until you're sure about the woman."

"What do you mean? Jamal asked quietly.

The luster in Kim's eyes turned to a twinkle. "I'll explain in a moment. Let's just say, though, if you follow my directions carefully, you might end up walking a naked Electra around this campus on a leash. And wouldn't that be fun?"

The thought of his nemesis, the haughty Dean of Human Resources, on a leash, caused Jamal's eyes to go out of focus. There followed images of himself and his old team buddies relentlessly gang-banging her sweaty receptive body. That visualization flooded and short-circuited his brain.

Seeing Jamal's eyes glaze over, Kim chuckled. Tugging at his shirt cuff playfully, she said, "Hey, Jamal. Come back from wherever your mind just took you. I need you to focus."

Jamal gave himself a quick shake to snap out of it, and smiled shyly at Kim.

"Now pay attention, Jamal. This plan's very simple. The next time she keeps you waiting for hours before calling you in to discuss some perceived short coming, don't be defensive. Instead, listen carefully and tell her that you really value her criticism. Then suggest, since it'd be getting late, that the two of you continue discussing lesson plans or some such bullshit over something to eat.

"We all know she adores Chinese food, since she orders it every time we stay for dinner meetings. Offer to take her for some Chinese food, at a nice place somewhere out of town, where you're not likely to encounter any of our students. Think of it as one last chance to bury the hatchet with her. If she loosens up like I think she will, try to take her out for drinks afterwards. There's a jazz bar in Mercer that she and her pathetic wimp of a husband frequent. That's not too far of a drive."

"She likes jazz?" Jamal asked. This was something he'd never heard before.

"Yes, of course she likes jazz... that, along with anything else that is Afrocentric," Kim confirmed. "She and her husband have an extensive collection of African tribal masks and unusual fertility fetishes. You'd have seen them, had you attended that fateful dinner party." Kim grinned mischievously, reminding him of what triggered all this.

Jamal blushed, and tugged at his collar nervously.

Kim summarized her advice by saying, "Just remember, Jamal, in all probability you're going to get fucked over at the end of the school year, so you have really nothing to lose by trying this. Be as discrete as possible and just maybe it will be Mrs. Electra Velde getting fucked over." Kim winked with a sly grin.

Jamal thanked Kim and took her advice. Within days, Electra summoned him to her office at 4 pm, but let him stew in her waiting room until almost 6. When they were finally face to face, he listened intently to her diatribe, and politely thanked her for her feedback, stating he'd implement her suggestions as quickly as he could. He stated that he had some specific questions that he'd like to discuss while they were fresh in his mind. He added that since the hour was late, that perhaps they could discuss them over some Chinese food, and named a restaurant he was sure she'd like.

However, Electra saw right through his lame excuse for going out to dinner, and asked him, "What's the real reason for this offer, Mr Durant?"

He decided to be honest, and come clean. "Mrs. Velde, I'd really like one more chance to apologize for hurting you, and perhaps start repairing our former friendship. I'd love to start to mend the bridge between us."

In response, she made an exasperated, almost angry 'hmphh' sound. But she did let him drive her to dinner, and had drinks afterwards too. But instead of loosening up, she only doubled down on her criticism of things like his behavior, and his choices of the restaurant and the bar. In short, she was a hellion all evening, even suggesting at one point that Jamal should look for another line of work.

Crushed and dismayed, Jamal did nothing to defend himself. And it wasn't until he had driven her back to the school to pick up her Mercedes that he finally spoke up though his voice was cracking. The area was dark enough and secluded enough that he found the courage to say, "Just what the FUCK is your problem, bitch?!"

As her eyes widened with shock, he continued. "You... you... are the most negative person that I've ever met and on top of that you don't know what the hell you're talking about. You didn't like my lesson plans, you didn't like the restaurant, you didn't like the service, you didn't like the food, you didn't like the bar, you didn't like the drinks, you didn't like the music. Well, lady, what the fuck do you like?"

Electra hesitated for a moment, as Jamal waited for the backlash and the ax to fall, but by that point if she told him to pack up his office, he'd do it - gladly. Fuming herself, Electra announced distinctly through her clenched teeth, "You idiot! I like to suck cock! Big, black, juicy cock! I like to suck it, and I like to fuck it!" In the darkness of the car, her hand went to his pants, and clutched his limp, but formidable dick through his pants. It started to react to her touch.

Stunned, Jamal felt her unbuckle his belt, heard and felt his zipper being pulled down, and her hot hands free and clutch his stiffening cock. His mind might have been frozen into stasis, but his cock knew what to do when being grabbed by female hands that were caressing it - almost like worshiping it - as it reached its full size.

As Electra had suspected all along, he had a schlong like a baseball bat! Aided by his rising, tightening ball sack, his precum fluids began seeping out of its head. Their unmistakable scent filled the car.

Grasping for words, Jamal stared at a tiny flash of light glinting off Electra's diamond ring and gold wedding band as her hands tugged at his cock. Without really thinking what he was saying, he inquired meekly, "Does your husband know about this? Does this mean I'll get a favorable evaluation?"

"Husband? Favorable evaluation? Oh, for fuck sake, get real," Electra spat out, tightening her grip on his cock to coax out even more of the clear nectar she craved. "Give me what I want and I'll see that you get the fucking teacher of the year award! As for my husband... that useless, needle-dicked, little cuckold enjoys watching me get my brains fucked out almost as much as I enjoy having it done. If he's been a very good boy, I let him clean out my holes after my black lovers have left." That being said, Ms. Electra Velde started sucking with a vengeance on Jamal's enormous cock, only able to get maybe half of it into her mouth and throat. Its lower portion she pumped on relentlessly. She was determined to drain him, right there in the car. And did.