Beauty & the Geek: Zola's Magic Touch (Mocha Memoirs Presents Beauty & the Geek)

  Mocha Memoirs Press Presents

  Beauty & the Geek:

  Zola’s Magic Touch

  Shiree McCarver

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright© 2011 Shiree McCarver

  ISBN: 978-1-257-76030-5

  Editor: Lacy Hill

  Cover Artist: Nancy Grayson Donahue

  Proofreader: Stephanie Parent

  Published by Mocha Memoirs Press, LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Due to copyright laws you cannot trade, sell or give any e-books away.

  Chapter One

  “Zola, you are the only one who can help me out of this dilemma.” The tall, thin man with salt-and-pepper hair and unassuming features strolled into her office after only a brief knock.

  Immediately she knew he had rehearsed everything he wanted to say before he stepped inside, and he was about to ask her to do something she didn’t want to do.

  “How may I help you, Mr. Tate?” Zola Simpson asked, barely glancing away from the computer screen as she typed up the next round of speeches to be placed on the teleprompters for the public speakers who went to selected conventions to be the voice for NASA.

  Her highly capable fingers rippled tap...tap...tap...across the keys with impressive lightning speed, not letting the temporary distraction distract her.

  “Err...Zola, listen here...I’ve been thinking about your request for that long weekend off so you can visit your family in Atlanta—” he began. “I have delegated your workload to Howard so you can fly out tonight. Everything has been arranged—”

  “That was three months ago, sir.” Zola’s eyebrow cocked. She couldn’t believe the nerve. It had been her parents’ anniversary and she had hoped to surprise them. Instead she ended up sending them a card and a check because Mr. Tate couldn’t possibly do without her assistance at this critical time when the economy was so bad.

  “Yes.” The older man cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure they would be happy to see you. I know you’re probably ready for your mother’s home cooking about now, huh?”

  Her fingers paused over the keys as she bit back the smart-ass retort that came to mind. Of course a “home-cooked meal” would be the only reason a black woman who wore a size eighteen would want to drive from Virginia to Georgia for a weekend.

  Sigh. Why do people think big people think about food all the time? Usually, the only time she thought about food all the time was when she was dieting. So, she gave up dieting and became happy with her dangerous curves.

  Right now Tate was trying to look down the modest “V” of her conservative, white silk blouse at the swell of her brown breasts. She also knew if she were to get up and walk across the room to get a file, he would stare at her ass.

  “Yes, sir, there is nothing like a mother’s cooking,” Zola agreed as expected. The only sign that his assumption irritated her was the uncontrolled fluttering of her left eyelid. “However, I have enough work to do to keep me busy until Christmas. Thank you, but that’s okay.”

  When her boss released a loud sigh and stuffed his hands in his pocket, Zola braced herself for what was to come next. Anytime Tate looked like a puckish white man waiting to see if the black woman was amused or pissed by his colorful racial joke, it meant he was about to ask her to do something that wasn’t in her job description.

  “Zola, we’ve got a major problem in Atlanta that only your magic touch can handle. Of course you know under different circumstances I would go myself, but I have no diplomacy when it comes to this young gentleman. But I’m not a fool. This young man is a valued employee. We can’t afford to piss him off. It took NASA four years to woo him from his previous employer.”

  “What makes this person so important?” Zola frowned in question. “Does he work here in this building?”

  “No, he’s not under our facility. He heads up the Energy Resource Department in Coco Beach, Florida. However, it is our division that is hosting this major fundraising event in Atlanta, and most of the people and investors who paid a thousand dollars a plate came to hear Tsubasa speak about renewable energy sources, agro-climatology, and see his latest solar energy building designs.”

  “Dr. Shirou Tsubasa,” she groaned. “I can’t believe he is doing this again.”

  Zola hadn’t met the man in person, but she had had her own run-in with him over the telephone about his contracted required public speaking appearances. He was heavily sought after, but getting him to do them was impossible. Each time he was scheduled, he would back out at the last minute, leaving her to scramble for his replacement and having to rewrite the speeches.

  “So you already know him,” the older man blurted. “That should make things easier on you.”

  “No, I don’t really know him,” Zola corrected. “I have spoken to his assistant when she calls to inform me that he has more important things to do than give speeches.” She mimicked the nasally Asian-accented tone of Mr. Tsubasa’s assistant.

  “Sounds just like her.” Mr. Tate chuckled.

  “Sorry,” Zola apologized sheepishly. “I take it you want me to find a replacement in Atlanta and e-mail an appropriate, well-researched speech ready to go for the dinner banquet tomorrow night?”

  “Actually, I’m going to ask more of you, Zola,” Tate confessed. He tugged at his tie and cleared his throat. “This is not a normal banquet dinner. We need Tsubasa there convincing those investors to allow us to keep our current funding, and that is where you come in.”

  “Okay.” Zola giggled nervously. “I don’t get it.”

  “The only way we can keep our current government funding for the new year is the ‘young genius.’ Tsubasa needs to explain to the attending governing bodies where all those millions he’s utilizing are going.”

  “How will reduced funding in Florida affect us in Virginia?” Zola questioned.

  “As long as Tsubasa continues his research, we will maintain a full staff to garner the research information he needs to do his job. I promised them in Coco Beach that you work magic with difficult NASA Representatives.”

  “I appreciate your confidence in me, Mr. Tate, but I have no idea how I’m supposed to get this man out on that stage tomorrow night to give a speech I have yet to write, on a subject I have yet to research,” Zola complained.

  “Zola, I know you can get it together. I already gave you a head start by informing Tsubasa that you will arrive tonight and work on the speech with him.”

  “And he’s all right with that?” She skeptically eyed her boss.

  Tate shifted from one foot to the other and picked at an unseen piece of lint on his expensive blue silk tie. “Of course, he believes he’s helping you prepare the speech on his operations for someone else to give the dialogue...”

  “Geez,” Zola groaned. “Mr. Tate, you’re killing me here.”

  “I know I’m asking a lot.” He nodded his head. "My expectation is while you’re working on the speech with Tsubasa, you will be able to convince him how important it is for him to be the one to give the speech.”

  “Uh...how exactly am I to do that?”

  “Find out what the hell his problem is and fix it!” Tate
spouted.

  With elbows propped atop the desk, Zola dropped her face into her hands with a loud groan.

  “Zola, come on, you’ve dealt with petulant scientists before. It’s your specialty.” Tate reached out and touched a reassuring hand to her shoulder. “I really don’t look forward to having to lay people off at the end of the year if this doesn’t work.”

  “I understand,” she murmured.

  “Will you do this for me?” he asked.

  “It sounds like I have no choice but to try and convince Mr. Tsubasa how important tomorrow’s banquet is.” Zola released a long sigh. “When do I leave?”

  “Your plane is flying out in...” He looked at the watch on his wrist. “Five hours and twenty minutes.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  He quirked his eyebrows at her and replied, “I’m serious enough to tell you to pack only the necessities and use your company card for anything else you need. If you miss that plane, the next one won’t fly out until in the morning, and I assume the more time you get with Tsubasa, the better our odds are.”

  “You already purchased the plane ticket?” Zola scoffed, shaking her head. “What if I had plans that I couldn’t break?”

  Tate shook his head. “It would never happen. Not with you, Zola. That’s why I gave you this position. I knew if you were an excellent assistant, you would be just as capable at being NASA’s Public Affairs Specialist.”

  “I should get a big bonus after this,” Zola muttered as she quickly began scribbling notes to where she left off on the project she was currently working on.

  “You know the economy isn’t allowing us to issue a bonus this year; however, I can give you an extra week off with pay. If you get this done for me, you can stay in Atlanta next week and enjoy a visit with your family.”

  “Yeah...yeah...yeah...” she groaned, burying her face in her hands.

  “Thank you, Zola. I owe you.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m going to get his butt on that platform tomorrow night,” she said with more assurance than she felt. “I have received perfect survey scores from each place I’ve sent public representatives. I’m not going to allow one spoiled Mensa card-carrying member of the ‘geek squad’ to ruin my stellar reputation.”

  “I knew you would see it that way.” Tate chuckled. “Stop by my office on the way out. I already have an expense check for you and the agreed-upon additional vacation time in writing.”

  Zola nodded. She pushed away from the desk. Rising, she waited a moment until she heard the ding of the elevator doors opening, then shut the door to her office and locked it before retrieving her cellular phone from the soft, black leather, Juicy Couture freestyle hobo handbag.

  Easing back into her seat, Zola speed-dialed her ex-boyfriend, now best friend, Rick. He was number three on the speed dial after her parents at number one and her baby sister’s cell phone number at number two.

  Zola slipped the Bluetooth headset onto her ear and leaned back in the high-backed burgundy leather executive chair. At the second ring, she lifted her feet up to rest on the edge of her desk, and at the third ring she closed her eyes.

  On the fourth ring, he answered with a sarcastic, “Don’t tell me...you’re not coming to dinner.”

  “I’m afraid not. I’m practically out the door on my way to the airport,” she explained in an apologetic tone.

  “It’s been what, four months since we got our freak on?” Rick sighed. “You know this phone sexing isn’t cutting it, don’t you?”

  “Don’t even lie and say you’ve been waiting on me.” Zola laughed softly. “It’s been four months since I got my freak on.”

  “You know if you want to get back together, I’m right there,” he replied sincerely. “When I’m with you, I’m with you.”

  “I know, but nothing has changed.” It was her turn to sigh. “I’m busier now with my current position than I was when we were dating. My choosing to have a career over having children anytime soon ruined my marriage, and after he cheated on me and got another woman pregnant, we couldn’t even part as friends.”

  “I know, sweetheart.”

  “I don’t want to disappoint you and lose your friendship too,” she said.

  “Just so you know, I’ve met someone,” Rick stated. “It’s not serious yet, but I like her. You know once I do, or if I do get serious with her, these ex-girlfriend-bootie calls ain’t happenin’, right?”

  Zola laughed at his question. “I’m not that kind of woman. I love me some sex, but there are too many available men in the world for me to freak-up some other woman’s man. Besides, I wouldn’t want another woman disrespecting me that way.”

  “It’s a shame,” he clicked his tongue. “I picked up your favorites from Farrelli’s Italian Eatery. I changed the bed and put on those expensive high-count bed linens you like...”

  “Stop it, boy. I’m already dying here.” She bit her lip in sexual frustration. “If all goes well, I’ll be gone a week; if not, I’ll be back on Monday. Either way I’ll call you when I get back in town.”

  “Let me take you to the airport,” Rick offered. “What time is your flight?”

  “Very soon,” she assured him, thinking it best not to give him any hope that they could hook up before she left.

  “Damn, it will be pushing it, but I think I can put a smile on your face before you have to board the plane.”

  Zola shook her head. She could picture him wiggling his eyebrows in that silly suggestive way of his. She should have known he wouldn’t give up easily. He’d obviously gone through a lot of trouble to get her in his bed tonight.

  “Rick, I can hear that you’re about to start begging.” He laughed. She smiled. “So, let me save you the effort. I’m leaving my car at the airport, and you can’t change my mind because I have too much to do…I need to print up some research material that I have to work on while on the plane.”

  “So I have this huge hard-on and you’re going to let it go to waste?” Rick asked bluntly.

  “Please,” Zola moaned. A thrill of pleasure shot through her core. “Don’t even get me started.”

  “I know you. From the moment you called and made this date with me for tonight, you’ve been horny as hell just from the anticipation.” His voice deepened. “Touch yourself and tell me how wet that pussy is,” he instructed.

  Zola’s tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip that had suddenly gone dry. She didn’t have to touch herself to know her pussy was creaming. She could feel the wetness tickling at her naked waxed vaginal lips.

  “Rick,” Zola called softly.

  “I‘m sitting on the sofa with my cock out of my pants and I’m stroking my dick in that slow, torturing way you used to do.”

  Flushing, she pushed aside the crotch of her black lace panties, using her fingers to work her cunt.

  “Are you doing it?”

  “Yes.” She smiled.

  “Really?”

  “Really.” It came out breathy.

  “I’m stroking the length of my cock really hard now,” he grunted.

  “Good,” she moaned, her fingers brushing against her plumped clitoris.

  “If I was there, I would be stroking and licking your clit, sucking and nibbling on those sexy fat pussy lips of yours,” he breathed.

  Heat crept over her face, neck, and shoulders. Her thick thighs trembled as she got close to coming. Dropping one black high-heeled foot to the floor, her legs spread wider and she inserted two fingers in her wet channel while circling her thumb against her clit.

  Zola could feel her juices seeping between her butt cheeks each time she inserted her fingers and withdrew them to the rim of her opening before going deep again. Her efforts matched his heavy panting over the phone.

  “I’m holding the head of my huge cock at your opening.” His husky voice penetrated through her sex-muddled brain. “I’m pushing slowly between those fucking wonderful pussy lips...can you feel me pushing inside you? I’m almost there.” />
  “Yes! Yes! Me too,” she whimpered. “Just a little more...a little more...”

  The unexpected loud shrilling sound over the phone caused Zola to jump, and with her foot braced against the desk, she nearly fell backwards in her chair. What the fuck?!

  “Shit...Damn...I got to go, Zola!” Rick yelled over the shrill background noise. “My smoke alarm is going off! The lasagna I was keeping heated in the oven for you is burning. Have a safe trip and call me when you get back!”

  The phone line went dead along with Zola’s unfinished orgasm. She laid her head on her desk with a long, sexually frustrated grumble.

  Chapter Two