Serving Ms. Harris
coffee © 2007

I'll admit my first impressions of Ms. Harris were not the most
flattering. I had assumed (wrongly) that she was like most of the
other wealthy, corporate black chicks who breezed into the Soul Food
Deli on their lunch hours. They came in often enough to convince
themselves that they were still down with the community, but you'd
never catch them eating at the lunch counter. Ms. Harris was
different. When she ordered she looked me directly in the eyes and her
smile was always genuine…. And of course there was no denying the
woman was gorgeous. There was a running joke at the deli that when Ms.
Harris walked through the door everybody knew to get the hell out of
my way, because if I couldn't serve her, nobody would.

One day she came in and asked if we catered events. I smiled and
pointed at the big sign above the sandwich menu that read, "YES! We
cater!"
"Oh!" she laughed, "If that sign had been any bigger it would have bit
me!" Even the sound of her laughter had me sprung. I was useless
around this woman. My coworkers didn't even ask who was going to
deliver the food. The day of the party they just loaded up my car and
handed me her address. Now to say Ms. Harris was wealthy was really an
understatement. Not only did she live at one of the most expensive
buildings on West Street but her apartment encompassed an entire
floor. The woman had her own elevator…

"Daniel!" she said as I pushed my food cart into the foyer, "I'm so
happy to see you!" She was wearing a black dress that looked so good
it made my head hurt.
"I have a huge favor to ask… The girl I had scheduled to work tonight
called in sick. It's too short notice to get a replacement…"
She didn't even have to finish before I said yes. She showed me where
to set up the food and then brought me to the master bedroom. "You're
almost the same size as my ex," she said, holding a crisply pressed
shirt up next to my chest. My face flushed with embarrassment when I
realized how poorly I was dressed, but by the time she was done with
me I looked impeccable in a white dress shirt, black slacks and a
black bow tie. Once I was fully dressed and had my white chef's apron
tied around my waist I could have easily passed for a server in any of
the fanciest restaurants. I could tell Ms. Harris was impressed.

It was my job to make sure the food was presented properly and that
the guests were always well fed and liquored. I took my task seriously
and by the end of the night I could hear some of the female guests
whispering enviously...
"Where did she find him?", "What service does he work for?", "Does he
do bedrooms?" I have to confess that last comment kind of caught me
off guard, but when I glanced at myself in the hallway mirror I
realized that I did look pretty handsome, and not only that, for the
first time in months I was actually enjoying what I was doing… I guess
it showed.

Throughout the night I made sure the rooms stayed spotlessly clean,
and by the time the last guests filed out at around 3 in the morning I
had already packed up all my catering gear and put the last glasses in
the dishwasher.

Ms. Harris met me in the foyer with her checkbook.
"Daniel, I can't tell you how impressed I am with the job you did this
evening. You were spectacular. I really can't thank you enough…"
"It was my pleasure," I said. It was nice to feel appreciated for once.
"Did you formally train for dinner service? Culinary school?" she asked.
"No… I guess some of the things my mother taught me must have stuck,"
I laughed.
"Your mother should be proud then." She asked me how much I owed her.
"Well," I said, pulling out the receipt for the catering, "The balance
for the food is $250 but you really don't have to pay tonight."
She filled out the check anyway and handed it to me.
"And how much do I owe you Daniel?" she asked with a smile.
"Oh, you don't owe me anything," I said shaking my head no firmly,
"Nothing at all. Seriously, I will not take a dime."
Ms. Harris put a hand on one of her gorgeous curvy hips and stared at me.
"And why is that?" she asked.
"I don't charge my friends," I said, still shaking my head no, "would
never charge a friend."
She continued staring at me intently.
"I won't take your money," I insisted again, "Please… put your
checkbook away."
"Is that an order?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
I smiled and looked at the floor bashfully and then back up at her.
Damn, she was fine...
She put the checkbook down with a sigh.
"Well, at least come sit and have a glass of wine with me," she said,
"I'm sure you must be exhausted. You've been on your feet for hours."

We sat on a couch in her library in front of a fireplace that was so
realistic I almost asked if she needed me to put more wood on it.
Luckily I contained my stupidity long enough to realize it was a gas
burner. We laughed about some of the more comical guests and she
gushed about how much everyone enjoyed the food and drinks. And then
out of nowhere she offered me a job!
"I need somebody with your dedication and attention to details Daniel
and I'm prepared to pay you at least double what you're earning now."
"I would love to work for you!" I blurted out, somewhat embarrassed by
my own eagerness, but not really caring at the moment.
"Well…," she smiled, "Don't give me an answer just yet. There are some
things you should know first." Ms. Harris pulled a leather ottoman
directly in front of where she was seated and patted it. I immediately
sat down before her.
"I can be demanding at times," she explained, "I will always expect
100% from you Daniel and I won't be satisfied with any less than
that…" She propped both of her feet, clad in designer, calf-length,
leather boots, on the ottoman between my legs. She told me to remove
her boots, and then continued talking.
"The position is somewhat like a personal assistant, but more like a
servant. Your duties will, at times, include preparing food for me,
acting as my driver and escort, supervising the cleaning staff, and
just generally making sure things are in order. I like everything to
be in order." I had to focus on what Ms. Harris was saying to keep my
mind from wandering as I unzipped her boots and slipped them off. I
held her feet on my lap and began to gently rub her arch and soles.
"I require obedience and respect at all times Daniel. And when I ask
you a question, your answer will either be `Yes, Ma'am' or `No,
Ma'am'. Understood?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I said with more enthusiasm than was probably necessary.
She sighed contentedly as I put more effort into massaging her feet.
"Of course there will be times when you'll make mistakes… after all
Daniel, nobody is perfect, not even myself." I glanced up at her with
a smile because honestly I didn't see how any woman could be more
perfect than she was.
"When you make a mistake you will be disciplined," she said, "Have you
ever been punished by a woman Daniel?" she asked.
"No, Ma'am… unless, does my mother count? We used to have one of those
gigantic decorative wooden spoons hanging in the kitchen…" Ms. Harris
was laughing already. "…and when I got out of line my mother used to
take that spoon off the wall and beat the living daylights out of me
with it."
"Your mother sounds like a lovely woman," she laughed, "I'd love to
meet her one day." Then her expression turned serious again.
"The punishments you receive will vary depending upon how severe your
mistakes are. Do you think you can handle that?" she asked.
"Yes, Ma'am, I can." The thought of Ms. Harris punishing me was
sending waves of sexual arousal through my body for some reason. I
briefly wondered what the hell was wrong with me… but only briefly.

Ms. Harris slid down in the couch and raised one of her beautiful feet
towards my lips. There was absolutely no hesitation on my part, but
then I've always had a thing for pretty feet. I licked and sucked her
toes like a starving man at a breakfast buffet, and trust me, she
tasted absolutely delicious.
"Come here Daniel," she said, crossing her legs seductively.
I quickly got up and stood beside her.
"Drop your pants." It was definitely an order, not a request.
My erection wasn't going down anytime soon, so there was no sense in
delaying.
I stood there with my pants around my ankles feeling like a complete
idiot.
"When did that happen?" Ms. Harris said, pointing toward my
embarrassingly hard dick.
"Just… just recently," I stuttered.
"When you had my toes in your dirty little mouth?" she asked.
"Before that," I admitted shamefully.
"Really?" she asked with a wicked smile.
"Yes Ma'am, when you asked me if I could handle being punished, that's
when it… happened."
There was an uncomfortable silence as Ms. Harris took several sips of
wine and continued to stare at me. Then finally she put the glass down
and spoke.
"So do you still want the job?"
I think you all know what my answer was.