I saw her . She was a fine specimen of a sista, graced with beautiful deep set dark eyes, with a gorgeous dark skin tone that was silky smooth and I just wanted to touch what adorned her. I figured she was a professional sista, in a fairly well-to-do job, cause boy, did she work those power suits. 

Associate professor Cassandra Marsh stomped into her office, tossed a plastic folder of notes on to her desk and groaned in annoyance. She had just (finally) gotten rid of an insufferably persistent gentleman by acquiescing to his request for a date. Cassandra, or Cassie, as those she was closest to called her, sat down in the comfy leather chair that had been an office-warming gift from her grandfather and turned her eyes to the ceiling as she mulled over the prospective night ahead.

We left the relative shade of the peristyle garden with its white marble fountain depicting Venus, a ewer hoisted on her shoulder. The trickling figure stood in the centre of a shallow square pool, surrounded by smooth flag stones and then by a grassed border skirting up to a colonnaded cloister that hemmed the garden in, providing a screen to the outside world.

…Three’s a crowd, but four is… well read on and make your own mind up. But, please don’t ask me what I think, I’m still coming down and can’t think straight yet.