My Jewish American Princess

I've been dreaming about this moment for two years, since the first day I saw her walk across the showroom floor. She was there to do an interview as a Showroom Greeter.

Tysons Corner, Virginia, is a melting pot for some of the most exotic, erotic and electrifying women anywhere in the world. You see, it's a suburb of Washington, DC, the nation's capital and most powerful place on the planet.

I am a New Car Sales Rep at Rosenthal Honda. We sell more Honda's than anywhere on the East coast. Only Torrance, CA rivals our dealership's production.

I just graduated from Clemson University and relocated to Northern Virginia with a couple of my frat boy roommates. All three of us got jobs there, thanks to Scottie's uncle being the General Sales Manager.

Rachel stands 5 foot 6, tanned olive skin, brown locks with blonde highlights and full Double Dee breasts. She dons this aqua blue silk dress that perfectly fits her alluring body.

Her ass is unworldly. I'm an assman by trade. I tell you it's as close to perfection as heavenly possible.

When she walks, if you look close, you can see the line of her thong panties at the top of each ass cheek. Upon closer inspection, you can even see the material that wraps around her tight waist.

Her green eyes are dreamy. Rachel's most erotic feature: thighs that will make your johnson rise. Not to mention, she possesses the sexiest lips you will ever see on a female humanoid.

"Yo, Scottie, did you see the new girl speaking to Maureen. I think I'm in love."

"Timmy, forget about it. She's a Jewish girl, they don't go for the brothers. Plus her grandfather owns the dealership."

I'm from the south, so I find it weird, that Scottie thinks Jewish girls are a different classification, than say any other white American girl.

"Jewish, dude, she looks like a smoking hot white girl. How can you know her religious affiliation?"

"My brother, if you grew up in DC, you would just know. Jewish girls have thick lips and big booties like black girls."

"Damn dude, you just described the perfect woman."

But I digress.

Needless to say, Rach and I became fast friends. We ate breakfast and lunch together twice a week. She introduced me to toasted bagels with cream cheese. Rachel taught me how to use chopsticks at our favorite Chinese restaurant.

I'm a creature of habit. She would get so irritated because I ordered Kung Pao Chicken with no peanuts, every time without fail.

"Timmy, you do realize that Kung Pao Chicken means a chicken dish with peanuts. Honey, how about trying the duck, it's delicious."

"No thanks Mom, but I appreciate the lesson. You are so smart," I joke.

She kicks me under the table. Her best friend Maureen pipes in. "Will you two get a room already. I can cut the sexual tension with a knife."

"Maureen!! Rachel exclaims. Her olive skin now bright red.

"Mo, you know they say Jewish girls don't go for the brothers."

"Who says so. Jewish girls go for any man worthy of our affection," Rachel replies.

We even went to a jazz bar off Georgia Avenue, located in the hood, a couple times for Happy Hour. The only thing is during all these outings together, we are never alone.

Always in a group with either her friends, my friends, other sales reps or the ladies from the Aftermarket department. Rachel had been promoted to Aftermarket Manager.

A few times during the long hours at the dealership, I caught her giving me a look, that seemed to be more than a friendly one. Her mouth always said we can only be friends. However, her eyes said; I want to taste your mouth, Timmy.

The fateful night had me staying late with the last customer of the evening. Rach usually meets with the customer before they go into the finance office. We are posted up at her desk in the showroom, while waiting for the customer to exit finance.

"Boo, you don't have to stay. I will tell Mr. Tate that we will do the aftermarket presentation tomorrow," I say.

"No worries big boy, I will gladly wait as long as you are here keeping me company."

My hand is on the desk and when she lays her delicate fingers touching my hand, a wave of electricity flows through my bloodstream. Rachel must have felt it also because when our eyes meet.

The animalistic desire, pent up for two years, is unleashed. We hold hands and hurry across the showroom floor, to the service water closet. I slam the door shut, turn, she jumps into my arms.

I lift her on to the sink. Rachel's legs are draped around my waist. We are exchanging saliva at an alarming rate.

Her taste is absolutely orgasmic. I had never desired someone as much as I needed her saliva. We bump and grind; grind and bump.

I bite and suck her neck. She bites and sucks my neck. Then we hear over the intercom.

"Mr. Kincaid, customer in the showroom."

We get ourselves together. Rachel uses her fingers to wipe off the lipstick from my mouth. After the delivery, we take my car to her condo, located just outside the Tysons II Mall.

This black boy loved every inch of that smart, sexy, scentilating Jewish girl. She educated my mind and body in a way I had never experienced up to and since.

Our little secret affair lasted a couple months. Rachel relocated to California when her grandfather purchased his only competition: Torrance Honda.

She is always on my mind.