Indigo Jones was a fine “high yella” sista She was ripe at the of 26 but didn’t look a day over 22. She had an uncanny way of making men aware if what she brought to the table as far as sexual liberation was concerned. In other words, “sistagirl was on like that!" She owned a corner office in the Towers Office complex working as a Vice President of a prestigious advertising agency in downtown Los Angeles in the same building, but on a different floor. I on the other hand, was a partner with one of the most powerful consulting firms on the West coast. Yeah, I was bringing in major dollars and all the women in the office knew it. Anyway, I remember one morning I came in the office where she worked. I knew some of the executives there since my firm did business once or twice with Indigo’s booming agency. I had been running late because of an all-nighter with some of the fellas, this one of which had me feeling a little tired and a lot more hung over. I spotted Indigo out of the corner of my eye as I proceeded to the office of one of the manager’s that I knew. She was up to her usual temptress antics-slowly, but surely seducing all the men; brothas and gray boys alike, but she did so with just her eyes and her very feminine mannerisms. Now remember I said that I was bringing home major figures and all the women knew it? Well, I stand corrected because all the women with the exception of Indigo, knew it but I felt she had an idea—call it a man’s intuition. I drew that conclusion due to several “brushes with fire” that I encountered with Miss Indigo. The first time I ran into her was at a typical “watercooler” setting in the building. If she noticed me then, she played it off hella cool because the sista didn’t even bat an eye when I walked by and lightly, but accidentally, brushed up against her nice little petite ***. What gave her away was a note I had gotten a couple of days later. It was placed under my door in a little pink envelope. It read: “Do you always go around feeling sista’s ***** in public?” It was simply signed “IJ” so I knew right away who it was. Needless to say, I was a little hesitant about watercooler walk-bys because of the previous episode, so I steered clear of little Miss Indigo for a quick minute due to slight apprehension. My next two encounters happened within a span of a week’s time. At the firm, we have that co-ed washroom thing going on just like on television. The second time I bumped into her, she was coming in the washroom as I was going out. The clumsy little motions that we both made were kind of funny in an odd sort of way. She was reaching to push the door while I was pulling to leave out. She stumbled a bit but quickly regained her composure, or so I thought. “****, you could say excuse me?” she snapped and gave me a look that could kill. I dismissed it by accentuating the positive, “at least she looked at me”. That set the tone for good things to come with Miss Jones and I.