I wanted her ass, yes – but to touch it, to kiss it, to caress it. I moved over the gorgeous curves, down the inside of her thighs, lightly grazing her pussy along the way… just by accident. (If you believe that, I have a bridge in Brooklyn I want to sell you.)
I kissed her everywhere: the small of her back, her spine, her shoulder blades, her neck… and then worked my way back down with tiny little flicks of my tongue.
I was almost to her ass when I joked, “I bet when you came in this morning, you didn’t think you’d be having sex in the company boardroom.”
Wrong thing to say.
It was like somebody had plugged her into a wall socket.
“OH MY GOD!” she screeched, and jerked away so fast she smacked my face with her ass. (Not that I would have minded, under ordinary circumstances.)
The sudden change – from sensual afterglow to meth-head freak-out – almost gave me a heart attack.
“What?! What is it?!”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe I did this!” she cried as she stumbled to her feet and began snatching up her clothes.
Ohhhhh… NOW I get it.
I laughed out loud. I wasn’t trying to be mean; there really just wasn’t any other logical reaction. I mean, if you work for a company and decide to fuck in their boardroom, I figure you might as well deal with your qualms upfront so you can at least enjoy the experience all the way to the end.
And what was the point of freaking out when you hadn’t even been caught yet?
I put my hands behind my head and watched her gather her clothes in a frenzy. I noticed she kept glancing over at me, for longer and longer intervals, with a look of barely suppressed lust.
There might be hope yet.
“Stop. Come here.”
I tried to catch her hand as she passed by, and failed.
“I’m so going to get fired,” she whimpered as she pulled on her underwear. Which, nice as it was to watch, was going in the opposite direction I wanted.
“Nobody knows we’re here,” I said soothingly.
“There are cameras!”
I tried a joke, like I liked the possibility: “Reaaaally.”
She didn’t take it as a joke, though.
“Well… not in here, but out in the receptionist area! Somebody could have seen us go in, and – ”
“And we’ll tell them we were drinking coffee. Come here,” I said, and tried for her ankle.
No go – she evaded me again.
“It’s going to smell like – like sex!” she whispered, sounding for all the world like some 80-year-old church lady discussing sinful acts perpetrated up at Lover’s Lane.
She bent down to the floor and patted the carpet where we’d done the deed. Apparently her worst fears were confirmed, because she screwed her eyes shut in agony. “Oh God…”
“What?”
“It’s… it’s wet,” she whispered haltingly. “…where we had sex.”
Good grief. If I had my druthers, we would have gotten every inch of the carpet wet. And the table and chairs, too.
I figured she needed a little push outside of the box, so I uncapped my water bottle and poured some out over the offending ‘wet spot.’
“Ooops. Look at that. Spilled my water.”
She about had a conniption fit. “Cut that out!”
“Where’s the woman I just had sex with?” I asked. “The wild and crazy one? I want her back.”
And I did.
Badly.
I was ready for Round Two. Despite the drama queen reaction, all I wanted was to pull her back down to the floor, rip off her clothes, and have my way with her again.
That wasn’t what was going through her mind, though.
“She’s gone,” she snapped. “She just got replaced with the woman who realizes she’s probably going to get fired for this, and she still has three hours of reports to – ”
She stopped midsentence, got an even more pained look on her face, then pressed her palms into her eye sockets like she was fighting a blinding migraine.
I sighed. I could see this wasn’t going to go my way, so I just stood up and grabbed my clothes.
“You shouldn’t worry so much,” I told her.
“Easy for you to say. Your job isn’t on the line.”
“It’s a crappy job, Lily.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got.”
Again, that crazy, resigned, fatalistic line of logic that everyday people carried wherever they went.
I hate being whipped every day while I push this grindstone around!
So leave and find something better to do.
But if I do that, then I won’t be around to get whipped while I push this grindstone!
“You should get one you like,” I said.
She gave me an angry, unhappy look, and I realized I wasn’t going to ‘logic’ her into feeling better… so I just got dressed instead and let her try to wipe the boardroom of all traces we had been there.