Lydia Marsh bit her lip when concentrating. I’d noticed it weeks earlier, and every fucking time since. It tormented me daily, that tense little mouth. I could feel her doing it now, sense the tap, tap, tap of her pen against her chin. My mood took a turn for the worse.
“...as you all know, James and Lydia have done a grand job on phase one of the WHM project, we’re ahead of schedule and due to go live with the accounts module within the fortnight. They’ve already recommended us to Salmons, the big personal injury lawyers up in Warwick...”
I’d already heard all this, of course. I cast my eyes around the room, soaking up all the congratulatory smiles from well-meaners. My gaze returned to Lydia, her glittering eyes beaming with pride as they locked onto mine. I granted her the slightest nod. It burst her bubble, and she looked back to her notes as I turned away.
“...Stephen Bryant will be heading to Salmons in a week or two to deliver the first demo. With a fair wind we’ll have another top 250 client before the year is done...”
I zoned out.
My balls felt heavy as lead, aching with the need to fuck like a beast. I craved the salty tang of tears, straight from a broken woman’s eyes, her tight little cunt mine to abuse. She’s submissive, you know. Fuck you, Rebecca, just fuck you. I bet you any money there’s a dirty little girl hiding under that shell.
“...anything to add, James?”
The room looked at me, and I looked blankly at Frank. He was smiling his goofy fucking smile, waiting for me to join in his self-congratulating love fest.
“You’ve covered it, Frank.”
“Great, well, if there’s nothing else...” The clock loomed towards end of play, the weekend beckoning. Nobody said a word. “See you on Monday, everyone.”
I stayed in place as the room vacated, streams of people filing out like good little soldiers. I stretched my legs under the table, struggling to alleviate the ache in my groin. It didn’t work.
The door swung shut behind the stragglers, leaving just the hum of the projector and my delectable project manager. She came closer, leaning over my shoulder to hand me a file. For the briefest of moments her perky little rack grazed my shoulder and my dick leapt to attention, straining towards her with only a flimsy table top for camouflage. The pale swell of her tits was a magnet, the sloping V of her neckline revealing two perfect handfuls. She had two tiny freckles on her right breast. I wondered for a long moment whether they’d match the colour of her nipples. No, her nipples would be dusky pink; round and ripe and so fucking tender. Strawberry buttons on creamy white skin.
“I wanted to give you this.”
Her scent knocked me senseless; Amber and Black Cherry. She’d applied her perfume like an amateur, carelessly thick on her wrists and no-doubt rubbed to shit, but still my mouth watered. My pulse beat in stereo, both in my temples and my cock. I battled the impulse to tear the fabric from her wrist, hot with the need for scars against my tongue. I forced myself to scan the first few lines of her document. “Case Management stages for WHM? Already? We won’t need these until phase two, it’s an inefficient use of your time, Lydia.”
She pierced me with offended eyes. “I did it after work, James. Extra-curricular. I’d love to know what you think.”
“I leave in ten minutes.”
She smiled nervously, her mouth just inches from my nose. “Sure, well, there’s no rush.”
“Then why give it me now?”
“I was just, um. It was ready.”
I flicked through the pages. She’d written a whole fucking tome. “I’ll schedule some time next week.”
“Oh, okay,” she said. I could taste her disappointment.
“Did you expect I’d do it now? I have engagements after five.”
“No, not right now. I was just thinking maybe you’d like to come over at some point. See Bex, and me, and we could do it then, or not. Maybe this weekend?”
“I’m busy.”
“Yeah, of course, sorry, short notice. It was just a thought. You haven’t been over, I thought you might like to see her.” She smiled to lighten her words.
“I saw Rebecca today.”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “Oh? Sorry, my mistake. I didn’t realise.”
“Why would you?”
“I guess I wouldn’t. We don’t really speak outside of work talk. I thought you coming over might re-break the ice.”
“I hardly speak to anyone, Lydia, work or no. There’s no ice to re-break.”
“We spoke in Brighton...”
“Yes, we did.”
“...and then nothing. Did it make you feel awkward?”
I watched her unashamedly, revelling in her discomfort. “Why would Brighton have made me feel awkward, Lydia?”