Thursday, June 3, 2010
"I don't think you should be coming onto me like this, it's unprofessional and I haven't got the time for such nonsense."
But I never pulled away. Mixed messages and longing, a deadly combination in the game of seduction. I am the one unbuttoning his shirt, I am the one shimmying out of this skirt, I carry all blame. A full window of daylight in front of us, 15 stories up, an office door to the back, locked, with curtains drawn.
He whispers " I am the boss now" as he slips his hand between my legs, pushing them apart deftly.
I submit to him now, his warmth and strength intrigue me. He pushes me to shaking knees, further demonstrating his prowess as hunter. I am quarry, the weak for which the hunter preys upon. I do not struggle, I take him full in my mouth choking at the size, yet still wanting him deeper. One pull of a bobby pin frees my hair from conservative, a switch is hit and I amble on to please him. His waves penetrate, he begs me to stop, who is in charge now I wonder, yet I do as he requests.
I am thrown onto the desk, legs airborne, his mouth hungry to find me, he pushes red lace to the side with his tongue to discover my heat. My head falls back to find his hand grasping my hair and pulling it further back, exposing my neck. He raises up to my eye's level, slowly unbuttoning my crisp white blouse revealing the nude pasties I wear to hide perky nipples, mine are full and erect now. He smiles at me as he tears them off with his mouth and lingers, paying tribute to every part of my breast.
I am exposed, thigh highs and heels my only protection from wandering hands, he looks at me as if I am fine artwork, I return the gesture. I am enchanted with his every move, his next one startles me.
Thrown to the floor and entered roughly, my head pounds against the rough carpet, I am bleeding, but undeterred. Grunting, moaning, the sounds and smell of sex envelop us with it's lure. I don't want this to end, but we both give up the fight, together. Breathing slows as the shaking stops. Sweat rolls down his nose and drips onto my waiting tongue, his taste, like the finest of sweet wine.
He helps me up and feels the back of my head revealing bloody fingers.
"I am sorry".
"You had better fucking NOT be" I counter with little emotion.
"Now pull yourself together and get the fuck out of my office!"
We dress awkwardly never losing eye contact. I place my hair back into confinement as he walks toward the door adjusting himself.
"What do you want for dinner?"
"Kids have soccer practice tonight, I'll pick something up".