by Ylana MIlls
Now he couldn't stop thinking about having sex with her again.
But he knew he could make it. Eliza Clark was so much more than a hot fuck, and if she actually thought he was only in it for the sex, he would prove her wrong.
"But yeah… she is a hell of a hot fuck," he whispered, unable to stop himself. 'My thoughts… Please have mercy on me...' he continued, but this time engaging in a mental exchange with his inner self. 'Don't make me see her nipples again…'
'Maybe if you stop washing her bras…' his mind responded.
And then, he paused, looking at his foam covered hands and then at the pile of garments she had placed in a separate basket, with a note saying 'NO washing machine for those – need to be hand washed'.
"I walked right into her trap, didn't I?"
He had forgotten that part. Apparently, Eliza's challenge included her tormenting him with silly little pranks that included her taking a bath with the door to the bathroom wide open, asking him to 'give her a hand' when moving the furniture around, and now, making him wash her underwear. And it was Tuesday still!
He groaned as he resumed washing the bras. So she was having fun tempting him? Well, she could go on forever - he would not throw in the towel.
'Oh yeah… the towel…' he heard his own voice inside his head, revisiting the moment when Eliza climbed into the bathtub that morning after letting her towel fall to the floor precisely when he was walking past the bathroom.
Her naked shoulders… and back… and her butt… Oh her butt…
'Dude…you are so gonna lose this challenge…'
He smiled, after drying his hands and giving his stirring cock a gentle squeeze through his jeans, as if urging it to resume its peaceful sleep at least until he could take proper care of it in the shower later on.
No, he wouldn't lose that challenge. If there was one thing he was proud of, it was his resilience. He actually liked all the smug looks, the taunts, the silly chores she was assigning him. Overall, he liked that game, basically because he knew its rules very well, probably much better than Eliza Clark herself. And if she thought she could really play in the big leagues like that…
Then let her try.
"Knock, knock…"
He turned his head to find Eliza leaning against the laundry room door, wearing one of her lovely girly flower dresses and a pair of knee-high boots.
Before he knew, voices inside his head were already engaging in another duel.
'Lose the dress, keep the boots, and bend over the ironing board over there… just give me five minutes of your time.'
'Will you stop staring at her?''
'I bet you're wet as fuck, Ms. Clark. I know that smile.'
'Stop thinking these things! You will wake him up!'
'Too late.'
"Home already?" he said, returning his attention to the pile of clothes to hide his growing erection. How ridiculous, really. He would really need to meditate later on, to get his urges back under control. He let out a sigh before speaking again. "Left work earlier?"
"I don't know what you mean by 'earlier'," she replied, walking towards him. "It's five o'clock already."
He frowned, turning to look at the clock on the wall.
"Oh," he said. "Time really flies when you're having fun."
"You find washing clothes fun?"
"No," he answered, turning around to look at her. No sex, no petting, no snogging. Fine. But he could, and would, deploy other tactics to give her a hard time as well. And so, he stared into her eyes, daring her to look away as he whispered. "I find thinking of you fun."
By then, his bulging erection was more than obvious, and there was no way she would have missed it – not when it was less than an inch away from her thigh. However, in yet another display of nerve – which only turned him on even more – she held his stare, eyefucking him back.
She was aroused, he could tell. Though he applauded her attempt to keep a straight face, her nipples gave her away, as usual. Thank God for flimsy, non-padded bras and equally flimsy silk dresses. He wondered if she was even wearing a bra, to begin with.
"Is that so?" she asked.
"It is. Want the details?"
She blinked, and seemed to ponder for a moment. Then, she shrugged.
"Nah. Why make you suffer?"
He had no choice but to drop his gaze and chuckle.
"You know… telling me all the… dirty things that are in your mind…" she whispered, tilting her head, "knowing that you still have what… six, five days of waiting… that would be cruel, don't you think?"
He was chewing on his tongue when he finally raised his eyes back to her. He had to concede she was a tough competitor, and much better at teasing than he had originally given her credit for.
Maybe even better than him.
"Ms. Clark, may I say something about this challenge of yours?" he said, trying to stuff his hands in his pockets, only to find out it was not the best thing to do, given his… condition.
"What?"
"Please don't be offended, but… you do realize that you are sabotaging the two of us, don't you?"
"What are you talking about?" she replied, frowning.
"Eliza, come on, just look at us. I have a boner, you're all wet, we're in the laundry room eyef-
"Hey, hey," she interrupted, looking at him with a profound expression of disbelief. "Who says I'm wet?"
He tilted his head, in silence.
"You know what, how about this. I get to check, and if you're not, I officially lose the bet."
She shifted her feet uncomfortably, raising an eyebrow.
"No need for that," she said, trying to look unimpressed.
"See, that's what I'm talking about. Your challenge… It's all about proving that this is not about the sex. That we can enjoy each other in… other ways. And right now, with all the teasing, all I can think of is… obviously, sex. I might not be touching you for real, but in my mind I am. I am, and in very, very intimate ways. Many times today, in many different positions, and you know what? I feel like I'm cheating. I just think… you know, it's not right. You are more than sex to me, Eliza, but the bath with the door open, the bras, the teasing… honestly, you're not helping."
"Are you telling me off?" she asked, crossing her arms after his little rant.
"For being a tease?"
"Yeah."
"I am. You mad at me?"
"No," she answered. "I find it… very typical of you."
"What exactly is typical of me?"
He kept staring at her, waiting for a response that never came. Instead, she just shrugged with a shy smile, and her eyes, for a few seconds, seemed to glow with something other than desire.
"I apologize," she said. "I promise I won't tease you anymore."
She then proceeded to press her hands against his chest, and after a long moment of silence, she kissed him on the cheek and walked away, leaving behind a very puzzled Devon Shaw.
It would still take time for him to figure out what Eliza Clark was all about.
-----
"Girl, I'm serious about that report."
Eliza looked at her supervisor and tried not to laugh as the woman spoke.
"I'm with Rochelle on that one, Clark," another tall, dark-haired woman said as she approached the table where the two other women were sitting. "Being two hours late for work requires some serious disciplinary action."
"Come on, you both," Eliza replied, after taking off her glasses and giving them a tired look. "Don't you think I know what this is all about?"
The other two women tried to keep a serious face as they exchanged a quick look behind Eliza's back.
"You two have been pestering me with this for two days now… threatening to write a report and take "disciplinary action"… and I'm still not bringing him here!"
"Ok, you know what," the woman named Rochelle stood up and put her hands on her hips. "You're right, Clark. This is about bringing the man here. And you know why?"
Eliza tilted her head, waiting to hear what her supervisor had to say before she put on her pink wig for the day's activities.
"Because now that you banged him, girl, we really have to know what he is all about."
Eliza felt her jaw had dropped.
"Excuse me, I-I did not b-bang him!" she lied, blushing violently as she clumsily wore the wig and put on her sunglasses, hoping a hole in the ground would swallow her before the two women spoke again.
"Toccara, you hear that? She says she didn't bang him."
The other two women rolled their eyes and laughed.
"Kid, please," Toccara replied. "I call you that morning, he picks up the phone, says he's ill, and then you get to work half an hour later, and you have this goofy smile all over your face."
Eliza was at a loss for words. Had she been that obvious? It was true that she had thought about Devon on her way to work on Monday, and probably yes… she must have been smiling a lot that day, but still...
"Boy has a nice voice, by the way," Toccara concluded, wiggling her eyebrows.
"I… I j-just… We, I-I..." Eliza stuttered, before letting her head fall onto the table. "God, this is so embarrassing…"
"Embarrassing?" Rochelle asked. "I'll tell you what embarrassing is. Not having anything to share with your girlfriends because you're the only one in the group who's not getting any, that's embarrassing."
The three of them burst into laughter, and Eliza let out a sigh when all the giggling subsided. One of the best things about her job was that she got to work with those two women. They hardly ever met outside school, but the stories they told each other in-between classes, and the fact they took so much interest in her life always brought a smile to her lips.
"Make the call, sister. End the mystery," her colleague said, after their supervisor had left the room. "By now, even the kids want to meet him."
"Oh my Goodness," Eliza was pale as she whispered. "Have they been talking about Monday as well?"
"I don't think they were that perceptive, no," Toccara replied. "But after you drew the man's picture last week, I think they got curious enough."
Eliza whimpered. She had forgotten about that stupid picture. If Devon was really going to visit, then she would have to make sure he wouldn't come across the damn thing. After casting a final glance towards the other woman, she finally took her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed.
----
As Devon stopped at another traffic light, he looked at his forearms again, hoping he had been able to scrub off the smell of bleach from his skin. He had made sure to take a shower, wear some cologne and steal some of Eliza's body lotion, but he still got the feeling that his arms were impregnated with that dreadful stench. Rubber gloves would protect his hands alright when he was scrubbing bathroom tiles, but only his hands. His arms would suffer, and as a result he felt he was doomed to stink for the rest of the day.
That was why he was not particularly thrilled to show up at Eliza's workplace that Wednesday afternoon to take her the scarf she had left home.
When he finally pulled over at the address she had texted him, he looked at his reflection in the rear view mirror and tried to fix his hair before getting out of the car.
'You're not meeting her parents, dude. Just drop the damn scarf and leave.'
His mind could be such a killjoy, sometimes.
And so, he let out a sigh and headed to the school's entrance door.
"Excuse me?" he said, approaching the front desk, "My name is Devon Shaw, I'm here t-"
"Oh, yes, Mr. Shaw," he heard a very polite receptionist reply, and he couldn't help but notice she was dressed like a fairy. "Eliza will be with you in a minute. Her class will finish in ten minutes or so."
"Ok…" he muttered in response, wondering if he should say his only purpose there was to deliver a scarf. Just then, his eyes drifted to one of the rooms behind the front desk, and his gaze fell upon a group of teenagers trying to copy a very complicated choreography performed by a woman wearing flared jeans and a flowered vest. He frowned. For some reason, her figure looked familiar… He kept looking, narrowing his eyes as the woman danced around with her pink wig and hippy sunglasses. When his glance caught up with her smile, his eyes went wide.
"Is that… is that her class?" he asked the receptionist, his amusement showing in his voice as he pointed at the glass door behind her.
"Yup," she replied. "It's funfair day today, hence everybody… dressing up."
"Oh, I see," he whispered, smiling as he watched Eliza and her troupe. "If she had told me that over the phone, I would have chosen a more appropriate outfit."
He then looked at the receptionist again, and chuckled.
"Nice costume, by the way."
And he stood there, smiling like an idiot, as Eliza Clark carried on with whatever activity she was leading. The kids were sure having a great time, and apparently, so was she.
'Whatever it is you are about to think next, stop right there,' a voice inside his head whispered.
'Oh, what the hell? I was not even going to…'
'Yes you were! You were thinking about kids. Having kids with her!'
'That is not what I was thinking of! I was thinking, 'she will make a great moth-'
'…to your kids!'
'No! Why the fuck is it you never let me finish? I meant, 'she will make a great mother someday!'
'To your kids!'
'Oh, just shove it.'
Ignoring the debate going on inside his head, he blinked when a bell rang and people started walking out of rooms and onto the hall.
"Can I…?" he asked.
"Oh yeah, go ahead," the receptionist replied, nodding as he moved towards the room behind the front desk.
"I didn't know you had to wear a wig to work."
Eliza whipped her head around when he talked, and her eyes found him leaning lazily against the door frame, with a smile splattered across his face and her scarf firmly secured in his hand.
"I usually don't," she replied. "Today is funfair day."
"Sounds fun."
"Well, that's the idea."
She smiled, unable to look away. He looked so thoroughly intrigued by her outfit that it was almost as if she was looking at a child in an amusement park.
"Well, here is your scarf," he said, after clearing his throat.
"Oh, yeah."
The scarf. The only silly excuse she could find to bring him over. She realized his eyes were darting around the room, and soon enough he would locate the wall where the drawings from last week were hanging.
"Let's have some coffee, shall we?" she said, hurrying Devon out of that place.
On their way out, a few girls who were standing by the door ran away, giggling. A few others whispered to each other, exchanging secretive looks a few feet away from them. As they walked to the teachers' lounge, Devon got the very clear impression other people were also whispering behind their back.
"Is there anything I should know?" he asked with a frown.
"What?" Eliza asked, pretending she hadn't noticed anything unusual.
"Nothing… I just think… oh well. Nothing."
Perhaps he was just imagining things, after all.
When Eliza entered the teachers' lounge after Devon excused himself to go to the restroom, all eyes were on her.
"What?" she asked, taking off her sunglasses, but still looking too funny to be taken seriously despite the anger in her voice. "Can you guys act any weirder? You're making him uncomfortable!"
"Clark, we are making you uncomfortable," her supervisor replied. "He seems to be completely fine."
The other teachers in the lounge nodded in agreement.
"Well, stop acting like teenagers, then!" she exclaimed, quickly looking over her shoulder and lowering her voice in case Devon showed up. "You're making me uncomfortable! Is that better?"
"Whatever, fille," Toccara replied, walking towards her. "I only have one thing to say," she paused, looking around with a serious look
on her face. "Hail to the bum!"
"Amen to that!" Rochelle exclaimed, and others nodded in agreement.
The whole room burst into laughter, except for Eliza herself, who was too busy blushing out of control.
"And hail to the sassy smile, and to the hazel eyes!" the woman continued, patting her in the shoulder. "And is it me or the smells like cherry blossoms?" she exclaimed. "Girl... he's a keeper."
Eliza scratched her neck and tried not to blush even more.
"He kept staring at you while you were dancing… with the silly wig and all… and the puppy look on his face… sister, you don't get that every day, oh no..."
"Stop saying these things, guys…" Eliza whimpered. Devon Shaw was just a crush. She refused to believe otherwise.
'Yeah right,' her own mind replied, finding that thought rather hilarious.
"Oh, I'm done here," Toccara said. "I just thought you should know."
In the meantime, Devon had just exited the restroom when a little girl wearing a tiara and a tutu dress tugged on his T-shirt.
"Mister, are you the boy in the picture?" she asked.
"Hey there," he replied, lowering himself on one knee to look at the child. "Picture? What picture?"
She then grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the room he had been with Eliza earlier on. He quickly rose to his feet and in a matter of seconds he found himself in front of a bulletin board covered with drawings and blurred paintings, above which the words "My Special Someones" had been painted in very bold, glitzy letters.
"There! In Ms Clark's picture."
The little girl pointed to the doodle of a boy wearing blue pants and a T-shirt. Next to it, there was a single word:
Devon
"Is that you, Mister?"
When the girl spoke, he had to blink several times to regain his senses. He had gotten lost in his own thoughts for a brief moment, wondering when exactly he had become a special someone in Eliza Clark's life.
"Lilly, it's snack time."
Before he could answer, he heard Eliza's voice behind him.
"Go join the others, ok?" she told the child, smoothing her tutu dress and tucking a strand of hair behind the girl's ear before she gleefully ran out of the room.
"So…" she inhaled deeply and crossed her arms, moving closer to him. "You found your picture, I guess."