by Brandy Ayers
A second door was opposite the one Charlotte stumbled through, beyond which you would find found bathroom stalls, a bank of sinks, and half a dozen lockers where they kept extra clothes, makeup, and hair products.
But Charlotte didn’t bother going in that far. Instead, she quickly shed her shoes and slacks, leaving her panties and blouse on. She grabbed one of the smocks used to protect the anchors’ clothes while they did hair and makeup, and laid it down on the couch. She could throw it in the basket to go out to dry cleaning later. Then she grabbed one of the throw blankets resting on the arm of the couch and covered herself with it as she reclined back on the sofa.
Goosebumps covered her skin, both due to a slight chill in the empty, tiled room, and her anticipation of what she was about to do. Charlotte wasn’t even close to being a risk taker, and just the idea of masturbating at work made a shock of pleasure zip through her nerves.
Once the blanket covered her from chin to toes, Charlotte slithered her hand down along her stomach, then cupped her sex through her panties. The cotton clung to her pussy lips, completely soaked from her conversation with Trey. Squeezing her eyes shut, she recalled his photo for the calendar. The deep lines between the muscles of his six pack. The V pointing to the part of a man she had only ever seen in the porn videos she loved to watch. His deep brown eyes, that even while trying to look sexy and brooding, held a glint of humor.
Charlotte imagined him strutting towards her, sweat glistening as it rolled down the peaks and valleys of his stomach, only to get absorbed in the waistband of his boxer briefs. She slipped her fingers into her panties, immediately circling her fingertips around her pulsing clit. Without wasting time, she flicked the little bundle of nerves up and down, wishing it was his thick fingers. He wouldn’t be satisfied to simply rub her clit to orgasm. He would plunge first one finger into her tight, inexperienced cunt. But soon, that wouldn’t be enough, and she’d beg him to add another. That second digit would stretch her to the point of bordering on pain.
Charlotte longed to know what it would feel like to be filled up that way. To have the weight of a man pressing down on her from above. Her head rolled to the side, and she sucked her lip between her teeth to stymie the desperate noises threatening to spill from her as the orgasm barreled down on her.
Her eyes slipped open, and before she could squeeze them shut again, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror across the room. The sight of her body writhing on the couch, blanket slipping down as her wrist and hand frantically worked their magic beneath it, her skin flush with arousal, and eyes bright and clear, it all turned her on. She knew she should be embarrassed, ashamed for sneaking off to the bathroom to masturbate, but none of that mattered while the nerves in her body thrummed and begged for release.
Before she could think too much about it, Charlotte ripped the blanket off, baring her body to the mirror. Still clothed in her button-down blouse and panties, her hand disappeared down into the plain white fabric. The crotch of the conservative underwear bucked wildly as her hand rubbed roughly at her clit. That strange dichotomy of prim outfit and dirty action sent her over the edge, whimpering as she clamped her mouth shut and pictured Trey driving his cock into her for the first time.
The silence filling the room around her seemed to pulse and push in on her as the pleasure of the last five minutes faded. The shame she had avoided while on the verge of orgasm now flooded her, tears pushing at the edges of her eyes. She craved with every inch of her being to be the confident girl who would be the equal of a man like Trey. That she could experience his touch and know the fullness of having him inside her.
Hell, she wished she were brave enough to jump at the opportunity her boss had laid at her feet mere hours before.
But she was none of those things.
Charlotte stood, straightened her clothes, and walked to the sink to wash her hands, avoiding her reflection in the wall of mirrors. She didn’t want to see the weakness, fear, and shame that comprised the girl she would always be.
Chapter Five
A roar reverberated around the newsroom, shocking Charlotte out of her near catatonic state. She glanced up from her computer screen to see the reason for all the usually calm and cool journalists of WQUZ freaking out.
Mira was back.
They all felt extreme relief that their star reporter once again graced the newsroom. It had been a scary few months when they dealt with the stalker situation. But now that was all put to bed. Mira had recovered from her injuries and looked ready to get back in action. Charlotte liked Mira more than most the reporters. She didn’t have an ego the size of Texas for one thing. And she always came up with awesome story ideas, while still listening to the opinions of others.
Still ashamed over her actions from the night before, Charlotte stayed planted in her seat, positive that one look at her face and anyone would be able to tell what she’d done. When Mira glanced over to the assignment editor’s desk, Charlotte simply smiled and gave a small wave. But she should have known better than to think that would satisfy Mira. The spunky reporter seemed to think it was her mission to pry Charlotte from her shy shell and get her in front of a camera.
Like that would ever happen.
Once Mira had made a round of hugs and hellos from her fellow journalists, she made a beeline straight for Charlotte’s desk. A sling still cradled her left arm, but there was no other obvious sign of the ordeal Mira had been through. In fact, she looked rather well-rested and happy.
“Hey, Charlotte. How are you?” Mira leaned in, hugging Charlotte awkwardly with one arm.
Charlotte tensed, terrified Mira might be able to smell the telltale scent of sex that she had convinced herself lingered after her spontaneous self-love session in the bathroom the night before.
“I’m good, the same as always.” Charlotte pulled back from the hug, needing to put some space between them. “How about you? How are you feeling? I’m surprised Chris isn’t following you around today.”
Mira laughed, her cheeks blushing slightly at the mention of her rival turned boyfriend. “Trust me, he tried, but he’s on the evening shift tonight, and I told him I didn’t want to see his face before three this afternoon.”
Having no idea what to say to that, Charlotte simply smiled and nodded some more, always finding that it worked no matter what situation she found herself.
Thankfully, Mira picked up the slack in the conversation. “You’re here awfully late, shouldn’t you be passed out at home by now?”
“Yeah, unfortunately, Annabel and her son have the flu, so I’m pulling a double.” She gave a little shrug and tucked her hands beneath her arms to ensure Mira couldn’t catch the scent of her own juices on them. She knew logically it was unlikely. She’d washed her hands after all, but the thought wouldn’t leave her head. “But Rich should be here in a few, and then I can finally go home and sleep.” And wait to see if Trey actually calls, she added silently.
Mira began peeling the sling around her arm and shoulder off, wincing slightly as she bunched it into a ball and tossed it in the waste basket under Charlotte’s desk.
“Um, don’t you still need that?”
“No.” Mira’s voice was harder than normal, and her face pinched in frustration. “The doc gave me the all clear a week ago to stop using it, but Chris keeps saying I should keep wearing it until my pain is totally gone. I wore it today to appease him, but that silliness is done now.”
Charlotte let a laugh slip loose before she could stop herself. Mira and Chris’ relationship was so unlike anything she’d seen before. They were competitive with each other, argued, poked fun at one another. But even with all that, an idiot would be able to see how much they loved each other.
In comparison, Charlotte’s parents were very the opposite, her dad giving in to whatever her mom wanted and never challenging the status quo. They loved each other too. In fact, her father was borderline obsessed with keeping her mom happy, but it was in a stoic way. Physical affection wasn’
t something they handed out like candy. Hugs and kisses were reserved for behind closed doors, and only on special occasions.
“Well it’s good to have you back.” It truly was. The place hadn’t been the same without Mira’s special brand of storytelling ability and positive attitude. Plus, they had been so short staffed over the last few weeks, it would be nice to not come in at night and hear about all the possible news they missed out on because they didn’t have enough reporters to go around. “Are you sticking to the newsroom for now, or jumping back in feet first?”
“Screw that. If Michelle even tries to get me to stay in the newsroom, I’m going to go Chuck Norris on her butt.” Mira huffed out a breath, and Charlotte had to fight not to laugh at her obvious annoyance. “Chris had me under house arrest for the past six weeks. I need to get out there and do my thing, or I’m going to go crazy.”
“No worries, Mira, I’m putting you out in the field today. This damn flu has everyone and their brother calling in sick.” Michelle stalked through the newsroom to her office. She swung her door open and let all her bags drop to the floor just inside. “Are we doing this morning meeting, or do I need to personally invite each of you?”
Mira chuckled, her face lighting up. “God I’m happy to be back. Even Michelle’s pre-coffee grumpiness is awesome right now.”
One-by-one, Charlotte, Mira, Rich who had just ambled in, and the morning producers all filed into Michelle’s office. Charlotte’s heart pounded inside her chest, and black spots started swim in her vision. Rich had asked her to lead the morning meeting because he wasn’t feeling well. But she secretly believed he was in cahoots with Michelle to get her to step up and take the offer of her part of his job seriously.
There was nothing Charlotte hated more than having to speak in front of a group of people. Even if the people were all her coworkers that she knew wouldn’t be judging her. Or she thought they wouldn’t be judging her. But they could be.
Opening her mouth, she thought for a moment she might throw up. She quickly snapped it closed again, closed her eyes, and sucked in a deep breath through her nose, then expelled it through her mouth. Thankfully, everyone in the room continued to chatter with Mira, happily catching up, and no one seemed to notice her distress.
She glanced over to Michelle, ready to bale out. But her boss simply gave her a small smile and firm nod of her head. The gesture seemed to convey her confidence that Charlotte could do this, and it did help to steel her nerves a little.
“Okay everyone, let’s get started.” Her voice was weak, but seemed to do the job, everyone quieted and turned to look at her. She nervously cleared her throat, looking down at the iPad in her hand where she had the spreadsheet full of story possibilities for the day. 75% of them were ideas Charlotte had to find herself since nothing had happened over night that needed following up on, and half the reporters were sick and not sending in ideas of their own. Knowing that she had found and clarified these stories gave her a little more confidence. “We have a lot of work to do since the file for today was very thin. But I have some possibilities.”
***
Charlotte collapsed into her car, exhausted, yet exhilarated. The meeting had actually gone very well. Mira got assigned to follow up on the little boy who had been shot last fall. He was fully recovered now and had made his school’s baseball team, thanks largely in part to the outstanding care he got with the donations the community sent in.
Sean was tracking down a lead he’d gotten about the mayor’s office having ghost employees. Carla would be going to a press conference at the Department of Transportation to unveil the new state of the art plow machines, though the story they were hoping to get would be where the money came from since the city insisted funds were too tight to help with more pressing needs in some of the poorest neighborhoods. When she left, there were still two holes in the rundown that needed to be filled with stories, but that would be Rich’s problem, not hers.
Fourteen hours of work had drained her of energy, yet her nerves still thrummed through her as she checked the time. Just a few minutes before noon. She laid her phone down in her lap, staring at it as if it might sprout legs and start dancing right there on her thigh.
Would he really call?
Her normally regimented life suddenly had been flipped into complete disarray. Michelle wanted her to step outside the carefully constructed box she had been living in for years. Her coworkers wanted her to hang out, have a girls’ night. A man she’d spoken with twice showed interest in her as more than a journalist. This couldn’t be her life.
At noon on the dot, Charlotte’s phone rang in her hand.
The number came up with no contact information attached to it. Trey, it had to be. But none of this made sense. Why would a beautiful fireman, one who posed in calendars, was awesome with kids, and saved people from burning buildings, why on earth would he be interested in a mousey assignment editor?
Continuing to talk with him would do her no good. She’d let hope grow inside her until he decided she wasn’t worth the effort. And it would take effort on his part. He’d have to work so hard just to get her into bed, because the thought of taking clothes off in front of such a perfect beautiful human specimen literally made her sick to her stomach.
Determined to not let things get that far, Charlotte swiped her finger across the screen, silencing the ringing and rejecting the call. It was better this way. Keeping things as they were would be best for her sanity. She might be able to take Michelle up on her offer of a promotion, she could keep her friendships with coworkers as they were, friendly in the newsroom; she could keep her one amazing friend that accommodated her fears.
That was enough for her.
Shifting her car into reverse, Charlotte exited the parking lot and made the turn to head back to her apartment. The phone laid blank on her passenger side seat, and disappointment filled her that Trey hadn’t even left a message. For the best.
For the best.
But then it rang again. The same number. The shrill beeping of her ringtone filled the car. But she ignored it. In the twelve minutes it took to drive to her place, the phone rang eight times. Honestly, she was kind of flattered that he had given it that much effort. Most guys would have given up after two or three attempts, right? The thought made her smile a little.
Just as she pulled into her parking spot, a text dinged its arrival. No one she knew texted. Her mom thought texting was lazy. Michelle would have called if she needed her to come back. And her one and only friend would message her through Facebook or the message boards.
The thin phone felt heavy in her palm. Her nerves zinged with anticipation as she swiped it open and tapped on the text message from the number she knew could only be Trey’s.
Hi. This is Trey Martin from the Pittsburgh Fire Department Station 814. I’m not giving up until you answer, so you should probably just save us both the time.
Heat flooded Charlotte’s face and body. He wanted to speak with her that badly? The phone started ringing again. A shaking finger hovered over the ignore button. So many emotions tumbled over in her stomach, making her breath come fast and sweat trickle down her spine.
Faking this wouldn’t be possible. You couldn’t fake it or make it through a relationship with a man like that. Could you? If she just acted like a girl who dated, who kissed and touched men, could she eventually become one? It had worked for her in her career.
The thoughts and questions took up so much room in her mind, the ringing stopped before her mind even came close to quieting.
Disappointment rushed out of her in a sigh. She wanted to talk to him again. Denying it was silly and pointless.
The phone sprang to life once again as she trekked from her car to her front door. Before she could debate or talk herself out of it, Charlotte accepted the call and pressed the phone to her ear, her breath stalled in her lungs.
“You have a man already?” That low gruff voice, combined with the most ridiculous opening question forced the
breath from her lungs and a smile on her face.
“No.” The word came out weak, unconvincing. She cleared her throat, searched herself for strength she could never find before. “No, there is no man in my life.” There, better. Not perfect, but better.
“I know I can be pushy. Is it turning you off? Do I need to dial it back a notch?”
Turn her off? No just the opposite. Part of her thought maybe she needed him to push a little. It might be the only way she ever left her comfort zone.
“Doesn’t turn me off, at all.” Ignoring her burning cheeks, Charlotte pushed her door open, a giant orange blur nearly tripping her as she stepped into her home. “Okay, okay, I’m home now, chill out.”
“I’m chill, don’t worry, good to know you are home though.” The offense in Trey’s voice made her laugh as she rushed to correct him.
“Sorry, I was talking to Weasley. My cat. He gets a little bossy when I get home later than normal.” Charlotte stroked the soft fur on Weasley’s back, taking comfort in his presence. “So now you know. I’m a crazy lady who talks to her cat.”
“If talking to your pet is your biggest flaw, I think you’re okay. Okay, so we established you don’t have a man, other than Weasley, and you aren’t turned off by my bull in a china shop personality. So why were you ignoring my calls?”
Silence hung on the line between them, increasing the racing of her heart and mind. What could she tell him that wouldn’t have red flags flashing in front of his face that she was more work than she was worth? Charlotte might fake her way through most of her life, but she didn’t want to out right lie to Trey.
“Hey, still there sugar?” God, his voice did things to her. Made her panties wet, her blood sing, and lips tingle.
And apparently loosened her tongue. “I cyberstalked you, too.”
A loud laugh burst through the phone, making her pull it away from her ear for a moment. “What?”
“You found me on Facebook. Well, I found you too. The station's Facebook page had that video of you from the kids shopping event last Christmas, and then I found the first responder calendar too. I’ve been looking at your Facebook page hourly all day. I didn’t answer because I can’t figure out why a man like you would be interested in someone like me. You are a man. You have muscles and a face which makes old women stop you in the street to ask for a photo. You rescue people and laugh like no one is ever around. You are going to get to know me and figure out that I am not nearly enough for you.”