Send

by Alyssa Turner

  ‘Just be careful,’ Sonya warns as she notices my hasty demeanour. She’s a caretaker by nature, as concerned about her friends’ well-being as the patients she nurses in the hospital. Giving her my best “I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about” expression, I call the waiter for the check.

  Truthfully, I’m a little nervous about getting involved with someone at work, even for a meaningless fling. Office hook-ups can quickly go sour, not to mention land you in hot water with Human Resources. Oddly, the tingling feeling that I get just thinking about what awaits me in Conference room B seems worth the risk.

  Before heading to the elevator, I duck into the bathroom and slide out of my thong. My blood is rushing. I can’t believe I’m doing this . With my undies tucked into my purse and the naughtiest smirk playing on my lips, I make my way to him.

  The elevator is crowded with employees returning from lunch. Unbelievable how the removal of one thin piece of fabric can make you feel so many things at once. The ride up three floors seems like an eternity as I experience both shame and arousal, feeling simultaneously vulnerable and empowered. When I exit, I am already wet and each step ushers a cool breeze past my lips.

  The door to Conference room B is closed. I take a deep breath and knock. Marilyn swings it open.

  ‘Hi, Tina, have a seat. We’re just about to begin,’ she offers, holding the door open for me.

  Anxiously I peer in and spot Jimmy seated at the long mahogany table with two other execs from marketing on the opposite side. He waves me over to sit next to him. Smiling tightly at everyone, I carefully slide into the chair to his left.

  ‘What the fuck?’ I whisper to him, my annoyance coming across loud and clear.

  His shining eyes are creased into a mischievous squint. ‘You look hot,’ he breathes back, while leaning into my neck.

  I frown at him and cross my legs, feeling ridiculous to have fallen for what seems to be one of Jimmy’s dry jokes. What’s worse, I have no idea why I have been called to this meeting.

  ‘So, Tina,’ Marilyn begins, ‘I know we don’t usually bring you into a project so early, but Jimmy suggested that we try something new.’

  He flashes me his brilliant smile and continues, ‘You see, we always conceive the direction on a new product launch, and then send it over to copywriting, leaving you guys to interpret what we want. I thought we’d try including you in the development of the concept, increasing continuity.’ The others nod in agreement. ‘Here is an overview of the new cholesterol medicine we’re working on.’ He hands me a folder.

  Marilyn passes everyone some demographic data and while she begins to review it, I take a moment to familiarise myself with the material that Jimmy has given me.

  Sifting through the various documents describing the drug’s effects, I come across a single word scribbled on a Post-it note. Panties? it reads. The note sits inconspicuously on top of the pile of papers.

  To shield it from view, I pretend to flip a page and I jot, Fuck you , delivering a swift kick to Jimmy’s shin under the table.

  Undaunted, he smiles and scribbles back, Let’s play. U want 2. It isn’t a question. He’s telling me that he knows what persists behind my anger and confusion; I do want to. It’s crazy and exciting and I can’t help myself. With Marilyn talking about American men 45-60 and their eating habits, Jimmy writes again, Panties?

  I respond with a? and coyly look away.

  He lets his pen drop to the floor and crouches under the table to retrieve it. Without hesitation, I swivel my chair and part my legs just in time for him to catch a glimpse of my shaved naked pussy.

  Good girl, he writes once back in his seat and draws an arrow downward. I follow its direction into his lap, which is sporting a distinct bulge.

  Across the table, Marilyn is droning on, ‘I think a testimonial-focused campaign will be the best way to introduce the product to seniors and that’s where you come in, Tina.’

  I hear my name and snap to attention. ‘Yes,’ I say blankly, hoping it’s appropriate.

  ‘The testimonials will be authentic, but you’ll be writing a bridge of sorts to weave them together.’ I nod in turn, so distracted by Jimmy’s hand stroking my thigh, it’s the only response that I can manage.

  The whole thing is unbelievably insane! Here I am at a business meeting with my boss and two other executives across the table, with no panties on and wishing Jimmy can somehow reach far enough to rub my clit. Of course, there’s no way that he can and still keep a respectable distance between us. I shift in my chair, aching for him more with every passing minute.

  A brief interruption, as Marilyn’s assistant buzzes in on the intercom, allows Jimmy a chance to whisper to me, ‘Go ahead, touch yourself.’

  Relieved from all sense of decency, and my normally good judgment nowhere to be seen, I simply can’t refuse the thrill. As I slide my hand under the table, I know he is sending me across a line from which I might never return. The adrenaline coursing through my body is unmistakably addictive, fresh to my nerves like a drug and I begin the naughtiest act of my entire 24 years.

  I look over at him, my eyes wide with disbelief at the knowledge that I have pulled up my skirt and am now running my finger over my swollen clit. He’s staring off in the other direction, but I’m quite certain he’s imagining my actions under the table. The faintest of grins graces his lips, which he slowly licks unconsciously several times.

  ‘Tina, did you hear me?’ Marilyn asks, snapping her fingers in the most condescending way.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I sputter, my hand freezing in its place. Jimmy’s eyebrows are raised inquisitively, amused to hear what my response will be. ‘I ... I’m really not feeling well. Probably something I ate at lunch.’ My excuse is thin at best, but it’s all I can think of. ‘If you don’t mind, I need to step out for a minute.’

  Jimmy suggests that he take the opportunity to grab a copy of the limited testimonials he has gathered so far and follows me to the door. I can sense Marilyn’s eyes on us as we leave, which makes me even more uneasy.

  When we round the corner, and are out of earshot or view, I stop short and press my finger into his chest. ‘You are fucking crazy!’ I seethe, my brow furrowed in a knot.

  He flashes me those white teeth of his and holds his palms up in mock innocence. ‘Me ? To be fair, I’m not the one who was getting off in our staff meeting! You’re the crazy one.’

  I want to punch him, but merely stomp off instead.

  ‘Wait, Tina, it was sexy as hell.’ He grabs my arm, stopping me dead in my tracks. Brazenly he moves closer, backs me up against the wall and slowly brushes his finger sideways on my bottom lip. With a sharp stare directly into my eyes he tells me, ‘You don’t even know what you are capable of.’

  Wet and full, his lips are so close to mine that I can feel his breath, undeniable.

  He continues in a slow throaty whisper, ‘You are a naughty girl.’

  Powerless, I nod in agreement.

  ‘You like being naughty. You fucking love it.’

  Oh, God, I do. He’s making me dizzy with his closeness. ‘What are you doing to me?’ The words leak from my mouth as I helplessly stare at the floor. I haven’t been myself since last night.

  ‘It’s all you, Tina. I just opened the door and you walked in.’ Through my shirt, he cups my breast and softly rolls my nipple between his finger and thumb. Then he’s sweeping his tongue into my mouth for a brief meeting with mine, so painfully short.

  ‘Do you think I can get you off by the time Marilyn expects me back?’ he challenges.

  ‘I really hope so,’ I say, grinning at the proposition with the ache between my legs matched only by the intensity in his eyes. Taking me by the hand, he leads me into the men’s bathroom at the end of the hall and applies the lock.

  We don’t make it much farther into the room. He wraps his arm around my collarbone from behind and leans against the closed door. His mouth is at my ear and his other hand hastily pulls my skirt up to my
hips. With it, he strokes my pussy, running his fingers up and down the full landscape. He rubs patiently, making me realise the detail of his motions in each place he touches. And while he continues, he begins another mind-fuck in a slow, muffled voice.

  Before closing my eyes, I catch a glimpse of us in the mirror over the sinks. The sight of my naked lower half pressed against his business suit and his fingers running in and around my cunt, makes me weak. I dig my fingertips into his taut thighs and begin to visualise what he is saying.

  ‘I catch you playing with yourself at your desk. You have been thinking about my cock all day and how much you want to know it. You want to lick it and run your lips over it. From your chair, you unzip my pants and pull it free. It’s warm and hard and eager to feel your kisses. Your mouth is open over it and you are looking up at me with your beautiful brown eyes. I push your hair out of your face so that I can see your gorgeous mouth take it in. I let you have it, as much as you want. You show me how much you like it by the moans escaping you. I show you how much I like it by cupping your cheeks, so intent on not missing a stroke.’

  I can’t take it any more. I need to have a piece of him. ‘Please, let me have it,’ I plead, attempting to reach behind me to grope at the hardness impressing on my ass.

  His hand gains intensity on my bud instead. ‘Nooo, baby. I am going to make you come just like this,’ he coos. ‘You are almost there, aren’t you?’ His tongue dances over my neck with his arm tightening above my chest. Then he continues.

  ‘My cock is swollen to its maximum now and ready to be inside you. Holding your hands, I raise you from your chair and turn you around. You climb into the seat onto your knees and hold the back. Your ass is high in the air and so fucking round that I have to take a bite. And your pussy is drenched from waiting for me; the way it is now, Tina. It’s so wet that I want to savour your nectar, but you are begging me to fuck you and so I will.’ His fingers are rubbing my clit furiously now.

  ‘You turn to look over your shoulder at me as I enter you, with your mouth hung slightly open in pleasure. I reach under your body to your breast and gently squeeze each time I press you. Bearing down on my cock and spreading your thighs wider, you meet me in mid-stroke. You know this is your chance, Tina, and you take it. Making sure you get all of it, you roll your hips over my dick until you are screaming in orgasm. You love that dick. When I’m inside you it only makes you want it more. Don’t you want me inside you, Tina?’ I moan softly in agreement. ‘Yes, you do. You want it, Tina. Should I give it to you?’ I moan again. ‘You want it. You want it inside you.’ He repeats it over and over, rubbing and rubbing, not stopping until he’s escorted me into climax.

  I am limp for a moment in his arms and he nuzzles the nape of my neck with his lips, sending one last jolt through my core. When I finally turn around, he is holding a clean white handkerchief in his hand.

  ‘That was amazing,’ I say, loving the accomplished glint in his eye. Then, curiously I ask, ‘Who carries a handkerchief in this day and age?’

  ‘Things tend to get a little messy around me,’ he replies, wiping his hand and motioning to my moistened thighs. ‘Would you like some help cleaning up?’

  I ease backward toward the sinks and he follows. As I rest against the cool granite counter, he reaches around to the tap and dampens the corner of the cotton fabric. Next, he crouches down, his nose exactly level with my exposed vagina. Deeply, he inhales before tidying me up.

  When he is satisfied with another job well done, he folds it and holds it high. ‘Until next time,’ he says and sniffs the hankie a bit before tucking it back into his inside pocket. Then he winks at me and turns to leave.

  ‘Wait, when will I get the chance to really have that cock of yours?’ I ask, not liking the twang of desperation in my voice.

  ‘That’s up to you,’ he says, not even turning around before exiting.

  Alone now, I seem to wake from a dream and find myself feeling incredibly vulnerable. I fix my skirt and look into the mirror. The familiar face stares back at me, flushed, with tiny beads of perspiration gathered at the temple. Still, it’s as if I’m looking at a stranger.

  ‘What the hell have I gotten myself into?’ I murmur, dabbing my brow with a paper towel and fixing my hair. A jumble of conflicting emotions tears through my gut as I stand there for a couple of minutes longer.

  It’s easy slipping out of the men’s room unnoticed. Thankfully, no one is in the hall. I check my watch. Only 15 minutes have passed since I left the meeting. With Jimmy, time seems to crawl and every moment leaves a lasting impact on my soul. The whole thing has me scared. I mean, really frightened by the wild feelings and total lack of sensibility Jimmy seems to conjure in me.

  To play it safe, I decide not to return to the meeting. Instead, I hurry back to my desk and leave word for Marilyn that my stomach is so upset, I need to go home.

  Outside, the sun is high in the sky and flooding the day with comfortable warmth. As I drive the route to my apartment, I’m caught up in an endless replay of the last hour. Truth is, I don’t want to go home where I’ll surely spend the time there wishing I was with him. Internally I feel like my entire essence is twisted in knots. It’s as if I’ve eaten too many cookies, ended up with a stomach-ache, but still crave more.

  To solve my dilemma, I decide to go shopping. A leisurely afternoon spent popping in and out of stores would be just the right therapy for my one-track mind.

  ‘I need a distraction from my distraction, how fucked up is that?’ I muse about the irony of the situation. No way would I have imagined such a predicament. The car screeches as I hook a sudden U-turn and drive over to my favourite shopping district.

  With my panties now intact, I begin to feel more in control. I turn up the radio and a smile starts to play on my lips. After all, the day’s events had resulted in me scoring the afternoon off – good ol’ reliable Tina, who hardly ever calls off sick. As I pull into the parking lot of an upscale department store, my attention is gleefully focused on finding a cute new pair of shoes.

  The place is dead, only a few retirees milling about. I make my way to the shoe department at a leisurely pace, meandering through the dresses and accessories. My fingers find their way grazing through the racks and an adorable ribbon trimmed A-line catches my eye. After retrieving a size six, I carry it along with me to search for the perfect set of patent leather peep-toe mules to coordinate.

  ‘Just one of those days ...’ The R&B tune mingles with my thoughts and I’m humming to myself as I reach the shoe department. Retail therapy is working like a charm.

  I love this store for its service, and true to its reputation, a helpful sales associate is at my side in minutes. Positively gay and dressed impeccably, he seems perfectly capable of helping me find what I’m looking for. Actually, he’s ecstatic to assist me and together we have a ball trying out different options. I end up with three pairs and, upon his suggestion, I head over to try on the dress before I pay for it. My charge card takes care of the shoes, and I’m off to the dressing room.

  The store is so vacant that the dressing room is left unattended. With just one item to try on, I walk right in. I’m told that A-lines look amazing on me and I have to admit, this dress is no exception.

  I wonder what Jimmy will think,I ponder, and twirl a bit to check it out from different angles. A surge passes through me at the thought of him; a wild feeling, incredibly addictive and becoming a little too familiar.

  My white blouse and pencil skirt hang on the hook behind me. Fresh excitement stirs, ushered by a reckless idea. Adrenaline is a powerful substance, as mind controlling as any narcotic. And I think I’m becoming a junkie.

  After removing my clothing from the hook and carefully folding each piece, I place them in the bottom of the shopping bag containing my newly purchased shoes. The tags from the dress are stashed as well and, with a deep breath and tight smirk, I slink out of the dressing room. Not that I can’t afford the thing. It’s the danger of my stun
t that has me moving stealthily towards the exit.

  I spot him before he approaches me – a rather buff guy with short, neat hair is marching in my direction. Reflexively, I avoid eye contact and keep walking, but his strides are long and he reaches me at the glass doors.

  ‘Ma’am, I must ask you to stop.’ He displays some ID and presses on the door, preventing me from opening it. ‘Come with me, please.’

  My skin crawls in chills and my stomach drops. The trip down to the security office in the basement has turned my adrenaline rush into a full-on anxiety attack. Shoplifting? How fucking juvenile. What was I thinking? My mind is racing with the consequences of this crazy exploit. While he prepares the necessary forms to record his investigation, I sit on the bench opposite his desk and tap my heel nervously on the floor.

  ‘I’m going to search your bag now,’ he declares, standing up. The office is small and stuffy – no windows and the air is stale. I’m finding it hard to breathe. He unpacks the shoes and lays my clothes on the desk along with the price tags I’ve removed.

  ‘Ma’am, are these the clothes you walked in with?’ I nod sheepishly. ‘Did you pay for the dress you are wearing?’ He knows the answer and my silence seems enough to confirm it.

  Next to me now, he holds out the handcuffs. ‘I am supposed to place you in these until the police get here.’ Curiously, I sense an air of apology in his voice. Is he attracted to me and hates to have to put me in such an embarrassing situation?

  Softly, barely detectible, words of direction come from within the depths of my psyche: You know what you need to do.

  I look more closely at the security officer. He’s about my age, clean-shaven and quite tasty looking, really. A sweet face, with a fit and caramel-coloured body under his green blazer and company polo shirt.

  ‘Rodriguez, is it?’ My voice is low and sultry, referring to his nametag. ‘If you put me in those cuffs, I won’t be able to pay you for my mistake.’ I’m slowly bringing my hand to his waist and stop short just in front of it. Looking up with my head cocked slightly askew, I wait for his response. He’s clearly shocked by my offer and absolutely uncomfortable with it. Uncomfortable, but not exactly dissuaded. His legs freeze in place as he leans forward as if to signal he did not hear what I said.