Desire (1)

She hadn’t ever pursued a man before. But something about him magnetized her. They had met, by chance, at a company outing. Cool eyes had assessed her, and she remembered being torn between annoyance at his weighing glance, and, God help her, preening. Her spine had straightened, her breath deepened, her cheeks had flushed. That her nipples swelled, and her pussy dampened, she ignored. She wondered, not for the first time, about his arrogant, dismissive look. He’d smiled, cool, composed, then turned and melted back into the crowd.

She’d asked about him, of course. All the same words rushing through her head were repeated by her friends.

“Arrogant bastard!”

“Rude!”

“Demanding!”

“Bossy!”

“And those eyes…they look right through you!”  This last from her friend Cecile in accounting. She seemed to know the most about Mr. Stephen Howard, executive V.P. of Senior Management.

So, he was a manager. They all had that same style, managers. She figured it came from bossing people around all day. And really, there were all kinds of people, even bossy ones had a role.

She kept her eyes out for him after that. Boisvert, Stein, and Lichen was a huge firm, so odds were she wouldn’t see him until the next event, which was the annual Holiday party. She’d missed last year with her mom being ill, and having to fly out to Reno early to help her Dad.  Come to think of it, she’d missed the year before as well. She had no intention of missing this year.

*************

The elevator door opened just as the bottom of the box of files she was holding decided it couldn’t bear the weight of them any further. Cascading folders, loose contents spilling across the elevator floor had her scrambling to gather them up, even as someone attempted entry.

“NO! No…you can’t come in here! She waved him off, not looking. The doors chimed to announce their closing, as she moaned “no ono” under her breath, but they stayed open.

“That’s why there is a “Hold” button on the doors, you know.” She looked up. It was him. Oh mother of God. He didn’t offer to help, merely stood looking at her with a half-smile as she knelt virtually at his feet. She felt the blush, felt exposed and vulnerable. Quickly she gathered up the files, stacking them willy-nilly.

“Come with me.” It was not a request. Wordlessly she took her stack of files, and followed him. The back of his jacket hid the back of him, but she imagined his ass was as lovely as the rest of him.

He held open an office door. His office. She swallowed hard, then preceded him into the space.

“Put those there. You’ll have plenty of room to sort them before you take them upstairs. But be quick. That meeting is in 15 minutes.” He turned and left her.

It was like a strong wind blowing in and through her. She shook her head, amazed that he managed to shut her up. Anyone else and she would have snapped at him, castigated him for not helping. Yet in his own way he had. The long gleaming surface of his conference table stretched across his office. She imagined, for a moment, laying there, ass on the edge, as he fucked her.

No. Better not go there.

Quickly she began sorting her files, pushing aside her erotic fantasies of Steven Howard.

***************

Standing outside his condo, she sucked in a deep breath. The die was cast, her hand had already rung the bell. It was too late to turn and run; she heard footsteps approaching the door.

He stood in the space, consuming the space, owning it. His hand rested on the edge of the door, his body blocking any entry. His chest was bare, gleaming with perspiration, while a pair of old and ratty sweatpants clung, barely, to his hips. Her mouth filled with saliva.

He let her look him over. She was perfectly groomed. Her tee-shirt was tight, her prettiest bra lifted her ample tits to show their size and shape beautifully. In her head she imagined him tugging him to her, kissing her speechless, his hands running up and down her body.

“Miss Kensington?” His voice snapped her out of her reverie.

She passed him the box of chocolate covered strawberries wordlessly. His brow raised in silent question.

“for…you know..your office today. Thanks.”

She spun and turned to go down the hallway, her face flushed. Geezus.

“Emily.”

So, he did know her name. His hand blocked hers for a moment as it was poised over the down button. His breath brushed her earlobe as he all but whispered.

“Thank you, Emily. I don’t date vanilla women.”

His hand pushed the button, while his body kept her from turning back to him.

“Vanilla?” she asked, not looking at him, as she stepped into the elevator. What was it about him and fucking elevators?

“If you don’t understand…that’s explanation enough, little one. Thank you for the berries.” The door slid shut as she stood, back to the doors and descended to the garage.

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