All Jess could think about was the sex that she wasn’t having. After a string of disappointing prospects in online dating, she deleted all of her accounts. She couldn’t palate suffering through one more slimy lizard tongue, one more boring date, one more sleazy come on, or having her breasts treated like door knobs. I’ll have to find some inspiration at the office to picture tonight when I masturbate, she thought. 

Pleased to find her preferred parking spot available, she let out an audible “Thank you". Her spine straightened with a small sense of pride for remembering her new gratitude practice. Greeted by the crisp air, Jess climbed out of her black SUV, smoothed down her turquoise ankle pants, and slung the long, thick strap of her leather carryall over her shoulder. 

“Hello, lovely lady!” A sing-song voice echoed in the parking garage. It was Layla, the first and best friend Jess had made at this job. 

Layla was a woman filled with contradictions, outspoken yet with an air of mystery, regal but still had swagger, energetic yet soothing. There was an ease about her that was uncommon in others that shared the same intense drive and ambition.

Jess greeted her in return, “Good morning! How was your date last night?” 

“You know those HGTV shows, with the super cute craftsman-style houses?”

“Mmhmm.”

Layla continued, ”And everyone talks about how it has so much character?”

“I love those little details in an old home.”

“Right, but then they find a crack in the foundation. The plumbing is funky." Layla made a circle gesture with her hand in front of her groin. “Like it’s not getting the job done or doesn’t work at all.”

“Noo!” Jess emitted between small escapes of laughter.

“The new homeowners think, well I can overlook a few small things. They see the potential so they decide to make an investment. But it all ends with bankruptcy and foreclosure.”

“Oh Layla, I’m sorry, I know you were excited about him. I gotta say, that was an excellent analogy though.” 

“Maybe you can use it in one of your online courses.” 

“You never know.” 

Layla shrugged, “Him though? That was the past, not today. Today is a new day. We are gazelles. Just these sleek, beautiful animals roaming this earth free and in the wild.”

Jess countered, “I like thinking of myself as a lion.” 

“Well you do have a wild lion's mane. You got that ‘unleash the beast’ vibe going on up there.”

Jess reached up to touch her lightly frizzed, shoulder-length curls. Her fantasy of ringlets long gone, she figured her hair was a reflection of the brain it surrounded – creative, often going in different directions, and filled with big ideas. “Well then they’ll see me coming and already know,” Jess said with a wry smile.

Their gleeful cackles echoed off the cement surrounding them.

“That’s right. You channel that attack for your career. But this morning, on our way to work, I think we should be gazelles. Beauty. Grace. Flawless bounds ahead.”

“Oooh. You practice that?” Jess teased.

“No, but it was good, right?”

“So prey instead of predator?” 

Layla shimmied her torso, “It’s gooood being on the receiving end.”

Walking in stride with one another, they leaned shoulders and heads together and giggled. 

“I need to swing by the pharmacy. Meet you for lunch later?” Layla asked.

“Sure. Go on, gazelle.” 

The Lobby

Jess quickly finished the two blocks to her office building. Rounding the corner she saw Drew, the new guy, through the window talking with a small group in the lobby. In the one short month since he’d arrived, the office had been buzzing with his name. Everyone wanted to be his friend, managers wanted him on their projects. Women looked at him, then down at their wedding ring with regret. 

Jess hadn’t spoken to him yet. She hadn’t had a reason to. But it was inevitable that their paths would cross. It would be one of the few work meetings she would look forward to. For now, she was satisfied to admire his beauty from a distance. 

His blue chambray suit was well-tailored to his wide shoulders and perfectly tapered at the waist. Brightly patterned socks peeked out above his fresh-from-the-box matte tan loafers. He was effortless, like he just stepped out of a Fortune 500 magazine cover. Captivated by this human specimen, a slight audible moan escaped her mouth.

Part of her wanted to be jealous of his polished appearance. A quick glance at her reflection in the double doors confirmed that her hair was still wild, her shirt still not ironed but de-wrinkled in the dryer. Polished wasn’t a word that would likely ever describe her accurately. She glided through the double doors anyway, eyes forward, shoulders back. If she couldn’t be polished she’d sure as hell be confident, at least in appearance. No, screw that. Confidence was hers and she was determined to own the hell out of it. 

She walked herself through a story as she swept through the lobby, not giving Drew a second glance. I am a gazelle, graceful and free and… 

“M’am, m’am?” A sharp tone interrupted her reverie. 

She turned around. A woman in an oversized burgundy blazer and sad gray pants was walking briskly toward her. 

“Yes?” she replied.

“Your badge?” the woman asked with the raised eyebrow of a scolding mother. 

“Oh, yes, of course.” Jess shoved her right hand deep into her bag, finally locating the badge after a few moments of awkward fumbling.

With pursed lips and a quick nod, the lady returned to her post at the front desk. 

Jess clipped the badge on the collar of her shirt and walked toward the elevator. 

Okay gazelle, off to the zoo you go. 

Ding. The elevator doors opened and she stepped inside, turned, and pressed ‘4’. Blue suit Drew was even finer from this angle. How she longed to run her fingers through his luscious dark locks of hair, to feel the stubble of his beard rubbing against her skin. Trying to be inconspicuous, she stepped to the right to continue her gaze as the doors slid closed. For one last glimpse, she leaned just far enough to send her phone tumbling to the ground.

As she crouched to pick up her phone, her bag wedged between the doors. A loud buzzzzz rang out. Drew and the group of men all turned toward the noise. She tugged at the strap, jolting back when the doors released the bag from their grip and slid open again.

Red-faced, and eyebrows raised, she froze, locking eyes with Drew. Not sure what to do, she smiled awkwardly. They kept eye contact until the elevator door shut, obscuring their view of one another. 

Real gazelle-like, more like a bull in a China closet. Her mind switched to her to-do list for the morning. Check calendar, follow-up with the London office, review Powerpoint for the meeting this afternoon, finalize that proposal, follow-up on a potential job interview, and get a card birthday for Doris two doors down.

Blue Suit Drew

A hint of a grin on his face, Drew turned back toward the group. Only half-listening to the conversation on sales prospects, he couldn’t shake the image of Jess standing there. That goofy grin on her face and those wild strawberry curls had him both amused and intrigued. He’d seen her before but had never really looked at her. Did she work in human relations or was she on the creative/dev team? He wanted to know more. 

“So what do you think, Drew?” Raul asked.

Accustomed to his own wandering mind, Drew had a treasure trove of phrases and tactics to fold himself seamlessly back into conversations. Delay. Give himself time to replay the chatter he wasn’t focusing on, “Well, that depends.” 

Ask a broad open-ended question bided some time to reorient to the conversation, “Is there anything else we need to know?”

“Actually, that’s a good question, Drew.” Damn. He’d left the door wide open for Floyd who used words like ‘expediency’ instead of simply saying ‘fast’. Floyd had an impressively shiny bald head and was noticeably shorter than the rest of the group. Between Floyd’s facial features and his short stocky frame Drew thought he looked like the younger, buffer, bald brother of Joe Pesci. 

Drew took note of how Emily, who was standing opposite him, began to shift her weight subtly back and forth. 

“What we really must consider is the fact that…” Floyd prattled on about balancing the sales department between old accounts and acquiring new ones. Then Drew noticed the breathing patterns in Raul, to his left, grow longer and deeper. Floyd however, failed to read the room and continued his attempt to metaphorically raise himself to the others’ level using his words as a platform. 

Finally, Floyd paused briefly for a quick breath. Drew interjected. “Well, I think the best way forward is to divide and conquer. How about we each jot some notes. We can plan a strategy specifically for reaching out to the whales we want to catch in Fintech.”

The four agreed and dispersed. Raul fell in stride with Drew on their way to the elevator. He leaned in sharing a quiet  “Thanks for the exit strategy.” 

Drew smiled and gave a quick nod. He’d worked with ‘Floyds’ before. He wasn’t a bad guy, he just got overexcited about his ideas and probably also felt he had something to prove. Winning over people in the office certainly wasn’t Floyd’s strength but his clients adored him and he had some impressive metrics to back up his sales skills. Drew respected a man with passion and a strong work ethic. That’s how he saw himself. 

Jess at the Office 

While some people worked harder, Jess revelled in finding ways to work smarter. It had paid off. Gone were the days of trying to focus in cubicle-land where people still had surprisingly personal conversations. She had graduated to her own office with a door. One more checkmark on her ‘I’ve made it’ list. 

She settled into her morning routine of checking emails. Her mind kept pulling back to thoughts of Drew throughout the morning. Was he as kind as his face looked? How silly had she looked? Why couldn’t she be more ‘put together’? Picturing him, her thoughts shifted to his body. Did he have chest hair? How smooth was that olive skin? What did he look like naked? What was his cock like? What faces did he make when he orgasmed?

Shaking her head as if to clear it, she pushed the thoughts out of her mind and returned to work.

It wouldn’t be accurate to describe her recent sex life as a dry spell. But finding a man that she wanted to spend not just her nights, but her days with as well had proved challenging. She often wondered if her standards were unreasonable. She could always rely on her friend Layla to put her straight. No man was always better than being with the wrong man.

For the last two years, she’d enjoyed sexual exploration in a few one-night stands and seasonal romances. If she found a man that didn’t inspire concern about having her last first kiss, she might consider getting serious. And if the man version of build-a-bear was a thing, she knew which parts of her lovers to combine to make the perfect man. In real life, the dating scene had lost its appeal. She was tired of putting effort into someone that wouldn’t be there the next month, or even the next week. 

Her last date kissed like a lizard, rapidly inserting his thin, slimy tongue in and out of her mouth, a sure preview of how he’d have fucked her later had she let him. She likened it to her college days sleeping with drunken boys barely turned men with the sexual appetite of a rabbit, but lacking experience. It seemed their greatest exposure to a woman’s body was from a public pool dressing room and the porn they watched after their parents were in bed. They couldn’t relate to other people, and most of them didn’t even try, a lot like her boss. 

This behavior couldn’t stand. She wouldn’t let it. A vision of an older woman in a Jane Austen movie saying sharply with an air of disgust, “I cannot abide! No I cannot,” she’d placed her hand on lizard tongue’s chest. Because he’d been sweet and she was feeling particularly bold, she pushed him firmly enough to force him two steps backward. His back pressed into a wall, her lesson began. 

“I’d like to show you something,” she’d said quietly.

His eyes, still wide, opened even wider at the excitement of her proposal. 

“Don’t move,” she ordered. 

He gave three quick short nods, looking like a boy unsure if he was in trouble or not. 

She leaned toward him, whispering into his neck, “Women like it when you take your time.” She brushed her lips around the edges of his ear. “Like this.” 

He gripped her hips but she swatted his hands away. “I said, don’t move.” 

His chest heaved against her body with a long inhale followed by a sigh of pleasure. “We don’t want it hard and fast all the time.” Punctuating her statement with small kisses down the side of his neck. “And when we do, we still want to come. Women need to be pleasured, not just fucked.” 

Ducking her head under his chin, she coiled her hand around his neck and nibbled on his earlobe then whispered breathily into his other ear, “Pay attention to how she responds so you learn how to pleasure her.” 

She stepped back, dropping her hands to her sides, and looked him in the eyes. “I did that for the next woman you’re with. Goodbye,” she said matter-of-factly, then walked away casually, disappearing into the crowd of people. To the tune of clinking glasses and conversations yelled over loud music, she deleted all four dating apps on her phone by the time she weaved her way out of the bar.

That was three months ago. Now she enjoyed making a game of finding a man to use as her masturbation muse. Her most recent muse was found on aisle 12. As she was examining boxes of tea, he walked up and stood beside her, a perfect eight inches taller. She called that tiptoe kissing height. Hot. He sparked a conversation about which chai tea was the best choice. He had stubble. She was a sucker for stubble. Smelling like sweat and freshly mowed grass, wearing Carhartts with a large army knife in the pocket he looked more like he’d be grabbing a case of Coors Light than perusing the tea aisle. 

Her phone pinged with a text from her assistant, Natasha:

"Looooong line. Go for coffee or no?"

"Yes. Grab a green tea muffin for both of us. My treat!"

"Deal. See you soon."

Now’s probably the time to get a jump on those copies. Grabbing a file folder off her desk, she left her office. Her smile faded at the glimpse of her boss. Whirling on her heel she went the opposite way taking the long route to the copy room. Why spoil the morning by crossing that insensitive fuckers path? 

The Copy Room

Screeching, the copy machine pushed an accordion paper halfway out before stopping. 

“Damn it,” she said out loud, irked at her failed attempt to be efficient. 

Squinting at the small screen, she read ’paper jam’ and ‘low boner.’ Blinking, she reread the screen. Oh, toner not boner. Wishful thinking. But the wind of ideas had stoked the ember. I’ve never had sex on a copier… or in a copy room. She looked around the room, jigsawing the boxes of paper in her mind to suit different positions. 

Work. You’re at work. Focus. She chided herself, clenching her vaginal walls, as if flexing would stop the flood of desire that beckoned. Let’s get this copier turned on. Instantly pleased by the perfect pun, she refocused with a smirk on her face. 

Hunched over the copy machine, she blew a stray hair out of her face. The screen indicated an error in the bottom paper tray. Stepping back to investigate, her buttocks brushed against something behind her. She jerked forward then twisted around. 

“Excuse me,” he said, smiling in that stupidly perfect blue suit. 

Jess could smell his man scent. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there!” 

“No harm done.” His voice was deep and silky. “This old girl giving you some grief?” he asked, tapping on the copier.

“I’d use some more choice words to describe her, but yeah.” 

He threw his head back with a chuckle. Words escaped her in his presence. “Mmmm” was the only reasonable sound she could think to utter and returned her attention to the paper lodged in the copier.

“Can’t you have your assistant do that?”

She didn’t look at him right away. “Of course I can. And I can do it, too.” Asshat. 

“I’m sorry, I sound like an ass. Can I help? Like get you some paper?” 

At least he has some awareness.

“That’s a good start,” she said, smiling, but still not looking up. 

“A start?” He cocked his head, a look of thoughtful pondering on his face that quickly turned into a grin. He was refreshingly surprised by her response. She’s cheeky, so she’s smart. Sexy. 

He went to retrieve a ream of paper, crossing the room in three long strides. Turning her head over her shoulder, she eyed him bent over at the waist, trousers taut across his firm, round buttocks. Goosebumps erupted all over her body, giving her a light shudder. Feeling her eyes on him, he lingered briefly. 

Let those man hands be part soft, part calloused from working, her fantasy pleaded. Look at that ass, so slappable, so grabbable, me sitting on those boxes wrapping my legs… oh no, quit gawking he’s standing up, get that damn tray open. 

As he turned, he saw her head snap back toward the copier as if she’d never looked away. He appreciated the curves of her form squatting there, fighting with the machine. 

Act nonchalant… they both chanted to themselves in unison. 

The rip of paper startled her from her thoughts. With a final yank, the paper drawer abruptly pulled open and her body lurched backwards. Her buttocks slammed into his shins, sending him stumbling backwards into the wall. Papers flew through the air, fluttering to the ground around her as giant unwelcome confetti. 

As fast as she had fallen, she scrambled up.

“Are you ok?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Sure. Fine. You?” she stammered. 

“Well, I’m not sure how long recovery will take.”  Jokingly, he continued, “We sure showed her.” He pushed himself away from the wall.

“Her?”

“The copy machine. She’s not the only one that can mess up some paper.” 

She laughed quickly and a little louder than she’d meant to. 

“Not exactly the golden buzzer confetti that I always wanted to rain down on me.”

“So are you saying I just made one of your dreams come true?”  

“Heh. More reminded me of the time I learned what 52-pick-up was.”

They both snickered. 

Working together, they each scooped up the piles of papers, heaping them into the bin marked ‘extra paper’ on a table along the wall. She found it odd to be so comfortable in the silence. 

They each started at the edges of the room, working toward the middle and each other. As their proximity tightened, so did their awareness of each other. He smiled at the dishevelled hair that fell around her creamy skin. Drinking in the details he was too far away to see that morning, he noticed the light veil of freckles sprinkled around her face. Her thick thighs maneuvered her delicious curves around the room. 

She stole glances at him as they worked, watching the ripple of his thigh muscles squatting up and down. Until this moment she hadn’t admired a man with such style. In the past she would have considered him a pretty boy, dismissing him as out of reach, superficial, and high maintenance. But looking into his eyes told a different story. She could see kindness and depth. 

Her gaze moved around his body, down his arms to his hands. Is that a callous? Like his hands are the perfect amount of imperfect? Well, melt my panties off. Afraid she had said that out loud, she abruptly announced, “Thanks for your help. I’ve got a busy day so I’m going to get back to it.” Before he could respond, she rushed out the door, a hint of lustful wetness growing between her legs. 

Back at her Desk

Back at her computer she revisited working on the ‘building rapport in the workplace’ training she was developing on her own. Her passion for the topic stemmed from too many interactions with adults behaving more like children. Her boss was the biggest offender, confirmed when he’d stopped his foot in a meeting after not getting his way. 

Backed by her belief that relationship skills could always be improved and were critical to the success of any organization she’d began with research. She stayed after hours eating from the take-out box happily compiling data, quotes, pictures, and drafting an outline. Layla chided her for working too much. What was she going to do, get a Brazilian blow out? A parakeet? Go on another shitty date? Watch the real stepwives of whatever? No thank you. Focusing on work had always been her default. And now she had the bank account to reflect her efforts. 

Her aim was to create a high-impact course that would improve human relations and could be sold across multiple industries. She wasn’t sure how she would pitch the course yet, or to whom. Maybe she’d circumvent her boss altogether to get the ball rolling. Although, with the emotional equivalent to a blood-sucking tick, he needed the course more than most. But he wouldn’t get it and she wanted to pitch to someone that understood the value of things like empathy.

Hmm. Wasn’t Drew in sales? Maybe that could be their first meeting. What I could do to that man. Jess inhaled deeply, clenching her vaginal walls with desire. Okay. Work.

Phone and email on silent, her fingers were flying across the keyboard. Satisfaction rose with the word count at the bottom right of the page. Progress eventually led to flow, her fingers transcribing her thoughts seamlessly.

The blinking of her phone drew her attention. Only family and Layla were on her approved contacts to get through silent mode. It was Layla. As usual, her timing was impeccable. Jess was ready for a break from this project. 

“Jess, I have some new HR trainings I need to roll out. You have room in your schedule to work on some projects with me?”

“I’d love to and I’ll make room.” 

“I don’t want to overload you, maybe I could talk to your boss?”

“Ugh. Yes. That’s probably the best route. Makes me feel like a child ‘asking daddy for permission.’”

“Thank the Lord that ain’t your daddy, who knows what that sweet little face of yours would look like!” 

“I don’t know how you do it with him.”

“Me either. I actually have some time now.” 

“Perfect. There in five?”

Layla burst into Jess’ office, beaming, “I found a new place. The place!”

“Congrats! Tell me all about it.”  

Layla took off her shoes and coiled her feet under her on the small generic chair Jess had snagged from the excess pile during the lobby remodel.

“You walk in to a cute little foyer space. It has 10-foot ceilings so even though it’s a little small, it doesn’t feel like it. The kitchen is gorgeous with pendant lighting over an island, big granite countertops, and tall, white glossy cabinets. The designers did a great job with the lines. The materials and finishes are top-notch. I love the treated concrete flooring, it looks like marble and there’s really pretty tile in the bathroom. I guess you might say it has a modern look without it being sterile. And there’s lots of new, but mixed with some detail of the old, like they left the original crown molding. Oh, and the walk-in closet is perfect.”

“It sounds like a dream!”

“It checks all my boxes.” 

“Perfect, now you just need to christen it by getting your box checked.” Jess smirked with one eyebrow raised.

“You know me so well,” Layal laughed as she plunked down across from Jess. “I have my eye on the realtor. I saw what was laying against his leg when we were climbing the stairs. I did the classic look back. You know it’s the best angle to see what a guy’s working with.” 

“Layla, I’m always learning from you.” 

“And I’m a willing teacher. Especially to my horizontal subjects.” 

As the friendly laughter faded, Natasha, Jess’ assistant, walked in carrying a tray of drinks. 

Breastfeeding awareness training

“What’s the plan for this afternoon?” Natasha asked passing a coffee to Jess, then offering one to Layla, “I knew you’d be here before too long and decided to just grab you a coffee too. You like vanilla flavoring, right?”

“I do! You’re the best,” Layla said, raising her iced coffee in a cheer to Natasha. 

Jess raised hers too, “One of the many reasons why we’re so lucky to have you.” 

“Natasha grab your laptop, come back and get cozy,” Jess instructed.

Layla followed up, “Yeah, we’re going to talk about a little training I call boobs and babes.” 

Sitting in her chair, Jess roll-walked her way around the outside of the desk, removing the large desk as a barrier between them. Natasha sat cross-legged with her laptop on the chair next to Layla. Just like that, the fun was done and the trio dug into developing a new course. 

Jess started, “What is the objective of this training?” 

Layla answered, “Great question. It’s twofold. First, it’s to raise awareness about new laws that support women breastfeeding and compliance with those laws. Second, it’s about the human component of creating a safe and supportive environment for women to feel comfortable pumping.”

Natasha recorded their discussion. They built on each other's ideas growing the synergy between the three of them. The trio talked strategy, developing a rough outline, brainstorming design ideas, talking logistics, then considering what questions to ask a focus group. 

Jess weighed in, “Before we get too far we need to talk to some moms who’ve had this experience.” 

The other two nodded.

Natasha spoke up, “I’m not trying to be weird or anything, but have you ever heard of women being turned on by breastfeeding?”

“I have and it seems super awkward,” said Jess.

Layla added, “I know plenty of men that would still like to breastfeed. I swear a man was trying to suck some milk out of my nipple so much last week I thought I might actually start lactating.” 

The three burst into laughter. But they weren’t the only ones.

Unbeknownst to them, Jess’ boss, Bradford, snickered with them as he stood eavesdropping outside the door. Pretending to check his phone, he sucked his teeth picturing himself as the one worshiping Layla’s caramel skin. Drew, who’d gone out of his way to walk by Jess’ office, approached him from behind and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Bradford! What do you think of the 7th-floor renos?” Drew said with loud enthusiasm. Bradford jumped, adjusting his glasses and muttering under his breath. 

All three women gave each other knowing looks. Bradford had a special distaste for Jess, always looking for a new way to criticize her. Jess was satisfied in her position, leading trainings, managing content, collaborating with coworkers and clients. But Bradford was the reason why she was looking for other jobs. Just as she’d written in her human relations course, ‘people leave jobs because of other people.’ 

Natasha looked at Jess with sympathy, “Boss, you let me know how I can help.” 

Layla nodded, “Yes girl, me too.” Both Natasha and Layla readied themselves to leave Jess’ office. 

“Can we reschedule for lunch? I had a thing come up.” Layla asked.

“Of course. Tomorrow it is,” Jess replied.

“Tomorrow.” 

In a low, sultry voice, Layla paused in the doorway. “Hi Drew,” she said casually. Then she turned to Bradford. Standing two inches taller than him in her heels, she deliberately looked down at him, directly into his eyes. “Hello Bradford.” She took a few steps down the hallway. As soon as her back was turned, her nostrils flared. 

The regular disdain on Bradford’s face subsided, at least halfway, and was replaced with unsureness, curiosity, and lust. He found it irritating, confusing, and arousing that he never could quite read Layla. Most people couldn’t. She liked things that way. Only Jess could consistently interpret Layla’s words, gestures, and movements with accuracy. Bradford licked his lips, watching Layla’s ass swing from side to side. 

Layla turned then, looking back toward them. “Oh, Bradford? I do have something I’d like to talk with you about.” Without a word, Bradford rushed to Layla’s side. Drew watched her lure him away. Layla flashed a side smile and quick wink back at him.

Natasha returned to her desk, nestled in a cubby just outside Jess’ office door. Drew walked past her with a quick friendly greeting and leaned into Jess’ doorway. “You’ve got a hell of a boss. And a hell of a friend in her.” 

“I sure do, on both counts.” 

They held each others gaze for longer than just friends do. 

“Thank you for the rescue.” 

“Yeah, that was weird. Is he always like that?”

Jess clenched her jaw, raised her eyebrows, and let out a big sigh. 

Switching the subject she offered, “Can I help you with something?” 

“No. I was just in the neighborhood, thought I’d say hi. What is it you do around her?” 

He stood in the middle of the doorway, his hands tucked casually in his pockets.

“You know, wreak havoc and fight with copy machines,” He smiled that million-dollar smile. “And you?” 

“I’m a sales guy.” 

“Ah.” So he was in sales. Of course he was. Look at him, so well dressed and smooth.

“Thank you. Oh, I just said that. Well, now you know I really meant it.”  Jess’ face flushed. Way to go, Jess. More gazelling. Just gazelle myself right into a wall.

She had so many questions. Was he really nearby or did he make a trip just to see her? Could he feel how much his presence enlivened her? Did he drink coffee? Did he want to drink coffee with her? Would he like something stiffer? Oh..stiffer. No, stop. Don’t make it weird by looking at his crotch. Just a quick glance won’t be too obvious. God, I’m such a perv. 

He loved how her facial expressions lent clues to the thought process she was clearly lost in. She was plotting something but questioned herself. He could see it. 

“Happy to help. Take care, Jess.” He turned to leave.

“Drew?” 

“Yes.” His eyes were twinkling. 

Damn, he’s sexy. 

“Do you...?” He waited patiently for her to continue. “Do you know if they got that copier figured out?"

“I heard they’re putting it on the set of Office Space 2 and looking for someone to beat the shit out of it.”

They both chuckled. 

“Ha. Great movie. Great scene. Sign me up.”

“Would you like to grab a coffee to talk strategy?”

Don’t jump up and grab your coat. Play it cool Jess. 

“Strategy?” she asked.

Drew smirked, “About what you’d do to that copy machine given the chance.” Jess beamed. 

Sexy and funny. Fuck me. Literally. 

“Strategy is what you do, right Jess?” Oh how her name sounded so silky rolling off his tongue. 

“That’s part of what I do.”

“After the copy machine murder talk, I’d like to learn more about what you do.”

“I’ll have my assistant set something up,” she teased. 

Drew lingered for a second, smiling at her as if contemplating whether he wanted to say something more.

“I’ll let you get back to it.” 

“See you, Drew.” Tingles erupted over her body. 

Damn, he was a pretty boy. But he was no boy, he was all man. She could see it in the way he carried himself, the way he spoke. His cool demeanor wasn’t contrived, it was simply confident. 

Late Night with Jess

When Jess settled into bed that night, she didn’t need to conjure up a random muse to masturbate to. How could she imagine anyone but blue-suit Drew? She imagined the dirty things Drew might whisper to her in a tone strained with pleasure. Hearing that word, ‘pleasure,’ drip off his tongue had Jess reeling. She began tugging on her nipples to awaken her body. They were like tiny faucet handles for her vagina. 

Fantasizing in the style of a softcore porn with overdramatized acting, Jess completed the scene from their conversation. Drew would walk toward her desk. Being coy, she’d say “I’ll have to find a way to repay you for rescuing me from my boss.” His eyes would linger on hers, looking up at him. He’d say, “I’ll think of something.” She’d respond with something clever like, “Don’t think too...hard.”  His eyebrows would raise, his eyes would widen. Her sly smile afterward would confirm the innuendo in her pause. What song would be playing? No, ditch the song. Just think of that luscious head of hair, that stupid sharp blue suit, and the capital ‘M’ man underneath it. 

Her forefinger wedged into her slit to access the tiny wet pool at the opening of her vagina. Fingers lubed, she slid them slowly up to her stiff clitoris, grazing the tip first, then dragging circles around it. Her hips responded naturally, rotating up into her hand. Drew flashed through her mind. Him standing in the lobby, that hair, his smile, that ripple in his thigh with his ass tight against his pants.  

Between stimulating her clitoris and her vibrator she easily achieved climax imagining him looking down at her. But the solo manufactured finish could never compare to the real thing. She longed for the weight of a man’s body sinking into her and craved the intimacy of his embrace without the metaphorical stinky socks that came from being in a long-term committed relationship. But then, did Drew’s designer socks even stink? 

Late Night with Drew

Peeling off his socks, he imagined stroking his hand up Jess’ sturdy calf. He’d loved the sight of her squatting by the copier. It gave him a preview of her curves and he wanted his hands on every inch of her. 

Drew’s body reacted to Jess in a way he wasn’t accustomed to. He was turned on by women frequently, but he couldn’t remember a time a woman had so completely captivated him. She was awkward, real, beautiful, angelic. He wanted to be near her, to feel her body pressed into his. 

Drew placed his suit into the dry cleaning bag, replaying the conversation with Jess earlier. How delighted he’d been to find her in her office. He hoped next time they’d be alone. Not that anything would happen. Or would it. Could it? 

He walked, naked, to the shower, wishing she was there to join him. Steam clouded around Drew as he replayed his brief encounters with Jess that day. His mind zoomed in on her face, those wild curls. But it was picturing her devilish grin, the glimpse of the fire within her as she sat at her desk, that brought him release. 

Lunchtime the Next Day

Looking forward to lunch with Layla, Jess jaunted into the lunchroom, halting at the sight of Drew. Like a gambler assessing a thoroughbred before a race, she eyed him up and down for hints of how high a bet to place. 

He was leaning back in his chair, legs crossed, a newspaper spread out before him. Still frozen, she pictured him in this exact position at her kitchen table. Add a robe and a cocker spaniel and I could call him Jim Dear, she thought, smirking at her memories of the classic Lady and the Tramp. 

He was beautiful. From the sun sparkling on the tips of his dark wavy locks of hair to his olive skin, his toned muscular physique to the presence he commanded. 

Lifting an apple to his mouth, his full lips pressed down against the red skin as he sunk his teeth in for a generous bite. She watched the muscles in his temple as he chewed slowly, deliberately. 

I bet that’s not the only place he takes his time. 

Aware of her out of the corner of his eye, he twisted his torso to see her ogling him. Again, their eyes met. Again she stood motionless. Crunch. Crunch. He finished chewing the apple, with the same look of amusement he had earlier.

Her shirt bloused over her pants a little more on one side than the other. The hair of an artist and the face of a cherub, he thought. He was surprised by his urge to dig his hands into that hair. And he’d never seen a more kissable nose. Cute was one way to describe her, but that didn’t quite capture her quirkiness or the luxurious curves of her body. He was grateful he was seated to conceal exactly how much her presence excited him.

He wanted to slide his hand up her lower back and pull her full frame into him, imagining her breasts pressing into his chest. What if I took her right here on this table? Quelling the thought as quickly as it arose to keep more blood from rushing to his cock. 

They held each other’s gaze for three long seconds before she blurted, “G’day, mate.” 

Followed quickly with, “I’m not sure why I did that.” Her face flushed as she bit the inside of her lower lip. Her mind screamed, Why can’t you just be normal? 

The corners of his mouth turned up and he asked, “Do you ever do that accent thing? Where you just have a conversation in a really bad accent?”

“Oh yeah, I like to do that randomly with strangers in a lunchroom.” She smirked. 

They both grinned. Her with one raised eyebrow. 

He rose from the table. Feeling the fabric of his pants brush against his half-stiff shaft, he buttoned his jacket. They’d never faced each other in such close proximity. Her pulse quickened. So did his.

He shrugged. “Teach me? I try to do an Aussie accent but I always just go to a bad UK blend of an accent.” 

“Well maybe you could put a little shrimp on the barbie sometime.” She could feel the tension in her body releasing. 

“Is that an invitation?” 

“It’s an invitation to give me an invitation.”

“Done.”

“You can schedule it with my assistant.” Jess tilted her chin up and bantered, “she handles those kinds of things." 

“Oh, you’re one of those.”

“One of those?” She wrinkled her nose.

“Someone that keeps me sharp,” he said, raising up on his toes. 

“It’s a well-honed skill.” 

“So I see. It’s also a sign of intelligence,” he said. Leaning toward her, his voice softened, “I like it.”

He took a half step back. With a quick salute and a wide smile, he said, “Tally ho!” and left her standing in the middle of the lunchroom.

Clutching her green tea muffin, she replayed the conversation in her head. Preoccupied with Drew, she hadn’t seen Layla walk into the lunchroom and casually observe their interaction. 

“Dayyyyym gazelle. You two were lighting a fire.” Layla sidled up beside her. 

“Fire? Really? No,” Jess said, looking around. “You think so?”

“Yes, queen. I was about to get out some marshmallows and start roasting them kinda fire. You two have chemistry.” 

Not wanting to lose herself in fantasy, Jess changed the subject, “Let’s eat.” 

“So how’d it go yesterday? Was it like a ‘thing thing’ that came up? Or attached to a body thing?” 

Layla choked on her water with wide eyes, “I wish. It’s a work thing, a last-minute meeting. HR bullshit. But you know I’d tell you if I was ditching you for some dick.”

“I do.” Jess nodded. “But I had to ask.”

Layla opened up her Tupperware container, releasing the warm spicy aroma of cardamom, clove, and turmeric. 

“Did you cook Indian food?” Jess asked.

“Girl, you know me better than that. I’m not about to cook the spices before I use them. I just don’t have the patience. Plus, I like spending my extracurricular time honing... other skills...and things.” Layla winked and snickered silently. 

Jess smiled, shaking her head. 

“This is takeout from Masala Kitchen. It’s sooo good. I could live off this shit.”

“It smells amazing!” Jess pinched off a bite of her muffin and popped it in her mouth. Layla craned her neck to see if Jess had anything else to pull out of her bag. 

“A muffin? Is that all you ever eat? Wanna do halfsies?” Before Jess could respond, Layla went to the cupboard, rummaging around for a plate and a fork.

“You know I didn’t expect you to share,” Jess said, covering her mouth with her hand while she chewed. 

“I know. It was really a selfish move for me to get half of that muffin.” 

Layla ate like a grown working man. She ate or talked, but never both. Plate piled high, silently shoveling and finishing before others were halfway through their first plate. 

After scraping the last bits of rice onto her fork, Layla started talking business. 

They finished lunch discussing decor ideas for Jess' office and Layla’s new apartment. 

Back at the office

Jess struggled to focus. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Drew. There was no question that he had some feelings for her. But could she be sure? Why me? I’ve been such a goof, so awkward. The thought was soon followed by, Why not me? 

Ping. New message from Drew Petrucci. 

“Here’s my number. Can we text details?”

She wrote back, “You should really work on that bad accent.”

“The teacher arrives when the student is ready,” he typed, feeling quite clever.

Jess switched to texting on her phone instead of the office messenger so she could spice up the dialogue. 

“Be good, wouldn't want to give you detention.” 

She resisted her temptation to delete the words and write something safer. Send.

"Really, you wouldn’t want to give me detention?"

"You planning on breaking the rules?"

"Only the rules worth breaking, haha." 

"What are the rules? "

"We should talk about that"

"I concur, sir. Going to grab some copies." 

"But I wanted to concur." 

"Bahaha."

Each of them stared at their phones with wide grins, appreciating how the other one followed the ‘Catch Me if You Can’ movie reference. 

Copy room

Jess and Drew arrived at the copy room door simultaneously. 

“Oh, hi!” she said.

“You seem surprised.” He tilted his head.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Oh! God. I’m sorry, I thought you invited me.” A flash of bewilderment on his face.

He extended his arm, inviting her to go first just as she started through the door. His hand grazed her breast. 

“Oh no.” His face turned bright pink. 

“Taking a little boob grace already?” she teased, knowing full well it was an honest mistake but taking advantage of seeing him squirm. 

He sucked in a breath of embarrassment. Every ounce of him longed to touch her more. She smelled like peaches and her skin was so creamy. 

“You’re clever,” he said in a low voice.

“Hmmm.” She lifted the copier.

“I like how you make that noise.”

“What noise?” she asked.

”That hmming that you do.”

“Hmmm,” she teased. “What’s your non-answer answer sound like?”

“You make me want to show you.” His voice was visceral and almost a whisper.

It was uncommon for words to evade either of them. Yet there they both stood, keenly aware of the rising and falling of their chests with deep yearning breaths. Not one moment of the silence between them felt awkward. 

Clark, the intern, stepped into the doorway, announcing his presence with an over-exuberant, “Hello!”

Jarred from their drunkenness with one another, Jess grabbed her files and brushed past Clark as if he didn’t exist. Nothing existed except that beautiful, dreamy, manly Drew. I want to rip off his clothes and...

“Jess,” he called after her. 

“Yes?” she pivoted back.

“I’ll see you at the fundraiser tonight?”

"Mmmmm," she said, twirling around. She could feel the wetness between her legs as she practically floated back to her office. 

How would he react if I told him I want to sit on his face? Would he squirm awkwardly or would her suspicions be confirmed, that he was more excited than she to smear her juices over his well-manicured beard.

The Fundraiser

Layla joined Jess in her drive back to her apartment to get ready for the work festivities. Digging through her closet, she flung three dresses on the bed next to what Layla called her ‘go bag.’ 

“I’m so bummed you’re not coming to the fundraiser tonight.” 

“I know, me too. You know I love a good party. But wait till you see this place, Jess. If I don’t sign on it tonight I’ll lose it. 

“Is it the one with the hot realtor?” 

“Girrrlll. He’s fine as fuck.” 

“Oh, you chasing that?”

“I wouldn’t mind, that man looked like he’s got some stamina.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

“I can’t wait to show it to you and get your design-eyes on it.”

“I think I’ll wear the black one. It’s sexy and just the right amount of slutty, but still okay for an office party.” 

“Like you’re both the lady in the street AND the freak in the bed. It’s perfect.”

Jess walked into the building, feeling like she should have electric guitars riffing a soundtrack as an explosion erupted behind her while she walked away in slow motion. Her mind was riddled with fantasy. 

The flashing lights from the dance floor shimmered on her black sequin cocktail dress. Her hair was left in wild unruly curls, a smokey eye and nude lipstick to finish her look. She scanned the crowd and found Drew already out on the dance floor with Doris, who had turned 60 today. 

Jess smiled warmly, watching Drew spin Doris around once, twice. Glee spread across the birthday woman’s face. Her smile glowed as brightly as Drew’s white shirt in the black light. 

Sexy. Smart. Good dancer. Good kisser? 

She didn’t show up to the party intending to fuck him. But he had this magnetism like nothing she’d ever experienced. It was like they’d known each other before, in a past life perhaps. As if they were finally rediscovering each other after long journeys and years of seeking. She could no longer deny the pull. She didn’t want to.

Five minutes of watching him dance and observing the room showed her how little she wanted to be there. He was the only reason to stay. But she didn’t want to stay. She wanted him all to herself. Walking up to him spontaneously and oddly gracefully as he exited the dance floor, she faced him. Looking at him intently, she said in a low tone, “I want you to meet me in the copy room so I can do what I wanted to the first time we were there.”

For once, he was the one standing motionless and silent. He looked deep into her eyes, discerning her sincerity. 

She looked back, piercing him with a soft assuredness. 

“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes. Meet me there in fifteen minutes.”

Doris sucked down the mojito that had been handed to her and surveyed the crowd for Drew. She hadn’t been spun like that on a dance floor for years. He’d made her feel so youthful and alive. Swept up in the moment, she’d forgotten to thank him. Two steps toward him and she stopped, slurping more on her drink, observing Jess’ approach to Drew and the brief intensity that followed before they separated. 

Drew walked briskly toward the door. He’d been wondering all day what color hair she had between her legs, if any. Was her skin as soft as it looked? His breath quickened at the thought of caressing and squeezing her thick, round ass. Drew wanted to burst into a run. Instead, he walked briskly from the giant room of flashing lights, on a mission to his office for the blanket he used for his ‘fifteen-minute resets’: the adult version of a quick nap. 

Fumbling with his office key, Drew inhaled deep into his belly, slowing down to make his moves more methodical. Straight to the blanket cupboard he went. Then he chugged a smoothie drink from the mini-fridge behind his desk, popped a wintergreen tic-tac in his mouth, and tucked the blanket under his arm. On his way out the door, he set the blanket down on his office couch and did ten push-ups. Each time his body lowered to the floor he imagined pressing down onto her, flesh on flesh, her doey eyes looking up into his, framed in a bed of wild curls. Never had he felt this feverish with desire. He scuttled out the door, scooping up the blanket, and made his way to the copy room on high alert for anyone else venturing away from the fundraiser. 

Jess went to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. “What the fuck am I doing?” she whispered out loud. 

Panic settled in her chest, bringing shallow, ragged breaths. 

Stop it. Don’t act like this is a mistake or some kind of fluke. You know it’s right, with every ounce of your being.

Squaring her shoulders and lengthening her posture, she met her own eyes in the mirror. Yes, it is happening. And you made it happen, you sexy beast. Now go get the pleasure you deserve. 

Twisting her lipstick she watched the color protrude and wondered how hard his cock was already. She made an ‘o’ shape with her lips to reapply the color. Before leaving, she inched her skirt down over her thighs and jiggled her bra, arranging her breasts for maximum plumpness. 

Each step toward the elevator was one of determination to see and experience all that was behind the blue suit curtain. For all her conviction, she still had a wobble in her step. She lengthened her stride to compensate. 

She wanted him to want her enough to already be hard. After all the build-up throughout the day she wondered if he had the beautiful cock to go with everything else about him. I’m about to find out. 

Copy Room: Round 2

She resisted her instincts to launch herself at him as he smoothed out a blanket on the floor next to the copier. Instead, she leaned against the door jam, watching him briefly before saying, “Another good start.”

He looked up at her from all fours. “I don’t want to fuck you,” he blurted out. His eyes grew wide. Then he stammered, “I mean I do, but I don’t.” Damn it man, find your words. After a deep breath he started again, “I mean of course I want to fuck you, but I really want to make love to you. I want to take our time.” 

Her body shuddered with goosebumps, less at his words and more at the confirmation of her own judgment in recognizing a jewel and claiming it for herself. He rose and came to her in the doorway, cupping her face gently with his hand, splitting his fingers around her ear. 

His hot breath on the side of her face weakened her. He outlined her ear with his tongue, then moved down the side of her neck and along her collarbone with long, luxurious kisses. 

Gripping her torso, he continued kissing along her chest, then glided his hands around her breasts, nuzzling gently between them. She slid her hands along the back of his neck and grabbed a fist full of hair at the nape of his neck, pulling his head back. Leaning forward she brushed her lips along his with the lightness of a feather. 

Ripples of desire cascading through her body, she unbuttoned his shirt slowly and pushed it off his shoulders. A pasture of tiny dark curls emerged for her to smear her hands in. Her hot, wet mouth closed around his right nipple, suckling him into a series of trembles. 

Reaching around her neck, he deftly pulled down the zipper on her dress. Lips reddened, she stepped back. Guiding his eyes along her body, she slowly slipped the dress off her shoulders then down around her ribs. In one swift movement she released her breasts from their cage of black lace and scalloped edges. Her small, innocent coral nipples stood at attention like two soldiers atop delicious porcelain mounds. The unveiling continued as she squeezed the cocktail dress over her hips, letting it drop to the floor.

“God you’re so…” he searched for the right word to describe the beauty of her nakedness. Resembling a woman from a Renaissance painting her body was plump, lovely, and ripe. He finally settled on, “...exquisite.” 

“And..something seems to have happened to your panties,” he mused, admiring the short strawberry hairs between her legs. He preferred a well-manicured pussy to a clean-shaven one. She was, after all, a woman. 

“They’re just invisible to a worthy patron like you,” she smiled, biting her lower lip, shrinking her shoulders. 

Gently, she pushed him backward and extended her right arm to raise the copier lid. She backed up to it and hoisted herself up. Her spine straightening as she spread her legs and her vulva met the cold glass. 

Unsure of how to respond to this titillating creature, he stood still, lips slightly parted, letting out a long sigh of appreciation. With two fingers she reached down to the mouth of her vagina, wetting them in glistening moisture before sliding them up to her stiff clitoris, never breaking eye contact. Each small circle she made with her fingers acted like a crank engorging him with each rotation. A warmth began to develop in her vagina, plumping her lips, priming her to receive him. 

He clenched his jaw, torn between the enjoyment of watching her pleasure herself and the aching to join her. There was no more time for waiting. Buckle. Button. Zipper. Pull. Out of his pants with one large step, he simultaneously pried her mouth open wide with his tongue. They lapped at each other hungrily. 

Hand wrapped around his jutting shaft, he guided himself between her legs. He sunk his calloused hands on her buttocks, sliding her body to meet his. She felt his girth stretch her open. A small gasp escaped her mouth as she dug her fingers into his back, taking in the scent of his aftershave. 

His cock pulsed inside her tight, wet pussy. Starting long and slow, his movements crescendoed in speed. With each thrust he focused on resisting the begging of his body to burst inside her. Dangling on the edge of climax, he moaned into her neck, “I want you to ride me.” 

He pulled out of her, slid her off the copier and lowered her to the ground in front of him. She was ripe for devouring. He kissed her hard, sucking and biting on her lips, which she did in return. Between breathless pants, she said, “I need you inside me.”

On the now-wrinkled blanket, he laid down, his cock jutting up like a glistening statue. She quickly straddled him. Inch by inch she buried his cock deep inside of her, grinding back and forth to stimulate her clitoris.

He rubbed his hands over the delicious folds of her stomach and her perfect bouncing breasts as she rode him. Again and again she almost released him from the grip of her vagina before sinking back down as he fucked her from below. She wanted to smash her body into him and kiss and lick and suck and bite. But she remained upright, aroused by watching him study her movements, bobbing up and down. Squeezing her hips, he pulled her down onto him hard as he thrust all the way up to her cervix. She squeaked in delight. 

“You feel soo good,” he growled.

Between breaths, she replied, “So. Do. You.” 

Her pussy was throbbing, building toward release. She pumped up and down with more vigor until she flung her head back. He raised up into her, holding his cock inside her. Soft moans and gasps escaped her mouth. Her eyes fluttered and rolled back in her head. “I’m cumming,” she gasped, her hips and vaginal walls shuddered uncontrollably. 

Seconds later he let out a low, deep groan. Every drop of cum that had accumulated since he first saw her in the elevator that morning squirted inside of her. Hooking her legs around his thighs, she ground her hips harder against him, taking advantage of the blood pulsing through his penis, then working the slow softening of his cock to rub against her g-spot to orgasm. For the second time, milky cum flooded down around his cock. 

She fell forward onto him. Their sweaty bodies breathed heavily against one another. He kissed her forehead. There they lay, letting his penis grow limp inside her and fall out naturally. She rolled off him onto her back, her skin greeted by the plush blanket. They lay side by side like that, arms touching, recovering from their explosive encounter. 

She’d been with her last boyfriend for years and never shared the level of intimacy she had with Drew during their first sexcapade. Had she changed that much? How much of it was Drew? Who cares? The view of white ceiling tiles had never been so lovely. 

END PART 1