[note from the author....this is a playful work in progress....I'll continue it as I complete sections, creativity and time permitting.]

Look up best friend in the dictionary, it’ll have a picture of Katie there. Promise. When I left my now ex-husband three years ago…Katie gave me a place to stay. When I got discouraged with the job market available to ex-housewives in this high tech world…Katie kept my spirits up, and told me not to sell myself short. After seeing an sketch pad from an art class I took in what felt like a previous life, she got me an interview at her advertising firm….despite my lack of degree. She even loaned me the gorgeous suit that boosted my self confidence enough to get me through the interview. Since then, she’s been the source of inspiration, mentoring, encouragement, laughs, and many many margharita refills. She’s my best friend, I owe her more than I want to remember, and I would do anything for her. So one might ask why I was in her office that afternoon, stubbornly refusing to do her this one tiny little favor.

“Melissa….please.”

“No.” My calmest, clearest, ‘here endeth the negotiations’ denial.

“Melissa…I need your help on this.”

Did she not hear the ‘here endeth’ tone in my voice? “Katie, I can’t.”

“Mel…I’m not asking much here.”

“It’s not that I won’t, Kate…I can’t” I plead. She’s not actually going to ask this of me. She loves me. She’ll understand…there are things that a person just can’t do.

I watch Katie sigh, run both hands back through her hair in exasperation, and close her eyes as she quietly asks, “is he really that bad?”

“No. No he’s not. He, in fact, has a smile like a young Harrison Ford, an ass like Brad Pit’s, and big brown eyes that make half the women in this building quiver. None of which matters, because I Can’t Do It.”

Kate starts covering old ground, in a reasonable, quiet, ‘don’t scare the animals’ tone of voice: “He’s the best copywriter we’ve got. The clients already love your designs. This is an important account. He’s easy on the eye. I’ve never heard a complaint about his sense of humour. He even smells nice. WHAT’S the PROBLEM?”

“You know the problem,” I all but whisper, dropping onto the couch across the room from her desk. “He’s my…my…my go-to guy.”

“You can’t work with Jason, despite all the pluses I just mentioned….because….”

I give up all pretence of discretion. After all, it’s not like she doesn’t know already. “Because, since I started working here, he’s the fantasy I go to when nothing else is working for me. And you know that. Good grief, Katie…I blush scarlet when I get into an ELEVATOR with this guy. There is no way, NONE, that I can work with him.”

My first day at Karn and Stemper, I’d seen him. He’d smiled at me, and my heart started beating a mile a minute. At home that night, trying to come down from the excitement of a new job, I’d had one of those times when you just can’t seem to get the rhythm right. My vibrator felt great, but there was no orgasm in site. No matter what I did. Until I remembered that smile, then BOOM. And to tell the truth, my nighttime fantasies had gone to my “go-to” guy a lot more than even Katie knew. There had even been a couple of day time “go-to”s with the door to my office locked and my legs up on my desk. There hadn’t been a problem with it, I mean…when you meet someone who can make your head spin like that, why not just enjoy the ride? But why oh why couldn’t it have been someone I knew in college and would never see again?

“Melissa. You tell me, how do I explain to the largest travel agency in town that they can’t have our best writer because the graphic designer once got off thinking about him in a hot tub? It’s 6 weeks, hon. You can come by my place every night to complain about the assignment if that’s what it, but please just do this? For me?”

At this point I know I’ve lost, but I can’t help it. “It’s not just the hot tub…it’s the shower, the living room, my room, his room..”

“You’ve never even seen his room, Mel!” Katie interrupts.

“I’ve got a good imagination,” I mutter.

“Your imagination gets more action than any three real women I know, Mel….but you can’t let it run your life. Rein it in here, Hon. Work with the guy.”

So much for grim determination….I agree to take what I think must be the most embarrassing assignment of my life.

“Good.” Katie breathed deeply. “If you want, come over tonight and we’ll raid my wardrobe. See if there’s something we can do to make you feel better about tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to turn the air on?” Jason Innis asks…for the second time today.

“No really, I’m fine.” I’m wearing one of Katie’s summer dresses, white cotton with little blue and yellow flowers. Casual seemed like such a good idea yesterday, calm cool and relaxing. Not, as Katie insisted, because the colors would accent my blue eyes and blonde hair. Today, I’d rather be wearing inch thick wool or chain mail….woops. This blasted dress doesn’t make it as far down as my knees and has straps instead of sleves. So no, I’m not hot, I’m just flushed…I’m remembering how the Jason in my mind spooned up behind me last night to nibble my ear while reaching both arms around to rub his palms across my nipples. All air conditioning is going to do is make that worse..the last thing I need is to have those self same nipples pressing against my…

“So, you were saying….”

Add blush onto flush…mental note, ensure all makeup from here on out works well with red cheeks. “Oh, yes….I was saying that I liked the idea for a series, but that I thought Anders just wanted the one magazine spread.” My mind heads off on a safari through all the possible bits of my anatomy I’d want spread right now.

“Well, that’s what they asked for. And we can still do that. But when they asked for ‘young couple in a beautiful location’, well, I just couldn’t make up my mind last night. I mean, it’s all well and good to say they want to bring back the romantic vacation for the DINK/Singleton market…but we’re just going to show one setting. And that can’t encompass everyone’s definitions of a romantic break. One person might get hooked by an image of Paris while another won’t stop on the page unless it’s a beach..right? So here’s my thought” Jason opened his briefcase and started distributing sketches across the meeting table.


With just the two of us there, there was no reason not to use all the space. I swear, usually I’d be looking at the pictures…but the way his back and shoulders moved as he stretched across to distribute the pictures had me mesmerized. I had mentally inserted myself beween his body and the edge of the table…my mind was constructing its own version of how his body would feel pressing against mine, the edge of the table sharp against the back of my thighs, my back slowly rolling onto the cool wood surface as my legs came up to wrap around his hips. I got particularly stuck on the feel of his stiffening (of course) cock against the inside of my thigh, cradled in the V between my leg and my body….when I heard the by then inevitable…

“Are you sure you don’t want the air on?”

I swear I could hear a smile in his voice, but there was none on his face when my eyes shot up to it.

“No really, I’m fine.” I squeaked…and bent over to look at the pictures.

“These aren’t bad” I heard myself say….and I meant it, they weren’t. Not professional level art, but not the cringeworthy things that you get from most of the writing staff…those members of it who think they’ve got the “hard” part of the
job, anyway.

“My mother was an art teacher” I hear him say, right over my shoulder. I pinch my leg, HARD, to get the image of Jason flipping my skirt up and pressing his thigh between my legs out of my mind before it can get well and truly planted there. “They’re not anything like what we’ll use, I know…but they get the point across. I want to pitch a broader campaign to the meeting this afternoon. Instead of just a single ad showing a young couple on a trip, we have them meeting somewhere exciting. It appeals to the singles, and, if the first one’s successful…we can follow them on all sorts of trips as their relationship progresses.”

Something about that man’s voice. Deep yet light, dancing yet rich. Makes my spine tingle, my head spin, and my vocabulary untrustworthy. “Like the coffee thing,” is my brilliant contribution to the conversation.

“Yeah, the couple on the Folgers ads, exactly!”

“So where do we start?” I ask, taking my eyes off the pictures and turning around…thinking: We could start with the table, the wall, the chair, the floor…or I could just wrap my legs around your waist and hang on for dear life….

“Start?” Jason’s already turned around and is heading for the air conditioner…

“This couple…whatever we wind up naming them. Where do they meet?”

“The first one we do might also be the last one, so let’s make sure the setting will stand on its own. Jamaica? We’ll make it clear it’s a first meeting to leave open the possibility for an extended series.”

Which is the moment the words “extended series” filtered through my erotic haze…an extended series of ads…and I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. In either case, I should definitely buy stock in Duracel.

I bit down hard on the washcloth to muffle a moan, and sped up the fingers stroking along either side of my clit. My skirt was hiked up around my waist, my shirt was pulled up above my breasts, and I’d had one bra cup pulled down to expose a nipple. Not two minutes ago I’d been playing with it, stroking my fingers across it…but since I’d decided against bringing any toys to work…there’d been other things I needed my fingers for. I’d become desperate for penetration, and had my first and middle fingers tucked neatly up my snatch, beckoning gently with them to stroke the front wall of my dripping cunt. I could feel one nipple pressing against the lace of my bra, reminding me that the other breast was on display to anyone who came through the door. Which did it, my mind offered me an image of Jason walking in to find me displayed like a pornographic buffet…twat open, tits out, head back. In my mind his eyes painted a path down my body to where my hands were busy. He sinks to his knees in front of me, his hands stroke up my thighs, catching my arms at the elbows and using them to pull my hands out of his way. He lowers his mouth to my clit, and slides his own fingers slowly into my dripping cunt. I run my fingers through his gorgeous black hair, feeling his head move as he worked me to a fever pitch. Too much, I’m ready to go over the edge. In the real world I fuck myself faster with one hand, while the fingers of the other hand start the final spiral around my slit to end rubbing circles on my clit until the stars stop popping behind my eyes.

I catch my breath slowly, reassemble my outfit, and pull a fresh pair of panties out of my purse. I brush my hair back into its twist, and carefully collect my washcloth. I had made quite a study of the 5 minute quicky at work over the last week. I now knew a dozen different routes to the 4th floor wheelchair-friendly restroom, lots of legroom and two solid doors between me and the outside world. Everyone in my group thought I’d taken up smoking. In a way, I guess I had. The washcloth had been yesterday’s addition to my “at work pleasure kit.” Worry about my moans attracting attention had gotten to be too much for me the first day I’d tried this. Spending the rest of the day all worked up after a lack of orgasm was, it turned out, much harder to work through than just my usual absent mindedness. Especially since that was the day Jason started resting his hand on my shoulder as he looked past me at the draft board. I was crossing my legs just to get some pressure on my aching clit. I finally pleaded a headache and went home early, where I promptly used every toy in my arsenal to get out the screaming orgasm that’d been stuck in my throat. Not again. Ever since I’ve been sure to have something I can bite down on when I take my trips to the 4th floor. The washcloth is my current favorite. With a quick stop at the mirror to fix my hair, renew my make up, and make sure that the buttons on my blouse are done up (that was Tuesday’s mistake), I decide I’m ready to face that three o’clock meeting.

I used to think I had a thing for blue eyes. Really I did. All through school I chased blue eyed guys, my ex had beautiful ones. How on earth could I have been so terribly wrong all those years. You can keep the piercing blue-eyes….I’m happy getting lost in Jason’s warm brown ones as they move around the room. I want nothing more at that instant than to hold his gaze, see those eyes widen just a little as he pushes his cock slowly into me, see them close in pleasure only make them pop open again in surprise as I squeeze him inside me.

“Well, Melissa can answer that best,” I hear Katie say. Oh hell. I turn my attention up the table with a big smile and slightly befuddled look, and wait for my best friend to bail me out again. “How sure are you that we can get the same models for the entire run of ads, Melissa?”

“Not a problem, they’re not life drawings. Just things I did from figure studies. Products of my fevered imagination.” No, I didn’t just say that. Oh hell, Katie’s eyes are laughing…I did. My gaze flicks across to Jason without my willing it, he’s smiling. What on earth does that mean? I see no reason to let him off the hook, “Our imaginations I should say. “Casting” for the characters, setting them, all of it. Because we want the narrative to drive the project, all the artistic decisions were joint ones.”

“Well, that’s a shame…if the campaign moved into TV we’d have liked to have the same people. Still, we’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.” After that, I’m not sure what the suit from Ander’s Travel is saying. My eye obsession has suddenly become unimportant, the whole world had resolved down to mouths. Well, one mouth in particular. Soft lips exploring my mouth, against my throat, sucking on a nipple, tugging aside my panties….all at the same time. And at no point do I have to lose sight of that intoxicating half smile. I’ve uncrossed my legs, spread them just a little to help that imaginary mouth gain access to one of the many places I want it before I realize that the conversation has swung back to me. I thank heavens for big oak tables, as I hastily re-cross them and look up.

Everyone’s looking at me, so I smile and nod, and it seems to satisfy everyone. The time has obviously come for the handshakes and mutual congratulations part of the program. Everyone’s happy, my job is safe. And best of all, I’m up for four weeks free of overwhelming sexual frustration before it’s time for “Kim and Brian,” our well travelled lovers, to start planning their many Spring Breaks.

Fifteen minutes later I’m lying on the couch in Katie’s office, my mind stuck on the feel of Jason’s hand on the small of my back as we left the meeting room. The only thing that saves me sometimes, is that guys never know just how my heart melts when they touch me there. Somewhere in the back of my mind, that hand is tugging my shirt loose and sliding up to undo my brastrap…the rest of me is hearing Katie come through the door after she finishes playing catch up with her secretary.

“You amaze me, Melissa.”

“Hmmm?” I offer back, wondering whether that phantom hand would continue stroking up my spine to push my brastraps off my shoulders, if it would travel down to lift my skirt and cup my ass, or if it would slide forward around my rib cage to pop my breast loose.

“I just didn’t think you’d go for it.”

Ah, there, panic is apparently enough to turn off the fantasy factory in my mind. I stare at Katie, lower lip tightly gripped between my teeth. She sits slowly behind her desk and sighs, “You didn’t know what you were nodding at.” And then there’s nothing but laughter for a couple of minutes.

A long couple of minutes. What the hell have I agreed to? “We’ve got a month’s worth of material ready for the Ander’s campaign, Katie. They want more, and that’s great. They’re going to get back to us with the locations they want us to focus on. I know I said I wasn’t going to do more than first 6 weeks, but I’ll manage.” I blush just a little before jokingly adding, “I’ve learned all about rechargeable batteries.”

She’s still laughing. Oh god, she’s still laughing. And I don’t think it’s at my humour. “Anders,” she gets out between giggles, “loves the campaign. It’s a big hit. They’ve gotten calls from specific business clients, hotels…resorts…ship lines, who want to be in on the deal. Anders is sending you to do on site art work, you seemed to think it was a great idea.”

That sounds familiar, there was something about “would you be free to travel” before we left the room. And then I hear it, a deep, mellow, spine tingling voice that comes from memory rather than fantasy just this once, saying “I’m sure I can find time in my schedule. How about you, Melissa?“ And then I mouth the words that had earlier damned me….”our imaginations, joint artistic decisions,” as I curl up on the couch and bury my moan in a throw pillow.

“Oh Mel,” I hear Katie say as she moves out from behind her desk and kneels beside the couch. “Look, this is for the best, really. When Anders comes back with the itinerary, you and I are going shopping. We’re going to get you a wardrobe that’s going to seduce that boy for you….whether you like it or not. And then you’re going to get him into your bed and out of your system.”

I shake my head violently against that pillow, not ready to look up and face the world yet. It’s not going to happen. Katie’s always looked at the world through a very simple lens, but she fails to take some key things into account. Most importantly….I turn into a blithering idiot any time I’m within 30 feet of that man. I can see this trip already stretching out before me as a list of endless opportunities for me to make a fool of myself.

I always thought I’d love those flowy wrap-around skirts. They look good in store windows and on television shows. That was until I had to wrestle one in a stiff breeze. This sarongish looking contraption had been wrapped around my head twice already today, both times attracting giggles from bystanders and amused offers of help from Jason. His hand on my side, steadying me as I got my clothing under control, had been electric and not just a little distracting. The only solution I’d found was to plunk my ass down on the beach with the filmy thing wrapped tightly around my legs and tucked safely under my behind as a cushion. I felt a bit like a beached mermaid, but at least I wasn’t flashing anyone. And it was a beautiful place to sit and sketch.

Unfortunately, it was the fourth beautiful beach this week, and I had run out of ways to make them look special and different. I’d given up on this location almost as soon as we’d gotten here, the Hawaiian ads were going to have to be all about the lava beds we were visiting this afternoon. But for now, despite the wind, the sun on my back felt like a gentle massage…and I was happy to stay where I was, imagining away. My hands idly sketched random images as my mind travelled along much more defined pathways.

Phantom hands stroked across my back, warm palms rubbing outward from my spine then down along my sides. They stopped at my waist for a moment before pressing down across my hips. I stretched my shoulders as the hands retraced their path upward, sliding under my shirt, making me shiver where they “contacted” skin, pulling my top up as they travelled. My sketching slowed as those imaginary hands moved along my ribs and across my stomach…. I could nearly feel Jason’s chin on my shoulder, his chest against my back. I was so deep in the daydream that I even smelled his cologne. Those wandering hands moved up to cup my breasts, I felt my heart speeding up and my breath catch slightly, my arms crossed across my body just beneath my tits, pressing them together slightly, gently shadowing my imaginary sensations. I wanted his fingers to flick up and across my nipples, brushing them, stroking them, maybe pinching them a little, making them rock hard and extra sensitive…and sure enough, that’s what they became. The hands in my mind moved up, squeezing, becoming gently greedy, pulling me back against the body behind me. That was when I overbalanced, reacting to a pressure that didn’t exist, and had to reach back and catch myself before I fell. My eyes popped open and saw Jason kneeling in front of me, waving a hand slowly across my sight line. Apparently, I really HAD smelled his cologne.

So, of course, I kept my cool and winked at him. OK, actually….I screamed and dumped my pencil box off my lap. What, you expected me to do something suave?

Jason laughed…. and I couldn’t say that I blamed him much. He dropped down on the sand beside me as I recollected my scattered tools. “I think you’ve found the sunniest spot on the beach,” he offered, laying back full length on the sand, tipping his head back to maximize basking potential. Suddenly pencils seemed unimportant. I was obsessed with the thought of rolling over, moving onto him, laying my body full length on top of his, letting gravity press me against him. I had definite ideas about how the skin of his throat would taste as I kissed it….I even included the slightly gritty texture of the sand that stuck to him just there at the side. I wanted one of his hands on my waist to balance me and keep me perched atop him, the other would be stroking my ass through this ridiculous skirt. With my legs all tangled I’d need help to move the way I wanted to, I’d need his hands on my hips to press me against him, to rock my body against his swelling cock. One of those hands had found the edge of this skirt and was working its way in through the folds as I ground my hips against him in slow circles when reality intruded.

“Melissa, these are amazing.”

“Huh?” I respond, not at my quickest when I’m wishing for 10 minutes alone with a vibrator. When the fog cleared from my eyes, I saw Jason lying on his side flipping through one of my sketchbooks. Oh SHIT. See, there are sketches I elaborate into submissions for work. And then there are the other 80%. Things I just draw when my mind’s wandering…. and considering where my mind had been wandering to…. no this wasn’t good. “Those aren’t…. aren’t for…”

“No, I get it…. these aren’t design proposals, just ideas,” he interrupts as he flips through more pages. “But they’re really good. And I always wondered what our kids….,” he turning that pad sideways, “what Brian and Kim get up to when the public’s not looking. Gotta say I like the look of it.” What they get up to? I was fairly sure there was anything outright pornographic in there. Just fairly sure, though….and fairly sure wasn’t enough to keep the blush from my face. It was entirely possible that my subconscious had snuck something past me.

Jason’s low whistle had me worried, and we narrowly avoided bumping heads as I jerked forward to see what he’d stopped on. Thank god, they had their clothes on. But his shirt was undone, she had her hand tucked inside it, pressed against his stomach, mostly out of site. One of his hands was tangled in her hair, her head tipped back, eyes closed, lost in the moment. Definitely not something you’d find in Better Homes and Gardens. It was the moment before everything, before anything, when no-one knows what comes next and it’s all possible. “You capture some intense heat here, Melissa. I hadn’t realized how much you were toning it down in the things you showed me before.” Jason flipped the pad closed. “Would it be ok if I borrowed these? I’ve been, I don’t know, running low on ideas. I think that if we’re going to have to use these two to sell a dozen mostly identical resorts, we’re going to have to change our approach. This could be a way to go.” Jason glanced back down at the pad, “well, maybe not quite as steamy as some of these…but I think we could use some to sell the story line when our locations are weak. Do you mind?”

I have to admit, I was paying very close attention to the way his arms, his shoulders, his chest moved as he played with my notebook. But at least this time, I knew what I was agreeing to when I nodded. At least I thought I did.

“Katie, I love it.” The dress was a work of art, hand-beaded silver sparkles over dove grey silk, elegantly sleeveless, a low cut V in front and an even lower scooped back. “When did you wear it, I don’t remember this at all.”

“Bought it for a reunion, about a year ago,” Katie answered while rooting around in her closet for shoes. “One of those moments when you’re willing to spend way too much just to impress people you don’t know.” She sat back on her heels, with a pleased little “mission accomplished” look and a pair of silver sling-backs in her hands. Looking up at me and tilting her head appraisingly, she added “it looks better on you, actually. You fill it out better. Needs these though,” holding the shoes out to me.

Happiness is a best friend who wears your shoe size, and doesn’t mind sharing. I slipped them on and did a turn in front of the mirror, snapping my hips to make the ridiculously high split up the back of the skirt flare open. “Are you sure it’s not too…” sexy? flashy? revealing? I settling for “much? I mean, Ander’s is throwing the party….shouldn’t we be trying for professional here?”

“It’s a perfectly classy looking dress, quit fussing. They’re the ones who decided on the dress code. With all the men in tuxes, we can hardly show up in business suits.”

I didn’t need my arm twisted all that much, it really was a beautiful dress. I pulled my hair into a bunch, twisted it up onto my head to expose the back of my neck, let pieces tumble down to draw attention to my face….and laughed as I shook it all lose again. I was looking forward to tonight. Big room, big crowd, lots of people who weren’t Jason Innis. People I could actually be around without my mind liquidizing. People who didn’t always seem to be looking at me quizzically with spine melting half smiles.

Karn and Stemper had just won a prestigious industry award for the Ander’s Travel campaign, specifically for the latest instalment where our young lovers got engaged on a gondola in Venice. Ander’s was throwing a party to celebrate the award, and to kick off the new phase of the campaign. Kim and Brian were coming to life. Ander’s was moving them into television ads, and out of my hands. Jason and I were being kept on as consultants, but we were being put back onto developing new projects first thing Monday morning. Separate projects. I was on my way back to being a normal, functioning person.

Ander’s themed the kickoff as a black tie wedding reception, sent out clever invitations and everything. When I reached the ballroom, I saw the scene I’d fantasized about years ago when planning my own wedding…the one that no sensible person could afford. It turns out large companies aren’t anything like sensible people. The room was decorated in white with gold accents, flowers everywhere, big band music from actual musicians near a dance floor that extended out onto the balcony, and more champagne than I’d ever seen in one room before in my life.

Katie was standing across the room with her husband and some Ander’s execs I half recognized. She subtly waved me over towards the bar with the gesture that meant “I want someone over there I can notice and need to speak to.” I smiled a “message received” look at her, and decided to take the scenic route across the room to give her time to wrap up her conversation. OK, I’ll admit…I was having fun with the dress. It was turning a few heads, and I could feel sudden blasts of cool air across the backs of my thighs whenever I took a step… I couldn’t help exaggerating my natural sway just to feel it. Tonight was supposed to be all about relaxing and enjoying myself, right? Well, I was enjoying this.

I took a seat at the bar and asked for a glass of champagne. I collected both it and an appreciative, ego-boosting look from the bartender, and turned around for some quality people watching. I should’ve known. I turn, my mouth half full, to find Jason standing right there. A little too close actually, as if I caught him in the act of leaning in to tap me on the shoulder. My lovely champagne went down the wrong pipe, and I started choking and coughing before he’d even said hello.

“Are you ok?” Well, at least he wasn’t laughing. But when he stepped beside me, put an arm around me to help hold me up, I was in real trouble. A quick inhale of shock in the middle of a cough started me gasping. Jason, ever the gentleman, tried to catch my eyes, get some reassurance that I am really ok under all the noise and spectacle. He stroked my shoulder blades slowly, in a way I’m sure would’ve calmed anyone in the room but me. His touch on my skin was electric despite my gut churning embarrassment at my lack of control. Trying to catch my breath, I leant forward over my knees, but it didn’t help and I started to think that hyperventilation really wouldn’t be so bad as long as I could pass out at the end…when Katie finally came to my rescue. Jason stepped away as she knelt down in front of me, held my gaze and calmed me down enough to breath normally. Mostly.

“Better now?” she asked.

“Hic.” I replied.

“Excuse me?” she asked through a bit of a giggle.

“Hic” I repeated, then tried to explain, “I’ve Hic got the Hic hiccups.”

“Oh poor thing…” she said….the only person in the swiftly dispersing crowd to understand just how mortifying I was finding this. She offered me a glass of water that appeared from nowhere. An in-depth conversation started up among the remaining bystanders about the best way to cure hiccups, none of which I cared to try in a designer gown. Through it all, I kept catching glances of Jason on the fringes of the crowd, looking concerned and unforgivably sexy in his tux. And my hiccups redoubled every time I saw him.

“I think…Hic….fresh air” I manage to get out. My best friend and her husband walk me out onto the balcony, as we pass Jason I hear Katie telling him to find her before he leaves tonight. To me she says, “I know I signalled you to get me out of that conversation, Hon….but I didn’t mean for you to go to all this trouble.”


Much fresh air, a couple of drinks that I actually managed not to inhale, and a turn around the dance floor with Josh managed to repair my mood and rescue my evening. I started to enjoy myself again, dancing with men I’d never met before, catching up with people from the office, remembering the joys of casual flirting. Hours later I was starting to run down. And where there hell was Katie? I hadn’t seen her in the last half hour or so. It should’ve been tough to completely lose her red dress in the crowd of the season’s black and white fashions. I decided she and Josh had probably snuck off to find a secluded corner of the hotel, and good luck to them. But they were my ride home, and the party was breaking up.

I went back to the bar for another drink. As I put my glass back down on the counter I heard “OK, I’m working very hard on not sneaking up on you this time.” Jason Innis. Deep breath, and turned around with a smile. After all, we’ve been working closely for months. It’s only right to say an actual congratulations and good bye. Even if I know that he’s going to be staring in my dreams for the foreseeable future. “I’m sorry about earlier,” I say….pleased for once with my conversational gambit.

“Huh?” says Jason. Right, not such a good start after all.

“The whole coughing thing….”

“Oh. No. Don’t worry about that. Not your fault, I spooked you.” He paused and smiled a new smile, one I didn’t know…and I thought I knew them all. “I seem to do that a lot.”

I shook my head, “I’m just jumpy. It wasn’t you.” How can any one person have so many different smiles. “So. Is this the part where you tell me you’ve got another great love story to tell….but this time we’re advertising bicycle pumps?” See? This is what I mean, blithering idiot. Never fails. But at least it earned me a smile I recognized. God, I was going to miss that smile.

“No. That comes later, and it’s bran flakes not bicycle pumps. This is the part where I deliver a message. Katie caught me an hour ago, said they had to get home to their babysitter, and she didn’t want to interrupt your evening. She asked me if I could run you home. She said to tell you to call her in the morning if you wanted a personal apology with coffee for ditching you. So, message delivered and ride offered.”

“I. Oh. OK. Sure.” Blithering. Again. I was going to kill Katie. “Thanks. I was about to start searching for them. I’m ready to go whenever you are.” And I was, as always, wet and ready when Jason was within arm’s reach. A quick zip and a bit of a shimmy and I could be out of this dress. One step forward and I could be in his arms, finding a way through all the buttons and clasps that kept me from the body I craved.

“Shall we?” Oh god yes please….wait, wrong question….that’s not what he meant.

“Sure, just let me get my wrap.” I stood and discovered that my heels were suddenly much much higher than they were 5 minutes ago. At least, they felt like it. It couldn’t just be that my knees were shaky, and I really didn’t think I’d had quite that much to drink. I was walking fine before. And then I was all awash with images of me swooning into Jason’s arms, him holding me up, gazing into my eyes, unable to stop himself from kissing me…cause who could resist with that Hollywood soundtrack rising in the background. OK, that was a step too much. I shake off the imagery and concentrate on getting one foot in front of the other.

I got 5 or 6 good steps in before stumbling at Jason’s “Right behind you.” But you have to give me credit, I recovered, scrounged up a spine from somewhere…and made it all the way to the door without looking back.

The drive started to feel like an awkward distillation of every horrible flight we shared during those weeks of travelling together. Half started conversations. Watching his hands because looking at anything else was too obviously interested. Looking forward to the grazing, accidental touches that you just can’t avoid in close quarters. But we’d burned a lot of small talk in 100 hours of air travel, and we didn’t have the next location to plan or ideas from the last one to work up. And while I’d worked convincing napping posture down to an art form, it wasn’t going to sell here and now.

The only thing that made me feel better was that Jason was just as obviously stuck for conversational topics as I was. I mean, it should have made me feel better. Actually it just made me feel guilty for making him awkward. He never had been before. I’d actually come to depend on his obliviousness to my oddities.

We were nearly home, I had settled for just watching the lights rush past, and humming along to the radio until the radio went away. Jason had turned it off. I turned around to do my best with whatever the new conversation fragment was going to be. It wasn’t what I expected.

“Melissa, I move words around for a living. There’s a plaque in the back seat of this very car that supposedly says I do it pretty well. So I can’t figure out why I can’t seem to find a way to ask you this.” I tried to pry my eyes off the steering wheel, I knew I’d understand what was going on much better if I could see Jason’s eyes. “So, I’m just going to put it out there.” Jason’s arm reached out across my body, making my heart skip a beat. He opened the glove compartment, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and dropped it in my lap. Then he didn’t say anything else.

So, I unfolded it. I looked. And I realized where this was going. Confessions were coming, I just didn’t know how many would be necessary. I was holding a picture ripped out of one of my sketchbooks. One of the books Jason borrowed that day on the beach. I think I’d drawn it earlier that day, but I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t remember it all that clearly. It was a picture of Jason, very clearly Jason, sanding on the edge of the ocean, waves lapping around his ankles, shoes in one hand, his head tipped back the way he did when he was enjoying the sun, eyes closed. His body was rendered in exquisite detail, I’d been observing it for over a month at that point. His shirt undone, his face lit from above. It wasn’t a quick sketch, it was a full fledged portrait. And me. Clearly me, though less well rendered. Sitting up in the top right corner of the page, naked, arms wrapped around my knees, surrounded by dreamy mists of clouds, watching him not see me. Honestly, money for an analyst would be wasted on me….I’m much to easy to piece apart. But he may not have seen it, not the whole of it. I just didn’t know yet.

“So, like I said. I’m the wordsmith, not all that good with pictures. I was hoping you could, you know, talk me through this one.”

“Jason, I do a lot of spontaneous drawing…,” but that’s as far as I got.

“Because, quite honestly, I was surprised to see it. At first I wasn’t even sure it was me. I thought it might just be that, what with all the time we were working together, you were adapting a familiar….face. And if it was just me, I think I’d have left it there. But the way you’re looking down at me in the picture….”

Oh my god, he was babbling. He wasn’t letting me get a word in edge ways. He’d asked a question he didn’t want the answer to. And if he didn’t want the real answer, he’d take the one I wanted to give. All I had to say was “It’s just a drawing, it doesn’t mean anything.” Or I could even deny the drawings were related, two separate pictures on a page he’d put together in his mind. He may not believe me, but it’d get me off the hook and out of the car. So why wasn’t I saying it? Why wasn’t I saying anything?

“You never looked at me like that in life…so….I was just wondering…and…you know what, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s not my business. It’s just a…”

“I did.” Not what I meant to say. I hadn’t meant to say anything. I didn’t know I was going to until my lips started moving. And then there was silence.

“Did what?” he asked.

“Look.” I dragged my eyes away from the page in my lap and up to his face. I saw his throat work as he swallowed, his gaze rigidly fixed on the road ahead, his jaw tense and rigid. “I did look. And I didn’t want you to know. Because now you obviously can’t look at me.”

Jason smiled just a little, awkwardly, but didn’t so much as glance at me. “Have to keep my eyes on the road.” Monosyllables were apparently contagious.

I took a deep breath and decided that I could make the monosyllables work for me. “So park.”

Jason’s breath caught just a little, if I hadn’t been watching I wouldn’t have known it. Neither of us said a word as he took the next exit. I could feel my heart pounding, the blood rushing to my skin, making it tingle. I couldn’t help fidgeting with my skirt, then smoothing it back across my thigh. But my eyes never left his face, and his never left the road.

We pulled into the darkened parking lot of a local restraunt. He slowly turned the engine off, but then didn’t miss a beat and turned to face me. “See? I can look. No problem.” Maybe he wasn’t having a problem. I was having several. Among them, I couldn’t seem to speak. “So, what happens now?”

I honestly didn’t know. So I closed my eyes, asked the part of my mind in charge of fantasies, and saw the answer. Without opening them I reached out my hand and stroked the backs of my fingers across his cheek. But it wasn’t what I’d anticipated. His skin wasn’t the simple smooth, soft warmth I’d always imagined. It was more than that. There was hardness under the softness, the beginnings of stubble as I approached his jaw, muscles moving under my fingers as he opened his mouth. Then I felt his hand close around mine, a tug that travelled all the way up my arm as he lifted my hand away from his cheek, the unexpected moistness of his breath on my knuckles, the way lips stroked them as he kissed my hand. I opened my eyes, this was entirely off script, and saw his eyes, beautiful brown eyes, looking right into mine.

Jason lowered his hand without releasing mine. What happens next? I asked the voice in my head, tangled my fingers through his, and pulled his hand toward me, lay it against my waist, and leaned toward him, head tilted at that “so when ARE you going to kiss me” angle. Jason smiled at me, traced my lips with the fingers of his free hand, pressing the hand I’d placed against my waist firmly against me. Looking at me, but not coming any closer. This man needed to learn about the script. If I leaned any further forward, it wasn’t going to be his face I’d wind up kissing. And while that fantasy had an appeal all it’s own…I didn’t think it was where I wanted things to go right this instant. To give myself more scope to move, I pulled a knee up onto my seat and pushed up to kneel on it so I could reach across the console between the seats and kiss him properly. It would’ve worked too, if I’d been wearing jeans. But that slit skirt tangled and I didn’t so much gracefully lean as fall across his lap and bang my head on his shoulder.

Jason’s arms came up to stabilize me, wrapping around me, possibly to make sure I didn’t elbow the car horn. He pulled me forward, and turned me to sit across his lap. I hadn’t imagined he’d be able to move me that easily. At least, he made it look easy. “This always seemed simpler when I was a teenager,” I muttered.

Jason laughed, the way his body moved against mine as he did made me shiver. “What was easier?” he asked, shifting his arm behind my back to a more sustainable position. “Flirting?”

“Well, I mostly meant the making out in cars part” I replied, wriggling to turn towards him, working my arms up around his neck to hold myself up or to tug his head down to meet mine, either would suit me. He didn’t even play at avoiding me this time. His mouth met mine, softly at first, then suddenly more firmly demanding, the arm around me holding me tightly against his body. I knew there were months of frustration and longing in my side of the kiss, but it suddenly occurred to me that it wasn’t all coming from me. I couldn’t manage to think deep thoughts about it just then. Not with his lips hungrily working across mine, his tongue probing and tasting my mouth. It was better than I’d dreamed his kiss would be, there was a need in it that I couldn’t have imagined. I gave myself up to it fully, letting the rest of the world disappear.

When we came up for air, Josh rested his forhead against mine, eyes tight closed, breathing in deeply, exhaling slowly. I turned my head just enough to reach his face, kissing his cheek, exploring the planes of his face with my lips and tongue. My hands pressed against his chest, moved across his shoulders, felt the muscles move under my fingers as his arms shifted across my back. I held myself against him, seeking his mouth again, more aggressively. And then it happened all at once. I felt Jason’s hand moving across my back, up from my hip to where my dress stopped and skin started. His fingers dipped in under the fabric moving across to stroke my side. I moaned and twisted, wanting more. I pressed my breasts against Jason’s chest, needing the stimulation, wanting him closer. Wanting one hell of a lot more than that, I wanted this dress off, his tux long gone, my legs wrapped around him. Jason pulled free of the kiss, “I’m sorry, Mel, I just, I have to get you to move.”

“Hmmm? Why?” I ask, only half paying attention. The rest of my attention was focused on pulling at his shirt, wanting my hands inside his clothes almost as badly as I wanted his hands in mine.

“Melissa please, you’re driving me crazy….but if you don’t move soon.”

“Hmmm? Soon….just a minute.” I murmured into his ear…I’d almost gotten that shirt free, should’ve started with the cumberbund.

“Mel! You’re not….oh hell,” Jason took my head in his hands and pulled me around to kiss me hard. When he had my attention he grabbed me around the waist, pulled me hard against him. He ground his hips hard up against me, showing me in no uncertain terms what the problem was….and precisely the degree to which I wasn’t helping. “Sorry,” I breathed….”I’ll move. But I’m coming right back here later.”

Jason groaned as I climbed back into my seat…his head fell back as I got resettled. He licked his lips as I untangled myself from my skirt. “I’d invite you back to my place, but it’s on the other side of town.” I heard, his voice lower, more gravely than I’d every heard before. More things my imagination hadn’t supplied. I felt downright cheated.

My voice, on the other hand, was breathy…indistinct. I gave directions to my house. The sound of the engine was shockingly loud. I smiled as Jason missed a gear, I liked to think that for once my presence had him off balance.

Ten quiet minutes later, we pulled into my driveway. I looked over at Jason as I gathered up my wrap…and realized I’d left things unforgivably vague. “Are you coming in?” I ran my fingers over the back of the hand he’d left on the gearshift, opened my door and got out. I took several steps before I heard his car door close. I got all the way to my door before I heard him walking behind me. I figured if he wasn’t keeping up, it must be for a reason….I let my hips sway more than strictly necessary, playing that split skirt for all it was worth. As I got my key in the lock I felt Jason close the gap between us, press up behind me, place his hands against my stomach, fingers spread, one thumb pointed up between my breasts. Soft kisses down the back of my neck made turning a key more difficult than I could cope with. I leaned back against him, letting his hands stroke down my flanks, tug at my skirt, until he realized it was kiss on the doorstep or let me open the door.

I got inside, flipped on the light and turned to see Jason closing the door behind us. He had that smile on his face, the one I’d drawn over and over….the one that had started my entire obsession. And there he continued to stand, right in front of the door. I knew where I wanted everything to go, but I wasn’t sure how to say it. So I went with my strength and “drew” a picture. Hell, a picture had gotten me this far. I dropped my wrap, reached behind me and unzipped my dress as I held Jason’s gaze. I turned around, subtly giving the front of my dress a tug to open the back, giving him a clear view of my braless back and the scrap of lace covering my ass, and walked up the stairs. I heard him whistle long and low, letting me know that I was guessing right. It seemed fair enough, it was his turn to watch me. Whether he knew it or not, I’d been watching him for ages.

I made it into my bedroom before my imagination failed me again. Jason’s didn’t, however. His hands slid across my back, pushing my dress off my shoulders, down my arms….letting it fall to the floor. He moved his fingers back up my arms, into my hair, pulling it out of it’s knot, letting me shake it loose. I try to turn to face him, but his hands gently hold me where I am. I hear him whispering in my ear “I have been watching you walk away from me all night. I’ve been imagining exactly this.” His hands sweep forward across my ribs again, one moving down to stroke my thigh, the other up to cup my breast. I whimper just a little, my knees getting a little shaky. “Let me enjoy the reality for a moment, we’ve got all night.”

He steps closer, letting me lean back against him as he played his hands over my body. My skin was on fire, and my palms were itching to do some exploration of their own. I hadn’t even managed to get under that damned shirt earlier. But he was right, there wasn’t a rush. I settled for running my hands up and down Jason’s legs. My hips were moving in slow circles, pressing back against his cock, feeling him swell against me all over again. I pulled away from him just enough to get my hands between us and working on undoing his trousers…the cumberbund was lost somewhere on the stairs. I couldn’t work them all the way undone, but it was close enough. When Jason’s hands came back up to my breasts it was almost exactly like my daydreams, but his hands were larger, his palms firmer. And, in my dreams, I hadn’t been able to tuck my hand down the front of his pants and wrap my fingers around the shaft of his cock. I couldn’t move my hand at that angle, but just having him pressed against my palm was overwhelming. And Jason didn’t seem to be complaining, his head fell forward against my shoulder, and his fingers dug into my flesh.

We both stood frozen for a long second. Enjoying the moment, comparing it to expectations, I wasn’t sure which. I didn’t care all that much. I was sure I’d soon be beyond caring at all. I pulsed my grip a little tighter for a moment, enjoying the heat of him, then slid my hand free and turned around to face him.

Jason wrapped one arm around my waist, used it to pull me against him. His other hand worked it’s way up to my head and tangle fingers in my hair, using it to pull my head back. I didn’t get the kiss I was expecting, instead he studied my face. I couldn’t help closing my eyes, his gaze was intense, intimidating. My hands wandered across his body caressing the curve of his ass. I’d wanted my hands there for so very long, I couldn’t seem to get enough. Until Jason dropped his arm across my hips, cupping my ass, pulling me more specifically against his bulging cock. All of a sudden there was something I wanted more than what I had. I grabbed a double handful of cloth and tugged down, pretty ineffectually. Jason’s laugh was worth opening my eyes for. He pushed me back just a little, saying “let me do that.” I took a half step back, the bed hit the back of my knees and sat me down. I tried my best to look as if I meant to do that.

Jason kept his eyes on my face, undid the top few buttons of his shirt…and pulled it off over his head. OK, fair enough…his eyes left mine at that point for a second…but I didn’t mind, I’d all but stopped breathing as I watching body move and stretch. Maybe I was just supposed to watch, but I was starting to learn the benefits of playing off the script. My hand reached out to touch his skin, barely stroking across his stomach….and watching the way his muscles flinched beneath my touch melted something inside me. He licked his lips, caught his breath, and finished undoing his pants…my fingers still tracing shivery patterns across his torso. He pushed his boxers off in the same smooth motion that dropped his trousers, letting them pool around his ankles.

I feasted my eyes on him, let my hands drink in the feel of his skin. I smoothed my palms across his stomach, down his thighs, back up the backs of his legs, cupping his ass again. And before I knew it I was off the bed on my knees before him. And without thought, or craft, or design…before the words “what the hell am I doing!” had time to go through my mind….out of pure, selfish need…I opened my lips and took Jason’s cock deep into my mouth in one smooth motion. The sounds Jason made were never meant to be words, but the told me that my sudden, unexpected brazenness was welcomed….as did the way his muscles tightened under my hands, and the way his dick twitched as my tongue pressed his glans against the roof of my mouth. His hands came back into my hair, but couldn’t decide if they were going to pull me away or press me closer. The feel of him sliding through my lips was extrodinary, the scent of him was intoxicating. I dug my nails into the backs of his legs and pulled him toward me, taking his cock deeper, moaning happily as I did. It took several moments for the tugging sensations to filter through my fogged up mind. When a guy is pulling you off his prick…there has to be some kind of good reason, and it’s only polite to pay attention. But damn it was hard to let him go.

“Oh God, Mel. I can’t take that….not right now.” He smiled down at me, “But we’re definitely coming right back here later.” I couldn’t help laughing, and licked my lips slowly in agreement. His hands hooked under my elbows and pulled me to my feet. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed and without changing his grip, pulled me into his lap.

“OK,” I said…the fingers of one hand playing across the dimple in his chin, the other resting where my mouth had recently been….”what do you want, then.”

“You,” he answered in a voice that I felt from my toes up. One of his hands kneaded my breast, making me whimper, the other was lifting my hips to get my panties off, making me moan. “I want all sorts of things, but they all boil down to you.” I turned to face him, wrapping my legs around him at very long last. I hooked my ankles behind him and used the leverage to pull myself toward him. The feel of Jason’s cock pressed against my body would have had me in orbit without his hands on my back or his mouth on my neck. All of that at once had me shaking. I couldn’t help myself, I put my arms around his neck, lifted my hips, wriggled closer, worked to the get head of his cock just where I wanted it. I’d only just started sinking down onto him when Jason pinned my body against his, “Oh Jesus, Mel.” “Please,” I breathed, “I need to know how you feel, I want you in me. Now. Please.” He didn’t answer, but he loosened his hold, letting me slide down his body and onto him.

I froze then. I felt wonderful, he felt wonderful. The way he filled me, stretched me, I wanted more. I lifted my hips again, wanting to feel him penetrating me all over again. “No wait, Melissa. Don’t. I want it, but not yet. Just let me….” he didn’t seem to know how he wanted to finish that sentence….but it didn’t matter. I would have “just let him” whatever it was. But holding still was possibly the hardest thing he could have asked me to do.

Jason buried his face against my neck as he lowered me back into his lap and anchored me against his his hips. Murmuring things that I understood without hearing, he kissed across my throat, hands gripping tightly at my shoulder and waist. Happy, wordless sounds escaped my throat as his tongue played across it. I shifted my hips, evoking a half growled, half desperate “Mel.” As Jason’s lips started moving down my breast bone I instinctively leaned back, letting his arms hold me up, exposing my chest to him. His lips and tongue were drawing sparks from my skin. The sparks and his mouth moved to my breast, his tongue swirling around the nipple that seemed to be reaching out to him. I whimpered in time with his licks, and dug my fingers into his shoulders. I ground my hips again, desperate for the strokes I was being denied. “Melissa,” he groaned into my tit. I loved hearing him say my name like that, the hunger and tension in his beautiful, low voice, so I pushed my hips forward against him again. “Mel!” I gasped and arched my back , offering my chest up to his kisses. My hips started rocking in slow circles, I couldn’t have stopped them for anything. Thank God he didn’t ask me to.

Jason pulled me close again, holding me against his chest as he turned us both and then lowered me down the bed, moving over me. I decided there and then that this was a manoeuvre I’d never get enough of. A moment later I lost track of future needs completely. Jason was holding himself above me on one arm, his other was stroking down my body from breasts to stomach, making my body twitch. I clenched deep inside, making him groan my name again. I didn’t want to play any more, I wanted him to take me, lose himself in me. I pushed my hips up to meet his, scratched across his back, trying to communicate my needs…difficult as Jason had taken possession of my mouth again, his tongue stroking my lips, tangling my tongue. Always a big one for mixed singals, as soon as Jason started to pull out of me I tighted my hold on him…resisting his retreat as much as I welcomed his return a moment later. And a moment later. And a moment later. I writhed beneath him, trying to match his rhythm, not at all sure I was succeeding. I grabbed his ass, urging him back into me every time he withdrew. He was barely holding himself up now, pulling against my shoulders as he pounded against me. I felt the wave building inside me, an explosion kindling right where the tip of his cock was stroking inside me. I changed the angle of my hips, instinctively seeking friction against my clit. My orgasm scraped cries from my throat, and I’m sure I drew blood from his back. Jason’s breathing became ragged, his thrusts harder, more need and less pattern. I rode out the aftershocks he was drawing from my body, and held him tightly as he exploded into me.

My fantasies had always ended at the orgasm, usually abruptly. They had never given me a hint of the satisfaction, the comfort I’d feel lying beneath him as he recovered his strength. I’d never guessed how good just feeling him breath, caressing his back, smelling his hair, kissing his shoulder would be. I might have felt cheated, if I’d had room to feel anything more. All those daydreams, and none of this. Never again.

“Do you have any idea,” I heard Jason murmuring against my shoulder, “how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I tried for the punchline of the joke, “Oh, about 9 months, 3 weeks, and a few days?”

“No,” he answered, taking his weight back onto his arms, pushing up and looking down at my face. “Longer than that. Before the campaign. Ever since the first time I saw you, walking into an elevator.” I didn’t know how I was going to tell him, I didn’t know if I was going to tell him, but I knew that I was going to enjoy making up for lost time.


feedback