by Kiki Archer
Camila laughed. “We’re in the car park. Isn’t this even more conspicuous?” She nodded towards the building. “Now we’re going to have to walk in together.”
“It’s fine, the others are all upstairs. I’ve briefed them already so you shouldn’t have any problems today. I’ll head to my office and join you all later.”
“And what are we doing today?”
“At some point we’re fucking.”
“Harriet!”
“What? We’ve agreed we’re not fucking tonight. I’m wining and dining you properly then I’m dropping you home so I’m going to have to have you at some point today.”
“Isn’t that wholly unprofessional?”
“It’s my building.”
“And it’s my reputation.”
“I’m not planning on getting flyers made up and inviting the exec to come along for the show.”
Camila shook her head. “I’m not comfortable with this.”
“I’m joking!”
“Good. So we’re not…?”
“Getting flyers, no. But I’m telling you, you won’t be able to keep your hands off me.”
“Harriet, I will. I’m here to do a job.”
“Why are you standing in the car park then?”
Camila laughed. “You’re trouble.”
“Me? You were the one paddling my—”
“Enough! We need to go in.”
Harriet nodded and started their walk. “See, we couldn’t have said all this during the morning inventions brainstorming session.”
“Oh dammit,” gasped Camila. “I haven’t even thought of any.”
“So your professionalism’s not really that important to you then, is it?”
“I’ve been occupied.”
“And sulking.”
“Oh, Harriet, don’t say that. Do they think I’ve been sulking?” Camila entered the building and walked towards the lift. “The team? Are they angry?”
“No. They, like I, think you’ve rightly taken a day off to get your head around Pamela from Insights’ inexcusable actions. Honestly, Camila, they all said you conducted yourself really well in the focus group.”
“But the choking inhaler idea was awful.” Camila sighed as they clipped across the open space. “We still haven’t got a genuinely good product to take forward to the live show.”
“I have faith in you.”
“That makes it even worse! And there certainly won’t be time for any funny business if I’ve got to re-invent the wheel.”
“We’ll see.”
“We won’t see.”
“You’re back!” said Helen Anna Howes, sporting a huge smile as she stepped out from behind the polished desk before gifting Camila with a huge hug. “I’m so happy you’re back!”
Harriet stared at the connection.
“Sorry, back to it,” said the receptionist, dashing back to her desk.
“You’re popular,” said Harriet under her breath as she ushered Camila towards the lift.
“Are you jealous?”
Harriet pressed the chrome button. “Genuinely? No. It’s heartening to see how much Helen likes you. Helen doesn’t like anyone.”
“She said I was the only person to ever come down and make her a coffee.”
“Because you’re special. I’ve been telling you that.”
“I don’t think that makes me special. That’s makes me normal.”
Harriet waited for the lift doors to close before turning to Camila. “You’re far from normal. There’s something about the way you smile. It gives a glimpse of your secret.”
“You’ve said that before and I don’t have a secret, or at least I didn’t until now.”
“Maybe not your secret then, maybe it’s a glimpse of your secret sparkle or your secret soul. There’s just so much more to you than meets the eye, Camila.”
Camila looked at Harriet’s smile. “And I think you have a way with words. You have a way of making people feel special.”
“You are special.”
Camila held her gaze. No one had ever called her special before. Ever. Not even her own mother, and as much as she wanted to keep her guard up and see Harriet for who she most likely was, it was too tempting to get pulled into the romance of whatever was happening between them. Was it just wordplay, or friendship, or attraction? Or could it really be something deeper than that? There was a definite spark and interest but there was also a passionate tug, pulling her into Harriet like their hearts wanted to hold one another. Camila glanced down. Their bodies had connected. Harriet’s hands were resting gently around her waist and Harriet’s lips were pressing softly against her own.
“I really like you, Camila,” whispered Harriet, drawing away from the embrace as the lift reached its destination.
Camila opened her eyes and spoke quietly. “What are you doing to me?”
“Giving you inspiration for a good morning?” Harriet squeezed Camila’s hand before releasing their connection and stepping out into the corridor. “Now go and show them your stuff.” She grinned happily before turning left and walking towards her office.
Camila watched Harriet before nodding with confidence and striding towards her pod with gusto. The boss liked her. The boss more than liked her. So what if her colleagues were jealous? In its simplest form she had nothing to lose. This job was new and completely unexpected so if it did fall apart then so what? She’d find something else. It made sense to live every second of this while it lasted. Live life. That’s what she was doing. Imposter syndrome, schimposter pindrome. Camila smiled at herself. She was such a dork, but she was a cute dork, or more accurately as it had transpired, quite a rampantly hot dork who’d said yes to everything Harriet had requested.
As Camila covered the final yards to the workspace she shook her head; she couldn’t keep reliving the sex, it was distracting and really rather knee-buckling. “Hello!” she said to the office with a bit too much vigour.
Deana was the first to stand. “Camila, I’m so sorry about Wednesday. You were great in the focus group and I can only apologise for what happened in the lift.”
“Yep, soz,” muttered Brett.
“I’m sorry too,” said Geoff, standing up and coming round to talk to Camila properly. “Can I take your coat? Get you a coffee?”
“I’m fine. I just want you to know that I do want to be here and I’m going to do my best to make H.I.Pvention a success.”
“You have ideas?” said Brett, still not standing but at least leaning sideways on his chair to look her straight in the eye.
“I thought we could all look at it differently this morning. How about we sit down and moan.”
Deana laughed. “What do you mean, moan?”
“Let’s all talk about our past twenty-four hours – about anything and everything that’s made us moan or niggled us.” Camila suddenly felt herself blushing. Harriet’s tongue had made her moan in the last twenty-four hours, as had Harriet’s fingers and the sex toy Harriet had whipped out of her bedside drawer. Snapping herself out of it, Camila signalled towards the sofas. “Shall we start?”
“I’ll make the drinks,” said Geoff.
“And I’ll take the notes,” added Brett, finally standing up.
“I like this idea,” said Deana with genuine warmth.
Camila took off her coat and smiled. Everything was going to be a-okay. She hoped.
****
“So a productive morning then?” asked Harriet from her position behind her reclaimed-wood desk in her large topiary-filled office.
Camila nodded from her seat between the pots of lush greenery. “It was actually. We have a few leads.”
“For example?”
“Why do I feel like I’m being interviewed all over again with you way over there and me sitting amongst your bushes.”
“You’re always welcome amongst my bushes.”
“I don’t recall you having any bushes.”
“Focus. We’re at work.”
; Camila laughed. “Me? You started it. Fine. We discussed the things we’d been moaning about,” she paused. “Don’t laugh, even though that’s where my mind went too, but the things that had me moaning in annoyance over the past twenty-four hours were those see-through leggings, the fact I had to sit down in the shower to shave my legs, the way my boys never seal the top of the cereal bag, the fact we still seem unable to create a carton of juice that’s easy to open, the fact my car smells, the fact that no matter how well I do my makeup my foundation always looks horrific in the natural light, the fact that I never actually know if my breath smells after I’ve had a coffee.”
Harriet laughed. “I’m stopping you there. Your car doesn’t smell, nor does your breath and your makeup’s always perfect.” She nodded. “So we’re inventing a new juice carton are we?”
“No, Brett had a lot more moans.”
“I bet he did.”
“We all did, hence my first statement that we have some good leads to be working on.” Camila glanced at the clock on the wall. “And on that note, I think my break time’s over.”
“Back at school, are you?”
“No, I’m at work.”
“Just come here a minute.”
“No, I need to go. Brett and Geoff only went onto the balcony for a cigarette and Deana said she wouldn’t be too long in the canteen.”
“One minute.”
Camila stood up and made her way to Harriet’s side of the desk.
“Now sit down.”
“Where?”
“On my desk.”
“I’m not sitting on your desk.”
Harriet stood up and pulled Camila in close, kissing her passionately before guiding Camila’s hips down into a seated position on the surface. “How long do you have really?” she whispered.
Camila smiled. “Three minutes.”
“That’s long enough,” said Harriet, returning to her chair.
“What are you doing down there? I thought you were going to kiss me?”
Harriet wheeled herself in between Camila’s legs. “I am,” she said with a smile. “Good choice putting your skirt on today.”
Camila glanced behind her at the Narnia-esque entrance aisle from Harriet’s office door. Yes, the door was shut but anyone could walk in. Throwing her head back she moaned. It was too late, Harriet’s mouth was already there, between her legs, her fingers had pushed her skirt up before pulling her thong to the side. Camila praised the fact that she’d worn the skirt, which had by consequence led to the thong. Camila gasped at the fast movement of Harriet’s mouth and tongue. She had taken all of her, all at once, kissing her roughly.
Leaning back on her hands, Camila tilted her hips forward allowing Harriet’s tongue access to where it really wanted to go. She gasped again. It was so intrusive and rampant. Camila groaned at the pleasure. Harriet was fucking her pussy with her mouth. Really fucking it. Camila cried out in satisfaction; and she was quite happy to let her.
Chapter Thirty-One
“I don’t know, Julie, I really have to question my behaviour. It’s like that thing with George Michael. You know when he went into all those public toilets and propositioned strangers. Of course they were going to know who he was. And of course he was eventually going to get caught. But he said he knew this. It was as if on a subconscious level he played dangerously because he wanted to get found out.”
“You’re not George bloody Michael, Camila.”
“I’m just saying I don’t understand my behaviour. And I want to understand my behaviour. I want to understand how a normal mother of two who’s led a very boring life to date can suddenly straddle her female boss on her female boss’s desk and serve up dinner to her face.”
“Camila!” Julie was grimacing. “I’m more interested in where your bloody gutter mouth has come from! This just isn’t you.”
“What if it is? It turned out to be George Michael after all. Once he got busted he came out as gay.”
“If you’re a bloody lesbian, Camila, you don’t need to put on a show for the whole bloody workforce just to get that fact out there. No one cares anymore.”
“You care.”
“Because I know you, and this isn’t you.”
“What if I want it to be me?”
“Do you?”
“I don’t know.” Camila shook her head. “I honestly don’t know.”
Julie took a sip of her drink before nodding thoughtfully. “We should go on a girly holiday to Magaluf. That’s what most middle-aged women do when they want to let their hair down. Or we should go and watch the Chippendales live or something? Or how about a new haircut?”
“I don’t want a new haircut.”
Julie clapped her hands together. “I know! Let’s go and get you some fillers or a nice bit of Botox. The earlier you start the better.”
“I’d rather just have hot lesbian sex with my boss.”
Julie gasped. “Listen to yourself, Camila! You have morals!”
“I clearly don’t, just look at this dress! It’s much tighter than I remembered.”
“I approve of your Caroline Castigliano dress, but your bloody behaviour leaves a lot to be desired.”
“We’re opposite then because this dress is borderline pornographic whereas my behaviour’s one hundred percent normal.”
“It’s not pornographic! It’s designer! Real designer. You look amazing. I’m totally bloody jealous. There’s absolutely nothing to you.”
“That’s the Spanx. I’m wearing an all-in-one knee-length Spanx just to doubly firm up my stomach.”
“She’s not getting access tonight then!”
“Exactly. We’re slowing things down. We’re getting to know each other properly.”
“You’re going about all this the wrong way round.”
“And what is the right way to go about something like this, Julie? Maybe I’m just happy to not know. To not care, in a way. What will be will be. Why can’t I just act frivolously for once?”
“Go shopping if you want to act frivolously.”
“Julie, I just don’t understand the problem you’ve got with it.”
“I don’t have a problem with it. I just want you to be careful.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?”
“Well, no. Not at all. But that makes it exciting and fun and I can’t remember the last time I felt excited or like I was having real, genuine fun. This is fun. Yes, it’s incredibly naughty fun, but so what?”
Julie shrugged. “Your life.”
“You’re my friend. Be happy for me.”
“It’s going to implode as fast as it’s exploded.”
“So be my friend when that happens?”
Julie lifted her glass. “Chars. I can do that.”
“Wonderful,” said Camila with a nod before glancing out of her lounge window for the umpteenth time that evening. She’d got ready ridiculously early after work and was actually quite thankful when Julie popped round with another bottle of her posh Champagne as it had momentarily stopped her from pacing in too-tall heels which she’d subsequently taken off and switched for a more sensible pair. She’d been anxiously questioning her outfit choice, her makeup, her hairstyle – which she’d decided to wear up in the end, believing it tamed down the dress somewhat. Something her mother had said was that people judged you on your hair and your shoes. It didn’t matter what you were wearing in between, as long as your hair was good and your shoes were good, you were good to go. Pulling down on the tight dress, Camila wondered how anyone would be able to see past the outfit even if the shoes and hair were magnificent. “Which shoes, Julie?” she said, tapping in the slightly smaller heels she’d switched into before pointing her toe towards the pair discarded by the sofa.
“No one’s going to be looking at your heels when you’re in that dress, but the tall ones, they make you look sexy.”
“I was going for glamorous.” Kicking off the heels, Camila returned to her original pair.
“Be honest. Am I more Julia Roberts pre-Richard Gere or post-Richard Gere?”
“You mean hooker outfit or polo party?”
“Not polo party, that was a spotty summer dress. I mean glamorous get-on-a-private-jet outfit.”
“You’re just you, but dressed up a bit.”
“Right.”
“You’re fine.”
“Okay.” Camila frowned. “Just fine? Really?”
“What do you want me to say? I’m not going to tell you that you look fit. I don’t want you getting the wrong impression.”
“Oh, Julie! How long have we known each other? I’m not going to suddenly start fancying you!”
“I don’t want to take that chance. You look good, but not bloody fuckable.”
“Wonderful,” said Camila, “and on that note someone who does want to fuck me has just arrived.”
Julie jumped up from the sofa. “Another limo? Oh god, this is far too Pretty Woman already.” She tutted. “And he was only after one thing as well, wasn’t he?”
“Feel free to let yourself out.”
“And what the bloody hell is she wearing?!”
Camila turned back to the window. All she could see was the smile.
****
Sitting across a table that was tucked away in the corner of the chic restaurant, Camila was still focused on Harriet’s smile. It had been one of those times, walking from the limo towards the doors of the restaurant, where she had to force herself to glance down and check what Harriet was wearing, because until that point she’d had absolutely no idea. She’d watched a television programme on it once. A show that had girlfriends nipping out at various intervals during their dates to get changed to see if their boyfriends noticed. And a huge majority of them didn’t, and while the conclusion had been that the men were unperceptive and ignorant, Camila now realised they were possibly just completely enamoured by their partner. That’s exactly how she’d felt when opening the front door to Harriet. A mixture of nervous excitement that found her so totally enveloped in Harriet’s presence and words that she’d been oblivious to everything else around them, including Harriet’s beautiful black jumpsuit accessorised with a gorgeous diamond choker and matching diamond bracelet. Her heels were also black and eye wateringly high, adorned with sparkling gems around the ankle straps. In summary, Harriet looked regal, but in a funky kind of way.
