by CD Reiss
“Seriously? That’s your excuse?” My voice was raised a notch.
He shrugged and smiled a little.
“Can you avoid me outside the office too, please? Or tell me when you’re next to me like a normal person?”
“I avoided you all week.”
“You suck at it.”
He looked as if he was about to answer with some kind of unacceptable wisecrack when a male voice came from my left.
“Miss?” It was a security guard.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry, is this gentleman bothering you?”
I glanced at Roman, then back to the security guard, who was undoubtedly doing exactly the job he’d been hired to do. This forced me to ask myself whether or not I was going to talk to Roman. I thought I’d have a minute more to decide.
“No,” I said. “He’s a friend of mine. But thanks.”
“Keep it down, then.”
“We will.” I shot him a look, but he just smiled.
The guard nodded and walked back to the door. Screw this. I stormed toward the locker room, knowing he was right behind me.
Maybe I didn’t storm.
If I’d wanted Roman to go away, I’d storm off and slam the door behind me, cutting him off. But he was following me, I knew it, and I was happy about it. By the time I got to the locker rooms, I slowed down so he could catch up.
“What do you want?” I hissed, even though I wasn’t mad. I had an act to keep up.
“I want to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“How’s this week been for you, Raven?”
“Honestly?”
“Honestly.”
“You really want to know?”
“I do. I want to know if you feel like you’re being pulled toward me whenever we pass in the hall. I want to know how much effort it takes for you to not look through those office windows. How many draft emails you’ve deleted. Because, me? I’ve tried. I’ve tried to stop thinking about you. I’ve tried to stop wanting you. I fail. I’ve completely failed, and I need to know that either you’ve failed too, or I want you to tell me how you did it.”
I took a deep breath. I knew I could lie. I could say I just didn’t give enough of a crap to have to do anything. I never thought about him. Didn’t want him. Wanted nothing to do with him outside work.
“Last night,” I said, “I swore I was never going to think of you again. But there I was, lying in bed, and I thought about you. So I did the same thing I did every other night this week.” A woman came out of the locker room, and I dropped my voice. “I put my hand between my legs and fingered myself until I could hear your voice and feel your cock stretching me open. When I came, I said your name.” Our faces inched closer. “Roman.” His breath was on my lips. “Roman.”
Our lips touched and one last time, I said, “Roman.”
He stood up straight. “Not here. We’re five blocks from the office. God, I’m an idiot when I’m near you.” He pushed open the door behind me. It was a private, unisex bathroom. I fell backward into it.
The motion sensor lights buzzed on.
He snapped the lock.
“We have to talk about this,” I said.
He picked me up under my arms and sat me on the vanity.
“Let’s talk. First of all,”—he opened my legs, exposing the wet patch between them—“we go on the down low. We kept our pants on all week. We keep doing that. We know we can.”
“Second,” I said, pulling his waistband down and getting his dick out. “This is not casual. If it’s casual for you, forget it.”
He groaned when I rubbed his cock, but nodded. “Not casual.”
“Good.”
He took my waistband and pulled it down. I raised my bottom so he could slide the pants to my knees. He knocked a shoe off and unpeeled one pant leg.
“If we get caught,” he said, sliding the head over my wetness, “it’s on me. I cover for you however I see fit.”
“We can both take the—” He entered me and I arched into him. “We can both, oh…yes.”
“Yes?” He went harder when he asked, and my mind shattered into a thoughtless burst of agreement.
“Yes, yes.”
He licked his thumb and rubbed my clit in the rhythm of our thrusts. I clutched his shirt, leveraging myself against him as he held me on the vanity so I wouldn’t fall when I came. I bit back a scream and let my throat rattle with my orgasm. He came inside me a second after, leaving his handprint on the mirror.
“Say you’re mine,” he whispered in my ear. I took his face in my hands.
“I’m yours, but how long can we do this?”
“Until Siska and Welton’s contract is up. Three weeks.”
“So soon?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny our contract is being renewed. But in three weeks, we’ll have a little elbow room.”
My body was still wrapped around his on the counter of a public bathroom, but inside I was exploding with joy.
“Can you make it?” I asked, because I wasn’t sure if I could.
“Keep wearing those brown shoes and I might.”
Chapter 18
ROMAN
It sounded crazy. The idea that I’d sit with Marie and discuss keeping an eye out to see if Raven was screwing an employee, then becoming that employee.
Who would do that?
I figured it this way. If the employee was me, she was safe. I wouldn’t rat her out. I’d protect her. I’d make sure if she needed to satisfy that insane sexual appetite with someone, it would be a guy who respected her and would keep it quiet.
Me, me, me.
It was as if I was on some kind of reality-altering drug that made the most insane shit seem perfectly reasonable. If you took a wire O and twisted it enough, it became an 8. Same O, also an 8, well within the bounds of reality if you just bent your mind a bit.
And if you wanted that 8 so badly you’d twist an O made of steel rebar? Which was at least as much as I wanted Raven? Then you pumped up the muscles of your brain until you twisted that shit all around.
And that was exactly what I did.
I made sense from nonsense. Real from fantasy. I spent the weekend with her, made her meals because I couldn’t take her out, had her body in every room of the house. I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt or shame for not telling her what Marie had said, because frankly, I was gone in three weeks. Out. We just had to hold it together for that long. Wait maybe another month, then we could be normal. Eat out. Go to events. All of it.
“Two more weekends,” she said as I walked her to my driveway. She counted down the days the same way I was about to.
“Right after launch,” I said, pinning her to the side of her Audi. I couldn’t stop kissing her. It had become a habit, a check-in from my lips to hers, as if they needed to make sure, minute to minute, that she was there. “I’m back to my office and you are in my bed.”
“You can stay at my house for a change.”
“Where do you live again?”
“Somewhere around. I forget.”
I couldn’t keep off her. I didn’t know how I was going to let her get in the car.
“Stay here tonight. We’ll get up at four and you can go home for clothes.”
“I’ll be late.”
“You won’t be late.”
She pushed me away and put her finger up in front of my face.
“You, sir, are a lawyer. You can work anywhere. I love this job and I want to keep it. So, no, I cannot risk being late. Not even five minutes.”
She gave me another little push, then pulled me close. I gave her a kiss. A serious good-bye kiss that meant I was letting her get in the car, finally, once and for all, immediately, if not sooner. Once I was done kissing her.
“Go!” I said, pulling away. “Before I bend you over this car.”
“Tempting.” She popped the door open.
“Don’t dare me.”
“I’m not.” She slid in and clo
sed the door. She already seemed too far away. I rapped on the window. She started the engine and rolled down the window.
“What are you wearing under your sensible little suit tomorrow?” I asked.
She thought for a second, then let a sly grin spread across her face.
“White lace.”
She took off before I could tell her that was my favorite.
Chapter 19
RAVEN
Whether Roman was in proximity or not, I felt a disconnection between one part of my life and the others. My life had been contained, neat, manageable. After I met him the lid came unscrewed and the contents spilled out. I had to walk around the office like a normal person, but I felt like I was leaving breadcrumbs behind. Emotions I couldn’t contain. Bits of sadness and longing. Nuggets of happiness and satisfaction like brightly colored stones leading back to a house I’d never seen before. So thick was the disorientation that I questioned every word I said as if someone else was being so damn professional when I felt as if every solid thing in my body was turning molten. I took lunch at my desk so I could avoid a conversation about my social life. I had no idea what I’d blurt out, or if my eyes would give me away. My reluctance to say anything could be a signal. For at least three weeks, I needed to pretend the lid was on the jar.
We were great. We said hello and good-bye. Please and thank you. When the system had an issue and we happened to meet in the hall, we talked about the system and nothing else. We stayed a respectful distance apart, and though our bodies didn’t touch, neither one of us could control our eyes. His sought out a bra strap or garter line. Mine looked at his lips and his hands. The shape of them. The way they moved. His dick was safely put away, but the lips and hands had touched me. My nipples got hard and my panties got wet. I didn’t go to the executive bathroom and release the tension. I saved it for him.
We complimented each other’s professionalism every weeknight, lying in separate towns, separate houses, separate beds.
—What time did you leave?—
We asked this every night. Even if I saw him walk out the door, I asked.
—Seven-thirty. You?—
—Still here. I had a dinner with a new associate—
—Where?—
—Bird Dog. But all I wanted to eat was you—
That was how it began. A soft segue from the office talk to us talk. If one of us was in the office, we’d text. If we were both home, we’d call.
—Are you alone?—
Masy had gone out with some mutual friends. I could have joined her, but then I would have missed the highlight of my nights. Roman.
—Yes—
I touched the gray dots at the bottom, waiting for his reply. It was washed into black when the phone rang. It was him.
“Hi,” I said. I heard a door click on the other side.
“I’m not in the mood for autocorrect. And I want to hear you.”
“Hear me what?”
“Describe your apartment.”
I flopped on the couch. He’d never been over, so it was a legitimate question, even if it was a waste of time.
“I’m on the bottom floor. It’s one big room. Kitchen attached to living room with an island in between.”
“Doors and windows?”
“On either side. Front and back. Front has a porch onto the street, back goes to a courtyard.”
I heard his fingers drum on the desk and the clack of keys.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Working. Keep going. What do you have in there that’s yours? I don’t want to hear what the architect decided.”
What could I talk about? The rocking chair we pulled off the curb? The basket of laundry I had to fold? The coffeemaker my mother bought me when I moved in?
“My dress for the release gala is hanging over the bannister.”
“What’s it look like?”
“It’s a halter top. The top part is beaded in a dark silver color.”
“Touch it.”
I was taken aback for a second. I’d been getting comfortable on the couch and collecting adjectives for the dress. But Roman was always a good phone partner, so I got up and put my hands on the beaded bodice.
“What’s it feel like?” he asked.
“Like beads and lace.”
“I want to know what my hands are going to feel when I pull it off you.”
I took a deep breath as my glands shot arousal hormones into my blood. Running my hand over the top of the dress, the beads shifted and rolled under my fingers, while the threads caught in my nails.
“It’s rough,” I said. “And delicate. But the lace is soft.”
“Are you wet?” he whispered into the phone. “Check.” I imagined him with the door closed and the blinds shut, whispering against late-night interlopers as I slid my hand below my waistband. I was wet and open, throbbing when my finger touched my hard nub.
“Yeah. I’m wet.”
“Keep your hand there. Tell me about the bottom of the dress. More beads?”
“Tulle. Silver gray.”
“What am I going to feel when I put my hand up it? Feel it, and feel yourself with your other hand.”
I tucked the phone between my ear and my shoulder and got my clean hand up the dress.
“Soft. Silk lining.”
He gasped hard. “Take a handful.”
“Are you…?”
“Yes.” He said it with a groan.
He was jerking off under the desk. All the times I’d seen him in that office and wanted him to fuck me, he was jerking off for me right there. Such a turn-on.
“It’s scratchy when you rub it together,” I said. “The tulle has traction when you grab it but the silk lining slides.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say about the dress. “I got stockings. Since it’s a long dress, I’m not wearing panties. Just a garter. Silver-gray lace. You can have your thumb under the strap and a finger inside me.”
I moved my finger off my clit and put it inside, closing around it so I could feel every bit of pressure.
“You’re so dirty.”
“I’m going to come soon.”
“Say my name.”
I almost lost the phone when I did, running two fingers along my seam, half standing, half crouching with a fistful of satin and tulle in my other hand.
“Roman.”
“Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours, I am yours. So yours.”
“Damn right.”
I came leaning against the bannister. The phone dropped to the carpet. My back arched and the rest of my body followed until my toes held my weight and my mind went utterly blank. I let go of the dress and sat on the bottom step. My hand was soaked with my juices, so I put it palm up on my knee. Roman would lick it clean.
“Hey,” I said, snapping the phone up.
“Thanks for that.”
“You came at your desk?”
“Under it, into a napkin from lunch.”
“That’s so hot and sexy.” Shifting sideways on the step, I leaned on the wall and put my feet on the bannister rail. My dress hung on the other side. I’d have to steam the wrinkles out before Friday, then Roman would crumple it again.
“Were you serious about the underwear?”
“Yep. I have it but I’m not wearing it.”
He paused. I didn’t know if he was zipping up or what. Maybe he was turned on again.
“Wear it. Please.”
“Why?”
“Because the idea of you being in public without it bothers me. It makes me want to cover you. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m being protective.”
“I swear this dress is to the floor.”
“I know. I’m not saying I’m making sense, but if you’re leaving them off for me, you can put them on for me.”
“You’re being really bossy.”
“Yeah. And I’m sorry, but I’m not. You can boss me about something that’s important to you some time.”
“Hm. How
about next time I’m over we play Destiny 2 instead of Call of Duty?”
“Fair trade.”
“Good.”
“I have to go or I’m going to be here all night.”
“Okay.”
I never understood the “you hang up first,” “no, you hang up” meme. Now I did. I floundered because I wanted to cap off the conversation with “I love you,” but we weren’t ready. Not until he left the Neuronet office.
We hung up and I held the phone to my chest.
I did love him.
Chapter 20
ROMAN
The Neuronet campus courtyard was set up for events up to a thousand people, and the company took advantage whenever possible. The doors to the indoor space folded out, opening up the entire wall to the courtyard. The circular steps made concrete bleachers. The fountain was lit with color-changing lights.
I had a silver tie to match the dress I hadn’t seen. I’d gotten pretty close with the color, but I couldn’t match her radiance. She didn’t drink at work socials, but kept a glass of water in her hand as she greeted Everett Fitzgerald and Alexander Burke, tech giants showing up for another on-campus party.
Raven was almost mine. I’d approved the system, along with my entire team and the HR department. If Neuronet got sued or had a PR debacle over compensation, it wouldn’t be over the system. I’d packed up my office supplies like a kid moving to a different room in the house. Sure, I was just moving back to my old office across the bay, but everything outside that was changing for the better.
“Why are you smiling?” Marie asked, sidling up to me. “You’re like a cat with a pillow full of canary feathers.”
“I like finishing things.” I held up my glass and she clinked it.
“Well, that’s sweet, but I have good news.”
“I like good news.”
Raven was nodding to Fitz. She knew him from QI4. Seeing her with a tall, young guy who had more money than God made me want to go over there and kiss her. Just to make sure every multi-billion-dollar mogul knew they had to look elsewhere.
