by Trixie More
“I wasn’t sure you would be here today,” she said.
Dorothy was puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked.
It took Kathy a minute to respond. “Oh, um, I guess after the slam … I just thought you might take the day off.”
Had Kathy been expecting her to be let go? If so, shouldn’t she be happy to see Dorothy still here? Kathy was her friend after all. She shoved her doubts aside and plunged ahead.
“Nope. I have a rush assignment for the Walker campaign,” she said. “I already have pages and pages of social media ideas and look at this.” She held up her slogan board. “Some of these are pretty good, right?”
Kathy appeared to be recovered from whatever that was and she leaned into get a better look at the slogans. “Drive Clean, Drive Cleaner.” Kathy tried another one. “Driving … guilt free. What’s that about?”
“It’s not the best, I’m just brainstorming … there are so many products they have.” She opened her folder and fanned out the pages. “Look at all the cool stuff they are working on.”
Kathy picked up the page with the picture of the tail pipe carbon cleaner. “This takes the CO2 out of the exhaust gas?”
Dorothy practically bounced in her seat. “It’s so exciting, right? It’s lined with a reusable polymeric solid, has a sub filter that contains a carbon using algae and that little ball there? The remaining carbon is picked up there as the exhaust is forced through it … and what’s really great? They can extract carbon from the lining and make stuff with it and the remaining residue is sodium bicarbonate. How insanely cool is that?”
“Does it get all the CO2 or just part of it?”
Dorothy scribbled down Kathy’s question. “Good question, Kath. I’ll find that out.”
“How often do you have to change the filter?”
“Another good one, but I had that down already. What else?”
Kathy leaned her hip against the desk. “Look, Dottie, I see you are excited, but I thought we weren’t taking this client.”
“Adam gave me until Monday to come up with a campaign.”
Kathy frowned. “I’m surprised to say the least. I thought we’d decided not to take them. Also, two days? That’s not enough time to do anything.”
“I have four days if you count Saturday and Sunday. And nothing’s decided. Adam said I could present my ideas on Monday. I think I could really get something good together. My idea is to have Ed be the spokesperson for his own company. He’s attractive enough and passionate.” Dorothy saw Kathy’s expression and hurried to add, “So he’ll look good on camera and the message should be exciting coming from a guy who really believes in his business. Plus, all these gadgets, every person wanting to be green will want one!”
“Dottie …” Kathy warned, “a lot of environmentalists don’t think these types of products are helpful to the conversation. I wouldn’t focus on them in the campaign if I were you.”
“What? Are you kidding? If we can cut emissions at small point sources like cars, home heaters and the like, we might reduce fifty percent of the greenhouse gasses we are creating. That’s significant no matter what the conversation it is.”
“There’s so much more to it. Also, I think you would be making a mistake using Ed Walker as the spokesperson. From what I hear, he’s not sympathetic.”
Dorothy snarled at Kathy, “Why? ’Cause Lisa at reception thinks he’s a dick?” The word “dick” brought the argument to a halt since Dorothy had raised her voice when she said it and she now realized the floor was silent. Damn it.
“Just forget it, Kathy, OK?”
“Hey, the men in the room are offended …” a woman’s voice came floating over the cubicle wall. Followed by some definitely male snickers.
“Yeah, you’re making me very uncomfortable here, Dot,” A man’s voice answered. “I’m heading down to HR after lunch.” More snickers followed.
“Would everybody just get a life?” Dorothy shot back. “I’m sorry, Kathy,” she said. She looked at Kathy, who had small pink flags of color on her cheeks. “I’m sorry, OK. Are you OK?”
“I’m fine, Dot. I just don’t think you should get your hopes up, that’s all.” She slapped down the slogan sheet down and marched away, leaving Dorothy staring after her.
By four o’clock, Edward was sure he’d made a mistake. He wanted to create a mind blowing campaign with her and then he wanted to blow her mind period. None of that matched up with meeting in public, where any person there might be the one who would ruin it all by coming up to him and saying, in that snide voice they all used when they asked, “Are you the pool boy?” He could see the self-congratulatory smirk, on the anonymous face, as if it was actually happening.
He knew it was inevitable that she would find out, but he didn’t want it to be now. He looked up the menu of his favorite Thai place and then texted Dorothy.
Hey, how about skipping the library?
He waited.
Why? We need to work on this tonight.
Yes, but I’m not in the mood for public places. How about I bring dinner over to your place? I’ll bring enough for Allie.
And Derrick?
Who the fuck was Derrick? He hated him already.
Sure. Who’s Derrick?
Allie’s BF
Ed released the breath he was holding. Allie had a boyfriend. Good to know.
What about you?
Yeah, I want dinner too.
I mean what about your boyfriend?
Oh, you mean the guy who sucked a hole in my neck last night? You can bring food for him too.
Ed grinned.
Yeah, that guy.
Relief rushed through him, no public places tonight. One more night with her and his anonymity, as long as Derrick and Allie didn’t recognize him. He liked his chances with only two people. He confirmed the address he remembered, found out what she liked to eat and set about getting ready.
Ed was at her door at five, with two bags full of food. It was a bit much; this was just a working meeting after all. She really wasn’t his anything. He didn’t have a girlfriend for a very good reason—nobody wanted to belong to the pool boy. Lowering thought, that. And then she opened her door.
Did he love her in blue shoes and skirts? He just found something that upped that. She was standing there, her hair silky and straight, framing her face and flowing over the shoulders of an oversized Mets baseball jersey. She had on faded jeans that looked soft and hugged her hips. From beneath the hem of her jeans, her bare feet with pink toenails peeked out. She looked relaxed and comfortable, like a feminine version of himself at home. She was fucking perfect. His eyes shot to her neck and he didn’t even try to resist. Putting both bags under one arm, never breaking eye contact, he reached out and moved her satin-smooth hair aside. His breathing sped up as he lowered his eyes and saw the red angry mark below her ear. You marked me. Damn straight he had. He leaned over and kissed her neck softly and she melted into him. He chuckled and put her hair back.
“Beautiful,” was all he said. He moved the bags to both hands again and this time leaned in and gave her a chaste kiss on the mouth. “Where’s your kitchen?” he asked.
“Oh.” She seemed to be struggling to come back to reality and he felt ten feet tall. “Right this way.” He followed her round ass, down the hallway, and into a narrow kitchen. Placing the bags on the counter, he shrugged off his jacket, took it down the hall and hung it up. Back in the kitchen, she was already getting out plates.
“I’ll take care of that,” he offered. “I said I’d bring dinner. Why don’t you sit?”
She wouldn’t take no for an answer, instead getting him a Sam Adams and directing him to a comfortable sofa in the living room. She fussed around him for a minute and then hustled away, returning with the appetizers on a plate, which she put on the coffee table. She returned a moment later with a glass of wine and settled on the couch next to him. Holy shit it felt nice, having her wait on him that way, as if he was someone to her. H
is chest felt tight and he felt his face heat for the second time around this woman. What the fuck? He set down his beer and took an egg roll, avoiding looking her in the eye.
“My boyfriend loves those you know,” she said in a soft voice. He froze at the words. He set his beer down with precise movements. He set the egg roll back on the plate and slowly wiped his fingers. Beside him, she stilled, frozen like a rabbit. The temperature in the room went up about twenty degrees. He turned, and took her wine glass from her limp hand before he raised his eyes and looked at her, taking in her dilated pupils, the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the flair of her nostrils.
Ed Walker, the man who was no woman’s dream, gathered up Dorothy and pulled her onto his lap. Her little round rump rubbed against his crotch in the best way possible, while her arms wrapped around his neck. He had just a moment to see the outline of her nipples poking against the word METS before he lost himself in kissing her deeply, tangling his tongue with hers, feeling her lips move under his in perfect alignment. His hands explored her curves, resting on her rib cage, his thumb stroking her erect nipple through the cotton shirt, feeling the little peak flex and wiggle against the edge of his thumb. He left her perfect little button to slide his hand up under her shirt, half expecting her to slap him away and jump up from his lap. Instead she started slowly rotating her ass in little circles against his cock. Holy Fuck, she was hot as fire. He slid his hand up until he felt the top of her bra cup and then stilled. He couldn’t, could he? Could he look?
Removing his hand from inside her jersey, he lifted his head away from her. She kept her eyes shut a moment and he feasted on the sight of her swollen lips and mussed up hair. When her eyes opened, he held her gaze as he hooked a finger in the neck of her shirt. She tipped her head to the side but made no move to stop him. He pulled the fabric back and looked down. Hot pink. Her bra was hot pink satin. Her tits filled it to overflowing and the edges just barely covered her aureoles. He let the neck of her shirt drop and slid his hand back under it. He traveled slowly up her warm, soft stomach until his hand rested below her breast. He could feel her heart slamming into her rib cage and his cock twitched at the understanding that somehow, some way, this beautiful woman found him exhilarating. How the fuck did he get this lucky? And thinking that, how the fuck might he actually get lucky, like right now? Her eyelids drooped and she licked her lower lip. He slid his hand up so slowly it almost killed him, but he could see that she was so turned on by the slowness that she was practically blissed out, just waiting to see what he would do next.
Well, he wasn’t going to disappoint her. He tugged at the cup of her bra and pulled it down, releasing her left tit. Then the same for the right. Both tits, out of her bra, nipples poking out the front of her shirt. He brought his hand back out and they both watched as his big, rough fingers roamed the front of her shirt until they finally pinched the thrusting points of her breasts. He slapped her tits a little and they jiggled. He looked her in those gorgeous blue-green eyes.
“You are going to be the death of me, you’re so beautiful,” he said. Her eyes widened. “Do you know how fucking hot you are?” She gave a little negative shake of her head and he fell on her, eating at her mouth, stroking her with his tongue, trailing kisses down her neck until she moaned and they both realized his lips were moving over the red mark from yesterday. He groaned and stood up, lifting her up with him.
“I’m not going to make a show of this on your living room couch,” he muttered into her neck. “Which way is your bedroom, Dorothy?”
Chapter 7
Dorothy was in a trance. She had watched his large brown hands travel across her Mets shirt, until they found her nipples and pulled on them … watching him take what he wanted, so slowly, had been hot as sin. Then he had lost it, attacking her mouth, making her feel like, yes, yes, this was her very own rough sex god, unable to control himself as he ate at her mouth, and then, he moved to her neck, where he knew damn well she was so sensitive. She’d felt him stop, the two of them holding their breath. Then, he lifted her in his arms. Who the fuck knew? Hot and hot.
“Where is your bedroom, Dorothy?” he breathed in her ear as she buried her face in his shoulder. She flung her arm out toward the hall.
“On the left,” she whispered and then bit his ear lobe. He groaned and she tugged it harder. He leaned against the wall and stopped, putting his forehead against the top of her head. It seemed he had to collect himself before he took another step, but he did and they were moving once again. She felt one hand leave her and heard the doorknob rattle. The door banged open and he carried her to her bed, setting her down softly, kissing her face, her neck, before leaving her to turn and shut the door. He stepped over her work shoes that she had kicked off in the middle of the room and looked down.
His voice sounded deep and solid. “Hot pink,” he said. He looked up at her, his eyes hungry. “Did you wear these to work today?” She wasn’t sure what she heard in his voice. She felt like a mouse quivering beneath a too-large sky. She bit her lip, on purpose, displaying to him the feelings he was evoking in her. She held his gaze and nodded.
“Fuck. Me,” he said and reached for his waist band. He flicked open the button at the top of his zipper and hesitated. He searched her face and his eyes were vulnerable despite the vulgar language and the intense strength of his reactions. He shut his eyes and buttoned his pants again. Beneath the bronze button, his package bulged against his zipper. Lord, why was he stopping? She reached for him and … no! He sat sideways on the edge of the bed. She ran her hand up and down his forearm trying to figure out how to restart the wild desire that had carried them in here.
He leaned his forehead to hers. No, no, no! Why couldn’t one man just fucking want her beyond all reason? She tried to reach around and kiss him. His hands squeezed her arms, holding her back. She touched his neck and felt the pounding of his pulse. He wanted this. He wanted her. She knew it. She racked her brain. The shoes … he’d noticed her blue shoes, and now these …
“Why did you ask about my shoes?”
He groaned. Then lowered his head to start sucking at her neck. Thank God. “What color were your panties yesterday?” he asked.
She slid a hand up his thigh, letting a finger trail across his junk. His cock twitched beneath the denim.
“Blue. Was that what you were trying to see yesterday? Did you want to know if my panties matched my Jimmy Choos?” She stroked his chest, arched up and whispered in his ear, “Does that turn you on?” She licked the shell of his ear and he moved so fast her head bounced on the mattress. He pounced on her, straddling her and yanked down her jeans, yes! He sat staring her panties for a moment. They were her best satin ones and matched the bra she had on. She hadn’t worn them to work, she’d put them on when she got home, knowing he was coming over, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. He seemed to have a matching fetish.
He stared at her underwear, then lifted her shirt off, to have her lying there, nothing on but her underwear, her breasts pulled out of her bra.
He growled a little and spread her legs, his hands warm on her thighs. Please let him eat me, she prayed. She hadn’t had a real orgasm that wasn’t driven by her vibrator in forever. She moved restlessly on the bed and that seemed to shake him out of it. He hooked his finger in the crotch of her panties and pulled them to the side, then he rested a warm finger against her slit. Just letting it rest there as he leaned forward, bringing his mouth to her breasts, first one, then the other. She looked down to see his head, bent to his work at her chest. The sensation of his tongue, lightly exploring her nipples aroused and frustrated her. She ran her hands through the silk of his hair, down his back, slipping her fingers below his waistband, trying to get her hands on his cock, his ass. He sucked hard and she moaned. When he stopped, she could see the wetness from his mouth glistening on her nipples. He dragged one of her hands away from his ass and put it on her breast.
“Pinch it,” he ordered. She gripped her nipple between the
side of her thumb and knuckle of her index finger, keeping her fingers curled into a fist. He brought her other hand to her remaining breast and said, “This one too.” He slid down her body, kissing her belly, then her hips, his hands pushing her thighs farther apart.
“Keep pinching, twisting them,” he said and she felt her pussy hum to life at the words.
“You like that,” he said. “I can see you swelling.” His breath against her was featherlight and warm. She tossed her head from side to side. Couldn’t he hurry?
“Twist those perfect little nipples,” he said. “Dorothy, I want to see sore, swollen nipples poking out from your tits.”
She could feel wetness seeping from her and she wondered if he could see it. He slid his tongue into her and lapped slowly to the top of her slit. “Keep tugging on them.”
She pulled so strongly that she felt her breasts stretch. She looked down to where his head was buried between her thighs and felt the orgasm building.
“Uhhh.” She let her head drop back and kept working her fingers on her stiff peaks. “They’re getting sore,” she said and Ed rewarded her by sucking her clit into his mouth and shoving his fingers into her.
“They are so stiff and hard. I’m flicking them with my fingers, twisting them harder.” She gasped.
“Keep pulling on them. Make them sore, swollen,” he said. “I want you to feel them rub against your bra all day tomorrow. I want you to think of this when they do.”
The words were so possessive and dirty, she couldn’t contain herself. She let go of her poor abused nipples and grabbed Ed’s hair, shoving him into her pussy, grinding against him and then the feeling became too much. She tried to push him away, but he held her tight and redoubled his assault on her clit, curling his fingers inside her and hitting some freakin’ magic place in there. Who the hell knew? She blew apart and it seemed to go on and on.
As her stiff limbs relaxed, she felt him lapping at her slowly, his warm hands unhooking her bra, and then resting protectively over her breasts, holding them gently as he worked his way up to spoon her, her own smell floating to her. He tugged the comforter over them both and held her as she came back down.
