Floor Time

by Liz Crowe

  The computer screen she’d been staring at for an hour blurred in front of Sara’s eyes. Rubbing one with the heel of her hand, she stood, giving up in disgust. The cute new guy, Craig, had been helping her with a presentation using listing information straight from the computerized multi-list system employed by Realtors to find and search the housing market for data. But it had hit a glitch and wouldn’t let her download for some reason, which had set her back nearly an hour on a hot Friday afternoon. But since he was the agent “on floor,” Craig was called to the front to meet a potential client who’d wandered in off the street.

  As she rounded the corner and ran her hand down the wall where she’d had sex with jack the first time, Sara’s scalp prickled as it always tended to do. She frowned, angry at the constricted feeling in her chest when she pictured his less-than-perfect face, inky black hair, and deep blue eyes.

  Shaking her head to stop his image from rattling around inside her skull she turned the corner as Chris, the receptionist, headed the other way. The two women laughed when they nearly collided, and Sara couldn’t help but notice the admiring gaze of the young woman. Everybody must know about her and Jack. There was no way to keep secrets in their small community. And Jack had a big goddamned mouth, Sara knew, so likely had bragged far and wide about fucking her in the hallway, at the open house, and in his office.

  “Hey, Sara, can you come help Craig?” the young woman asked. “He’s about to need a blood transfusion from claw marks out here.”

  “Sure, but what can I do?” She peeked around the corner. Spying the young blonde man who had every female in the office swooning seated next to an attractive older woman on one of the couches, she started to turn back and tell Chris that Craig could handle himself and needed to learn how to use his amazing good looks to his advantage.

  While she watched, the woman placed a hand on Craig’s navy blue clad thigh. She saw him flinch and look straight at her, his eyes pleading for help.

  She stifled a giggle as Chris pushed her into the room. Craig stood, his knees hitting the table in front of him as the woman in the dark designer jeans and tight polo shirt that highlighted her ultra-toned form kept her eyes glued to his ass.

  “Darling,” he declared, holding out a hand for Sara and motioning with his head for her to come closer. She smiled and played along, taking his hand, letting him pull her close.

  “Carolyn, may I introduce you to my partner?” He leaned down and planted a surprisingly long kiss on Sara’s lips which she broke, uncomfortable with her reaction to it. “Soon to be my wife,” he said, looking at her.

  Sara glared into his deep brown eyes, but went along with the show. She turned to Carolyn, and put both arms around Craig’s slim hips, resting her head on his shoulder before releasing him and shaking the woman’s hand.

  “So pleased to meet you, Carolyn,” she said in her most sincere real estate voice. “How can we help you?”

  The two of them giggled like a couple of kids after waving at the woman’s retreating back. She’d signed a listing agreement with them for her million-dollar marital home in order to downsize into a three-quarters of a million-dollar downtown condo. Craig pulled Sara in close, holding her, murmuring into her hair.

  “You are amazing.”

  Sara remained in the circle of his arms a minute longer before pulling away.

  “Yeah, gee, darling.” She held his arms and stared at him. “Nice one.”

  He shrugged and brushed his too-long blonde hair from his forehead.

  “Well, it was either a snap engagement to you, or let her pull me into the broom closet,” he admitted. Sara loved that he actually colored a little at that.

  Damn, he was adorable.

  “I like my choice,” he said, his voice soft, still looking into her eyes.

  “So.” Sara broke the moment before she let herself get caught up. “Now that you’ve managed to put ‘plan a wedding’ on my to-do list, can we please get back to my presentation?” She gestured to the back of the building.

  Craig opened the door leading to their work area for her. “You should know,” he said following her. “I have a bunch of nieces and they will all want to be flower girls.” Craig leaned on her cubicle entrance as she sat, trying to figure out why she felt breathless. She had work to do and noticed she’d missed two calls and three texts. Mr. Office Popularity needed to let her get to it. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs while giving him a pained look.

  “Well, you should know I have to figure out a way to let my brother be maid of honor,” she stated. “And he hates kids so keep them away from him.”

  She spun back around and faced her computer screen, loving the sound of his laughter and the friendly hand he placed on her shoulder. When he rolled his chair closer so he could study the screen with her, she caught a whiff of something on him, underneath the subtle scent of cologne. Unable to place it she flinched as he leaned in to punch a few keys, bringing up exactly the information she needed. His arm brushed her breasts, but she let it go.

  “Wow.” She stared at the screen now populated with the data and charts she had been struggling for an hour to create. Craig leaned back, his long arms behind his head. Sara drank in the sight of his wrinkled button-down, navy blue trousers, blonde hair falling over one eye. Her heart sped back up.

  “Yeah, I rock,” he said, never taking his eyes from hers.

  Sara accepted something about herself at that moment.

  If he reaches out for me, I’ll kiss him.

  It was a damn weird feeling. The opposite of the raw chemical response that Jack’s presence elicited. More like a comfortable moment when you suddenly decide an old friend would make a great lover. Craig merely sat, observing her, not coming any closer. Sara broke the connection when something occurred to her that she’d been meaning to ask him and needed to say something to fill the increasingly awkward silence.

  “How does an adorable Southern boy like you end up in our little Midwestern college town paradise anyway?”

  Craig crossed his legs knee to ankle. Sara tried very hard not to observe how it stretched the fabric of his trousers over his thighs. At the same moment she marveled at being in this place, right now, with the city’s most eligible bachelor sending her sext messages yet intrigued the point of being willing to kiss this handsome newcomer. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

  “Oh, you know, the usual, father takes a promotion with large automotive company, moves family only consisting of one pissed off seventeen-year-old boy because all of the other kids are in college.” He glanced up at the ceiling. Sara stayed quiet, content to watch the play of emotions across his face.

  “During my first year of college he had a massive heart attack. Dead before he hit the floor, apparently.” Sara put a hand over her mouth but the look in his eyes somehow precluding any sympathetic commentary.

  “I dropped out of school to help my mom, because all my siblings had lives involving other people. She was a mess. Still is, kind of.” He ran a hand around the back of his neck. “I found a band to play in, sold motorcycles for a while, got my real estate license, enrolled in some classes at the U and hopefully next year can get back to school full time… maybe… haven’t decided yet really.” He grinned, reminding Sara how very adorable he was. Her brain did a quick calculation.

  “How old are you, anyway?”

  Craig raised one eyebrow. “Old enough to drink.”

  “Well, thank God for that. Wouldn’t want anyone to take me for a cougar. Now, about this wedding…”

  A clatter of activity in the main hallway broke the moment. Several of their male colleagues walked by.

  “Hey, Sara, Craig,” Rick called out. Sara winced. She’d actually gone out with him once. He’d been all over her from the beginning of their date like a damn octopus. She’d been lucky to escape him.

  “Yo, Richard,” a voice called out. “You win the golf outing prize at the fundraiser last night?”

  “Nah.” Rick stopp
ed to the left of her cubicle opening. “That bastard Gordon swooped in at the last minute and snagged it.”

  Sara looked up at the mention of Jack’s name, aware of Craig’s intense stare.

  The two men stood sipping their coffee beyond where Sara and Craig sat.

  “Jesus, did you see that chick on his arm?”

  “Yeah, what else is new? Gordon has the best tux, gets the best prices on the auction shit, and brings a supermodel for a date.” Sara shut her eyes. He’d sent her at least three messages relaying what he’d like to do with her the night before. While he was on a date apparently. At a charity auction. With a super model gorgeous woman.

  She was such an idiot. She should tell him to pound sand.

  The other man laughed. Both were successful, as was required of this highly visible office, and neither a slouch in the looks department. But Jack Gordon operated on a completely different plane. Having spent a few years as a title attorney, he’d seemingly pitched it all in to go “where the money was” selling real estate. Proficient in all aspects, including high-end commercial and with a builder’s license to boot, he had been their top seller for nearly fifteen years, and sold almost seven-hundred-million dollars’ worth of land, houses, offices, and retail space last year alone.

  She knew because she’d made it her business to know as much about him as possible in the last few weeks. Which was lame in the extreme.

  “Yeah, that fucker,” the other man said, clapping his colleague on the back. “He was pretty lit by the end, though. She was sort of holding him up and didn’t look too happy about it either.”

  “Well, the guy never turns it off, you know?”

  “Yep, his phone was never out of his hand. I saw him at one point in the hallway back towards the head, leaning on the wall, and told him his date was looking for him. He shushed me up like he was hiding from her.”

  Sara gritted her teeth remembering the series of explicit sex texts she’d exchanged with the man in question. She laced her fingers together and held them tight. As if sensing her distress in some parallel universe where they had a real, normal relationship, Jack sent her a text then, causing her phone to rattle across her desk. She looked at it, then for some reason up at Craig, who shrugged his shoulders and walked out of her cubicle. Sara watched as her phone buzzed its way onto the floor. She picked it up and deleted the message without really reading it.

  Stage one complete. Ignore.

  By the end of the day, she had worked herself into a frenzy of anxiety and distress. The man was nearly as good at making himself scarce as he was at showing up at inopportune moments. While New Sara yearned for his eyes, lips, and hands, she kept rallying her inner Old Sara to remind herself that he was an egocentric, womanizing asshole. She owed it to herself to get as far as possible from him and stop all this nonsense. He was not be the answer. No matter the tiny voice that kept insisting that he might be, if she’d let him.

  He had certainly proven to be a valuable advisor lately with her more difficult transactions. She’d find herself faced with some dilemma and would automatically text or call Jack to get his perspective. The fact that she hadn’t given him any indication she wanted anything beyond his body and so had no place to complain drifted through her thoughts. He would offer advice, a laugh, top it with a pornographic suggestion or two, then sign off.

  It took two to communicate. She understood that. They were getting to be experts at dancing around emotion and cutting right to the real estate… or the physical. Sara was even getting used to the constant ache in her gut when she went longer than a couple of days without any contact with him. Hearing that he’d been with some “supermodel” of a woman last night, made her ears ring and her heart pound.

  Oh crap, Sara, get a grip. He doesn’t owe you anything. You don’t know what you want anyway. How is that fair to him? Maybe you should focus on that instead.

  Or maybe, just maybe you should tell him how you feel.

  Oh hell no.

  She rushed out of the office and made it home by six. Changing into running gear and strapping her phone to her arm felt like positive steps to drown out the constant buzz of wondering what Jack was doing right then, and with whom.

  The comforting strains of her warm-up music filled her ears. She dashed down the steps and stretched her hamstrings on the small front lawn of her condo, bending at the waist, legs spread wide. The realization that she was not alone as she slowly stood didn’t surprise her as much as it should have. In fact, it seemed perfectly natural to meet Jack’s eyes as he hopped out of his car, dressed for a run, his smile wide at the sight of her ass up in the air.

  “Done with your sissy stretching yet?” He smacked her rear before taking off down the sidewalk. As she rolled her eyes and began to follow him, Sara tried to mad at him for invading the one area of her life where she could be alone. Damn man wanted to turn everything into a competition, including her workout? She refused to let him. But the natural competitor in her was, without a doubt, revved at the sight of him, well ahead of her.

  On his heels for the first two miles, she let the soundtrack of her favorite heavy rock music pounding in her ears propel her faster. Sara hit, climbed up and over the wall she always encountered at three miles and overtook him. The humid August evening held a hint of fall as a breeze cooled the sweat poured off her. She felt strong – and utterly beyond caring where Jack was.

  As she turned a corner, headed back west and around the local high school, Sara sensed Jack’s presence near once again. She heard his breathing, which seemed annoyingly calm for a guy who’d semi-sprinted for a couple of miles behind her. The thought broke her concentration and her stride, and he dashed past her.

  He touched her shoulder as they approached Pioneer Woods, the area of the school’s campus that was wooded and hilly, with cross-country trails threaded through it. She slowed and followed him as he crossed the fields onto one of the trails. They were near her six-mile mental barrier and she still had to get back home. Traipsing around on paths didn’t sound like a great plan.

  But she would never admit it. He seemed at ease with his body’s running rhythm, a mere sheen of sweat across his brow, as if he could carry on for a marathon’s length. The indie rock music blaring in her ears provided her a bit of extra boost so she matched his pace and entered the cool, shaded forest.

  She’d run these very same paths during her four years of high school cross-country practices. After completing the first mile and a half, he started slowing. She drafted him, grateful for the respite. Her heart was pounding, and her legs felt like jelly.

  Jack glanced back, slowed more, and then stopped, which made her run right past him. She slowed, her breathing labored, arms flapping, then turned. Jack stood in the middle of the path, hands on hips, chest heaving with exertion. Sara tried to square her reaction to his sudden halt and her own body’s adrenaline rush from the punishing run. Without preamble, Jack crossed the few feet between them, reached out and yanked her close, his mouth on hers with a kiss that spoke volumes.

  He walked her backwards, still kissing her, forcing her off the trail. Sara tasted the salt of his sweat and tried not to collapse in his arms like some kind of wuss. When she started to remove the ear buds from her ears, he stopped her.

  “No,” he said, as he held her hand in place over one.

  He reached around and grabbed her ass, pulling her close to his body. Their tongues tangled, and Sara felt the familiar, Jack-inspired zinging sensations shooting through her. His aggression acted as an extreme aphrodisiac, and she met him halfway, sliding her fingers into his damp hair.

  He worked them into a semi-secluded glen off the main trail and leaned back against a giant tree trunk. His wicked smile nearly undid her as he released her hair from its holder, burying his hands in it, making her tilt her head back.

  Jack grasped the exposed skin of her neck with his lips and teeth as he forced his thigh between her legs. Licking sweat, nibbling along her jawline, tugging on he
r hair, he seemed to locate every trigger she had by intuition.

  She gasped when he picked her up, then wrapped both legs around his waist and pressed against his erection, letting her visceral need for him to work his magic with her body take over. With the music pounding in her ears, his hands and mouth all over her, she started to move against him. She shut her brain down before it warned her about making out in public with him again. Her eyes popped open. Jack’s sapphire blues sparkled, dark with lust.

  This is absolutely crazy.

  She forced herself to slide down his body. He turned then, leaned her against a different tree, one with a notch between two trunks that allowed her to keep herself pressed against his upper thigh. He shoved her sports bra up and rolled a rock hard nipple between his fingers, making her groan and closing off the clamor of warning taking hold in her brain.

  His lips reached hers again and he shoved his leg farther between hers, giving her the contact she needed. She shuddered as he teased her. Her body moved, rubbing against his hard thigh, faster and faster.

  “Don’t come yet, Sara. You know the rules.” That low, commanding voice made her shiver. “I’ll tell you when.”

  She gasped as he shoved some combination of fingers inside her, reaching up high, letting his thumb press against her clit. He pulled out then pressed back in, as he sucked one nipple then the other to hard, sensitive points. Sara thought if she looked at herself right now, she’d be glowing. When he had her, had his hands and lips on her, forcing pure energy through her nerve endings, it proved breathtaking and addictive. Staying silent, she fisted her hands in his damp hair and shoved her hips against his hand.

  “May I?” she croaked out, not sure if she could stop if he refused her.

  He grinned up at her, licked his lips, then covered her mouth with his.

  The small, whimpering noise Sara made down in her throat made Jack insane with lust. The smell of heat, sweat, and her delicious body swirled around him. Her pussy clutched at his fingers, pulsing, just on the edge as he stretched in further, knowing exactly where to touch her. Teasing with his lips he shoved her harder against the tree trunk.