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by Clarice Clique


  Oh God, I thought, don’t be sweet.

  ‘When everyone was saying you were with Marcus I thought I’d missed my chance. I’m sorry I didn’t realise that you had a boyfriend already; you’ve never mentioned anyone so I thought you were single. But I thought I should say something anyway. I don’t know if you feel anything for me, but a girl as beautiful as you doesn’t deserve to be worrying about going back to an empty flat.’

  ‘And if I was ugly I would deserve to be a lonely old spinster collecting stray cats for company?’

  He gazed at me for a moment, unsure whether I was teasing or serious. I stared back at him, unsure myself how serious I was being.

  ‘Every woman is beautiful in her own way,’ he said.

  ‘Did you read that in some male version of Cosmo?’

  Finally he smiled, and looked a bit more like the man I was used to. ‘And there’s nothing wrong with having cats. I love all animals but cats are my very favourite.’

  ‘You have cats?’ I could almost hear the loud yowling of my lover’s Siamese, the demanding scratching at the door, the tenderness with which my lover stroked it, filling me with irrational jealousy. (Is there any other sort? Yes.)

  ‘I have two. A ginger and a tabby, both of them strays, for your information.’ His face brightened.

  ‘That is good information. Shows me that you’re kind and have room in your heart for the lonely and rejected.’

  We smiled at each other.

  The strange, unpredictable things that make you interested in another person.

  I beckoned him to come to me. ‘Fuck me.’

  He didn’t move. ‘What, just like that?’

  ‘You can ask me out to dinner; I might say no, I might say yes. I’ve got no idea what I’m going to do at the moment. We might go out on this imaginary date and get on amazingly and decide to run straight off to Gretna Green and get married in a nude ceremony. Or we might be awkward and bored, you try to kiss me at the end and I’ll move away and we’re both left embarrassed. Or we can have sex right now, right here, no strings attached, just hot, sticky one-off fun.’

  ‘You want to have sex with me here? You don’t want to come back to my place, get to know each other a bit better?’

  I stood up, and stepped over to Joe. My master wanted me to have experiences, I’d have experiences. I began unbuttoning his shirt. ‘I’m in love with one man. I won’t get involved in another relationship. I will fuck with anyone I want. See it as random chance that we’re two adults together alone in this empty office wanting a bit of distraction from the inherent pain of life.’

  I finished with his buttons. I didn’t pull his clothes off but let his shirt hang partially open, revealing the hard muscles of his tanned chest.

  He was speaking. ‘I need to tell you, I’m not here by random chance. I overheard you telling Liz you planned to come into work today. I’m supposed to be doing a half marathon in the New Forest. I don’t want you to think I’m just another cocky chancer.’ But I barely heard him; his torso was like a piece of art, an example of sculptured perfection.

  I gently, so gently I was barely touching his skin, traced my nails down the centre of his body. For a moment my mind intervened. How did I have sex with someone who wasn’t my lover? Why did my body desire someone who wasn’t my lover? I let my womanhood take control. The only certainty I knew from my experience was that if you wanted good sex, there could be no doubts. Afterwards you might wonder what the hell you’d done and what depraved part of you had yearned for it, but in the moment you had to be fully in the place and with the person.

  I pulled his belt off in one swift motion and stroked the edge of the leather over his bare skin. Then I let it fall to the floor and slowly undid his fly, pulling the front of his boxers down to reveal a large, hard cock.

  What’s the jokey expression men have for their cocks? The one-eyed trouser snake? That’s what it was like, a huge, thick-bodied snake springing out of his trousers towards me. It was like a separate entity; part of, but not entirely connected to the person called Joe whom I’d worked with for several years without ever noticing him above and beyond any of the other men I worked with.

  I flicked my tongue over the tip. His scent and taste were overwhelming.

  I smiled up at Joe. ‘What did you do, pour a whole bottle of aftershave over your knob?’

  ‘I might have done.’ He gave a meek smile. ‘Is it that bad?’

  ‘All this shyness coming here, yet you make sure your cock smells like you’ve spent your life in a pine forest.’ I opened my lips wider and took as much of his length as I could.

  I waited for him to put his hands on the back of my head and fuck my mouth.

  His hands were in tight fists by his side. He moaned, even though I wasn’t doing anything.

  I waited longer, then I gave up and tilted my head to force more of his giant cock into my mouth. He was in my throat; I gagged. The chemicals of his perfume rested on my tongue, and filled my nose. It made me light-headed. I tried to angle myself to take even more of him, making myself gag more. He pulled away from him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Sorry, sometimes I think I’m a bit over-endowed.’

  ‘Fuck off with that! No man thinks he’s a bit over-endowed.’

  We laughed.

  ‘I just need to get used to you.’ I pushed my mouth back over his cock.

  Still he didn’t grab my hair and thrust his length into me.

  How did my girlfriends who fed their sexual desires with a succession of one-night stands and short affairs cope with the constant transition between individuals and their different preferences? What was the secret, the trick to it?

  I moved my head back and forth over his cock. He filled me up; it was like gorging on a never-ending supply of some delicious food. My hands reached around and squeezed his balls as I lightly grazed my teeth over his length.

  He yelped. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not used to that.’

  That makes two of us, I thought. But I was determined not to be put off.

  I fluttered my eyelashes at him and found my most sultry, seductive voice. ‘How about you tell me what you are used to, then?’

  Joe dropped onto his knees beside me and put his hands on my waist. My heart beat fast, anticipating him pushing me backwards and pinning me down. He kept his hands on my waist and kissed my throat and neck. His touch was gentle, weightless, I had to concentrate to feel the pressure where he pressed against me. There was a slight moistness to his kisses, which was neither pleasant nor unpleasant.

  The stone that I sometimes imagine is in my stomach felt like it was growing bigger and rounder, making my whole body heavy and every movement incredibly tiring.

  I placed my hands on Joe’s beautiful chest, meaning to push him away, but then, as I glanced over his shoulder, the sun beaming in through the windows shone directly into my eyes. For the tiniest moment, before my vision fragmented into dancing spots, I saw my lover standing there. He shook his head and I felt his disappointment.

  I could hear the scorn in his voice. ‘You’re not my perfectly wicked girl after all, are you? You can’t even satisfy one lovelorn puppy. Work harder. You know how to please me.’

  Please me .

  I gripped Joe’s shirt and pulled him into me, covering his face with quick, teasing kisses, nibbling his neck, exploring his ears with my tongue. I closed my eyes and in my internal darkness felt my lover’s presence.

  ‘I have a condom.’ Joe’s voice was all eager panting.

  One lovelorn puppy .

  I took the condom off him, and performed the trick I hadn’t done for a long time, of putting it over his erection with my mouth.

  ‘I’ve never been with a woman like you before.’

  I stood up and pulled my knickers down my legs. I sat on my office chair, beckoning him to come to me in the gesture that mirrored the one I’d made only a little earlier, although it already seemed a lifetime ago.

  This time he came to me
and I circled my fingers around his cock, slapping it against my clit.

  ‘A pretty boy like you should have a whole harem of women like me waiting for you when you get home.’ I held his cock between my petals and we both stared down at the meeting of our bodies.

  When my lover and I played this game I always broke first, bucking my hips up into him, straining against my binds, pleading with him, begging him, promising him my world if he’d only fuck me.

  But I knew that Joe would not push into me. If I told him I’d changed my mind, he wouldn’t be a jerk about it; he’d blush and within a minute would be acceptably dressed again. However it looked, this situation was safe and I was in control. The only danger, the only edge, was that we were at work and in theory any number of people could walk in if struck by the sudden urge to spend their weekend in overtime.

  I could stop this right now and that would be that.

  I closed my eyes and saw my lover smiling at me.

  I guided Joe’s cock inside me.

  He was slow with me, allowing me to adjust to his massive girth. My body responded to his rhythm and I ground against him. I wanted to swallow him, to engulf this huge Adonis of a man, to take his whole length in one swift movement. I yearned for the pain, the feeling of being forced open, to be made vulnerable and complete in the same moment.

  The chair creaked and moved under us. It gave a sense of being on some rusty old fairground ride, like the ones in the seaside resorts my father used to take me as a kid; 90 per cent of the excitement coming from the very real fear that the whole contraption would break and send you hurtling to a quick and bloody death.

  Joe put his hands under my bottom and lifted me neatly onto my desk. I deliberately swung my arms out and sent files and stationary cluttering to the floor. I would have knocked the computer screen off, but Joe saved it with a nervous smile.

  I twisted away from him and danced across the office. ‘Let’s fuck everywhere.’

  Joe dutifully followed me as I positioned myself on desk after desk, chair after chair, making as much chaos as he allowed me. I sat with my thighs wide, I bent over with my bottom raised, I rested on my side with one leg in the air. I lay on the floor with the dull blue carpet scratching my skin. We went up and down in the lifts. He penetrated me as if his cock would break me in two without proper care. When he got deep and stretched me I made the mistake of yelling out and he immediately pulled back. As I led him from one place to the next, I gazed at his amazing muscles, at the size of his erection glistening with my juices; all the potential that I couldn’t quite grasp or unlock.

  I dragged him to the cold, hard porcelain of the toilets.

  He paused. ‘I’m not into the whole watersports thing. I mean, I’m sorry, but I don’t want to wee on your breasts or anything.’

  ‘In your dreams.’ I gave him a cryptic smile and filled one of the sinks with hot water.

  I hitched myself up so my buttocks were caressed with the heat and pulled him between my legs.

  He stared at himself in the mirror as he fucked me.

  I giggled. ‘You vain bastard.’

  He smiled. ‘I’m looking at myself, not believing that you and I are doing what we’re doing. It’s good all this stopping and starting you’re doing, otherwise I’d have come in about a minute.’

  ‘Let’s have one last change of scene, then.’ I wiggled away, splashing him with water as I moved. ‘I’ve always fantasised about having sex in the conference room.’

  A lie. Half a lie. Not one that mattered. In the most boring parts of long meetings, I’d fantasised about being tied across the middle of the table with my lover teasing my cunt with toys of ever-increasing size, and all the graphs and talks would be an examination of how wide I could be spread, how much pain I could take.

  Joe jogged after me. ‘Whenever you speak I can’t concentrate on anything else but your breasts. Have you seen me looking at you?’

  I avoided his question by climbing onto a chair and then the polished table, turning clumsy, dizzy pirouettes until he leapt up beside me and caught me in his arms. His hair grazed against the ceiling.

  ‘Before I discovered sex, my wildest fantasy was to be a Prima Ballerina Assoluta.’

  He looked blankly at me.

  ‘You know, like Margot Fonteyn.’

  He gave me a confused smile.

  Mentally I slapped myself. It was me who’d said no to the whole “getting to know you” thing, yet here I was at the end of a marathon sex session, us both dripping with sweat and the smell of sex even managing to overpower his aftershave, talking about stupid childhood daydreams.

  I jumped at him, wrapping my legs around him, not even considering that he wouldn’t catch me and support my whole weight. I found his cock, or his cock found me, and I pressed down onto him.

  Joe groaned. ‘I can’t last much longer, honey.’

  The “honey” stung me. It slipped so naturally from his lips. It was probably meaningless, something every guy said to every random girl they fucked. I drove it out of my mind and ignored it.

  I concentrated on grinding against him and sucking every iota of pleasure I could from him. I covered his neck and chest in bites that left red and purple bruises. I pinched his nipples and clawed his back.

  ‘I’m coming. I’m coming,’ he panted.

  I might have felt the throb of his cock before he shot his load, but I can’t say for certain as his legs gave out and we crashed down onto the table.

  ‘Sorry. I’m so sorry. Are you OK? Are you hurt?’

  I shrugged off his solicitations with a laugh. My back did feel like it’d shattered into a million pieces, but I could move and nothing was wrong. Pain I was familiar with, pain I knew and understood.

  ‘Let me help you. God, I’m so, so sorry.’

  ‘I can’t speak for the big guy upstairs, but I forgive you.’

  Joe frowned at me.

  ‘You said, “God, I’m so, so sorry,” and I was trying to be light and witty in return.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I hope this won’t put you off. This has been so amazing, I really want this to continue into something more.’

  I smoothed my skirt down; it was still wet from the sink and stuck to my thighs. I went on a hunt for the rest of my clothes, which were scattered over the office.

  Joe reached out and grabbed my arm.

  Now you get assertive, I thought.

  ‘Please, I’ve never felt like I do with you. I mean, I’ve not got much experience with women. I thought I was gay for a while.’ He stared into my eyes as he spoke, leaving me no mental room to escape from his emotion. ‘But since meeting you I’ve never once questioned what or who I want to be with.’

  ‘You’re probably bi, which is cool, as it gives you the whole world to choose from.’ I pulled away from his grip. ‘But you can’t choose me. I told you that I’m not in a place where I want to be in a relationship. This was just fun, Joe. And it was fun, even the bit when you crushed me on top of the table.’ I smiled at him.

  He stared back at me with an expression I knew too well, the way you look when you realise how brittle the human heart is, and you know that life will go on and you can find your broken pieces and glue, tape, weld them together, but there will always be cracks. And there’ll always be the parts you can never find again. Ever.

  I patted him on the arm, a gesture that made me cringe inside even before I’d completed it. ‘I’m sorry, Joe. The timing is right for fun. Nothing more.’

  Joe stood where he was and I skittered away and found my clothes as quickly as I could. I didn’t discover my knickers, but Joe had come into the main office and at the time it felt easier to leave my underwear on public display than to face him. Besides, if I couldn’t see them it was unlikely anyone else would, and I could always come into work on Sunday to retrieve them.

  ‘Bye, Joe.’ I felt I had to say something before I left. ‘That was really nice. Thanks. See you Monday.’

  I left the office and almost ran
out of the building into the fresh air.

  When I got home I rang my lover straight away. It hit the answer machine.

  ‘Pick up, I want to speak to you.’

  I counted five. Tore my clothes off and flung them into the corner of the room and rang again. And got the answer machine again.

  ‘Pick up, I need to speak to you.’

  I counted five, put the phone down and dialled again.

  Two hours later, when I was crying at some sappy Hugh Grant rom com on telly with the phone clutched in my hand, he answered.

  ‘My dear, have you heard of the word harassment?’ His voice was a fine meal accompanied with the perfect wine.

  I had to take a deep breath and brush the remaining tears away before I could speak. ‘I’m coming back. Break over.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I’ve done what you asked. I had sex with another man.’

  A pause. ‘I didn’t ask you to have sex with another man.’

  ‘Oh, don’t play semantics with me. You did. Why else would I be doing it?’ I was surprised at the anger in my voice. I didn’t get angry with my lover. I didn’t snap at my master.

  ‘I gave you space to discover what you want for yourself. I told you when you were ready we’d talk.’

  ‘I’m ready. For more than talking. I’ve chatted to some people on an internet sex site, including a poor, desperate guy who wanted to be my slave. Can you imagine that, me a mistress? And I had sex with a guy at work today.’

  ‘You were working on a Saturday?’ His voice was so calm, as if he wasn’t actually hearing the words I was saying.

  ‘I’ve got nothing better to do, have I?’ Oh fuck, don’t sound like a bitter, twisted cow. Please don’t.

  ‘Was the sex good?’ The same calm, mild interest.

  ‘He had a massive cock. And an unbelievable body. We fucked all over the office. Tons of different positions. It was like making rock cakes, though. You’ve got all the basic ingredients, but without the pinch of spice, it’s just flour and butter.’ Rock cakes? Why the hell was I talking about rock cakes? My tone of voice was better, but the words were babble.

 

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