by LC Cooper
Heart's Lust
by
LC Cooper
Copyright LC Cooper 2012
Cover image, "Angel fountain (Schoenbrunn)," courtesy of Gryffindor via Wikimedia
Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
* * * * *
Here is the list of my titles, published at many fine retailers:
Novels:
Christmess
Diary of a Reluctant Vampire
Legacy
Man Cave
My Slice of Heaven
Simmering Consequences
The Voices of Cellar's Bridge
Short Stories:
"Barefoot Homecoming"
"Dan's Accidental Convertible"
"Halloween's Perfect Storm"
"Heart's Lust"
"Of Yellow Snow and Christmas Balls"
"One Lousy Wish"
"There Was a Knock at the Door"
* * * *
Table of Contents
"Heart's Lust"
Author's Note
Introducing Simmering Consequences
About the Author, LC Cooper
* * * *
I behaved no differently than the rest of the guys in our office. Unashamed, we swarmed and hovered around the new girl, while she made it obvious she was enjoying our attention. Buried in offers to take her to lunch, I was elated that she accepted mine. It wasn't the steamy, sultry getaway I had fantasized, but the fact that such a gorgeous woman wanted to be with me, if even for a quick lunch in the company cafeteria, was a heavenly revelation.
You see, I wasn't the best looking guy; actually, the belly and receding hairline kept me lonely in the bars until just before closing time. Heather, on the other hand, was eye candy. Hired by the company's president himself, everyone knew she'd follow the same fast-track the other hotties did. Her way up the corporate ladder contained rungs attached to his bed. None of us cellar dwellers were fooled into believing any of us would nail this beauty. She was stratospherically out of our, my, league, so I wondered why she accepted my invitation to lunch. Certainly, my hesitancy was merited. She even turned down our broad collection of dashing alpha-male sales guys to be with me.
"Hey," I thought with a shrug, "why rock the boat?" I was content munching my sandwich while sitting across the table from such an engaging woman.
"You seem nice and sincere," Heather purred, adding a wink. Then her smile turned into a frowny pout. "I know what guys think of me, but the way you look, all dumpy and pasty, you'd know there never was a chance in hell, which is why I agreed to join you on this pleasantly platonic lunch."
My courage and manliness weren't the only things shriveled by her brutality. I stammered to reply, but what was the point? With this one scathing comment, it was perfectly clear Heather was well suited for the VP position freshly vacated for her.
After cudding the remainder of my fermented silage, I humbly shuffled to my center-aisle cubicle. The flies swept between Heather and my desks, either demanding details from me, or jockeying for position with her. My bovine tail kept the pests off me, whereas Heather oozed honey, encouraging their competition. She played the giggly-newbie role to a T.
The following week, Heather was relocated to her well-earned VP office within the lofty Mahogany Row grotto. Her desk on my floor wasn't the only one emptied though. Three of the salesmen that had most strongly come onto Heather were seeking new employment opportunities outside our company. Such a maneuver kept the rest of us focused on our jobs and no longer on Heather's rack. I couldn't stop thinking about her though.
Instead of generating another meaningless spreadsheet for my boss, I often spent the time wishing I were the company president, holding Heather all night long. It was odd that as soon as my mind would drift back to the workday tedium, something would jar me, and I'd return to my favorite distraction. The latest occurred moments before I began my routine of shutting down for the weekend. I gave up, however, when I had the sensation that someone was watching me.
I looked up from my computer and saw Heather peering at me from over my cubicle wall. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't know you were there, Ms. …," I stammered as I struggled to stand.
"Please, you can still call me Heather," she whispered. She appeared sad. "Can we talk?" she quietly asked as she wiggled her index finger for me to follow her.
This pretty pin-up wanted me to join her on a clandestine mission; who was I to argue? Her mysteriousness got my imagination reeling. I stealthily strode out of my cube as her shapely butt disappeared around the corner that lead to the conference rooms.
I quickened my pace and thought I caught up with her, but when I turned the same corner, Heather was gone. Pathetically anxious, I flung open doors to empty conference rooms. I reached for the light switch in the final one, but as I did, something or someone grabbed my arm and yanked, tossing me onto a two-seater sofa.
"Stay there," Heather's husky, but sweet, voice commanded from the darkened corner behind the door. She plopped down against my leg after pressing the room's door closed.
Admittedly, I was scared to death. Unaccustomed to corporate skulking, I was a quivering pile of mush inside. Heather didn't do much to quell my fears.
"This is awkward, and I don't know where to begin," she said while wringing her hands. She drew in a deep breath, as if mustering up her courage, and said, "Okay, here goes … whew … this is so unlike me."
Emboldened by her frailty, I leapt into the role of gladiator-warrior-hero, and asked, "What's wrong, Heather? What's bothering you?" as if I had magical healing powers. For God's sake, I was only a glorified number-cruncher. How was I to help this powerful vixen? I almost mockingly chuckled at the absurdity of the chasm between us.
Heather tightened her lips closed, as if they were the only thing preventing a dreadful secret from taking flight. After completing what appeared to be an argument with her ethics, Heather said, "Look, there's something I need to tell you, but you must swear never to repeat it. I have to be able to trust you with all my heart." To emphasize her point, she grabbed my hand and pressed its palm into her cleavage. "You are the only person I feel I can trust, Michael Gabriel."
Who was I to argue? My hand was resting between the most amazing set of tits the world has ever seen … my hand. Oh, I was so full of crap when I opened my mouth. At first, I babbled in tongues, but after two false starts, I managed to engage my other brain. I disappointed Heather, however, when I timidly yapped, "If this is a matter of corporate espionage or embezzlement, have you contacted the head of security?"
Heather scrunched her face up and said, "Really? You have your hand resting between my breasts and I'm pleading for your help, and all you can offer is to contact the rent-a-cops?" She started to pull my hand away, so, sweating profusely, I recovered, promising my unconditional loyalty, which earned me more time to explore her cleavage.
"Unlike the other men in this company, you come across as genuine, sincere, and …"
I waited, holding my breath. I prayed she wouldn't say obedient. I wasn't so shallow to trash my dignity in exchange for a cheap feel and a leash. I had morals – I was almost certain of it.
"… tender," she sighed while staring deeply into my darting eyes. "I feel, so … so vulnerable and used." She leaned in toward me and kissed me passionately on the mouth while my hand grazed he
r amazingly tight breast. She moaned and pressed my hand firmly against her.
Inhibitions and conscience lost, I moved in for more, but suddenly Heather pulled away and pushed my hand onto my own leg.
"Oh, my, we must stop," she said while panting. "This isn't right. I'm married, after all."
"Huh?" my Neolithic brain mumbled. To complete the picture, all I needed was a drool cup resting beneath my chin. Good Lord, I was a mess. "Um," I said, beginning to punch through the fog of desire, "are you trying to seduce me?"
"Heavens no, Michael Gabriel! Is that really what you think of me? I turn to you, someone I hoped could be a trusted friend, but instead, you jump in and take advantage of me during a weak moment. How dare you," she hissed as she began to stand.
Completely confused and reeling, I said, "I didn't mean anything of the sort, Heather. Please, please sit back down. I promise to behave. I really do want to help you. I promise." I patted the sofa cushion she had occupied and then slid away from it, providing her with a buffer of trust.
"Okay," she warily said, "but don't try that again. My husband would kill you. He's a very, very jealous man … and God forbid if Henry, the president, found out what you did. There wouldn't be a safe place anywhere on Earth where you could hide."
"I swear I'm here for you, Heather. Please trust me to keep my hands to myself."
"That's better," she huffed before dropping into the opposite corner of the small sofa. "I'd like your advice on
