Yours for Christmas

by Sue Lyndon

  Nervous energy had her twisting strands of her long, dark hair around her left-index finger. Ever since Wayne, a hunky, single bicycle courier, had begun making deliveries to her office several months earlier, she’d fantasized about him. The man had become an obsession worse than the high-school crush she’d had on Josh Timber. After that heartbreak, she’d played it safe. It had taken years to realize safe equaled boring and that she now resided at the other end of the spectrum.

  They’d been flirting and hinting for months, but neither had made the first move. She was through waiting, and intended to ask him to her apartment for Christmas Eve dinner. Wanting to look her best for the occasion, she nixed her usual dark slacks and high-necked blouse. Instead she donned a cherry-red Jaques Passion (not to be confused with Zac Posen) dress with a tight-fitting bodice and a flared skirt.

  Having cleavage and feeling the air on her bare legs, made her feel sexy. And the fantasies she had about Wayne that usually visited her in the wee hours, had invaded her thoughts throughout the morning.

  As his clacking got louder, she wound the hair around her finger tighter. She reread, ‘As many of you know our holiday party–’

  “Hey Pretty Lady!” Wayne greeted.

  Jerking her head up as if surprised by his presence, she yanked a clump of hair free. Joanne opened her mouth in silent pain as Wayne’s face swam into her line of vision. For the first time, he’d taken his helmet off and Joanne, who’d only imagined his silky locks, stared. His hair was thick and dark and in a sexy state of disarray. It complimented his sapphire-blue eyes perfectly.

  He wore a white-and-red shirt that showed off muscular arms and sculpted chest.

  Forgetting her pain, Joanne said. “Hi.”

  His tan face had a sprinkling of whiskers that Joanne suspected had grown within minutes of his shaving, a testament to his large quantities of testosterone. Handing her an envelope then a digital device to sign, Wayne asked, “You okay?”

  “Huh? Sure. Why do you ask?”

  When Wayne reached over the desk and took hold of her wrist, Joanne’s mouth went dry. They’d never touched before and she was sure, given his vantage point, her breasts were on full display. He lifted her hand and put it in front of her eyes. “You pulled out some hair.”

  She inhaled his soapy, sweaty scent as she watched his pectoral muscles glide beneath his shirt. Tearing her gaze from his chest, she looked at her hand. Strands of her chestnut hair were wrapped around the tip of her index finger. Oh that.

  “Ouch!” she said lamely, but what she noticed was his hand. He wore fingerless, black, leather gloves. And those fingers, so much darker, harder and rougher than her own, were touching her wrist. Heat traveled up her arm, across her chest then headed south.

  Sliding his thumb over the inside of her wrist, Wayne asked, “You doing anything for lunch?”

  Wayne, her Wayne, was asking her out? The stars had aligned. “You.” Joanne squeaked then slapped her free hand over her mouth. She had to be three shades of red. The man turned her into a monosyllabic imbecile.

  Wayne grinned.

  “I meant ‘No!’” She wanted to shrink to the size of a pea and pop into the little pocket on the back of his biking shirt. If only. He continued to hold her arm.

  Wayne asked, “Would you like–”

  “Yes!”

  “The tip of your finger is turning blue.” Wayne reached over the top of her desk with his other hand and began to minister to the neglected finger.

  Imagining him hovering over her in some other capacity, Joanne held her breath. As his body blotted out the overhead light, she felt woozy.

  “That finger needs urgent medical attention. I think I might have something on my bike that can help.”

  Something needed urgent attention and it wasn’t her finger. “Let me get my purse.” Joanne pulled away, then grabbed her Michael Kors knock-off clutch and scuttled around her desk. She stood within inches of Wayne. To her, it seemed Wayne had his own field of gravity, she was compelled to move closer.

  Even wearing her Sally Farragama (not to be confused with Salvatore Farragomo) four-inch, black pumps she was several inches shorter.

  Wayne took a step back. A vertical wrinkle, one Joanne had never seen before, creased his forehead.

  Joanne tried for calm, but couldn’t seem to manage it. She stepped closer and looked up into his face. Then she noticed something green in his hair. “Is that…mistletoe?”

  Glancing at his feet, he looked sheepish. “I figured if an old-fashioned lunch request didn’t work, I’d use an outdated, Christmas ploy.”

  “Oh hell!” Unable to stand it, Joanne threw her handbag on the floor then reached up and cupped his cheeks in both hands. She pulled him down for a kiss. His lips were warm and inviting.

  “Mmm,” Wayne said.

  “Take me here,” Joanne heard herself say.

  Wayne jerked back. “Joanne!” Shock flashed in his sapphire eyes.

  She’d surprised herself as well. Having suppressed her sexuality and played the part of a demure girl all her life, she hadn’t realized the lioness that lurked in her depths. Now that the lioness was out, what was she to do?

  Retreat back into her cage; or go in for the kill?

  Deciding she’d already crossed the line, she stared her prey down, licked her lips and stepped closer.

  Wayne swallowed audibly.

  Wanting him to forget time and place, Joanne slid her arms around his waist and pressed into him. Closing her eyes, she ground into his erection.

  She felt Wayne’s hands press firmly on her shoulders then he stepped back. “Not here.”

  “You’re right.” It felt as if she’d been waiting years for this encounter. She’d never behaved this brazenly.

  “Come on.” Grabbing hold of her hand, Wayne led her across the reception area, through the glass front doors, and past a bank of elevators.

  As she followed, she admired his ass and legs. Her mother would have called her a hussy. Could she help it if she appreciated perfection? “Where–”

  Wayne interrupted, “The stairwell.”

  “Riding a bike all day isn’t enough exercise?” Joanne whined. She had no desire to go down ten flights of stairs in pumps.

  Wayne chuckled. “Not nearly enough.”

  When he pulled the door to the stairwell open and held it for her, Joanne stopped.

  “Oh I get it.” Wayne propped the door open with one foot. Leaning toward her, he scooped her into his arms and lifted her off the floor.

  Astonished, Joanne screeched and threw her arms around his neck to keep from falling. Then noticing how exquisite it felt to be carried, she relished the moment. Planting a kiss on her mouth, Wayne moved her over the threshold. The metal door clanged shut causing an echo in the stairwell.

  While being weightless was nice, Joanne wanted Wayne’s hands on her other parts, so she wriggled in his arms wanting to be let down. As she kicked, one of her pumps flew over the edge of the staircase.

  “Whoops,” Joanne said. They stilled to listen as the shoe hit a step, bounced then hit another. The thuds grew quieter as the shoe made its descent.

  When it finally hit the bottom and fell quiet, Wayne said, “That didn’t sound good,” and set her down.

  Joanne returned her focus to Wayne. Sprigs of mistletoe stuck up from his hair giving him a wild, earthy look. As if propelled by some external force, she reached below her dress, peeled off her panties then reached around his broad chest and stuffed them in the pocket on the back of his shirt.

  Grinning, Wayne said, “You are too much.”

  “Make love to me,” Joanne pleaded, “It’s the only way I’ll ever be able to function again.”

  “And I want you to function.” Wayne’s eyes lost their amusement and his mouth ca
me down on hers. His kiss was scorching, hard and needy. It felt as if his temperature had risen along with his lust. One hand held the back of her head, while the other cupped her ass.

  Wedging her thumbs into the elastic band of his shorts, Joanne pushed down. When the shorts began to give way, she broke the kiss to yank them off. It turned out he hadn’t worn underwear and when she saw he was at least seven inches long, with a wide girth, she moaned in appreciation.

  She knelt to take him in her mouth. Wayne stopped her by saying, “Turn around for me.”

  A thrill ran through her as she stood up and pirouetted. Playfully, she wiggled her ass at him. When he bent over her and kissed the back of her neck while squeezing her breasts through her dress, she felt lightheaded.

  Needing to stabilize herself, she placed both her hands on the cement wall in front of her. Wayne withdrew his hands then she heard the crackle of Velcro. She twisted around to see Wayne pull one glove off then the other.

  Their eyes met and Wayne said, “I have to touch you.”

  When he lifted her skirt, air swirled about her wet female parts.

  Then she felt the heat of his hands on her ass. His palms, warm and slightly damp, contrasted with his cooler fingertips. As she pressed into him, his hand slid down and he pushed a finger inside.

  Clutching at the wall, Joanne groaned.

  “You are so wet,” Wayne murmured.

  A thousand fantasies had her drenched. She ached for him. “Now.”

  “I want to take my time.”

  Joanne guffawed. A stairwell wasn’t the place for sensitivity. “Now. Before I turn around and jump you.”

  “Yes Ma’am.” Wayne scooted closer. When he leaned over her the tip of his silken, hot penis brushed her ass sending tendrils of pleasure rushing over her skin.

  Joanne felt him above her. This time he reached inside the low neckline of her dress and fondled her breast. Lightly, he squeezed her nipples.

  Wanting him to bury himself inside her, Joanne rubbed against his penis feeling its delicious heat. She heard Wayne groan, then his hands left her breasts.

  She looked back to see him sheath himself with a condom.

  “Ready?” Wayne asked.

  “Oh yeah.”

  Wayne’s hands came to rest on her hips. In a single, deep thrust he buried himself.

  Joanne cried out her pleasure.

  Pulling halfway out, he thrust back in. As he got into a rhythm, Joanne’s body rocked. Grabbing at the wall trying to brace herself, Joanne broke several nails before one hand landed on something metal. A handle of some sort.

  She held on as Wayne moved in and out. When her orgasm caused her to gasp and spasm, it drove Wayne over the edge. He bucked into her as he came causing her to jerk forward. As she did, the piece of metal she’d been clinging to for support shifted down. Joanne lost her balance. Toppling forward her shoulder smashed into the wall.

  Wayne froze. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh yeah.” Her shoulder smarted and she’d probably have a bruise later, but right then she felt no pain. Joanne plopped on the floor, and suddenly finding the situation funny, she started laughing.

  Wayne tried to examine her shoulder, but she brushed him away. He dropped onto the floor next to her. “What’s so funny?”

  Trying to suppress her giggles, Joanne buried her face in his shoulder. “I guess we both decided today was the day.”

  Wayne grinned. “It is comical.”

  Then a deep, mechanical, intermittent horn rumbled somewhere outside the stairwell. It took Joanne’s compromised brain several seconds to register the sound. Then she groaned in disapproval.

  “Is that a fire alarm?” Wayne asked.

  The floor vibrated and Joanne heard footfalls as people evacuated their offices.

  “I’m pretty sure.”

  Wayne hopped to his feet and began pulling on his shorts as the stairwell door opened.

  When Sharon, Joanne’s boss, straddled the threshold and studied them, Joanne scrambled to her feet. Her missing shoe only added to the undignified scene. The sound of clomping feet and voices filled the stairwell as other people from other floors began to descend.

  “Hold up,” Sharon called out to the people waiting to go down on Joanne’s floor then looked back at Joanne, “Did you two pull that fire alarm?” She pointed her chin at the wall.

  “Huh?” Joanne turned to see the red, metal handle of the fire alarm pulled down. Remembering their climax, she cringed. “Maybe. On accident.”

  Protectively, Wayne slid an arm across her shoulders.

  “Both of you go to my office and wait.”

  Her head down, Joanne, limped past people waiting to use the stairwell. Co-workers tossed her questions that Joanne, mortified, ignored.

  She and Wayne didn’t speak until they were in the confines of Sharon’s office and Joanne had shut the door. When their gazes met, the worry on Wayne’s face drove their bad behavior home.

  Joanne frowned. “Sorry. My fault.”

  “There were two of us.” Wayne walked to one of the overstuffed armchairs that faced the desk and dropped into it.

  Feeling ashamed, Joanne sat in the chair next to him. He was staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Lake Washington. Again, she saw the green sticking out of his chestnut hair. “You and that mistletoe,” she suppressed a laugh.

  He grabbed at his hair and pulled the sprigs out. “It was for luck. I’ve been meaning to ask you out for months.”

  “Me too. So,” she drew the word out like it was a piece of Christmas taffy. “Do you have plans for tonight? It’s Christmas Eve.”

  Wayne smiled. “Only if you don’t.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then I do. That is if you–”

  “I do.”

  Wayne reached over and grasped her hand. He was still holding the mistletoe and now the little plant was smashed between their palms. “Nice view.” Wayne was looking out the windows.

  “Yeah.”

  “Think you’ll get fired?” Wayne asked.

  “Probably. You?”

  Wayne nodded. “But what a way to go.” The edges of his mouth curved into a sly smile.

  Pursing her lips together to keep the amusement off her face, Joanne looked away. If she had any chance of keeping her job, she needed to look regretful when Sharon arrived.

  Wayne reached over and ran a calloused finger over her cheek. The touch sent a torrent of emotions and sensations through her that drowned out her other thoughts. “I still owe you lunch,” Wayne said.

  Joanne sighed. “I turn crazy when I’m around you. I don’t normally act like that.”

  “I like it.”

  The door opened and Sharon stepped through holding Joanne’s purse, her shoe, Wayne’s gloves and his helmet. “You two are like Hansel and Gretel leaving clues to find your way back.”

  She closed the door then laid their belongings in Joanne’s lap before rounding her desk and sitting.

  “Sorry,” Joanne whispered.

  Sharon formed a steeple with her hands and appraised them.

  “There is a 500-dollar fine the fire department charges for false alarms.”

  “I’ll cover it,” Joanne snapped.

  “I’ll cover it.” Wayne shot her a look.

  Sharon’s eyes softened and a half smile creased her face. “I paid it for you. Merry Christmas.”

  “What? Why?” Joanne asked.

  “Apparently HR hasn’t informed you of our sex policy.”

  “Sex policy?”

  Sharon’s gaze slid to Wayne. “Conference room three–” she said it like an invitation “–has sound-proof walls and a built-in Murphy bed.”

  Joanne’s mouth dropped
open and Sharon looked at her. “You’re responsible for cleaning the sheets after each use.”

  “You’re serious?”

  Sharon held her gaze for several seconds then burst out laughing. “No. Don’t pull that crap again or you’ll be out on your rear. You got that?”

  Relief flowed over Joanne like a cool stream in the middle of summer. “Yes.”

  “So I take it you two are together?”

  Joanne looked at Wayne.

  He said, “We’re spending the holidays together and every other day I can talk her into.” He gave her hand a little squeeze.

  “I guess we are.” Joanne looked at her boss.

  “Good for you.” Sharon gave her a wink. “Go on now. Get back to work.” Sharon plucked the phone’s receiver off the desk and began dialing a number.

  Joanne handed Wayne his gloves and helmet then stood. He followed her out the door. Once they were out of earshot, Wayne asked, “Do you really think she was joking?”

  “About conference room three?”

  He nodded.

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you put that mistletoe back in your hair and we’ll go find out.”

  Send me the Pillow that you Dream On

  Jennifer Cooper

  Send me the Pillow that you Dream On

  A Books to Go Now Publication

  Copyright © Jennifer Cooper 2012

  Books to Go Now

  For information on the cover illustration and design, contact bookstogonow@gmail.com

  First eBook Edition November2012

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.