She threw on a loose challis skirt and open necked peasant top, zipping on her favorite boots (she shivered as she remembered Michael doing the same thing for her only days before) before grabbing her coat, purse and the files and dashing out the door.
There were no cabs to be had on Eighty-Ninth Street, so she walked over to the Natural Science Museum to catch one there. The air was crisp and fresh, and she was able to enjoy kicking through the fallen leaves as she walked toward the museum. She loved New York in autumn. It was so different from California. There you could only tell the seasons were changing by the change in fashions. But here, everything smelled different, felt different. There was a sense of dread, of the sure knowledge of the challenges of winter coming, but also a feeling of anticipation for the coming celebrations of children, of family. Fall was life ending, but leaving behind the seeds of new beginnings.
Maybe it was appropriate that she had started this affair in the fall.
The cab worked its way down Fifth Avenue to Forty-Sixth Street and then turned east. The New York offices of McDaniels Polk and Marks stood on the northeast corner of Forty-Sixth and Second, one of the imposing copper and steel edifices constructed during the Art Deco building boom of the twenties and thirties.
The driver left her off on Forty-Sixth Street. She paid the fare and got a receipt, knowing Gabriel would want to expense her trip. In the building lobby, she made small talk with the receptionist as she signed in, then waved to the security guard as she made her way to the elevators. The elevator music struck her as cheerful rather than insipid for a change, and by the time the doors opened on the seventeenth floor, she was happily humming “The Girl from Ipanema” with a soft smile on her face.
Because the McDaniels Polk and Marks Building was older, it didn't have the open floor design so familiar to members of the Dilbert generation. Instead, the floor was ringed with large rooms framed in by paneling and frosted glass. Each room was its own office unit, with one or two private offices for the manager and desks in the outer part for their team. Usually a large conference table sat in the middle of the space to allow the team to work together as needed without having to reserve one of the formal conference rooms, although those were also available for client meetings and the like. The building had been renovated ten years ago, but while the senior partners had agreed to a total retrofit of the wiring and communications systems, they had drawn the line at updating the antique layout of the offices. “Nostalgia breeds trust,” they had insisted.
On the seventeenth floor, Intellectual Property took up five of these office clusters, and two thirds of the filing space. Gabriel's office was in the northeast corner of the building, with views of the East River on two sides. He was of a high enough status in the firm to have rated a low half wall to divide his reception space from the rest of the office. It always made Lindy feel like she was going to court to pass through the swinging door to get to his office.
Caroline sat at her desk, busily typing from a stack of hand written notes, her manicured fingers moving across the keyboard in a crimson blur. She didn't look up, but Lindy could tell by the change in her posture that the mousy blonde was fully aware of Lindy's presence. Lindy just stood there, curious to see how far the woman would push it.
After about three minutes, she looked up with a phony start of surprise. “Oh! Mrs. Stevens. I didn't notice you.” She smiled a flat, plastic smile that showed Lindy her true feelings.
"Well, I understand. It must be hard trying to remember how to spell all those hard legal words. And, in, the..."
"Yes, the technical language can be a challenge. It's the burden I bear for actually having the skills needed to hold down a job."
"I can see how that would be an improvement over not having to work at all. Having nothing to do all day but get your hair done and shop and visit with friends..."
Caroline smiled again, that false smile that didn't reach her eyes. “Do you have something for me, Mrs. Stevens?"
"No, I have something for my husband. Is he in there?"
"No, I'm sorry, Gabriel's in a meeting with Leah York up in Finance. But I can take that for him."
Giving the files over felt like conceding. But it was what Gabriel had asked her to do, so she grudgingly placed the file in Caroline's outstretched hand.
"Thank you, Mrs. Stevens,” Caroline smirked. “Gabriel will be really pleased to get these."
Lindy dropped the cab receipt on the desk. “You can add that to his expense voucher for the month."
"Of course."
"Caroline, pet, Gabriel said you could set me up with the patent development histories for Mayweather..."
The familiar British lilt made her heart stop, and she felt all the blood drain out of her face. Please. It couldn't be.
But it was. She turned to see Michael pushing through the gate, eyes focused on the document he was flipping through. He was dressed totally corporate, charcoal three-piece suit, pale grey dress shirt with a blood red tie knotted at his throat. His black hair was slicked severely to restrain any hint of its usual wave. And incongruously perched on the end of his nose were a pair of delicate looking wire rimmed spectacles.
"Oh, no,” she whimpered.
His head snapped up at her voice and he stopped dead in his tracks. He snatched off the glasses as his eyes widened in panic, but then they narrowed again, as though he'd decided on a course of action. “Miss James,” he nodded to her.
"I..."
"Caroline, can you get those reports for me? I need to go through them before I leave for my appointment.” His eyes, still locked on Lindy, darkened at the reminder of what his appointment was. Her. “If you will excuse us, I need to have a word alone with Miss James.” He took her by the elbow and led her out of the office.
"Um, yeah, sure, okay...” Caroline's confused words followed them out.
Lindy went with him automatically as the situation sunk into her brain. They were halfway down the hall before she struggled out of his grasp. “What are you doing here?” she asked, furious.
"I could ask you the same thing, pet. But not here.” He took her arm again and pushed her into a small conference room, pausing to lock the door behind him. She spun to face him angrily. “What is this?"
"I work here, pet. I'm supposed to be here. You stalking me now?"
"So not! I was bringing some papers down for my husband. Who works here.” Her eyes got bigger as she went on. “And you were asking his secretary for something. Oh my god, you work with him."
"You're Gabriel Stevens’ wife.” It was not a question.
"Why didn't you tell me you worked with him? Here?"
"And you expected me to know you were married to him how? It's not like he has pictures of you in his office, luv. And with you flying under false colors..."
"They aren't false! I mean I'm not! Oh, for Pete's...” She fumbled through her purse, finding her wallet and flipping it open to her driver's license. “There. Lindy James. See?"
He leaned back against the table. “Cute picture, pet,” he smirked.
She threw the wallet at him.
"Hey now!” He bobbled it before catching it and putting it down on the table.
"Stop changing the subject! You work with my husband! This whole thing just became an all new kind of bad!"
"It doesn't change anything,” he said calmly, but his voice had dropped in pitch.
Her skin quivered at his husky words, but she stayed firm. “Of course it does! How can we..."
"Lindy, stop arguing with me.” He pushed himself off the table to take a step towards her.
"Why should I?” She backed up a step at his approach.
"Because, luv, it's turning me on.” Her breath stopped as he reached out to toy with her hair, his hooded eyes locked with hers. “Your skin all flushed, your eyes bright, your mouth ... god, I love your mouth."
She gaped at him silently, her heart suddenly pounding in her ears.
He smirked. “The gasping fish look
isn't any good either, sweet.” He rubbed his thumb over her lips. “It just tempts me to find something to put in that perfect circle of a mouth..."
"Michael.” She closed her eyes, her head falling back.
He accepted her surrender, moving into her to force her back against the wall. Their fingers intertwined and he lifted her arms to pin them to the wall over her head before dropping down to caress his lips along the curve of her throat and shoulder. She arched against his hips and with a soft growl, he pushed back, grinding her into the wall. He released her hands as his mouth finally found hers and she whimpered into the kiss desperately, dropping her hands to tangle in his hair. His hands skimmed down her body, coasting over breasts and arms and belly to settle on her thighs. She gasped as she felt his fingers start slowly clawing at the fabric of her skirt, drawing it up to bunch around her waist. Her eyes heavy with desire, she leaned back from their kiss to study him. His look was as intense, as wanting, as it had been their first time together. She had that power over him.
She dropped a hand to unbuckle his pants.
"Lindy,” he groaned in her ear as she freed him into the warmth of her hand. She then pushed her own panties down, sending them to her ankles with an eager little hip shimmy. He growled again at the sensation. His thumbs still holding up her skirt, he palmed her ass to lift her enough to slip his hard cock into her velvety softness. They just held each other for a moment, gasping in each other's breath. Finally she locked her legs around his and he began to move, slowly at first but quickly accelerating to meet their needs.
"It doesn't. Have. To change. A thing,” he insisted, emphasizing his words with his hips. “We were careful before. We still will be.” She took the initiative, riding him hard as he rumbled his words in her ear. “It'll be easier now. One of us will always know where he is. Christ, Lindy, you feel so tight, so good around me...” His words pushed her on, reached something deep inside her. “Nothing's changed, Lindy. Say it. I need to hear you say it. I'm not ready to let you go so soon."
"Oh, Michael,” she keened.
"Say it!” He slammed into her deep.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled his ear down to her mouth. “I'm not ready for this to be over."
His whole body jumped at her words. “Lindy! Oh god...” He buried his face in her neck and thrust helplessly against her. She thought she felt something warm and wet on her shoulder, but forgot all about it as she came, barely refraining from screaming out as she convulsed around him. He jerked spasmically and she could feel him shooting deep into her. She just held him, stroking his hair and crooning as he came down.
He pulled out of her with a soft groan and set her unsteadily on her feet. Then he looked down at himself. “The problem with going commando is that there's nothing between you and your good slacks after sex."
She laughed. “God, crude much?” She picked up her purse and fished out a couple of tissues for him. “Some of us appreciate the benefits of commando and are willing to be prepared for the consequences."
He grinned wickedly as he cleaned himself up and closed up his pants. “Oh yeah? Well, some of the rest of us would like to reap those benefits as well.” He scooped up her silk undies from the floor. “So I think I'll keep these."
"Michael!” She grabbed for them, but he held them out of reach.
"No, no, pet. The thought of you walking the streets of New York with no knickers on should keep me hard for the rest of the week.
She put her hands on her hips. “So it's in my own best interest to let you keep them."
"Oh, absolutely."
"Michael, are you collecting my lingerie?"
He grinned. “Something to keep me company when I'm old and alone."
"You won't be alone. You'll charm all the little old grannies in the home into giving you regular hand jobs."
"Lindy James!” he exclaimed in mock horror, gathering her close. “Listen to the mouth on you!"
She smirked. “I had a good teacher."
"But you're wrong, you know. You've ruined me for other women. I will die alone and heartbroken, surrounded by your skivvies.” He bussed her lightly on the lips.
"You're insane, you know that?"
"Starting to think so.” He looked her in the eye, suddenly serious. “Are we okay?"
She met his gaze and nodded confidently. “Nothing has changed. Which means,” she pushed out of his warm embrace, “that you have work to finish if you're going to keep your appointment this afternoon."
"Definitely don't want to miss that. What about you?"
"I'm going back home to finally decide what exactly one wears to a secret rendezvous..."
"Absolutely nothing,” he interrupted, reaching for her.
"Stop that!” She slapped his hands away. “And to grab an extra set of clothes in case you're too hard on what I do wear."
He succeeded in catching her up in his arms. “Bring several. You can leave them there in case of emergencies."
Her heart raced at the easy intimacy of the suggestion, but she said only, “And I have to get the box."
"Oh yes, the box. We'll definitely want the box.” He kissed her bare neck.
"Do you think there will ever come a time when we're together that it doesn't end in sex?"
"God, I hope not,” he said fervently.
She laughed and stepped back.
"Go. Work. Don't be late."
"You'll be waiting when I get there?"
"With bells on."
"Oh, that I'd like to see!"
"You are absolutely hopeless! Go!"
"Yes, mistress.” He snuck under her guard and kissed her one last time before turning to leave.
"Oh, and Michael?"
He paused at the door. “Yeah, pet?"
She cocked her hip in an enticing manner. “Bring the glasses. They're really hot..."
Chapter 13
"This one doesn't make any sense."
Lindy lay naked on her stomach across the rumpled bed, her bare feet kicking back and forth in the air. From her ears hung a cheap pair of Christmas earrings decorated with tiny clappered bells, fulfilling her promise to appear with bells on. She looked for all the world like a teenager sprawled there, except that instead of having a teen magazine open in front of her, she was flipping through the hardcover sex manual.
Rogue lay on his side next to her, relaxed and content from their first rounds together. His eyes followed the drifting pattern of his hand as it coasted lightly over the warm, soft skin of her ass and back, the soft curve of her waist, the strength of her thighs. His touch wasn't intended to be arousing, simply self-indulgent. He loved the feel of her against his palms, on his fingertips. He could spend days doing nothing but touching her.
"Mmm?” he murmured distractedly. “Which one?"
"This one.” She gestured at the page. “It looks more like ... gymnastics."
"Can't see it from here.” He dropped a kiss on the small of her back. “Tell me about it."
"Oh! Um...” He felt her skin heat up under his touch as she blushed. He smiled and was about to move up and relieve her embarrassment when she went on. “Well, they're kind of ... end to end. And ... together."
He chuckled and moved up to lean on her shoulder. “You're precious when you're embarrassed."
"Yeah, yeah, laugh at your poor, naïve lover.” Her use of the word caught at his heart, but before he could examine it, she went on. “But look at this. It just looks so ... impersonal."
He looked at the drawing, what the text called the X position. The lovers lay with their heads away from each other between each other's spread legs to allow for penetration. He looked over at the text. “Says it's for prolonged slow intercourse. Might be nice when you're starting to get tired but want to keep going.” He kissed the edge of her jaw.
"But you can't see each other, can't touch each other. It just seems like a lonely way to have sex."
He held her close and nuzzled into her hair. “You're a romantic,
aren't you?"
"And no apologies. I just think sex is about more than just interlocking bodies. It's about connecting on some level."
"Is that what you think we're doing?"
She looked back over her shoulder at him. “You think we haven't? Even that first time?"
He didn't know what to say, so he just kissed her softly. He had felt it, but didn't know she had.
She turned back to the book, flipping forward through the pages. “And this one.” The image showed the woman lying on her stomach and elbows with the man standing on the floor behind her, her legs wrapped around his waist. “Why would you want to do it that way?"
He ran his finger lightly down her spine. “Because it feels good. Why else? Although I grant you, that's a little acrobatic for my tastes. I prefer,” he reached around her to flip ahead several pages, stopping on an image of the same couple, her on her hands and knees with him kneeling behind to enter her, “that."
"You like that?"
He nodded, dropping feather-light kisses on the back of her neck.
"I mean, I know you said on the phone yesterday..."
"It may look a little primitive, but trust me, pet, it feels a treat. I can get deeper into you, and I'm still able to touch all your sensitive places. Best of both worlds."
"Deeper?” He felt her body tremble.
He just smiled and nodded against her throat.
She dropped her forehead down to the book, and he could hear her erratic breathing. After a moment, she lifted her head again to page back through the book. “What about this?” she asked weakly. “Why is she bent backwards off the end of the bed like that?"
He purred against her ear, slipping his tongue out to tease at the lobes, setting the little bells to jingling. “Sends all the blood to her head. Makes her lightheaded and hypersensitive for when she comes."
He was getting hard for her again. Her curiosity was as arousing as the actual subject matter they were discussing. She was so open to all these new ideas. That she was thinking about this, wanted to learn about it and trusted him to guide her was intoxicating.
She closed the book and dropped it on the floor, rolling over in his arms to look at him with wide eyes. “Can I ask you another question?"
What They Call Sin Page 8
