A Day in the Life of – me actually

The lovely Miranda Stork has kindly allowed me to take up a little space on her blog today for her A Day in the Life feature. So if you’ve ever wondered what I (and the other people she’s featured previously) get up to on an average, boring old day, check out A Day In the Life of Hedonist Six!

(A tiny little sample below:)

WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UUUUUUUUUPPPPPPP!

And so I do, almost. Clumsily feeling around the bed, underneath my pillow, accidentally elbowing the hubby while trying to locate my phone to turn off the infernal Crazy Frog Alarm still ringing in my ears. There are probably less annoying ringtones I could use to get me out of bed in the morning. None of the others are quite so effective in discouraging me from simply giving it five more minutes though.

Friday Filth 3

JAD4 ThumbnailIn honour of the release of Just Another Day at the Office IV, here’s a little teaser from it…

My return to our table is timed perfectly and there are no onlookers really when I appear next to John again. Bending down, I discreetly deposit the contents of my hand into his trouser pocket.

“I thought perhaps you’d like to carry a little something of mine with you to Germany,” I whisper in his ear, before sitting back down.

He still looks confused when he slips his hand into his pocket, but his expression immediately changes once he’s able to feel the soft lacey texture of my still skin-warm thong against his fingers. Before he’s able to say a word, the waiter arrives with the main course.

As expected after the promising starters, the food does not disappoint. My enjoyment is heightened by his intense stares which have become even darker now that I’m panty-less. Clearly he is having a very hard time keeping calm and has given up on small talk completely.

He cuts off the waiter as he asks about a dessert or cheese order and instead just requests the bill.

Friday Filth 2

Ladies day - tinyOh, well what do you know, it’s Friday. Time flies when you’re releasing stories… The below teaser is from Ladies’ Day.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. The tense focus he has shown all along still obvious while he tenderly caresses my spent body. I know he must still seek release and I’m desperate to give it to him.

I force myself upright and to his surprise push him back and out of me.

“Your turn, baby,” I say, while dropping down on my knees in front of him. The cold gritty surface of the brick paving presses hard into my knees, but the pain feels surreal to me.

I grasp his balls and base of his shaft with one hand and lick along the bottom length of his cock. His taste mixed with my own, I softly open my mouth to let him in, testing my limits as I suck him clean. He looks down at me, his eyes widening and closing in turn every time I take him deep into my mouth, now firmly gripping his thighs to steady myself.

It is so obvious now that I’m concentrating purely on his pleasure that he has been holding back for quite a while. A real gentleman all the way, taking care of me before himself. But there is no more reason for that now.

Friday Filth 1

Onenight2-siteYes, yes I know. I’m way too inconsistent. Some time back I had planned to do a “Filthy Excerpt Thursday” feature and only managed to post one excerpt. Now fucked it up by posting a filthy excerpt on a Friday… Anyway, enjoy! A little teaser from Just for One Night.

I force myself to look again, not wanting to miss even a moment. Every movement of his, its sole purpose is seemingly to teach me that the tables are now turned. I had him where I wanted him when I was on top, but now it’s his turn.

Helpless, legs wrapped around his thick waist. We must look like quite a pair, hair flying wildly around us, tickling my nose. I drag his face down towards me and feel my chin getting raw from the scratching of his beard. Still I demand more kisses.

And he’s so good, so strong. I try to tell him, but it’s all just a mess of strained fragmented sounds. The intense look in his eyes tells me that he knows.

He fucks me harder and I feel my body reach new heights. Every muscle has a mind of its own, I spasm and contract and scream. But he keeps going and I’ve lost it.

The Sales Guy

As soon as I opened the door, I knew that divine intervention had caused me to agree to our meeting. Utter perfection, my age or slightly under.

His green eyes stood out in his boyishly handsome face, complementing his medium brown hair. He kept a beard that was hardly more than a stubble, but it suited him so well that the effect could only have been intentional.

I stretched out my hand, waiting for his.

“Hi, I’m ***, thanks for coming by.” I think I managed a friendly, non-lecherous smile.

“Hi,” His hand held on to mine just long enough to make my heart skip a few beats.

My attention turned to his broad chest, perfectly filling out his grey suit as though he was the only one ever meant to wear it. Although a tie would have sharpened up his look, I was grateful for the slightest glimpse of what remained hidden beyond the unbuttoned collar of his shirt.

I wondered if it was mainly the mystery that was getting to me. Although I can most definitely appreciate a gorgeous man, the vast flow of shirtless models on my Facebook feed never affects me quite in this manner. Even if most are undeniably handsome, I tend to blame it on them not really being my type.

Technically speaking, neither was this guy. And yet I found myself giddy like a schoolgirl on the inside, while pretending to be the capable professional.

The meeting room was unavailable, so we had to make do with the occasional seating near the kitchenette. He took a seat while I scurried off nervously to find a business card to give to him.

To be honest, I needed the moment to compose myself anyway.

Upon my return, he handed me his card from his leather conference folder. I knew I had to make an effort to listen to his sales patter, just in case he’d ask a question at the end of it. But I found myself yet again distracted, this time by his hands and his slender, perfectly manicured fingers.

His skin was flawless, but around his wrist I could see the beginning of a very impressive looking tattoo sleeve. I wondered how far up his arm and muscular shoulder the ink went. Whether the bad boy side of him would come out to play in a more intimate setting where the constraints of professionalism would no longer exist.

My short dress rode up nearly to the top of my thigh when I adjusted myself and crossed my legs. His eyes darted downwards just for a moment, making me quite pleased with my choice of outfit for the day.

He asked me about our industry and where in our business we might require his freight services and I tried my best to appear professional. Aiming to answer sensibly while the rational part of my brain was on autopilot.

But I’m a bad liar. And so was he.

While he spoke, I was mesmerised and involuntarily biting my bottom lip. I kept looking into his eyes which seemed to sparkle while he lost his train of thought and fumbled over his words. He caught himself and kept speaking, in response I continued to feign interest.

With a bunch of colleagues just around the corner, and two cleaners furiously working away around us, our meeting did not last very long.

I had nothing much to offer him in terms of business potential, but it was by no means a waste of time.

“If you ever need anything, just call me. I’m based nearby.” He took my hand once more, squeezing it slightly.

“I prefer to do business face-to-face rather than just on the phone.”

“Completely agree,” I responded while lingering on his amazingly deep eyes.

“It was lovely meeting you.” He smiled in a way that suggested he wasn’t just being polite.

My knees noticeably weakened, I returned a similarly revealing smile before seeing him out.

While I walked back towards my desk, I couldn’t disguise what had just happened. My ever-attentive colleague saw it all written on my face, prompting her to charge for the window in order to catch a glimpse.

When she returned, she gave me a nasty look.

“Next time, at least let me bring tea or coffee, al right!” She scolded.

I didn’t respond, just sat and stared at my screen.

“Say, can’t we start shipping more stuff…” I said, absent-mindedly, fidgeting with his business card.

The boss looked up, with a confused frown on her face.

“I want him to come visit again…” I continued.

While both of them chuckled, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’s on LinkedIn…

Xmas Dinner, Hedonist Style

For those who follow me on FB, or I speak to on a regular basis, you will have noticed my inept panic at the prospect of having people over for a fancy meal on Christmas. I thought I’d post an update, since Christmas is now properly over.

Overall it went well, everyone seemed to have a good time. The food was utterly demolished by the end of it, as was the rather excessive (according to my mother) wine supply.

Family gatherings are a time for catching up and of course gossip. Especially this gathering had a lot of that, mainly because it was the first time my mother and my nephew met. My (half)sister and my mother haven’t been in touch for over 20 years. Therefore it was also the first time my mother and my (half) brother-in-law met but there wasn’t much conversation there. Partially because they didn’t understand a word the other said.

In any case, I’ve always been aware that my family, whether from mom’s or dad’s side, are a bit challenging and nutty. I know everyone says this about their own family, but I’m serious.

To add to the bizarre nature of the situation, we had the opportunity to drag up much told crazy stories and proudly demonstrate our combined insanity in front of two outsiders, friends my sister dragged along.

After putting my nephew in charge of wines – after all, he’s the snob who wouldn’t let me buy them in Aldi and insisted on picking out quality bottles himself with his 40% wine shop staff discount – I only had to take care of the food. The Christmas Goose was a great success and people ate with abandon.

It was a mixed bunch, a mash-up of cultural backgrounds and nationalities (and varying English skills). Funnily the only Englishman at the table was my nephew, who got plenty of shit for that from the rest of us. But that’s OK, he can take it. This was exactly the point where I was thankful for not inviting the next door neighbour as well, as this would have become very awkward very quickly.

Out of the 8 people that somehow managed to squeeze themselves around our 6 person dinner table (two on each head), it was mainly my mom, sis and nephew doing most of the talking.

Upon having cleared some empty dishes I come back to the following exchange.

“Oh but your dad left that gun in my wardrobe!” says mom.

“Really?!” sis asks, before waving to her friend in a sort of *nudge nudge, wink wink* this story will be awesome kind of fashion. “Please do tell me what happened!”

I sit down at the table, while my nephew just looks at me with a raised eyebrow. The story of the gun is well known in our family; an AK-47 which my dad carried for protection(?!) while doing video coverage for a news agency during the 1967 Six Day War in Israel. One which he then proceeded to hide in his camera bag and smuggled home to Europe, upon being air lifted out by the British Forces. Fuck knows why. I’m all for souvenirs, but an assault rifle? 

“Oh yes, he kept it all that time, from 1967 right until he died in ’89. At my house. I got rid of it then.”

By now, the Alpha males at the table (everyone but my nephew, he’s more of a Beta male) are realising that family stories in our house are a lot more interesting than they were expecting.

Mind, we are not a family of gangsters. Keeping a gun in your girlfriend’s wardrobe is not considered normal behaviour. In fact, my mother is the most rule conscious person I know, to this day I find it shocking that my dad managed to smooth-talk her into having a weapon in her house, in a country with extremely strict gun laws. (Just to explain this to any Americans reading this: by “strict gun laws” I don’t mean paperwork’s a pain in the ass when getting a permit. I mean you CANNOT get a permit, and even something silly like pepper spray is illegal.)

“Oh my, what did you do?” 

“Well, of course I phoned the police.” 

I hear a sigh of disbelief and horror from the Alpha male corner, this was not what they were hoping for.

“That must have been an awkward conversation.”

“Not really, I phoned them and said: ‘My partner has just passed away, and in his things in the wardrobe I found a Kalashnikov. What shall I do with it?’ The policeman didn’t believe me. He laughed at me as if I was a nutcase and told me: ‘Why don’t you bring it into the main police station and we’ll deal with the matter there.'”

“No, you didn’t give it to them, did you!” One of the Alphas exclaims.

Mom continues. 

“Actually yes, I did exactly what the man had told me on the phone. I packed up the gun, and the live ammo, and went to the police station and handed it to them.”

“You should’ve seen their faces!”

Maybe you had to be there. But this story is always a winner, even if I have already heard it many times. Funnily on this occasion the story didn’t end there. The “let’s show off how crazy we are in front of people we’ve never met before” act continued on to:

“Of course after that your grandmother handed me some knives.”

Me: What?! 

“Yeah, she said, ‘Here, hand them to the police, they’re illegal weapons.’ So I did.”

While I’m sitting at the table pondering why my 90 year old grandmother had big ass knives in her possession, sis helps out.

“Oh, you are aware grandma was in jail?”

Me: WTF???

And that started a whole new story.

As I said. Insane. Every single one of them.

Filthy Excerpt Thursday

Almost straight away he grunts loudly and begins to shake all over. His hand is squeezing his cock so hard his knuckles show white. I wrap my fingers around his, spurring him on to keep pumping through his orgasm. As soon as he does, his hot seed ends up all over my cleavage and I fall back on the bed, furiously rubbing my clit for him.

He’s still watching, still high, while I push myself over the edge. My best bet at muffling my cries is to bite my lip so hard I may just draw blood this time.
When I open my eyes he’s still kneeling in the same place, still holding on to himself even if a lot more relaxed.

“That’s the most beautiful thing…” His stares are enough to bring his point across.

I stretch out a little bit and grin up at him. A few moments later, he starts to regain his composure just a little.

“How did you know I’d like to watch?” he asks.

I shrug. “You’re a man. I figured it was a safe enough bet.”

“And I just wanted to plant a strong image in your head which you won’t be able to ignore every time you enter or think of this room.” I chuckle.

He grins back at me while getting off the bed and straightening his legs.

“Congratulations, you’ve succeeded!” he says while handing me the tissues.

I won’t reveal just yet which story this has been taken from. It’s as yet unpublished and unfinished.

Holiday Spirit

I’m glad, no relieved. One more thing on the huge to-do list can be ticked off. But, because nothing ever is, it wasn’t easy to get to this point.

Christmas trees.

I love them, and I’m a bit of a snob really because I insist on having a real one or none at all. If you think that’s bad, you ask my mother. She doesn’t even allow fake lights near her tree. Or baubles & tinsel. Apparently all three are “vulgar” and should be replaced by felt & straw decorations, real candles and lametta.

Anyway. On Saturday, after a long, tiring day of playing mechanic’s little helper, I went looking for a tree. One that would be big enough to fill the empty corner of the living room. In addition to being a Christmas tree snob, unfortunately I’m also part Dutch.

My little Christmas tree hunt didn’t get off to a good start. The large garden centre I had planned to go to first closed 2 minutes before I reached there. I honestly didn’t consider that 2 weeks before Christmas, they’d close at 5:30pm on a Saturday.

Nevermind, I had my phone with me for directions. Nearest B&Q, Homebase, whatever. At least they should still be open! So upon finding a Homebase, (and getting lost twice on the way), I was welcomed by the promising sight of lots of little trees in pots at the entrance. I started looking around for one that would be big enough. Until I saw the price tag and nearly had a coronary. £39.99! For one that didn’t even reach all the way up to my tits. Obviously I left empty handed (see above part Dutch reference).

By Sunday afternoon, my luck turned. Of course I had already collected some decorations, bought a few new ones, decided on a colour scheme etc. So by the time we got the tree home, I couldn’t wait to start decorating. The theme was going to be simple, classy. Dark blue, gold & white/glass.

This enthusiasm was of course met with manly disinterest and eye rolling.

“I don’t get the point of Christmas trees. You take a perfectly nice tree, kill it, and put gay shit all over it. Don’t expect me to help!”

After I had finished, this attitude had changed ever so slightly.

“Why don’t you put the purple ones as well?”

Fair enough. I like blue & purple together. Once the lights were on, it really started to look like something too.

Followed by: “Why don’t you put the red ones also?”

I refused.

And then the phone rang, mom calling in for her weekly chat.

And while I was on the phone, sat in front of the tree on the floor, trying to explain to my mother how to do video chat on Google plus (the horror), something odd happened.

The alpha male got up from the sofa, looked into the box of unused baubles and scratched his head for a bit.

Placing the first one took a bit of consideration. The next one and the one after went on much quicker.

By the time I looked up, the tree stood in its full multicoloured splendour; blue, purple, gold, red, pinkish red and the lights were on. There went my classy colour scheme, but oh well at least it’s cheerful.
(In case you were wondering, no, after 30 minutes on the phone, I still couldn’t get mom to understand Hangouts in Google plus. So we gave up and used Skype instead).

Response upon remarking that OK, it does look nice with all the decorations on:

A shrug and: “Look, it’s a phallic symbol with a whole lot of testes on it. Told you it was gay.”

Well anyway, I figured the best possible finishing touch wouldn’t be tinsel because that would be waaay too much but instead some gold beaded garlands.

I thought it looked pretty nice too, but sadly it was not to be.He vetoed my suggestion immediately.

“Fuck, we’re not those, they look like anal beads. For elves!”

I give up!

Morning After II

This is only part of the story! Read The Job Interview, First Day at Work, At Last They Meet  and Morning After first to find out what happens before this.

I stretch a few times on the way to the kitchen, feeling quite pleased with myself indeed. He’s just there, in the bathroom. I can hear the shower switch on. He likes me! I can’t believe it. This is so much better than I had hoped for.

I know I told him I didn’t want to be with him while he’s on the rebound. But I was lying, mainly to myself. I would’ve happily taken any chance of being with him at all. I’m a slave to my emotions generally, but somehow even more so with him. I was desperate. Maybe because it had been a while since I had been with a man? No, that can’t be it. There was just something special about John. I don’t just have a crush on him. I have fallen in love.

I wonder what he likes for breakfast. I’ve never seen him eat any at the office. But who doesn’t like bacon and eggs. Quickly I clear the dirty dishes off the small breakfast bar; the only thing even resembling a dining table which could fit into this place. I hope he hasn’t noticed the mess. At least I remembered to tidy the bathroom when I went in just before him.

While the bacon is sizzling away, I go into the bedroom, rummaging through drawers that haven’t been opened in ages. I’m sure I’ve still got some of Greg’s old stuff in here somewhere, things he didn’t bother taking with him when he left. I wonder if it would make John uncomfortable to wear my ex’s old clothes? But then he didn’t exactly bring an overnight bag… I find some sweats and a t-shirt. They should fit, hopefully. After all, Greg was quite a big guy as well, but that is where the resemblance to John ends.

“Wow, that smells great,” John says. He looks so tempting, wearing the old and hugely over-sized dark blue bathrobe that I normally use when dyeing my hair. I’m just plating up the food but am severely distracted imagining what’s underneath that robe.

“Oh it’s nothing fancy,” I say as I turn back to face the counter again, “Tea or coffee?”

“Tea please,” John says.

“I’ve found some clothes, see if they fit. I figured you might want to wear something clean after that shower…” I say while busying myself with the tea a bit more than perhaps would be necessary. But the more I look at him in the bathrobe, the more I can feel my nipples poking through my t-shirt and a fuzzy, warm sensation building up in my lower abdomen.

It had taken a lot of effort for me to be decent last night. I had felt his warm breath against my lips, its rhythm building up faster and faster, his tongue feverishly seeking out mine. He had wanted me then. But I had to be sure that he had really wanted me and wasn’t just feeling horny generally. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t make that mistake again, giving myself to a guy too soon and ending up hurt in the process. And plus, even if I had been sure of that already, I would prefer him to remember every second of it.

No sooner that I put the tea on the bar, where the food is already waiting, does John come back in wearing the clothes I had found. If anything, they’re slightly loose on him but not by much. He looks delicious even so. I can’t take my eyes off him, checking him out from head to toe. I hope he doesn’t think I’m a total nympho.

We sit down at opposite ends of the bar, he seems a bit stiff, awkward.

“So whose are these then? They seem a bit, umm, big for you…” he asks.

“Oh, my ex left them behind.” I say, before taking a big bite of toast.

“Ah. Right.”

We eat quietly, every so often sneaking a look at each other. The food seems to be doing him good, he is starting to look more alert with every bite. But his eyes are tensing up more and more also, as though something is bothering him.

“More?” I ask, as soon as he’s emptied his plate.

“No, that’s ok. Thanks.” His eyes wander around the room, over the empty plates and back at me.

“Umm, I guess I should head home,” he says, his tone suggests it’s more a question than a statement.

“If you want to…” Please don’t go… “Do you have any plans this weekend?”

“Not really…” He answers.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to stay if you like. I haven’t got anything on either, I was just going to watch some films that I had recorded earlier. Or whatever you’d like to do…”

“Sure,” he says, sounding relieved. His expression has relaxed again and his eyes meet mine. We just stare, it feels like forever. I wonder if he can feel the same fluttering in his chest that I feel. The same ticklish sensation in his stomach, the magnetism between us, how my hands are just drawn towards him. Of course that’s why I’ve been extra touchy-feelie for weeks. I don’t do casual friendly gestures, little touches while walking by, I don’t even hug my friends. But I’ve been fighting the urge every day to throw myself at him. Why am I still fighting? I remind myself; he’s already here!

I slip off the bar stool, taking a step in his direction. His eyes have widened, and breathing sped up again. He swallows hard. What a sweetheart, so nervous, just like me.

But we can’t both be shy, I tell myself.

“I’ve been wanting to do this again so badly,” I breathe, my lips almost touching his, but I hold back. I need reassurance.

“Oh please,” he whispers back at me.

He smells of my soap mixed with clean laundry and bacon. And still this unmistakable scent holding it all together, him. I can’t hold back any longer and take his hands, putting them on my waist. I slide my hands up over his arms and pull myself towards him around his neck. His lips are as soft as I remember from last night. Just perfect. It feels like an electric shock releases the tension that had built up between us, we’re free now.

Kissing deeply and passionately, his strong arms around me once more. He gets off his stool as well bending down allowing me to reach better. He may have started off shy, but his kisses are determined. I can feel his need for me in his movements, his hands exploring the contours of my back, fingertips gently massaging my shoulder blades through my thin t-shirt, I slip my hands down between his arms so I can get around his waist as well, tugging at him to hold me tighter when he grabs me around the small of my waist, lifting me up and onto the bar stool. At last my face is exactly at his level. I put my arms around his neck again, running my fingers through his damp hair. And my legs open to allow him closer against me.

“You’re amazing,” I gasp at him. One of my hands slips down the back of his t-shirt caressing his smooth, soft skin, the other remains in his hair, playing and tugging softly.

“Liar,” he responds. I pull back and look into his deep amber eyes again. So innocent and naked, I can see that now his walls are down for me. I cover his cheek in kisses, travelling down his neck. His head and shoulders twitch, trapping me, but I keep on licking and sucking on the silky skin on his neck, underneath his ear and where his neck reaches his shoulder.

A groan escapes his lips and his hands freeze on my back, he’s rigid in my arms, clinging to me tightly.

“Stop, I can’t,” he says, gasping for air.

I release my hold on him and look him in the eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I can’t hold back,” he says, trying his best to avoid eye contact. Looks like the wall is back up.

“You don’t need to hold back.” I try, running my left hand through his hair again.

“I can’t do this, not yet,” he whispers.

His statement confuses me, I hadn’t foreseen anything like this.

“You don’t have to. There’s no rush,” I say softly, trying to hide my concern. I smile at him and give him a soft peck on his lips. “You choose, whatever you want to do and when. We can take things slowly.”  

Finally he looks back into my eyes, his relief is obvious. But I’m worried now, where did I go wrong? Maybe he is still too hung up on his ex after all.

“Thanks, I’m sorry about this…” His hand reaches up to caress my cheek with the back of his fingers. “I need you to know, it’s not you. I’m just… I want things to be perfect. This is a huge step for me.”

I swallow and blink a few times, studying his face. He seems genuine. I do hope he doesn’t think I’m a slut, making myself too available to him.

“Right. Well how about those films then…” I try to change the topic while slipping off the bar stool. He holds me back by my arm on my way towards the sofa.

“I meant it. It’s not you. I just never thought I’d end up here. I’m still sort of expecting that I’ll wake up alone in my own bed and this will all have been a dream,” he says. “I don’t want to fuck this up. I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”

Regret, me? I shake my head in disbelief.

“Why would you fuck anything up?” I ask, eyebrows raised.

His face falls and he whispers: “I hardly know what I’m doing…”

Oh damn. He’s nervous! That I can understand, I’m not the most confident person either, sometimes just making a simple phone call can cause me to have a mild panic attack.

“Well, you could’ve fooled me.” I smile at him.

I hand him the remote while we sit down on the sofa.

“You pick, I’ve not seen any of them yet.”

I purposefully sit extra close to him, even though there is plenty of space. He presses play and the movie starts, but I’m not even aware which one it is. His warmth right next to me, the memory of our kiss, it all adds up to make me painfully aware of even the slightest movement or sound. His breathing is calmer than before, but he’s still tense, sitting straight with his hand on his thigh.

I fold my legs underneath me, and while I wiggle back into the plush sofa, brushing against his leg, his arm twitches and he starts holding his breath. Then he raises his arm and puts it around me. I don’t hesitate to move closer against him and rest my head on his shoulder. I can hear him sigh. Why is he so very nervous though?

I turn towards him and find his other arm, holding him tight. That was all the encouragement he needed. I’m engulfed in his embrace, pressing myself tightly against his chest. His heartbeat is rapid, in tune with the eerie background music of the film we’re not really watching.

I can feel his breath against my hair, it tickles slightly, making me even more on edge. But I can be patient for him, I tell myself. With my eyes closed I try to focus on my breathing, slowly and deeply. It’s not really working…

“Why?” His voice interrupts my attempts at relaxing myself.

“Why what?” I ask, unwilling to get up from his embrace.

“This. You, me…” he hesitates.

“I don’t understand. Why not?” I respond.

“I just never had anyone interested in me like that before…” he says, his voice trembling slightly.

“I thought… What about your ex?” I lie, worrying that it would be too embarrassing to reveal that I already heard too much of that story from the girls in the office.

“She lied.” He swallows hard. “She never even kissed me once like you have. I should’ve seen it but I just thought it was all I could hope for. When she left, she told me it was all just pretend. Then, I’ve already told you, about her and my brother… When she left I thought I’d lost my only chance to be with someone.”

“That’s why you’ve been upset, even before you found out about them,” I say, holding him tighter.

“Initially. Until you came along and then I couldn’t stop wondering, what if…” His voice is almost a whisper now. His gentle kisses burn through my hair, on top of my head and neck.

“She must be crazy,” I say. I lift my head and am overwhelmed by the sadness in his eyes.

“How could she do that to you.” Holding his face in my hands I kiss him on the lips. My whole being aches to make him see that there is another way.

“And before her?” I ask in between kisses.

“Nothing before her. I wasn’t exactly popular growing up. Girls weren’t interested. In school they only spoke to me to be introduced to my brother, same thing at uni…” The way he says it, suggests he doesn’t think much of his brother at all.

“Oh well, I can understand that. School was pretty similar for me.” He starts kissing me back before I even finish the sentence.

“Umm, last night, you said it was like being 15 all over again. What did you mean?” I ask.

He hesitates before answering.

“Oh, that.” He averts his eyes from mine. “I liked one of the girls in my class then. She seemed nice, had only just joined the school that term. The others used to call me names but she never did. Then a few weeks later one of the others told me that this girl liked me and wanted to be my date for the upcoming school dance but was too shy to say something herself. In the end it was just a set-up, a joke. They were all in on it.”

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” I whisper, pressing my cheek against his and putting my arms around his neck.

“Nevermind, that was a long time ago. But,” he takes a deep breath. “I still don’t understand why you like me.”

“What’s there not to like? You’re kind, caring, honest, have a great sense of humour, you’re really smart -” I start.

“None of that explains why you would want me as anything other than a friend,” he interrupts me.

“You’re strong, and don’t seem to care what people think, loyal, I feel like I could trust you with anything…” I continue.

He shakes his head. “Hold on. Take a good look at me and back at yourself. Why would YOU want to be with a guy like me? You could have anyone, Richard has been-”

“Don’t start about him, he’s uber-creepy! Never in a million years, would I ever consider…” Just thinking about him makes my skin crawl, I shudder instead of finishing that sentence.

John just looks at me with an amused glint in his eyes and a smile playing on his lips.

“Ha, you really hate him, don’t you!”

“Is it that obvious?” I ask, grinning back at him.

“My point still stands though, why would you ever like a guy like me?” he asks.

“I thought I had just made it clear that you do appear to be quite a catch.” I innocently bat my eyelashes.

“You know what I mean… look at you, you’re absolutely stunning and I’m…” He gestures down at himself, it’s obvious where this is going.

“You’re a big guy, so what? I don’t mind,” I respond. Sweetheart you have no idea how much I don’t mind.

“You’re odd.” He sighs and pulls me back into his arms. “But I’m glad for it.”

The movie is still on, preparing for its climactic finish where the main character stabs everyone in a wild frenzy using a huge kitchen knife.

“Which movie was this anyway?” I ask as the credits roll. He just laughs in response.

At last, he sounds happy, at ease. I cuddle up even closer. God knows just being this close to John has me all hot and bothered. But at the same time it’s a revelation how amazing it is to just sit here, enjoying each other’s company and innocent affections. Where did all these feelings come from in such a short time? I’ve never fallen this hard for anyone.

“Oh, shit. That Christmas do, that’s tonight isn’t it?” I remember.

“Umm yeah, a fairly stupid day for it if you ask me. Were you thinking of going?” he responds.

“Well, I thought, with me being the new girl and all, maybe I should show face for a bit…”

“Oh. Yeah I guess,” he says.

“You weren’t going to?” I ask.

He shrugs.

“Well, I was sort of hoping you’d be my date… I mean if you feel like it.” I say.

“What, officially? Like you want to be open about it?” He sounds surprised.

“Unless it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Me? Hell no. You do realise people will talk,” he says.

“Where would Sharon and her gang be without fresh gossip.” I smile at him.

“Richard will be pissed,” he remarks.

“That’s his problem then.”

We sit quietly for another minute or so.

“You are serious, aren’t you?” John asks.

“About?”

“You really don’t care what they’ll say?” He still sounds unsure.

“I don’t even like any of them. Out of everyone in office, I’ve only ever cared about what you think of me. It wouldn’t cause you any trouble I hope?” I ask.

“No, no trouble. This is just unexpected, that’s all.” He shakes his head a few times. “I still don’t know what I ever did to get you to like me.”

“I have an idea what you can do now to get me to like you even better,” I say with a naughty smile. I move back and lie against the armrest of the empty half of the sofa, motioning him to come closer. He does until he is right on top of me, on all fours.

“Kiss me again!” I whisper. His eyes darken as he rests on his elbows either side of me, our bodies pressed together and his lips on mine. I’m sandwiched between the sofa and his soft bulk, I’m so excited I can barely breathe while kissing him hungrily.

He stops and starts to lift himself off me.

“I’m sorry, I’m crushing you..”

But I don’t let him go and pull him into me once more.

“You’re not,” I gasp, “I love this.”

It doesn’t take much to convince him and our mouths merge, tongues entwined, in the most mind blowing kiss I have ever experienced. For someone who’s supposedly not had a lot of practice, he sure knows how to kiss. My fingertips run up his arms simultaneously, teasing against his bare skin under the sleeves of his t-shirt, up to his shoulders and over his shoulder blades. His skin so smooth and flawless I wish I could taste it.

I can feel him shudder under my every touch, involuntarily grinding up against me. His arousal blatantly obvious, pressing rock hard into my thigh. I was already breathless and now he has reached a similar state, his lips finding my neck, impatiently kissing and sucking in between ragged breaths. I writhe underneath him, rubbing my thigh against his hard cock. He moans into my ear, with such a deep, sexy voice.

“Ohh, I can’t…” he stops mid sentence, while I just hang on to him, feeling every single muscle in his back tense up together underneath my fingertips. I lift myself up as far as I can manage. He starts to twitch and shudder, and I just hold on, biting softly into his neck, enjoying the primal last groan that escapes his lips before he sinks into me, slowly relaxing all over, pinning me into the sofa cushion under his full weight.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he finally manages after catching his breath.
“Shh,” I say, “that was so hot! Best kiss, ever.” My hands are still under his shirt, caressing his back, circling over his shoulders.

He has moved down a little bit, his face pressed into my chest. I take one hand out of his shirt and put my whole arm around him further up over his shoulder, causing him to nuzzle underneath, hiding. He sighs deeply before speaking again.

“This is what I was worried about, that I’d lose it.”

I lift up my head to reach him, kissing him on his hair.

“This is what I had been hoping for, dreaming of. Letting go is not a bad thing. Every sound, every movement you made showed me that you want me as much as I want you.”

He remains silent, taking slower and deeper breaths. Finally he lifts up one arm and takes my hand, kissing my knuckles and putting it over the side of his head, covering his eyes.

“You are a bit odd indeed,” he sighs again.

I can’t suppress a smile and respond: “Well, odd or not. You’re stuck with me now.”

This story has now been published as Just Another Day at the Office – part one.

Morning After

This is only part of the story! Read The Job Interview, First Day at Work and At Last They Meet first to find out what happens before this.

Ow my head. I wake up in a daze. Blinking a few times before the room gets into focus. This place does not look familiar at all. A TV, Xbox and a stack of DVDs at eye height in a dark teak finish cabinet with a bunch of black candles in a holder on top. This is definitely someone’s living room, but whose and how did I get here. I try to move, my head feels like it weighs a ton. Wherever I have fallen asleep last night, it’s warm, comfortable. And moving?!

I lift myself up and come face to face with the most beautiful thing ever. Cath’s eyes are still closed but she’s stretching. Well no wonder, she must be totally numb after having me fall asleep on her lap for… Well, not sure for how long.

She blinks a few times and smiles at me.

“Morning,” she says.

I’m dumbfounded and just stare at her. This can’t be real, am I even awake?

“Umm, do you remember anything?”

I shake my head, slowly, trying not to upset my sense of balance too much.

“You came by last night, I guess you found my note after having a bit much to drink…”

Flashes of last night are coming back to me, god how embarrassing. I was pretty angry and vaguely recall yelling at her. I rub the side of my head with my finger tips.

“Oh fuck. I actually said all those things? I’m so sorry…” I whisper, with my head in my hands.
I just sit still trying to remember what else happened when I feel her warm hand momentarily burning into my shoulder. My only hope of trying to disguise the fact that even the slightest touch forces my heartbeat into overdrive is to just hold my breath.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right back,” she says while getting up.

I’m so deep in thought again that I only barely hear the door opening and closing behind me, followed by the sound of running water.

After I accused her of messing me about, what did she say? She was crying, I definitely remember that. Shit I made her cry, I’m such an idiot! And then… she came closer and held me, and… I wish I knew whether I’m remembering last night or a dream.

“No it can’t be…”

“What can’t be?” she says. 

I hadn’t even noticed her coming back in. She sits down next to me again, legs folded and facing me. The thin fabric of her t-shirt clings around her just enough to show off her perfect, bra-less body. I force myself to look at her face instead, I wonder why she bothers with make up usually, she’s so beautiful even after just waking up.

“Did we…” I start, not daring to finish the question.

She gives me a wicked smile and says; “What are you hoping that we did?”

I feel blood rushing into my face and just stare at her speechless.

“OK, I’m being unfair,” she lets out a giggle, “we kissed. That’s it. I wouldn’t want to be accused of taking advantage of you while you’re out of it.”

Her face turns serious. “But I need you to be honest. If you don’t feel the same way about me after sobering up, and it was all a silly mistake…”

I’m just shocked. She kissed me. All these images in my head, they’re real, no dream. I can hardly catch my breath. What does it mean? Maybe she was just trying to get me to calm down, after all I was really riled up and might have scared her coming here like that.

She continues, “Look, I was being honest last night. I have wanted you all this time. But it seemed like you weren’t interested and I didn’t want to come off all desperate. I wanted a real chance…”

I’ve got so many questions, I don’t know where to begin.

“Why..”

“I didn’t want to be your rebound girl. I want you to like me for me…” She looks gorgeous even with that worried frown on her face, or perhaps even more so because of it. 

It makes no sense to me, she is worried I wouldn’t like her. That she’d be a stand in for Julie. It’s laughable. I just don’t know what to say, none of this makes any sense. But the longer I stay quiet, the worse she’ll feel. I should reach out, make her understand that she has never been the problem.

I hold my breath again and force my hand forward, running my fingertips over her cheek, before putting my other hand on her shoulder. The moment I pull her towards me ever so slightly, she falls into my arms as though that’s where she’s wanted to be all along.

How did I do this? She’s the kindest person I’ve ever met, way out of my league in every way. And she’s hiding her face in my chest, when all I’ve ever done was be grumpy and horrible to her. I yelled at her last night, for what? For being nice to me when noone else even bothers to be polite, for trying to flirt with me. What a moron I am.

“I’m sorry,” I say finally, “I’ve been such a moody git all along. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

I hold her tighter, pressing my face into her soft hair. Her scent is intoxicating. She feels so small in my embrace, so fragile. She has let her defenses down in front of me, it’s obvious that this isn’t just an act. And anyway, why would it be when there is no audience. It’s only the both of us.

“Sure, I’ve been upset over Julie, but things changed the moment you walked into the office on your first day. You’ve been all I could think. I could hardly bear sitting next to you, I thought if I ignored you…” I say, “maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much that I couldn’t have you.”

She pulls back and looks at me, her eyelashes sticky with the remnants of tears as she blinks a few times.

“Well you have me now,” she says. A smile appears on her lips. She looks like an angel when she smiles.

“Are you hungry?” And smart as well.

“Yeah, but you don’t need to make a fuss…” I get up, looking for the bathroom. Luckily there aren’t many doors to choose from and the first I try happens to be the correct one.

I take one look at myself in the mirror and the same feeling of shock from before hits me again. I look and smell like I’ve been hit by an off-license delivery truck. Ugh, and I’ve just had my dream girl pressed into my chest, without showing the slightest hint of disgust. In fact it would seem she rather enjoyed it. Maybe she has a cold and her sense of smell is impaired.

I feel surprisingly OK after last night though, not the same terrible hangovers I’ve been having at work lately. The cold water feels so refreshing against my face.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Fresh towels are in the cupboard if you need them… and you’re welcome to use the bathrobe hanging on the hook behind the door.” Alright, so perhaps she doesn’t have a cold after all. Awkward.

Move on to Morning After II.