There are certain times, certain moods... an appetite that has to be satisfied. In that mood, I don't care what's expected, what's acceptable. I feel everything; the right words can be like a touch, skin... against my skin... irresistible. I can get completely swept up in the moment and wherever it leads; each pleasure leading to the next, no expectations, no rules, no boundaries.
That's how I'm feeling now. I should be with someone who has the strength and desire to explore this with me. But no, I'm here, in a series of meetings with my co-workers.
Day 1. I went to change for dinner and stared at the bed, the tub, the back of the chair. I slide my hands over my breasts, down my sides, across my hips, my thighs. I could fall down the rabbit role. I want to. I need this, just once. Eyes closing.
I'm last to arrive and the only seat is next to the new guy - John, Jake? His presentation was something about soccer and leadership. Didn't seem to care everyone didn't follow soccer. Cocky but in a reserved, controlled way. I check him out as I walk to the tables. Mmm, such a shame. He looks good. Really good. But the kind that plays by the rules. Does what's expected. Probably does it well. But I don't want... the expected. I want... the things we can barely admit turn us on, and I want them without hesitation or apology. He's...well, I can't even remember his name.
I sit, join the conversation in the other direction, and after a few minutes I notice he's watching me.
"Yes?" I ask.
"Good Girl" He says.
"What!?" He mumbles. Did he say what I think?
"You didn't like my presentation." He replies.
"No. But I'm pretty sure your self worth isn't tied to my opinion." Something about him makes me want to battle wits. Battle wills. But that was aggressive, further than I meant to go. I don't know how he'll respond. A moment passes, a dirty twinkle in his eyes, a broad smile. Hmmm.
I pretend I care about 'football' and he pretends he believes me and explains it. It passes the time and gives me a chance to check him out; tall, broad shoulders, thick thighs that I should be straddling. Large strong hands. He moves his hands when he speaks. He's drawing a picture on the table with his fingertip and I'm imagining his fingers on my neck, my shoulders, running down my spine as he pushes me forward... I realize he's silent, watching me. He can't know what I was thinking. Could he? He has a look that is so steady and penetrating it takes my breath away. I didn't expect that. What was his name? Something safe. Tame. I want things that are way past tame.
What I want... is for him to put his hand on my knee, slide it up my thigh moving my dress with it. We'll keep talking like nothing is happening. He'll confidently push my legs apart and rest his hand on my knee. When impress them together he says 'no', and there is no question, I keep them apart, waiting for him. Aching for him. His hand finally moving up my leg, inches from my already wet pussy. I know he can feel the heat, knows how excited I am. He takes my hand, places it on his pants so I can feel his cock grow harder as he looks right in my eyes and tells me that when he finally lets me sleep tonight I'll be exhausted and deliciously sore in every place I've ever imagined.
Shit. He's looking at me, waiting for an answer. He mumbles something that I mostly don't understand. I assume he's asking if I'm going to dinner and I make a snap decision. No. I'm staying in. He excuses himself and leaves. I can't tell if he was pissed, but it's probably best he left. Too stoic to be as good as my imagination and I'm anxious to get upstairs and see where this fantasy and my vibrator take me. Everyone leaves. I finish my wine, ready to head up, the server brings another glass and written on the napkin 'This one is on me -F. I smile. F. Finn? Felix?