Content warning: you should read 'Can You Imagine' first due to extreme callbacks. If you don't like that one, you won't like this one, either.
Tiff had to finish her chapter before she could look up, and by then Marcus had passed through the bedroom on the way to the bathroom. "How was work?" she called as the shower stopped and she turned in her chair.
"I want to strangle someone," Marcus replied from out of sight.
Tiff stood and stretched. "It's not me, is it?"
"No, but nearly anyone in the office staff would work."
"Doug again?"
"All of them. Ugh." Shaking his head as she entered the room, he stood at the bathroom mirror. "Every single one."
"Even Jen? I like Jen."
"Jen double! Jen kept trying to engage me in conversation when I was busy, which was all goddamned day. Jeremy crashed that forklift, again. If he doesn't get fired, I'm going to fucking quit."
"Sounds like it's Jeremy's fault," Tiff said, coming up behind. She leaned forward, against him. "So why Jen double? You'd strangle her twice because she was complaining about a shitty thing that happened? You know she just has a crush on you."
"Tiff, I'm tired."
"Okay. Did you eat?"
Marcus nodded as he squeezed the toothpaste and started brushing angrily.
"Sorry your day's been so shitty, but maybe it's still salvageable?"
Marcus stood straighter, glancing at Tiff in the mirror. "You think?"
"I imagine it's possible," Tiff said, her hand moving slowly down his bare stomach. "Can you imagine that?"
"What could happen now to make this day not suck?" Marcus spit. "I can't even..."
"What if Jen knocked on the door right now, with a basket of those cookies she makes."
"Which kind?"
"All the kinds. She's super sorry for dumping on you all day. She suddenly realized how rude it was to vent to a guy who actually has to fill the order she wrote on a piece of paper."
"Imaginary Jen is very considerate," Marcus murmured. He even managed a smile as he rinsed his tooth brush.
"She's also ten years younger, no husband or kids, but she still has those nice round hips. Do you ever imagine taking her by her hips and pulling her close?"
"Sure, I imagine it," Marcus whispered, closing his eyes.
"I'm pretty sure she does, too," Tiff said. "I don't think I've ever seen her go more than half a minute without checking out your ass. She isn't just here to apologize. She saw you working away, sweat glistening on your manly shoulders."
"I was wearing a shirt."
"Not in her imagination."
"Now you're imagining her imagination?"
"If I choose. Anyway, she came here tonight because she couldn't stop thinking about you. how you're just the best."
Marcus smirked, turning toward her. "I doubt she really thinks that."
"She told me," Tiff assured him. She continued in the upbeat cadence Jen used when they had discussed Marcus, "'Marcus is just the best.' She's appalled by the notion that she caused you emotional harm and wants to make it up to you."
Marcus laughed hard, embracing her. "Oh Tiff," he chuckled. "I needed that."
Tiff put her hands on his ass. "Do you need anything else?"
"Let's just lie down," he said. He pulled her to the bed and they fell side by side. After struggling their way beneath the covers, Tiff lay with her back to him, spooned with his strong right arm beneath her head. His breath was warm on her shoulder, steady and slow. She repositioned his left hand to her breast. "You must have been writing something good tonight."
"Actually, it was pretty naughty," she admitted.
"Naughtier than fantasizing about a real person I work with?" Marcus asked.
"You don't like that?"
"It's kind of weird," Marcus told her. "A one off with celebrities was one thing, but... I just don't think of Jen like that."
"Fair enough. Well, I can easily imagine that you did quit because of all those jerks, and you got a job at a new company called Wooden Erections. They were all really stressed out on your first day, because of all the erecting they had to do, and you were a little slow, thrown into a brand new shop. They were all impatient assholes to you, and they want to apologize."
"How many?"
"Another carpenter, his name is Steve. An office wench, Dana. And... they just got a new forklift driver. His name is Kenny Lifter, and he's actually actor Stuart Allman, researching a role for a movie where he plays a forklift operator who gets into the wrong situation and ends up having to save the world by moving freight very carefully."
Marcus laughed heartily, hugging her tight. "I love you so much, Tiff," he said. "Then what happened?"
"Well, we let them in of course. They brought wine and a fruit basket, so we open it all up to share as we get to know one another better. They treat you like you're the god-emperor of carpentry. Dana wants you so bad, the men want to be you. they want to know all about how you got to be so fucking amazing. Because you're so modest, and since it's undeniably true, you give all the credit to me. The love of a good woman motivates you and makes you a better man."
"You're so sexy when your head swells up like that," Marcus murmured, nuzzling her shoulder.
"I could say the same to you," Tiff said, rubbing her ass on his hardening dick. "Can you imagine if Dana was laying down behind you, a hand on your cock and her whole body pressed against yours?"
