It was never going to be the right thing to do. I knew it. But just occasionally something crosses your path that leaves you completely breathless and powerless to resist. The first time I was introduced to Mr Unavailable the 3rd he had just stepped into middle management at my work. It was before the Christmas holidays, but it wasn't until I came back from leave that I saw him with the eyes of a freshly and unrepentantly single woman. It started a fire in my belly that I shouldn't have fanned. It was a mistake to let my eyes wander every time he passed my desk. It would have been wiser to hide the smoulder in my gaze whenever I exploited a reason to visit his office. And the day we made eye contact in the corridor and he winked, well, maybe I shouldn't have melted quite so thoroughly, or so visibly! But I did. And it was at that point that the rollercoaster surged away from the station and the bar came down, irrevocably holding me in my seat until the ride was over. I don't think I minded one bit.
Those early days are like a fine glass of pinot noir to me now. Something I savour like a complex palate on my tongue. Staring through the glass at the blood red swirl, my thoughts swirl, and then I'm standing, leaning an elbow on the document destruction bin, talking to some sales guy about drafting a policy on driver responsibility in company cars.
I instantly register that he's stepped out of his office and is coming closer, but I try not to show the sales guy that my attention has shifted. It's hard. He's wearing a long sleeved pale blue business shirt with a hint of white stripe, and his ever-present tie is a dark blue today. The subtle pin stripe in his charcoal suit pants shows his muted style, and the slightly loose, chunky silver watch at his wrist brings the whole picture together as quietly successful. I realise he's looking at me. Not even caring if I've just started glowing, I invite his input into the fleet car discussion, mostly so I can keep looking back at him. His dark hair is cut above his ears and collar, but long enough to fall into slight side part. His eyes are dark too, but balanced by the disarmingly pale skin of his face. As the conversation ebbs and flows my gaze readily shifts back and forth between the two men. I take the opportunity to steal glimpses of his broad shoulders, his arms are thick at the bicep and his hands are so strong and expressive. A mobile phone rings. The sales rep answers. Did it just get warm in here?
As the sales guy excuses himself to take the call we continue talking about the specific incident of a car theft the night before. I'm not being entirely selfish when I ask if we could discuss it confidentially in his office. He turns back the way he came and from behind his behind is a whole new vision to behold. I could swear it was designed purely to be desired. In his office he sits in one of the two visitors chairs on the near side of his desk. I close the door and take the other chair. Another domino inside me falls.
So we sat, almost squarely facing each other, and talked for half an hour. The conversation was fluid, comfortable, and compelling. We ranged across various topics and I remember feeling surprised and elated by his unhurried charm. I was equally surprised by the cold prickle as my eyes were drawn again and again to the portrait of his wife and four children on the desk. Now why should that be?
So I came to my senses and took control of my imagination; the end. Not! I can curse myself the whole day long, but my inability to resist temptation is a recurring pattern and it's no newsflash to anyone that knows me. Nonetheless I didn't imagine that wink. Every chance meeting in the lunch room, every greeting in the hall, every time we looked at each other his body language made me feel as though I'd just been embraced in those powerful arms. I may have started the fire, but the heat was rising every time he added to the fuel.
I found my mind wandering as I filed stacks of registration certificates to thoughts of my fingers in his hair, by lips brushing his neck, my hand taking an eternity to travel from his shoulder blades, switching from side to side while following the muscles down the deep curve of his back, to finally take a firm grip on one perfectly formed buttock. I imagine he is somewhere out in the field, riding shotgun on a sales expedition, his mind wandering along a similar line during a lull in the conversation between site visits. He tries to keep cool while I trace fingertips across his chest, his neck, and his sides. Internal conflict furrows his brow and he turns to look out the passenger side window. Despite the knife edge he's poised on, he mentally shrugs. It's just a daydream. My fingers trace around his ribs as I move both hands together, palms flat to the small of his back. His chest is firmly pressed against mine. We're face to face and breathing faster. He tilts his head just so slightly and brings a gentle hand up to my chin.
With a sigh he draws me slowly to his lips and the velvet softness of his kiss damns us both. His mouth opens slightly and the flick of his tongue on my lips opens a hunger only one thing will satisfy. His caresses on my cheek become more demanding, his hands take a hold of the back of my neck and he pulls me even closer. I can only respond with my hips and hands, squeezing him in between the two. The heat in our kiss is burning him up. He pulls back to take a breath and look me in the eye. I rest my hands on his muscled shoulders. My half-lidded gaze denies that this is point of no return, but with an almost imperceptible shake of the head he comes to a decision. His eyes follow his finger tips as they trace from below my ears, over my collar bones, to softly stroke the sides of my breasts. He teases and flicks and I start to ache for him. I moan as he takes each breast in his hands and firmly rolls my nipples in a pinch. I wonder if his eyes just rolled back in his head. Mine did.
I remember that day as the day I came to the full realisation of the heat in my passion. The next day I was handing out the Friday beers when I dropped into his office. It was our first out-loud flirt. He called me his new favourite. I told him I'd missed him while he was out the day before. It wasn't until later I wondered if I should have spared a glance for that same sales rep who was there too. Later we talked as he packed up his laptop and I asked him how things were going. He let his frustration show and I guess I'm just a typical girl because I wanted to rush over there and hold him. That was when we were discussing conflicting feedback about a recent conference. He said the most magic words of all. I'll always tell you the truth. I said the same back to him. I added that I thought this was going to work. Was that when he realised I was serious, or was it two days later when I lingered in the doorway in such a way that his arm brushed my breast. And I smiled.
Probably it would all have come to nothing, just a fantasy to keep me warm at night, if that hadn't been when the netball season started. Our workplace has a mixed team in the local competition at the sports ground over the road. When I found out he played defence I silently cheered. He gave me an easily readable look when I asked if he wanted to warm up together. I don't even know if anyone realised what was going on. I couldn't see anything past his delts, or the glisten of sweat on his neck. He marked me so close I could feel his heat. Goal. Our team won that day. And after the cheers came the showers. Then back to work. But he caught me looking, again and again. No surprise he fell in step with me as we left for the day. He told me he'd arranged dinner with a client who'd cancelled on him. All I could do was take a deep breath. All I could say was yes. He asked if I was free. I had to repeat myself.
