Tim and Me

I often wondered what would've happened if I had had a real chance at Tim.

In the beginning, I would sneak glances at him over the top of my reading glasses, as I shuffled my papers around on my desk, trying to look busy. Whenever his gaze unexpectedly met mine, his deep-set hazel eyes and thick, dark lashes caused my face to flush hot. Small beads of sweat would form on my upper lip, betraying my cool exterior. Our eyes would lock for a brief spell, searching, until I eventually lowered my eyes from his penetrating stare and knowing smile that played across his lips.

In my mind, I reckon we had played cat and mouse with each other since our second or third meeting. I cannot recall. I know for certain that I felt that first spark in the staff canteen.

He was behind me in the line, his tray beside mine, when he suddenly reached out to save my tall glass of juice. It was about to be toppled by an animated intern, excitedly relating the weekend's passings to his equally lively friends. I remember looking up into those eyes and congratulating him on his brilliant save. As he laughed it off and took the opportunity to formally introduce himself, it was then that I noticed how attractive he was. Up close, I could see the way the skin at the corners of his eyes wrinkled when he smiled and the softness of his dark, straight hair. He had invited me out for a drink then, with a group from the department who had made plans for that Friday night.

I graciously accepted.

I recall being undecided about what to wear out that night. I had made a move across country for this job and wanted to make the right impression- especially on Tim. Eventually, I settled on a low cut black number, since I figured I couldn't go wrong with that, and slipped on some silver heels to jazz it up a bit. I let my braids hang loose and set off for the Terrace.

The gathering at the Terrace was a bit stiff at first, but then loosened up considerably as the liquor flowed. Soon everyone was chatting up a storm and invariably, they paired off as the night wore on. Well, to be honest, I was not sure if they had arrived that way from the outset, or if it was the alcohol was talking.

I think it was then that I first really wanted Tim to want me too, especially since he had turned up stag and was unpaired like myself. We bantered through the evening, he and I and there were some bawdy jokes, I'll admit. I liked the rough side of him. I forgot that I had given up my smokes and as he talked, I wondered if he would pull my hair as he fucked me or rain sweet kisses on my face as his cum pulsed out of him into my pussy. He had a wicked sense of humour and the time slipped away. Feeling good, I excused myself to the ladies' room to slip off my wet panties and loosen another button on my dress. When I returned, I squeezed past him into my corner seat, brushing my ass brazenly close to his face. He offered me more Chablis. When his hand closed over mine as we held my glass, my heart raced a little, knowing that he felt it too.

When I saw Tim in office the following Monday, instead of his customary 'Morning, Annie!', he winked at me. He remarked on the drink we had Friday last and made a comment about doing it again sometime, with a grin that I have become all too familiar with. I nodded my agreement and left it at that.

The following couple of weeks brought no proposition, so I said nothing myself. I guess you could call me old fashioned, but I like it better when the man makes the first move. Maybe some folks might call that insecurity...and to be honest, for me it partly was. Even though there was obviously something between us, I was unsure of myself. I knew he wasn't married and I had never heard him speak of a girlfriend, although you never know. In any case, I waited it out. We smiled at each other over the next few weeks, went out for a few more drinks with the gang, and eventually moved our chitchat into double entendres, punctuated with smoldering stares. It was killing me.

Whenever Tim made office presentations, I found myself unable to miss them. As he talked, first my eyes, then my mind would inevitably stray. I found myself taking in his six-foot frame, large hands, large feet. When he sat for a spell, his legs wide apart, I searched his groin, trying to discern the outline of his cock through his loose pants. I wondered whether he was cut or uncut, if he dressed left or right, if he dribbled or squirted. He had a habit of leaning back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head when he fielded especially thought provoking questions. At times like those, I wished everyone would leave so that I could take his cock out and straddle it.

I decided to up the ante. I took to routinely going commando and I would purposely take the desk across from him so that I could fleetingly open my legs giving him a quick glimpse of shaved pussy in between. I would lean when we spoke about projects, purposely pressing my breasts into his arm, trying to reel him in. He seemed to like that, although he shifted uncomfortably a few times. I wasn't sure if it was because he felt that others might have caught on, or because he was trying to pin down an unruly cock. Either way, it stirred me, too. I liked the power. I wanted more. But more than anything else I wanted him to want me so badly that he would risk almost anything for a hot five minute fuck.

Our boss decided to team us together on an assignment. I felt I had my chance at last. We had a lot of late evenings trying to meet that deadline. We drank way too much coffee, probably cursed way too much, too, bitch that it was. Surrounded by piles of paper, we worked steadily sometimes pulling all-nighters.

I learnt a lot about Tim then- his love of baseball, how he got that scar on his thumb peeling sugarcane, how devastated he felt when his father died. I offered up my own share, too and often late into the night, we'd park our pens and talk in a way that regular office hours seemed not to allow. I felt we had grown closer, although getting to know Tim had tempered my desire somewhat. I don't know. I still wanted him desperately, but getting to know him better, it was almost as though I was starting to see his little imperfections, too. Like the way he gnawed at this nails when the figures didn't add up and the twinkle in his eye that seemed to mock me when I made a suggestion that he did not particularly care for.

It was my pulling back that brought him in to me, I think. He asked me a few times, if I was okay when I didn't laugh so hard at his jokes. I intentionally held back- payback, for his stupid little games. I had had enough of going around in circles. Foolishly thinking big, I had tried to hold out for him, too. I let that crash and burn when I took it out on this guy I had met at the club. We hadn't made it to either his place or mine, since I wasn't particularly interested in making any sort of connection. I took him up to a dark corner of the balcony and leaned over so that I could take him in my ass. At that moment, pussy fucking was just too intimate for me. The release was well deserved. He wanted to see me again, but I gave him a fake number. It was Tim that I wanted.

Tim put in his resignation some time after the project was completed. I'm not sure if I was disappointed or relieved at that point. Sure, I'll admit that he still made me wet when he brushed past me a little too close and yes I did still feel that tingle whenever he called my name. His farewell party was a difficult one. I knew I would miss him more that I cared to admit. He told me that he was having a get together over by his place that Saturday and pressed me to come. I was hesitant, but he insisted. When the day arrived, I still debated the sense of it all, but relented and turned up as invited to his home.

Tim met me at the door and welcomed me inside. The house was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the snowy weather we had been experiencing for weeks. I immediately noticed that there was no party and turned to leave. He begged me to stay, to give him a chance to explain himself. I reckoned that he had had enough of those, but when he pulled my coat from me, I knew that I wanted him to take it all.

He told me he was bisexual. He did not know what I would think. He lived with his male lover. They had been together four years. They bought this house together. He loved me. He could not deny it anymore. He gushed it all. I was floored and did not know what to think. The bisexual part struck me the most. I hadn't even suspected. He didn't look the type. Was there a type? I guess it explained everything.

He told me that he hadn't had a woman in years since he had been with his partner for so long. I had made him feel things that he thought quite frankly he wouldn't feel again. He told me about the time when I wore black stockings to work and he watched my legs all day, swinging under the desk in black patent leather heels. He told me, too, about the panty lines in my slacks that rode my ass cheeks and about how when those lines disappeared, all he could think about was my bare pussy gliding over the fabric. I remember laughing then and suggested that I could have been wearing a G-string. Tim didn't laugh. He told me he wanted to see for himself what it was that I wore. He fell to his knees, pulled my dress over his head and kissed my mound.

I unraveled then.

All those pent up emotions came pouring out. I wanted him so badly; I didn't care about how I came across. I opened my legs wide and spread my pussy, so that he could lick my clit. When he sank his tongue into my hole, I moaned aloud and slipped to the floor. He followed me. He unzippered his cock and it was just as I had imagined- long and thick. Turns out he was cut. I didn't care either way. He pushed himself into me and we fucked like animals. He tore at my dress, sending buttons flying. He sucked and fondled my breasts, toying with my nipples as he fucked me hard. I didn't last long. I clawed his back, a little too hard I think, as my climax rocked me. He yelped from the pain, then screamed as his cum spewed out of him. The first shot hit me deep within my pussy, but then, Tim quickly withdrew and shot the remainder of his cum high between my breasts. Turns out he was a squirter.

He licked it away and we shared a long, deep kiss. It was our first. I held his softening cock in my palm and sucked away the remaining traces of cum until he became hard again. Tim told me he wanted to make love to me. This time our coupling was leisurely. We explored every inch of each other and this time I begged him to cum inside me. I held him while he rocked slowly in my pussy until he climaxed and cried my name into my hair. When he had caught his breath, he nestled his face between my legs and teased his cum out of me in such a way that I moaned and quivered on his tongue. I came so hard that his stubble bruised my pussy when I ground it into his face.

In the shower we felt pressed to decide our next move. He wanted to leave his lover. I felt guilty that he would. We concluded that we needed more time, although in our hearts, that matter had probably already been decided.

When I look at Tim now, it is not with stolen glances, but boldly across our dining table. I quit the job, too and followed Tim overseas. I guess I finally got that chance I had been looking for. We are happy and settled, looking forward to starting a new life.