Last Night Never Happened

Author's note -- Thanks everyone for your feedbacks. It's been wonderful hearing from you all.

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"Just my bad luck." Jesse thought, fighting hard to keep his temper under control. His dimwit of a secretary had reported sick that day and kept the keys of his filing cabinet God knows where. She didn't even have a cell phone or a contact number where he could reach her. Now he would personally have to go to her place, find out where the keys were and then go to office and collect those documents.

As he made his way through the congested lanes and by-lanes he told himself, "Imagine going all this way to meet Miss Sack and Potato. Why couldn't the company have given me someone a little more appealing to the senses"? He tried to recall her face that was almost half hidden in those unbecoming spectacles and her sack-like outfits, which swathed her body like a detracting shroud. He tried to recall even one feature that could have given some relief to the starkness of her implacably crabby visage but there was nothing even remotely appealing that he remembered.

He had to ring the bell twice before she came to the door. It suddenly occurred to him that he knew nothing about her family circumstances and he wondered if there was a grouchy husband who'd find his visit objectionable.

"I'll reassure him that I wouldn't touch her with a barge pole." He mused.

He was aghast, dumbstruck and unable to believe his eyes. This woman bore not the slightest resemblance to his secretary. Large luminous eyes stared at him unblinkingly as her long mane of hairs, which had come undone, cascaded down her cheeks onto her shoulders and fell over her folded arms. Jesse stammered, overtaken by the unexpected turn of events

"Emily, sorry to bother you like this, but I'm leaving for New Jersey and the filling cabinet keys...."

Wordlessly she moved to one side and let him in. He walked into the sparsely furnished flat and she switched on a table-lamp next to her.

"Nice place you have here," he said

Giving no hint of having heard him she disappeared inside and came back with the keys. Just then the telephone rang and it struck him that he could have reached her by phone had he known her number, that is, had she cared to give it to the office.

"Why didn't you give the office your number?" He asked

"I didn't want to be disturbed at home. My personal life is my own." She answered.

He looked up in surprise. Miss mouse had a tongue he realized. Standing against the light she wore an air of defiance and little else besides, her head was thrown backwards. Drawing her hair at the back she wound it carelessly into a bun. The movement drew his attention to the upward thrust of her breasts, round and ripe as they strained under the thin fabric of her low cut dress. From where he sat he could not see her cleavage but he knew it would present a tantalizing sight. She came forward to hand him the keys but the sheer magic of her transformation had immobilized him and the keys slipped out of his grasp, changing as they fell to the floor and slid under the couch. She bent forward to locate them and he spied the ample delectable curve of her cleavage. Moving towards his left she reached over his knees to pick up the keys. A current of desire ran through his body as he felt her breasts nudge his thighs. She was not wearing a bra. Of that he was quite sure.

"What will you have?" she finally added as if awakening to her role of hostess.

"I'm sure you won't have what I need right now." He quipped. "So just a coffee will do for me."

"I have whisky at home." She answered.

"Your husband won't mind?" he asked casting an apprehensive look at the bedroom door.

"I have none. I'm single," she replied and walked towards the cabinet in which she kept her drinks.

"Ice?" she queried

"Neat." Jesse replied.

She poured the drink in two glasses and handed one to him. As she sat opposite him, Jesse searched for a topic that might be of mutual interest but could not for the life of him think of one single subject. His mind was blank. His hands had turned clumsy while his body seemed to have a mind of his own. It was responding to pore of her body, her every gesture in the crossing and uncrossing of her legs, the soul-searching directness of her glance, the curling and curling of her fingers around the iced expanse of her glass, everything that she was doing and not doing as well.

Suddenly she got up exclaiming, "Jesus the water must be boiling and I was about to have bath when you rang the bell. Make yourself comfortable, I'll be with you."

Before he could respond suitably she disappeared into the bathroom. She didn't latch the door, a fact that was not lost on Jesse. He wondered if he was expected to take the hint, but uncertainly kept himself glued to his seat.

However, when half an hour elapsed and there was no sign of her, he tapped on the door tentatively and said, "I'm making a move, Emily."

"Just pass me the towel." She shouted from inside.

He picked up the blue towel hanging outside and marched into the bathroom intending to muster as much nonchalance as he could under the circumstances. But he hadn't bargained for the puddle of soap water near the door and he slipped awkwardly and fell. Emily was next to him in a minute pulling him gently and supporting till he had found his balance. Her body pressed against him was wet, luscious and he could feel the heat building up his loins.

He tried not to look at her, at the irresistible lure of her magnificent breasts and the silky sheen of her long, firm thighs. The waves of passion that her proximity evoked became a pain that would not be soothed. He moaned, overcome by the tide of helplessness.

"Are you hurt?" she enquired, her voice barely audible.

"Yes.... no..." he mumbled.

"Where?" she asked laying her hand on his heart. "You are about to have a heart attack." She concluded, mischief pouring from her eyes.

"You are so beautiful, you know." Jesse said as he reached out tentatively and touched her face.

His hands moved to her chin, caressing her softness of her skin as they moved downwards to reach her breasts, which throbbed to life under his touch. They were firm and supple. Gently he cupped them, feeling a thrill of pleasure as he realized they gave away the lie to her assumed indifference. Suddenly he was in control. He carried Emily into her small bedroom and flung her onto the bed. His movements were sure as he stepped out of his clothes and moved over her, seeking her lips feverishly.

He was both slave and master as he began to tease her body to unbearable heights of arousal.

Emily moaned with ecstasy. He ignored her as he began to rain kisses on the erogenous nooks of her beautiful neck. She arched herself like a woman possessed thrusting about wildly. Her breasts thrusting out, was an offering fit for the Gods. His lips closed over the right breast, his tongue whipping around the areola. She was groaning now. He moved to the left breast. There was a frenzied quality to the flow of energy between them. He knew it was time for him to move in

Just as he was about to penetrate her, she hissed, "Be gentle." But now he was beyond caring and like an invader besieging as unguarded fortress he entered her triumphantly. She winced in pain as she felt his hot member invading her sanctuary and reach within her being in fierce thrusting movements. With each thrust he knew he was nearer heaven and the writhing of her body told him she was almost there herself. When it happened, miraculously enough they climaxed together. It was a mind blowing experience and through the night they continued to discover hitherto unexplored points of mindless ecstasy through the touch, stroke, and caress of probing fingers, searching tongues and entwined limbs.

All conscious thoughts had fled. The "where" and the "why fore" of their individual existences were forgotten. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Only the 'here' and 'now' had any bearing with what was happening to them.

Next morning, dewy-eyed and exhausted from their night lovemaking, Jesse woke up to find Emily bathed and dressed up for the office. Her hair pulled back into an uncomely bun and body swathed in the ungainly tent like shroud of a dull lifeless dress. The familiar spectacles were back. Offering him his bed tea, she was about to speak, when he said, "Thank you for last night. You were fantastic and were so beautiful last night..."

"Jesse," she cut him short, "Last night never happened."