Night of the Himbo

Author's Note: Thanks for all the kind comments on the first two chapters. I'm glad you're enjoying "NotH" so far. This is a series; it helps to read the earlier chapters. Every character involved in sex or romance is over 18.

Of course

Alice knew what was going on. Alice was the one who had tried to get him out of the city on the Night of Roy. Alice was the one who had asked him for weeks how he felt. Alice was the one who looked worried whenever he ran into her in the hallways. Alice

knew.

She knew something, anyway.

At least, as Mike discovered that Monday, she knew enough to be out of town. Yeah, that wasn't suspicious at all.

Asking around, Mike found out that she was in New York, attending a conference of ILTA's corporate investors. Legal and Financial had both sent senior people. Ordinarily Mike would have just accepted it -- except for the timing, and the fact that Alice had scheduled some PTO afterward, and that her phone went straight to voicemail.

The week passed as though That Night had never happened. If anything, Mike felt even more middle-aged -- dull, tired, passive -- than he had before he met Zuzu. It was a good state of mind in which to get rid of boring chores he'd allowed to accumulate, like reviewing slush submissions, reorganizing the agency's library of coverage, and documenting the changes for Kheops and for Sirène, his assistant story editor.

By the weekend, the blahs had worn off, and by Monday, Mike was beginning to feel the energy he'd first felt after his night with Zuzu. By the Monday after that, he'd gotten a clean STD panel from his doctor and everything seemed so okay that he had almost written off the previous week as a weird dream - until he ran into Maya Rankin in the basement parking area.

"Hold the elevator!"

He hit the Open button by reflex -- Rankin's voice had that much casual command in it -- and she entered.

She was in a designer power suit, crimson slashed with white, complementing her porcelain skin and blood-red lipstick. "Eight, please," she said, without looking up from her phone.

It was just the two of them. "Sure," he said. He took a deep breath to control the sudden wash of emotion -- fear, memory, desire -- and pressed the button.

He tried not to stare, but he couldn't help it. Rankin had always been attractive to him - tailored, elegant, confident - but no more than that. That wasn't true anymore. Maybe it was the memories he still couldn't believe, maybe it was this new energy, but now she was downright alluring. He couldn't help but imagine every curve under her suit. He felt like if she even said his name, he would get on his knees and lick her-

Rankin glanced up. "Mike Deschelles."

"Maya. Uh, how are you?"

"Fine." She stared at him for a moment. "Do you have any family out here?"

"In Southern California?" His mind raced. "I might."

"You

might?

"

"Granddad was a traveling salesman and by all accounts he, uh, got around. At least that's the story in my branch of the family." Gathering his courage, he said "Why do you ask?"

"Someone I met. You remind me of him a little."

So it

was

real. If he had doubted it, here was the proof. Mike fought to control himself. "Maybe I know him. What's his name?"

And for the first time since he'd known her, Maya Rankin blushed. The elevator door opened. "Is this your floor?" she said.

"Uh, right. Have a good day."

She nodded and went back to her phone as the doors closed on her.

Whew.

When Mike got to his office, he told Kheops to hold his calls and order in breakfast. Then he closed his door and got to work. By lunchtime, he'd decided he had to make use of his newfound energy. He drove up to West Hollywood and hit the ellipticals at the gym he almost never used. He transitioned easily from the cardio machines to the weights, and from there to the showers, without any of his usual locker-room hesitation or post-session soreness.

He walked back through ILTA's lobby thinking that his blazer was fitting better than it had in months -- his beer belly finally shrinking, maybe -- but that he might need to have his pants let out a little in the crotch. He waved to Traci at the front desk, she smiled at him -- a rare honor, Traci's smiles were generally reserved for senior partners and A-list celebs -- and he went back to his office.

He was making his way through the fourth coverage of the afternoon when he suddenly thought:

Why wait?

There was no telling when Alice was coming back, but maybe, just maybe, she had left something behind that could shed some light on this.

He hesitated. Searching Alice's office was definitely crossing the line. If he was caught, that was it. Not only would it violate her trust and destroy their friendship, it might mean the end of his job, with its compensation package and health insurance -- and it wasn't like "story analyst" was a job you could find just anywhere.

But...what if the Night of Roy happened again? What if there were more consequences this time? What if he had been lucky, and next time he turned into Quasimodo, or a werewolf, or Larry David? What if he turned into something and didn't turn back? What if it happened in the middle of a staff meeting, or while he was doing 65 mph in the Sepulveda Pass? He had to know everything he could. His life depended on it.

He waited until the staff dribbled out of the offices. By seven, the admin staff had gone, leaving only a few late-working agents. Mike took a deep breath and walked up to Alice's office on the fifth floor.

The legal department was dim, and the cubicles were empty. The door to Alice's office was locked. He jiggled the knob uselessly and stepped away. Of course the door was locked. Now what?

Well, the front desk had master keys. Involving someone else would be a serious escalation, but he still had to know what was happening. In for a penny, in for a pound. He sighed and made the call. Ten minutes later, Traci showed up.

"Hi, Mr. Deschelles," she said. "What do you need?"

Mike was a little startled. He'd expected Traci to send one of the janitors with the key instead of coming herself. And

Mister

-- usually only the senior partners rated that. Everyone else at ILTA got either a first name or just a nod.

"Well, uh, Traci -- I left some paperwork in Alice's office. She made notes on the hard copies, and I'd like to get them."

"No problem!" she said brightly, and unlocked the door.

In the past, Mike had never cared that Alice's office was three times as big as his. He knew where he stood in the ILTA pecking order. But now the executive desk, extra bookshelves, conference area, and private bathroom were just more spaces to search.

As he walked toward Alice's desk, he heard the door lock behind him. He turned and found himself facing Traci, a couple of feet closer than he'd expected.

"Did you find what you...need?" she asked.

"Not yet," he said.

"I could help you look."

A faint bell was ringing in the back of Mike's head, but what it suggested was so crazy that he ignored it and tried to focus on the search. Maybe he could use Traci, if she actually wanted to be helpful.

"Thanks, Traci. Why don't you check the shelves, and I'll check the desk." The desk was a huge, multi-drawered oak monstrosity. If Alice were hiding something there, it had plenty of room.

"Um...wait." Traci put a hand on Mike's arm. "Look, I just wanted to say -- I've seen how you're changing your life."

"What?"

"You look so much happier and healthier recently, and I really respect someone who makes positive changes, you know?"

"Oh. Well, thanks."

"I'm sorry if that's too personal." Her hand was still on his arm.

Mike smiled. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

Traci smiled back. "I'm glad," she said. She was a tall, slender girl, standing eye to eye with Mike. Underneath her honey-blonde bangs, she had blue eyes, a peaches and cream complexion, and the perfect smile of a pageant winner. "Because also, I kind of have a thing. For older guys."

Her hand drifted up to his shoulder and then the nape of his neck. Her other hand gripped his tie. Gently, she tugged him closer. He let her.

Their lips touched even as a voice in the back of Mike's head was shouting

This is crazy! She's a kid! What about harassment! This is in an office! Anyone could see us! This isn't even MY office!

His heart was racing. He was about to pull away, to end it, when she opened her mouth and Mike tasted mint and chai tea and

her,

Traci. He breathed her deep into his lungs, and let the voice go.

They stood for a moment, just kissing, sharing breath.

Slowly, Mike's hands slid up Traci's back, under her blazer. She shrugged and it dropped to the floor. Mike pulled her closer, and Traci's tongue slid into his mouth. It touched his own tongue and then retreated, an invitation to follow. Mike accepted, and they stood, kissing deeply. Mike let his other hand drift across Traci's earlobe; she huffed out her breath and clutched him tighter. He moved his hand into her mane of hair, letting it coil between his fingers, tugging gently, using it to communicate where his lips were, where hers might want to be.

They stood that way for long moments until Traci broke the kiss and murmured "Your shirt" in his ear.

Mike's hands went to his buttons. Then he saw the office's floor to ceiling windows and turned to the blinds.

"No," said Traci. "Leave them open."

"But-"

"Shh." She flicked a switch, and the office was lit only by the lights of L.A. at night. "Watch," she said, and slithered out of her blouse and skirt. She stood like a statue of Artemis, shadows playing across smooth skin and slender muscle, her lacy white bra and panties accentuating instead of concealing.

"God, you're beautiful."

There was a ping from Traci's phone. She glanced at it and grinned. "Right on time."

"What?"

She showed him the phone's timer. "The cleaning crew is coming."

"WHAT!?"

"We have ten minutes. Can you get it done?" She grabbed his cock, and in an instant he was hard again. "Oh. I think you can." She pulled down his pants. "Magnum. Nice!" She rolled a rubber over his penis.

She turned around, pulled down her panties, and bent over the desk. "Come on."

Mike almost gibbered in fear. The fucking cleaning crew! Doris and Valentina and Lisa and that new girl! Dear God, the crew could spread the word through the entire company. If they were caught, he'd be gone by end of day of tomorrow.

"Tick-tock," said Traci over her shoulder.

Traci's ass was small, rounded, and adorable. So was her beautifully articulated back, her long legs, her wavy blonde hair now tumbling down, no longer in a ponytail. She was The Cheerleader, and she knew it.

"Courage," he said to himself, and stepped forward.

"Aaahh," sighed Traci, as the tip of Mike's cock made gentle contact with her outer lips. She steadied her forearms on the desk, and pushed back into him. Gently at first, letting him ease in, and then more firmly, sliding up and up until she opened completely and he touched something deep inside her.

"Whoop!" she laughed. "Careful! Bottomed out!" She settled herself on his dick, her hands clutching the edge of the desk. "Okay, stud. Nine minutes and counting." Slowly, then more fiercely, she set the rhythm.

There was something different about this, something he hadn't felt before. Not Traci -- she was tighter than he'd expected, and warm, and more and more wet. And of course he'd worn rubbers before, although he had never before felt this sensitive while being this hard. But the strokes themselves felt longer, as if -- no, that was crazy.

"Faster, boss!" said Traci. Mike picked up the pace. No, it was true -- her ass cheeks were barely touching his groin, as if he weren't completely inside of Traci even on the downstroke, and she was so tight- She clenched him as she rubbed one hand on her clit-

Faster, and faster.

Harder. Harder.

In, out, in, out, inoutinoutinout-

The phone timer rang. "One minute!" sang the Siri voice.

Startled, Mike started to pull out, but Traci reached behind her and grabbed him by the balls. "No you don't!" And he didn't. Somehow, he stayed hard as iron as he plunged deeper into her.

"AAAaaahhh," Traci had stopped using words. "Ah, ah, ah, ahahahahah-" she grunted. Now both her arms are were braced on the desk, and her head was bowed low, her hair brushing the desk top. Mike felt weirdly powerful, like he could do this forever, like Traci's pleasure was his to control. Without breaking their rhythm, he took his right hand and snaked it around Traci's hip to her mons, gliding across her clit the way she had been doing a moment before.

"Gaaahhhhhh," Traci warbled, collapsing in a puddle across the desk, leaving Mike standing exposed, his now-huge, slimy cock gleaming and still erect in the streetlight coming through the window.

"Thirty seconds!" said Siri.

Traci gave one last shiver and pulled herself off the desk, grinning at him as she rebuttoned her blouse, rewrapped her skirt.

"Oh, poor Mike," she said, her hand massaging his stiffness for a moment. "I'll make that up to you, I promise."

"Time's up!" sang Siri, and the lights came on over the cubicles outside. Mike could hear several voices -- female voices -- chatting in Spanish.

Traci smiled. "Pants up, Mister Deschelles," she said. She stroked his cheek with a hand that was coated with their juices. Then she tucked him in his underpants, still hard, and pulled up his pants. She walked past him, swung the door open, and sauntered out into the main office, her hips swaying.

He watched her walk away. It was like she was rolling those hips just for him.

<"Ola, amigas!"

she sang out to the four cleaning ladies.

"¡Tener una noche maravillosa!"

They laughed.

Mike stepped out of the office, hoping Traci had distracted the ladies. It was only as he passed them laying out their mops and sponges and smelled the cleaning supplies that he realized that he smelled too. He reeked of Traci's juices where she had marked him on his cheek, his pants, his neck...

...and the ladies were staring him at him. He could see them sniffing, making connections. The youngest, Liliana, turned away to hide a smile. Marisol, the oldest, wished him an impassive

good evening.

They knew. Oh, God. And when they got into Alice's office, they'd smell it there. Shit.

"Ah...ladies," he smiled. "Have a good evening."

"Not as good as you," he heard Liliana giggle in Spanish as he walked away, his ears burning red.