"Just once."
Those two words ran through my mind again and again since they were whispered by Delany a few months ago. It was the last short sentence of a much longer, maddingly flirty, conversation we shared at a local brewery after work one day.
Delaney and I have similar jobs in a big organization. Our offices are adjoining and we share projects, staff, goals and are a strong two person leadership team. Over the course of several assignments and a few years, we rarely went a day without spending at least an hour or more in each other's office resolving problems or designing a new strategy in support of the company's
She is incredibly smart and moved up quickly in our field. At five foot ten, fit and feminine, Delaney is a beautiful blonde who inspires admiring glances because of her perfect bottom, long legs, proud chest and piercing blue eyes. She dresses in snug tops with skirts and slacks that accentuate her sexy figure. But to me, her sexiness is sharpened by her humor and brilliant mind. She is one of the smartest people I know. It is such a turn on.
It doesn't help that she is also a flirt. If she walks behind me, she'll routinely run a finger along my shoulders and announce, "passing," as if I didn't know she was there. Or if walking toward each other down the hall, she will reach out and tap my upper arm, commenting, "oooh, someone's been working out," then wink and pass without stopping.
I do my best to roll my eyes or let these little gestures pass without responding, but her teasing touch and comments leave me horny and fantasizing the rest of the day. She had to know the impact she inspires.
In spite of that playfulness, the boundaries have - until recently - remained intact. She shares stories about her husband and kids and I speak openly about my wife and son. We offer each other counsel when life is stressful at home or work, and can tease without offending. She calls me her best friend and I feel the same towards her.
Occasionally we leave the office early and meet at a local tavern with our laptops in tow to get a little work in without the interruption of coworkers, subordinates, or family. Our favorite spots are the high top chairs along the bar because they provide access to outlets for computers and phones. Seeing her skirt ride up her toned thighs when she crosses her legs to get comfy on a barstool is a delightful bonus.
Inevitably our conversations turn from work to fun or other personal topics. During one get-together, starting her third drink, Delaney closed her laptop and said, as if she were asking about how to get a stain off a carpet, "How many women have you slept with?" I was a bit taken aback. That was blunt, even for her.
I thought for a moment, doubled the number just for the hell of it and said, "12." I exaggerated to see if I could get a disgusted response from her. Then I'd confess to the lower number. Instead, even before I could admit to my veracity issue, she raised her eyebrows then began a rapid fire interrogation. Who was best? How many were one-night stands? Had I been in a three-some?
During the course of the sexual Q&A, Delaney swiveled her chair to face me. She put her feet on the rail that wrapped my stool and spread her toned legs. A short red dress that normally covered her knees ever so slowly, and tantalizing, rode up her thighs. Between her questions, and the exhibitionism, my cock was stirring under my pants.
When she took a moment to sip her drink, I turned the question back on her and asked her about the number of lovers she had prior to her husband. "Only two," was her quiet, almost apologetic, answer. She described a classmate in college to whom she lost her virginity and became her boyfriend till graduation. Then someone she met in her first professional job - he was sexually voracious and so was she. So they were a great physical match. "How did it end," I asked? I was curious but also needed to tone down the topic. My hard-on was now visible through my khaki slacks and I was afraid I would soon be oozing a precum stain if I didn't relax.
That was all it took to move the topics to more inane subjects, allowing me to calm myself and head to the restroom. When I returned I suggested it was time to wrap and Delaney gave an exaggerated frown but agreed. We split the book, gathered our belongings and headed out.
Our cars were both parked near each other and as we walked, Delaney asked how I was getting home. "What do you mean? Driving." I wondered if I seemed drunk after two beers.
"Don't you need your keys?"
"Oh shit," I had tossed them on the bartop and forgot to snag them when we finished. "Well, here's your car," I said. "I'll head back to get them and see you tomorrow."
"You won't find them in there, I grabbed them when you went to the restroom."
I held out my hand. "Thanks!"
"Nope," she smirked. "You have to find them." I looked at her for several seconds trying to decide if she was starting a game. She gave a quick smile, bit her bottom lip, and said, "I haven't played hide and seek in years." My stomach flipped for a second and my cock stirred again.
We had flirted but this was a new step. Tentatively, I reached for her purse. "Cold!"
She held her arms out, inviting a pat search. The move raised her shoulders and lifted her dress up her legs. The impact was instant. The feeling in my stomach - and crotch - was making me more anxious.
Delany encouraged me by taking one hand and placing it on her hip. I pulled away slightly but left just a fingertip on her side. "You can do better than that," she admonished.
She moved closer and took me by the wrists. Placing my open palms on both sides of her waist. she simply raised her eyebrows and encouraged me more. "Still not warm enough."
She was now close enough that I could smell the wine on her breath and the light scent of her perfume. The moment was surreal and my hands began, almost involuntarily, to slide up and down from her hips to her arms. Feeling her bra strap under her outfit, my horniness was rapidly turning to lust.
Thoughts of my wife, Delany's husband, and our working relationship snapped sense into me and softened my desires. I realized it was safest simply to release my hold and demand she just hand over my keys.
She shook her head. "I noticed how much you enjoyed discussing our 'sex histories' back in the bar." Delaney looked down at her perfect breasts, pulled the top of her blouse open to reveal a black bra and said, "Maybe I put them here for safe-keeping." Her blue eyes teased in the light of the evening sun and her freckles were sexier than ever.
I looked around and saw the neighborhood was teeming with people. I work out, stay in shape, but am 55. She is 45. Groping a beautiful blonde on a downtown street was not good form. My cock strained against my pants. Delaney looked down and noticed my dilemma, raised her eyebrows again and gave a naughty smile.
Though the thought of lingering under her bra and stroking her luscious breasts was driving me insane, I insisted I was not going to reach in her top, especially in public even as the daylight faded.
As quickly as the game began, it ended. Feigning disappointment, she retrieved the keys, dangled them in front of me, grinned and said as if implying much more, "Just once?" She laughed, opened the doors and slipped into the driver's seat. "See you tomorrow!"
I stumbled to my car holding my laptop in front of me to hide my cock and the wet spot on my pants. Slipping behind the steering wheel, I sat for a full five minutes before starting the engine and heading home. Adrenaline and testosterone were fogging my brain. "Oh my," I wondered, "Is something more underway?"
The next day, I was both relieved when Delaney dropped by my office and while leaning against the door frame, tilted her head and said, "I had a blast last night but sorry it almost got out of control."
"Almost," was my immediate response? "Don't worry, it was fine and I'll behave better in the future too."
She said, "I don't know if I'll behave better, but as long as one of us does!" She smiled, spun on her heels, and padded down the hall to her office.