Almost daily interaction with Felicity brought a cacophony of emotions to the surface along with a cascade of want. I read philosophy, conducted some online therapy, and even considered trying to find a way to let Felicity go. Deciding that firing her would be a personal failing and probably grounds for a lawsuit I finally decided instead to find a way to say no to her.
One philosopher that I read had concluded that "those who successfully hold themselves back from intense pleasure and pain" which Felicity surely caused on a daily basis "would achieve a kind of serene independence from the passions rather than gratify some deep or pressing desire." Was that what the monks of the past tried to do? Didn't I have the emotional strength to resist her within me? So far it had not manifested itself, but I decided I would have to try. Thinking about standing up to her in any fashion often cascaded out of control. Often it involved sitting at my desk and visualizing what she could do to me physically. I imagined her in the weight room, veins swelling on her sweat-soaked muscles, rising in a tremendous pump as she repeatedly raised and lowered fifty-pound dumbbells.
Grunting and straining like she was the true man in the room, she'd pound rep after rep while I was beside her pumping pink fifteen-pounders. "Now," she'd command, as her glistening body needed relief. I'd respond immediately dropping my 'weights' and wiping her brow and then spot her as her shaking muscles inflated like a balloon.
Try as I might to extricate myself from her shadow, a simple word or bulge beneath her thin skin and I'd be entranced. Like a moth to a flame, I found myself beside her desk finding a way to encourage her to talk about her strength and muscle while tracing her hard curves with my eyes.
"I overheard you talking about your workout tomorrow with your trainer. It sounds like a brutal one" I said, dropping a file on her desk, in an almost desperate maneuver to find an opening. She smiled at me, and it felt like my whole body grew lighter, my chest thumping in anticipation of her answer. She brushed her fingers through her hair, the callouses on her palms providing some friction with movement, causing her biceps to twitch and flare. Sweaty, vein-filled biceps shimmered, filled with raw unadulterated power. My fingers longed to trace the fat vein running across the peak. God, you're gorgeous.
"Yeah, Jason is putting me through a grinder tomorrow. He likes to shake up my endless reps where I tense my muscles without a break with occasional heavy days where I go hard and fast. Tomorrow, I'm maxing out on everything. You might have to carry me in here tomorrow," she laughed. "Of course, I'm pushing two hundred now," she laughed again. "Can you lift that kind of weight?"
I laughed, "probably not, what about you?" God, I say the dumbest things around her.
"Sure, benching, squatting, deadlifts, and probably even shoulder presses. I guess we'll see tomorrow. You'll have to come to watch me some time, boss." I'd totally lose it.
The next day, Felicity trudged in lacking energy for the first time in as long as I could remember. She'd been wasted by a brutal workout.
"I barely made it in, boss. I'm wiped." Imposing, thick veins snaked across her dark and evenly tanned skin physique. Everywhere thick muscles bulged as if she could crush boulders with her brute force. Scanning the twisted muscularity rising from her frame, I longed to devour her imagining her as perfect as the first bite into a block of dark chocolate. My desire was overwhelming I was worried about my ability to resist her chime, even if she wasn't purposefully using it on me.
When she marched into my office, stretched across my desk, and playfully asked for her shoulder massage, I literally shook in fear. She said it as if she owned both the desk and me.
