I was becoming frustrated and tired. It was stuffy in the little office with the door closed, and I was starting to get a headache from the long drinking session. I was also desperately aroused and all I could think about was what it would be like to kiss her. She and I had spent an hour dancing around each other in ever decreasing circles and I was dizzy from it. I felt it was time to move on to the "all fall down" part of the game, and I wanted Fabienne to fall down with me without further ado. I was so drunk that I was entirely beyond caring about consequences, or morals, or safe sex, or any of that killjoy rubbish.
I stood up as best I could and grabbed the door handle, throwing the flimsy door open. The chill, musty air from the dark warehouse billowed around me and into the room and I felt slightly refreshed. Fabienne just watched me, glass in hand, her eyelids heavy. In fact, I observed with some alarm, she looked very sleepy indeed. That would not do at all. I took matters into my own hands then, took control of the situation, and made the first move.
The move I made took me around the big wooden desk and sat me on her side of it, directly before her as she sat slumped in her chair. I opened my legs and planted a black high heeled boot on each armrest. In a sort of daze, my fingers moving through invisible treacle, I started to unbutton my shirt slowly. It was black silk, short sleeved and tailored at the waist; and when I undid the last button it fell open in a very pleasing way, revealing my full breasts and my best black lace bra. Strange how one feels one ought to dress up for the dead. Fabienne, the epitome of cool nonchalance, smiled and stood up on cue, shaking her head, and ran her index finger along the inside seam of my trouser leg. She stopped just before it reached the crotch.
"Well now." She breathed a thick cloud of whiskey into my face. "Someone's got themselves into a right state haven't they?" And with that she deftly plucked control of the situation from my hands and tucked it back into her trouser pocket where it belonged. I blushed, but at the same time I felt shameless. I was not about to apologise for what I wanted, not this time. It was too important. I met her eyes defiantly.
"Is this what you want?" She slid her hands inside my unbuttoned shirt and took hold of my waist, idly massaging my flesh as we regarded each other intently. I felt such strength in those hands. "Is it? Suzanne?" Fabienne whispered my name in my ear, burying her face in my neck, and I felt a hot trickle of desire run out of me and soak my knickers. I caught my breath as her lips traversed my collarbone and caressed my throat, my hands gripping her short brown hair, keeping her close to me. "Oh god..." I moved forwards so that I was perched on the very edge of the desk and she responded by pressing her thigh firmly between my spread legs. My swollen clitoris pulsed wantonly against the hard muscle. She pulled back and grinned at me, her lips mere inches from mine, but I was beyond grinning. My eyes were glazed and my mind was completely focused on just one thing.
"Kiss me," I said.
We kissed and I thought my heart would stop. Our lips never parting, Fabienne hurriedly undid my belt and tore open my trouser buttons. I stood up and between us we wriggled and wrenched them down over my hips. The black cotton fell to my ankles and then – oh sweet Jesus! Her fingers were inside me. I felt her urgency, her desire as strong as my own. She pulled my panties down with her free hand and pushed me back onto the desk so I was lying with my knees up by my shoulders, and she screwed me right there in the basement at work with my boots on and my knickers round my ankles. And I moaned like a whore because I was drunk and coming and I loved her truly, madly and deeply; and because there was no one to hear me but her.
"Suzanne!" she murmured as my cunt contracted around her hand and I found the oblivion that I had known all along I would find at the ends of her fingers. "Oh god, Suzanne. Suzanne. Suzanne..."
"SUZANNE!" I woke up violently in the all-consuming panic that one only feels when one is expectedly shouted at whilst deep in a drunken slumber. Or when one has fallen asleep at work and been discovered. In this particular instance the two had occurred as one. It was Maureen the cleaning lady and I was slumped over a table in the photography studio with my face on the light box. "You're dribbling, love," she said kindly. She had a vacuum cleaner in hand. "I didn't want to scare you!" she said, nodding at it, as if the sudden screech of it starting up would have been any less pleasant to awaken to than the screech of her voice in my ear.
I was completely disorientated and I felt horrendous after the wine – I looked at my watch – over two hours ago. It was long past knocking off time and I had no memory of going into the studio at all. I sat for a few minutes as the hoover droned around me, my head pounding, trying to recall. I could just remember getting into the lift; after that, blank. And my wonderful, powerful, amorous relationship with Fabienne the Dispatch Supervisor? Essentially blank also. I went into the toilets and cried alcoholic tears of frustration at the awful chicanery of dreams, and then I drove home very badly and went to bed where I was wilfully nostalgic about my lost encounter with the woman I loved. I masturbated about someone for the first time in years.
The next day I woke a clear two hours before the alarm feeling fine but oddly empty. The sun was creeping into the sky in the east, clawing at dawn's pale skin with spindly orange fingers. I ducked through the shower, pulled on my suit, grabbed my bag and a pre-packaged breakfast bar and set off to walk to work. I hadn't eaten properly since lunch the previous day but I wasn't hungry in the slightest. I was dreadfully in love with a woman at work who I'd spent all of an hour-and-a-half with at a wake and then gone off and had major sex with several times without her knowledge. I needed to think.
It took me nearly two hours, but I scarcely noticed the distance. The sun was shining and the air was crisp, and most of the city was still in bed. It was quite beautiful. I resolved to get up at sparrows' fart more often. And as I walked through the gates and up the steps still deep in thought, who should come strolling out of the cycle racks but...Fabienne herself. To say I was torn would be an understatement – I wanted to sink quietly into the ground whilst simultaneously running up and jumping on her. I blushed crimson as some kind of a compromise. She approached as I stood rooted to the spot, grinning hugely. I silently chided myself. Of course she couldn't know what I was thinking! "Well, morning...Suzanne right?" she asked affably, returning my grin. I willed my mouth to work normally and thankfully it did. "Hey Fabienne!" I said. "You're in early."
