I normally like the holidays, Christmas especially. The lights, the cold weather, the complete spirit of it all. When I was a kid, my mother and I would decorate the entire house in old gaudy Christmas decorations from when my grandmother was alive. My mother was a pack-rat. We'd put garlands and tinsel everywhere. Holly would live in all the decorative dishes until well into the new year and it would all be centered around an old plastic tree that had seen better days. Half the limbs were missing their branches, which my mother would cover with mismatch lights and ornaments, and the trunk was cemented in a large paint bucket since the base had been lost so long ago. Obviously, I didn't grow up in a wealthy household, but we were far from poor and my mother liked to say we were rich in pride.
All of that aside, I am not feeling cheery now as I sit amid our company Christmas party. Sylvia out did herself this year, the food is catered as usual but this time from an Ethiopian place that just opened near the waterfront in Cameron, and its delicious. There's an open bar but luckily no one is taking too much advantage of that, I myself have only had the glass of champagne Sylvia handed me to begin the night and a beer. Why the bah hum bug mood then, you ask. Well forgive my poor attempt at sarcasm but it might have a tiny bit to do with the vision in red, that does not clash with her hair at all and that's not sarcasm, standing near the front of the room talking to Amanda from payroll her arm casually linked with
his
. Who is he, you ask. Let's rewind a bit.
Earlier in the evening.
"Jesus," Clare groaned quietly, her hand tangling in my hair as my fingers twisted inside of her, "Just like that. Don't stop."
We were in the single restroom, right outside the conference room where the Christmas party was to be held half an hour from now. We hadn't done this, or spoken really in a month. I was still sore at her from our last meeting and I think by some twist of it Clare was teaching me a lesson as well. Regardless, Sylvia had roped both of us into helping with the final touches for setup and then sent us away to get changed. Clare had been none too subtly eyeing me during setup and as we walked out, me toward my desk and her toward her office I assumed, she grabbed my elbow.
"Come on."
Shaking my head, I pulled my elbow back and turned, "No, thanks."
"Alex," she reached for me again, this time entwining her fingers with mine and I let her. I let her step closer to me and push my hair behind my ear. I let her run her fingers along my cheek and lean in to whisper in my ear, "Come on."
"Mm," Clare moaned as her back met the back of the restroom door, "I think you missed me."
I growled as my mouth trailed her neck and shoulder, "Shut up."
"Make me."
I didn't need to be told twice and quickly kissed her hungrily while backing her toward the counter. She yelped slightly as I lifted her onto it and bit her lip at the same time before thrusting my tongue back into her mouth. I wasted no time slipping my hand beneath her skirt and into her panties, chuckling as Clare's head banged back against the mirror as two of my fingers entered her. She was wet, soaked.
"I hate that I want you," Clare whispered, her eyes closed tightly as her hips rose and fell to meet my fingers.
"Yeah," I panted against her neck while pushing harder into her, "The feeling is fucking mutual."
"Jesus," Clare groaned quietly, her hand tangling in my hair as my fingers twisted inside of her, "Just like that. Don't stop."
"What are we doing?" My timing was always perfect when it came to these kinds of things, sarcasm again.
"Fucking," Clare panted against my ear, "In a filthy restroom, at work."
"You know what I mean," I grunted pushing my hip behind my hand and relishing in Clare's gasp.
