Wendy was awake before her alarm went off. She expected to wake up refreshed and ready to take on the day. Instead, her mind was instantly back to the events of yesterday. The embarrassing scene at the Christmas party, Michael's cryptic conversation about a new account, even her evening with Jon left her... frustrated.
She slipped out from beneath the sheets, not wanting to wake Jon. His light snoring followed her as she padded across the hardwood floor on her toes, she was freezing. She wrapped her hands around her shoulders, her nipples straining against the fabric of her nightgown. She couldn't wait until they got some warmer weather.
The shower hissed and stammered to life as she pulled her nightgown off and waited for steam to begin to rise before stepping under the spray. She let out a long sigh, running her fingers through her hair while the hot water pelted her skin. She closed her eyes, letting the water wash away her frustrations and fear of what the day would bring.
"Everything's going to be fine," she told herself, pouring body wash on her loofa and scrubbing her sensitive skin.
Maybe Jon was right, Michael would just laugh the entire thing off and things would go back to normal. Besides, what could he possible think would happen with that dumb IOU anyway?
"Ohhh." The coarse fabric of the loofa slid across her chest, surprising her with just how nice the texture of it felt against her chest. Images of Michael leering at her flooded her mind. Her nipple throbbing for attention. She bit her lip, giving into the sensation for just a moment before allowing the water to wash away the soap, and perhaps also the shame.
"This is ridiculous," she mutter to herself, lathering up her stomach. Even that simple touch seemed to ignite sparks between her thighs. Wendy peaked her head out of the shower, it was faint, but she could still hear Jon's gentle snores.
"It's his fault," she thought to herself as her hand began sliding lower on her body. "He got me so close last night and then just..." Her mouth opened in shock as her finger slipped across her smooth bolds to find them wet from something other than the shower. She consider turning the shower off and crawling back into bed with Jon. He would take care of her, and be happy to do so. But she was running low on time, and as attentive as Jon was at times, he was also slow to get her there.
She let her left hand dip between her folds, feeling her warmth as she spread it over her parted lips. "Mmmm, I can be quick." She dropped the loofa to the ground, her right hand cupping her breast roughly, allowing her pointer finger and thump to pinch the engorged pebble.
This sent an immediate thrill to her core, and Wendy let her fingertip tease her entrance. She'd asked Jon in the past to be a little rougher with her, and he tried, bless his heart. But he didn't have it in him. Jon was a kind, gentle lover.
She pinched her nipple harder, feeling the blood rush to it as she dipped her finger inside her sex. She felt her walls closed around her and her eyes fluttered shut. "Mmm yes, right there," she moaned squeezing her chest. God, she wished Jon would treat her like this. A second finger joined the first as she imagined Jon pushing her against the wall. His teeth trailing down her neck, across her collarbone, down the swell of her chest until he took her eraser sized nipple into his mouth.
"Ah, yes. Just like that baby. Fuck me, Jon. Fuck m-"
The image of Jon disappeared, replace by Michael. He had her glued to the wall, his large frame practically swallowing her as he fucked her without a care in the world. Wendy's eyes snapped open, her breathing heavy, her fingers still buried deep inside her as she tried to process what had just happened.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" Wendy hissed, shaking her head as if trying to physically remove the image. Yet even as disgust churned in her stomach, she couldn't deny the confusing heat that spread through her.
She thought back to Jon, to his tongue dancing over her clit. "Mmm yes, baby," she moan slipping her fingers over the sensitive bud. She could practically feel his tongue pushing past her folds, his lips creating a perfect suction on her clit.
Her pace began to quicken. Her fingers slipping back into her wet, hungry pussy then back out. She brough them to her mouth sucking them eagerly into her mouth, tasting her sweetness. Her tongue ran across the length of her digits, imaging it was Jon... his cock. She wished he tasted sweet like this, wished he would have nudged it into her mouth last night despite her protests.
"Ugh yes, baby. Use me, mmmmph, fuck me." She arched her back up from the wall, pulling her fingers from her mouth and slamming them back inside her. Her thumb circled her clit, light flicks that grew harder as her body began to come alive.
The chill of the tile on her back caused her to yelp, her hips driving to match her thrusts. She could feel Jon's hands on her thighs. Holding her in place as he lapped at her juices. "Uggh yes, baby. Don't stop. Don't fucking stop." Her orgasm was nearing, the water beginning to cool as it hit her skin.
Her fingers worked faster, her eyes shut tight as she imagined Jon's tongue boring deeper inside her. But then the fantasy morphed. Jon's gentle grip tightened, his fingers digging into her skin so much it hurt.
"Ffffuuu..." Jon's face was gone now, transformed into Michael's sneer. His thick fingers digging into her flesh, holding her in place with an authority that made her pussy drip with need.
"I knew you were the right choice," phantom-Michael growled against her slick folds, his voice reverberating through her pelvis. "Someone who understands commitment."
"No," Wendy gasped, shaking her head violently, droplets spraying from her wet hair. But even as disgust and shame flooded her consciousness, her fingers moved with renewed urgency, her body betraying her mind.
She forced Jon back into her fantasy, desperately focusing on his lean frame, his tender touches, the way he knew how to hit just the right spot. "Jon," she whispered urgently, pinching her nipple harder, the pain grounding her in reality. "Jon, Jon, Jon..."
Her fingers continued to tweak her nipple, the pain combining with the pleasure building between her legs and sending her body into overdrive.
Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, making her legs give out from under her. She slid down the tiled wall, her fingers working feverously inside her pulsing cunt. Goosebumps rose on her skin, as she threw her head backward, her ass splashing in the water underneath her. Her legs quivered in front of her, her belly rolling as the assault continued inside her.
"Ohhhh God. Oh fuck, yes, yes. Uggggh."
"Fuuuck," she sighed pressing the back of her head to the tile, ensuring Michael was the furthest thing from it. she couldn't believe she would think about him during such a moment. She blamed the stress, this was just more proof of how badly she needed this release. She sat on the floor of the shower trying to catch her breath, the sound of the water pulsing against the floor of the tub slowing her racing heart.
Ten minutes later, Wendy stood before her walk-in closet with a heightened sense of scrutiny. Her wet hair dripped down her back as she surveyed the outfits in front of her. Everything had to be perfect today, starting with what she wore.
"Everything okay?" Jon asked, yawning, stretching out his long body. "I could have sworn you were calling me in there." He noticed Wendy's face redden as she considered her choice of attire. _She does too much with her clothes_, he said to himself, his gaze on her heart-shaped bottom as it bounced from left to right deliberating.
"Oh, um... yeah. Thought I was low on shampoo, but I managed," she replied, not looking back at him. "I need today to go smoothly." Her eyes stayed on the green Roland Mouret dress that fell just above her ankles. The color was strong without trying. She held it against her hips, checking out her body in the floor-length mirror.
"Everything you wear looks great."
He wasn't lying. Wendy really was the definition of natural beauty. He still didn't understand how he'd ended up with her. One minute he was crunching statistical oddities for a local brewery while recovering from his breakup, and the next he was having drinks with Wendy, their heads bent together over a baseball betting sheet he'd brought to the bar. She had surprised him once before with challenging his margin estimates, her eyes sparkling with victory when he'd double-checked the math and found that she was right. That was what had first drawn him to her - not just her beauty, but the way she could cut through his careful analysis with quick, intuitive insights that were usually spot-on. Back then, he'd loved how she'd squeeze his arm whenever he corrected their friends' probability estimates, whispering "you're such a nerd" lovingly in his ear.
"Thanks, babe," she said distractedly. She wasn't listening. Instead, she was holding up a cream-colored blouse and comparing it to the dress. A smile crept across her lips as the combination was perfect - elegant and commanding. Her hands automatically smoothed the way the clothing fell, a residual habit from modeling. She'd left it behind, tired of being valued solely for her looks, but she couldn't help but admit the talent it had taught her was priceless. A glance was all it took to tell her exactly how others would react to a garment, what it would say. Today, that message was that she deserved a seat at the table.
She shrugged into the blouse, adjusting the collar as Jon finally emerged from bed. The neckline was respectable enough, though no amount of careful construction could completely conceal her figure. A problem that would haunt her, despite her best efforts.
Jon was a creature of habit in his own closet. His was mundane compared to hers. The same boring colors of black, white, and beige reiterated, and so did the same boring heap of khakis. It was functional, he'd always protest. Time wasted thinking about what to wear was time wasted. Every now and then, Wendy was jealous of its simplicity, the freedom that men had to wear the same thing day in and day out without criticism.
Right on cue, he appeared behind her, already dressed in his standard Oxford and khakis, fumbling with his striped tie. "Here, let me," Wendy offered, turning to face him. Her fingers making quick work of the half Windsor knot as he settled his hands on her waist. She couldn't help but smile at the warmth of his skin against hers. These quiet moments were when everything made sense, when the complications of work and ambition fell away. If only that clarity could follow her to the office.
