“Dec, we talked about this. We’re at work, and I—”
My other hand slips between her legs and slides up her inner thigh.
“No, we can’t!” she peeps, but she’s putting up a feeble protest as her own fingers brush with intent against my fly.
Yes, we can! I think, but now’s not the time for campaign slogans. Especially from people I didn’t vote for.
I stop, halting at the top of the thigh-high nylon she’s wearing, fingers hooked in and ready to pull.
“No?” She can stop me any time. I hold my breath and wait. Patience is a virtue. It might not be my virtue, but I can use it to meet my whim when needed.
Her eyes lock on mine. Her hair is mussed and there’s this wild-eyed look about her. If she needs permission from me, I’m already there. One word and I’m in her, finding home. The day has left us both splintered and whirling, and I know that we can get ourselves back to center by centering ourselves.
One thrust, one kiss at a time.
“No, we can’t,” she says again.
And then: “—with an unlocked door.”
I break the sound barrier as I cross the room, lock the door, and return to her. She’s pulled herself up on my desk and her legs are spread open, inviting me.
She’s not wearing any panties. This is becoming a meme, and one I quite enjoy.
Our mouths are hungry, taking and giving, her hands frantic on my belt and fly. Nimble fingers unclothe me just enough. She went on the pill a few months ago so condoms are like the buggy whip. An artifact of a bygone time.
(Yet the whip has a practical use in the bedroom, too, sometimes...).
I look behind her. My desk is littered with business documents and scribbled notes that used to be important but are now impediments. Obstacles preventing me from sinking into her and burying myself in her warmth, my nose in her hair, my tongue loving her teeth.
With one grand sweep I reach behind her and fling everything off the desk.
“Your laptop!” she cries out as the thin, silver computer bounces onto the carpet and makes a distinct beeping sound, like R2D2 protesting being roughed up.
“Don’t care,” I say, hands pulling off her suit jacket, roaming over her lush breasts. “I can replace it. What I can’t do is wait one second longer for this.” And with that, she opens herself to me, and the surge of power that has hummed through me finally unleashes. I’m home, warm and fevered, her mouth, her core all mine.
Mine.
She’s so damn exquisite under me, the glass-topped oak desk better than any bed, bathtub, kitchen counter, car, limo, helicopter, lighthouse, alleyway behind a piano bar, drive-in, er...place...we’ve ever made love. The flush in her cheeks, the way her eyes dance under her closed eyelids, the thin vein that stretches just past the corner of her eye, and the way she moans my name are all its own reward.
Getting to make love on top of all that is like being handed the keys to the kingdom.
Her hands pull at my shirt and I feel a button pop. Then another. A third as I thrust into her, the power surge morphing into a glow that makes me love her so hard I think my heart is about to thrust inside her, too. Shannon rips my shirt open as her back arches up, her little fingers digging into my chest as she clenches in every way you can imagine.
And that’s all I need.
“Look at that city, Shannon. That city is yours,” I murmur in her ear, one hand on her jaw, gently turning her head toward the expanse of glass to our side. “Ours. We’ll make our mark in the world together.”
We’re doing incredible deeds right now.
Her eyes stay focused on my face, mouth open, tongue caught against her top teeth. “You’re the best view I could ever want,” she says. “And the only mark I want to make with you is this.” Her lips bruise mine as she kisses me, hard, her hands grabbing my back with a frenzy that makes me feel as craved as any man has a right to expect.
Out of the corner of my eye the tops of buildings sprawl in an endless series of brick and steel, pouring out into the back bay like sand on a beach. Enormous and imposing and yet, in the span of centuries and millennia, just grains of sand.
Eternity makes everything insignificant. Even buildings and empires.
And that is why love is so important.
“You are so perfect,” I groan as we crest, my hands and mouth unable to touch her enough, her fingers embedding marks that will remain for three days and leave me with a secret smile every time I see them.
As we climb to heaven and then fall, gently, floating back to earth, the desk becomes an unbearably uncomfortable slab of glass and wood. I pull back to standing, eyes eating up Shannon’s disheveled form. We look like something out of a cheesy amateur porno film.
I’m good with that.
Her eyes widen and she looks out the window, then at the door, her bra loose around her breasts, shirt pulled up, skirt bunched around her hips.
“I’m a mess!” she groans, sitting up.
I bend down and kiss her, that succulent mouth like sweet honey poured against my lips.
“You’re hot.”
“I’m sleeping with my boss at the office!”
“It’s a condition of your employment.”
She pushes me off her and stands, pulling her skirt down and straightening her shirt. “We just broke about nine Human Resources rules in nine minutes.”
“Let’s go for ten next time.”
“There won’t be a next time,” she protests, reaching back to hook her bra and readjust her breasts. “It’s bad enough everyone thinks I only got a job here because I’m screwing my boss, but to actually be screwing my boss at work is just a little too...” She makes a shivering movement that sets the tops of her breasts jiggling.