Shiver

The one thing I love about summers near the Bay is being able to cruise around Main Street with the top down. I cut my gaze to the rearview mirror and give myself a long hard look.
God,
I look like hell warmed over
.

The yawn that escapes me is proof of my overwhelming need for more sleep. The dark, purplish bags underneath my eyes punctuate the severity of the situation. I shake my head at my hideous state and hope that my appearance lives up to this afternoon’s expectations.

A warm feeling bubbles in the pit of my belly. Thinking about today fills me with immense anticipation. It never ceases to amaze me that my body reacts so willingly to the lust I feel at the mere thought of my Wednesday afternoons.
Please tell me that I remembered to bring a backup pair of panties...
             

My office isn’t too far from my house; a couple blocks at best. I find my reserved parking spot and place my car in park. Stepping out of the car and closing the door behind me, I make my way to the back. As I unlock the trunk to retrieve my things, I’m instantly flooded with memories of the first time.

“I’m nervous. Someone might see us.”

A small chuckle floated across my ear. “No one will see. Just hike up your skirt a little.”

My eyes darted around the dimly lit space when I heard a voice off in the distance.

“Someone’s over there!” I hissed, jumping a fraction in an attempt to try and separate us. “We can’t do this here.”

Strong hands gripped my waist, placing me back in my previous spot. My body reacted shamelessly as soft, wet kisses peppered my neck, leaving a hot trail in their wake.

“Baby, this won’t work if we don’t give it a try. No one will see. I promise.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I gave myself a mental pep talk reminding myself that this was what I wanted.

             
In a move that was bolder than anything I’d thought I’d ever do, I reached down and fingered the hem of my skirt. All hesitation buried, I grasped the thin piece of material and lifted it over my hips, exposing myself to him.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that.”

I squeeze my thighs together, feeling the moisture pool between my legs, and try to find some well needed friction.

I’ll be surprised if I make it the next four hours without self-combusting.

The building I work in is a relic, still standing after eighty  years. It’s been renovated over the years, but most of the original architecture has remained untouched.

As I open the front doors,  Mr. Duggan the front desk security guard, waves at me. I have to smile at the obvious appreciation in his eyes. Even though he’s well into his fifties, Mr. Duggan is a very striking man.

“Good morning, Lilith.” Mr. Duggan tips his head with a cheeky grin spread across his face. “Beautiful day out there, don’t
ya
think?”

“Good morning to you too, Gordon,” I say, and flash him my best smile. “And yes, it is a very beautiful day outside.”

“You look mighty pretty today.” He smiles at me again, and I can’t help but think of how much Mrs. Duggan wouldn’t like his flirting with me. “You going out for lunch today?”

The twinkle in Mr. Duggan’s eye quickly tells me that he knows something or, at the least, suspects something.
Nosey old fart.

             
I stop in front of the desk and grab a complimentary mint stashed in a small wicker basket. “Yes I am, Gordon. Why?”

Mr. Duggan purses his lips, and a look of confliction dances across his face. “Well, I was wondering if you’d like to grab a bite to eat…with me…today.”

             
My stomach immediately swirls with dread and nausea. Thinking about Mrs. Duggan storming into the building, ready to take me out, scares me to no end.

I’ve known the Duggan’s since the first day I started working at the magazine. Mrs. Duggan has always been so nice to me. Well, that was until the day she caught her husband checking me out with his bushy grey eyebrows raised in appreciation.

I remember the older woman telling me, “He’s a horny ole’ toad, but he’s my horny ole’ toad. And if you so much as think about touching my husband, I’ll cut your fingers off.”

Ever since that day I try to stay as far from Gordon as humanly possible
. Pretty damned sure the old woman would do some serious damage.

I lightly smack the marble desk top and suck in a breath. “Thank you for the offer, Gordon, but...why don’t you invite your wife out to lunch? I think she’d really like that.”

I give Mr. Duggan one last smile and head for the elevator. His face falters and I almost feel bad at having to reject his invitation. Shaking my head of the thought, I swiftly walk to the elevator, not giving him a chance to stop me.

The elevator ride to the fifteenth floor takes only minutes. I hate having my office so high up but it beats not having an office at all, or a job for that matter.

When I had first applied for the magazine, the interview process was cutthroat with numerous eliminations left and right. I was sure, sitting in front of Hillary Michaels, the Editor and Chief, that she would kick me to the curb like she had all the others before me. One week after my second interview, I was hired, making top dollar.

Five years and three promotions later, I’m glad I hadn’t run for the hills out of complete fear.

As soon as the elevator doors open, I find myself being verbally bombarded by my secretary.

             
“Mrs. Davies, there you are!” The young girl’s arms flail around like an overly excited chimpanzee, and for a minute my thoughts entertain the idea of her trying to take flight
.

I would so pay to see that.

She lets loose a tiny squeal. “Your got those pretty flowers again.” Emma hadn’t been working for me long, but she sure is getting comfortable.

A smile widens across my face. The scent of the blooms wafts through my office doors. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, enjoying the way the floral aroma smells. Walking inside the office, my breath catches,

They’re beautiful! There’s so many of them.

My eyes drink in the scene. He always knows what puts a smile on my face. White, purple, and pink are the colors he always chooses. Every Wednesday morning at 8:00, I can always count on the fragrant blooms to be nestled on top of my desk.

“I wish I had a special someone to send me flowers.” Emma sighs dreamily, and part of me can’t stop from hoping that the young girl finds someone special.

“Thank you, Emma. That’ll be all for now. Oh, and I’ll be leaving for lunch today, so please…”

“I know. Hold your calls.” A modest grin plays on her face and, for a moment, I want to ask her what she knows. But, before my brain can process an intelligent line of questioning, I’m cut off by Emma’s sing-song tone. “Have a good morning, Mrs. Davies,” she says with a raise of her brows, closing the door behind her.

Finally alone, I sit down at my desk and start to think about Emma’s words,
“I wish I had a special someone to send me flowers.”

I can’t help but think when I hadn’t had someone “special” in my life. Hell, there was a time when I was hell bent on being alone. But all that changed in an instant.

             
When Marcus and I met, it was completely surreal. I’d never known anyone like him and to say that I wasn’t completely captivated by his charm would be an outright lie. He’s shown me things that many would consider taboo, inappropriate. I disagree. They’re delicious.

I can still remember the day I met him. The moment we locked eyes, I had to find out more about him. His strong physique captured my attention unlike any other man had ever done.

When he caught me looking at him that night, a wicked grin slowly tugged at the sides of his mouth, and it had my insides tangled in knots. In that very moment, my body gravitated toward him. I felt the pull of energy between us, calling out to me, reaching for me with a thousand watt charge.

It took less than a week before Marcus and I started seeing each other. At first he was very secretive about his personal life, claiming that he didn’t like bulldozing everyone with his daily ins and outs.

What he didn’t know was that I wanted him to bulldoze me. I wanted to know everything about the man. I wanted to know
him
.

After the second week I’d learned that Marcus was a silent partner for several nightclubs in the downtown area. They were very lucrative, making him very successful. He and a friend of his started their first club from the ground up, building their second six months later.

The demand for booze, party, and music, made Marcus a very wealthy man.

The turning point in our relationship had come when he’d taken me on a chartered boat ride along the Bay. That was the first time he propositioned me.

Since then we’ve been meeting each other secretly for the past five weeks; every Wednesday at noon. We keep our meetings a secret because it works for us. I can’t begin to explain how many times I’ve wanted to confide in my friends, gossip over a latte about the sinful things he does to my body.
             

But I can’t. It’s private.

             
So when he called me this morning and told me where to meet him, my pussy wept at the sound of his low, silky voice.

             
I knew what I wanted. He does too. He always does. I just wasn't too sure what would evolve once we were alone, together. He never gives me any hints, and we never meet at the same place twice. It’s a rule of ours.

And the sex?
Oh my god
…The sex is utterly soul quenching and exhilarating. Every time he touches me sparks of pure lust ignite my skin. He always knows how to make me feel good.

With my thoughts engulfed with all things Marcus, I don’t even realize when the alarm on my cell phone starts to buzz.

Damn it! I cannot be late…again…

I quickly gather my things and head for the door. I don’t give Emma enough time to say something, anything, before I’m out of the office in a nanosecond.

My heart begins to stammer as my heels click against the concrete sidewalk that leads to the five star hotel.
Thank God it’s only minutes on foot from my work.

I walk faster, squeezing through the lunchtime pedestrian rush.

The anticipation chews at my insides, grating frantically at my deep seated nerves. Just thinking about his mouth on me turns my pussy into a quivering, slick mess.

When the hotel finally comes into view, I’m utterly grateful. My feet hurt like hell, and I do believe that I might have gained a blister or two.

Once I enter the lobby, I dart for the far end of the room and the foot tapping begins. Waiting for the elevator to inch its way to me is torture. It’s taunting me, taking forever. Each number slowly lights up, one by one, as if the mechanical object knows that I’m one step closer to utter bliss. 

The small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I turn and notice the doorman eyeball me, his gaze drifting up and down my body. The appreciation is clearly visible across his features. He lifts his brows and shoots me a grin.
Keep dreaming, buddy.

The elevator arrives, finally deciding to put me out of my misery. And as soon as the doors fly open, I swiftly step inside and wait for the steel walls to take me up to the tenth floor.