The Charade (17 page)

“He’s an author and playwright. He has a very unorthodox style,” he said.

“Unorthodox? Look at the big words.”

He laughed. “Are you ready to eat?”

Tyson he prepared two ribeye steaks, fluffy, buttery mashed potatoes, and a kale and chic pea salad with raspberry vinaigrette. A man who could cook was Superman in my eyes. With the meal he just prepared, I’d gladly wash the dishes for him. Or least, put them away in the dishwasher, squirt soap in the dispenser, and press a button.

“I never knew you were such a good cook,” I told him loading dishes on the rack. “French toast, steak…you can do it all.”

“When I was in Europe, during my
finding myself phase
,” he said with a sarcastic look on his face, “I attended a small culinary school in Berlin for a couple of months.”

“Worldly man. Back-packed through Spain. Taught English in Japan. You forgot I got accepted into MIT when I was a teen, but my parents thought I wasn’t mature enough.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, MIT this, MIT that. I’m more impressed at your way around a kitchen.”

“I know the basic shit.”

“Oh, the basic shit, huh?” I said in a mocking tone, wiping down the sink.

“Call me the black James Bond.” I threw a chic pea at him.

“Well, if what we just had was basic, I can’t wait to see you pull out all the stops.” I snickered. “You’re going to have me over here every day.”

He rushed over and embraced me from behind, wrapping his arms around me. “You’re
already
over here every day,” He kissed me on the cheek and then right behind my earlobe. It made me jump anytime his pressed against it. He spun me around. He beamed from ear to ear. “I want you have this.” He pulled a silver key out of his front khaki pant pocket. He took my hand and placed the key inside my palm and folded my fingers down on top of it. I covered my mouth in amazement. No man had ever given me key before. Did I hear him right? That was English right? Sometimes with my overactive, racing all over the map mind, I forget to hear things correctly.

“Wow. You like me! You really like me.” I said taunting him, trying to play it cool, but my insides melted. My pulse was traveling somewhere near 179mph. He kissed my fingers. They held the key tightly my sweaty palms.

“A little.” He chuckled and embraced my lips. “It’s the key to my heart.” He laughed.

“Are-” My voice jittered. “Are you sure?” Was he ready to make this step? Shit, was
I
ready to make this step? Well, he wasn’t asking me to move in with him. This was just a key. That’s all. Just a key. I couldn’t stop breathing so hurriedly. Things were starting to fall in place like I wanted.

“Tiny, I’m absolutely sure.” The sink squeaked as I collapsed against it.

His tongue embraced mine. He lifted me on top of the sink and removed my shirt. He flung it behind us and it landed on the stove.

“How about we burn off those calories from that meal?”

I obliged.

Chapter 12

I hated cocktail parties, but it wouldn’t look professional if I didn’t. I had to grin and bear it – I was a new employee and it was the company’s five-year anniversary party. It was being held at the office.

Uncomfortable shoes, bad music, and feigning interest in conversations with people I never talk to. At least I’d have a reason to get drunk. Not pissy drunk, that I’d be the subject of whispers and sneers the next day.
“Did you see the new girl, she got so drunk she puked in the bathroom? She passed out and they had to call a cab for her.”
I didn’t want to be
that
girl. My plan was to grab a few drinks, get enough of a buzz to stave off the uncomfortable flirting by Sam from Public Relations and take a few bites of the catered food.

After about an hour and a half, I was ready to go. I gossiped with the ladies in my department, made small talk with a few of the human resources gals, introduced myself to a few of the new hires. I spent most of the time hiding out in the bathroom stall playing Kandy Rain on my phone. I tried to catch Tyson’s eye to give him the signal that I was ready, but he was too busy schmoozing with the executives. I couldn’t blame him – he had a promotion to get.

He finally crossed through the crowd over to me, glassy-eyed and drink in hand. “God I hate these things,” he said. “I’m exhausted.”

“I agree,” I said.

“My lips are tired from all this ass kissing.”

“Aww, poor baby. I’ll make them feel all better later tonight.”

“I bet you will.” His smile implied that he knew exactly what I would do. “You look amazing tonight.” He scanned me up and down. “Absolutely amazing.” He licked his lips and his eyes squinted.

“Tyson.” I said, looking around to see if anyone saw the sex pouring off of us. I brushed the hair in my face behind my ear. I jutted my eyes around the room again. “I thought we agreed to keep the flirting to a minimum?”

“I’m sorry. I just can’t help it. I love your outfit.” I wore a blazer and slacks with a red blouse. Office appropriate, yet happy hour sexy. He wore a black suit with a black shirt and black shoes. No tie. “Why do you have to look so good right now?” He lowered his voice. I bit my lip. He looked around the room, slid his hands underneath my blazer and squeezed my ass. I giggled. “I know a place upstairs we can go…sneak a quickie,” he said, whispering into my ear. “No one would catch us.”

My eyes lit up and I clenched my teeth. “We can’t.” I shook my head in terror. The thought sounded so enticing.

“We
can
. This is perfect time. No one is paying attention. No one will ever find out.”

My hands clammed up. “What if we get caught?”

“No one is going to catch us. Trust me. I know the perfect spot”

“Oh really?” I planted my hands on my hips. I cocked my head at him with an attitude. “Do you take all your other office floozies there?”

“Absolutely. I take every last one of them there.” I slapped his arm. “And who says floozies nowadays?”

“You want another slap?” I cocked my arm back and balled my hand into a fist.

“Not at all. That might leave a bruise. You’ve been hitting the gym haven’t you?” We chuckled. “When Bobbie comes up and grabs the microphone and gives her little speech, I’m going to go up the stairs by the south elevator. No one will be over there. Wait for my call.”

“You’re a sneaky little bugger aren’t you?”

“What can I say?” He leaned in closer to me. “That tight pussy makes me do things beyond my imagination.” He smiled and put his thumb and pinky to his face to mimic the sign of a phone. He turned around and schmoozed with other employees.

Bobbie, the Human Resources manager, held what looked like a sex on the beach in one hand and in the other, a microphone. She sauntered to the front of the buffet table and gave a speech about how proud she was of us.

I saw Tyson’s head move about the crowd towards the maze of cubicles. My slit became wetter with each passing minute. My clammy hands checked my phone every thirty seconds as Bobbie continued her semi-intoxicated musings about seeing the company grow.

I checked my phone again.

When was he going to call? It had to be over five minutes. He didn’t say
when
he would call, but I didn’t think it would take more than five minutes. What if something happened? It had to be any second. My pussy didn’t have much patience.

I felt a pinch at my elbow. It made me jump, almost spilling my wine. It was a voice that always made me quiver from its authority. “You look…absolutely stunning,” Victor said. “Not overtly sexual and not too pristine for an office gathering.” He stroked his chin, circling me, appraising me head to toe. “I see I’ve rubbed off on you a bit.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “I didn’t expect you here.”

He looked like himself again. He was tuxedo clad, a glass of champagne in his hand, and his charming smile was on display. “You look like you’re back to normal.”

“I feel like shit.” He smiled. “But what would it look like if the founder wasn’t there to celebrate his own company’s anniversary?”

“Cheers.” We clanged our glasses together. We were both fake-smiling.

“Well, I guess to keep up with the fakeness, we should pretend as if we don’t know each other.” He leaned in towards me. “You never know who’s listening.”

“So, five years, huh?” I wasn’t good at this game at all.

“Five years. I built it from the ground up.”

“All yourself?”

“With a little help from my friends.”

“You must be proud.”

“Very much so.”

“This is so fucking terrible.” I said. I spoke through clenched teeth; a faux smile plastered my face.

He did the same. “I’m nowhere as drunk as I should be.” We shared a huge laugh. “This coming year should be our biggest yet.”

I bit my lip. I checked my phone. Where was Tyson?

I took a sip of wine and checked my phone again, but this time I fumbled it and dropped it on the floor. Victor bent down to grab it and I quickly swiped it before his fingers grasped it. I looked around nervously avoiding eye contact with Victor. “Do you need me to refill your glass?” Victor asked. “You seem jittery.” His eyes studied me succinctly.

“No, I’m fine. I’m just nursing it.” I clutched my purse to my hip to make sure I felt it vibrate - if it ever were to.

“Seems like you have a lot on your mind right now.” I continued to fidget. Tapping my feet. Folding one arm into the other. I was a total mess. “Natasha.”

“What?” I asked him with an attitude.

“What’s going on with you?”

“I-” My phone buzzed. “I’m okay. I think the sushi upset my stomach.” Before I could excuse myself to find Tyson, Victor rambled on.

I couldn’t just snatch my heels off and make a mad dash for the elevator. Victor would instantly ask for a reason for my behavior. He’d berate me until he had one and the entire plan would be foiled. I had to withstand his small talk.

“You think so? The spread is nice.” He stole a celery stick off a tray from a server who zoomed by.

My phone vibrated again.

Tyson probably became restless. He already put the bug in my brain about doing it – there was no turning back now. I was full speed ahead. “We got the food from a little catering company on the north side of town. I think it’s fantastic.”

Buzz.

By then I drowned Victor’s voice out completely. He introduced me to a client from Montreal. I didn’t know what her name was or what was said. I didn’t care. I imagined Tyson crammed in some broom closet, rock hard, desperately awaiting my arrival.

Bzzz.

“I’m giving a speech in a moment. It’s really going fire everyone up.”

Bzzzz.

“I’m going to speak about-”

I had no more nails to gnaw off. “Can you excuse me for a second.” I said interrupting him.

“Natasha, is there a problem?”

My heart cannoned out of my chest. “I have to use the bathroom.” I shoved my glass into his chest and darted off towards the elevators.

“The bathroom is the other way,” I heard him say as I rushed away from the crowd.

I looked at my phone and it had eleven unread messages. They were mixed with expletives,
whereareyou’s
and
getyourassupherenow’s
. I texted him back saying I was on my way. He texted his whereabouts.

I pressed the up button on the elevator fifteen times in three seconds.

Tyson was in some broom closet outside of Victor’s office - of all places.

Men.

“Why you picked this spot of all hideaway spots is beyond me,” I said stepping inside the closet.

“What took you so long?” Tyson asked.

“I got tied up.”

“I wish I could tie you up.”

He grabbed the back my neck and devoured my tongue. A sliver of light from the red exit sign peeked through the hinges of the closet, giving me a slight illumination, just enough to make out a silhouette of him. I grabbed his crotch and just like imagined – he was stifling hard.

“You were hard for me all this time?”

“You looked so incredible in that outfit, I couldn’t help myself.”

“I’ll be there in a second,” a voice yelled out. I almost screamed. Tyson held his hand over my mouth. “I have to grab something out of my office,” the man said. It was Victor. He approached his office door.

I breathed through my nose rapidly; my eyes peeled back to my scalp.

His shoes click clacked loudly against the marble floor. “You just had to pick this spot. Right next to Victor’s office?” I said whispering into Tyson’s ear. “Are you insane?” It was crazy, but the rush it gave me, buzzed me more than the glasses of cabernet I drank. I pinched his arm. He let out a small wince. Victor’s rushed footsteps suddenly came to a halt.

I was paralyzed.

Not like this. Please, not like this. The footsteps came closer to the closet and then paused again. I stayed frozen, swallowing any and every breaths that rushed up my lungs. I stayed clinched to Tyson, my nails sunk in to his skin. I prayed the floor didn’t creak or a hanger didn’t clang. Dead silence. Victor’s footsteps commenced – away from the closet.

A door opened.

We stood frozen, hoping the smell of sex didn’t seep out and fill the corridor. Victor shut the office door and went back towards the elevator. “I’m coming.” The glass door shut behind him.

“You’ll be coming too,” Tyson whispered. He grabbed me by the waist and rammed me against the wall making a thud, rattling the hangers next to us. His tongue snaked down my throat and I took a hold of his belt and zipper, pulling them down. Our hands explored every part of our body. His touch was desperate, forceful, and immediate.

He unloosened his pants and pulled them down. The clanging of his belt made us pause momentarily. He pushed the fabric of my dress up to my waist and slid my panties down to my ankles, exposing my needful pussy.

I reached down and his cock bulged through his briefs. I stroked, caressed, and explored it.

The air in the closet was thick and it accelerated my breathing. Tyson pulled his briefs down and pulled a condom from his suit jacket. While he tore the package, I jerked his erectness repeatedly, making him harder and firmer. He rolled the latex over his shaft. I kicked off my heels and wrapped one leg around his lower back, suspending me against the wall and my other foot on the floor.

Moist breaths mixed between our mouths as we stood face to face. The sliver of green light showed a section of Tyson’s face and it was full of passion.

He pressed his steely body into me further and jack hammered his iron rod into my saturated slit. I fought hard not to moan; the entire building would’ve heard me. I let out a soft whimper.

His torso ripped into me, resembling a rhythmic stroke from an exotic dancer. I wrapped my other leg around his back. He grabbed my hip, further opening my pussy as he dove into me deeper, more merciless and faster with each thrust. My other shoe plopped to the floor.

He sunk his teeth into my throat, holding me against the wall while I popped my hips towards him.

Tyson’s stroke became more violent, more vigorous and I retaliated by rotating and gyrating my waist, grinding my pelvis in a pattern with his. My ass pounded against the wall, making a loud
smack
, but both of us refused to stop. We couldn’t stop - the sensation was too great. The pleasure too immense. Both of us near imploding. Erupting onto one another. My legs coiled around him, squeezing tightly. My legs cramped uncontrollably, ready to give out under him.

Faintly, he heard me calling my name. He replied with mine.

The carnal culmination was near.

My sex earthquaked as he planted his hot, sultry seed within me. I wished he didn’t wear a condom. I wanted to feel what it was like for him to come inside of me.

I collapsed on top of him. The both of us panted quietly. We snickered at each other; struck from the sensation and from the secret thrill we both shared.