I’ve been so nervous all day I’ve been shaking. I had to spend about an hour doing some real work, something the boss needed today, to be sent out before the weekend.
The rest of the time I’ve been faking it. Most of the day I’ve either been stealing glances at Rob, or just shutting my eyes, thinking. A couple of times he noticed, but I smiled, as though it were just an accident. I doubt he believes that, but it’s nothing new.
We’ve been flirting for months, ever since he came to my department. At first it was just a smile, some idle chatter. We just got along good. Little by little though, it’s elevated, nothing too overt, but we have both found ways to spend a little more time together in the office. He comes over and asks advice on his projects, and we end up chatting about almost anything.
There was a task force a while ago, and I volunteered for it right after he did. Always five or six people in the meetings, but we were usually the first in and the last out. And he would make a point of getting the chair next to me, every time.
Of course, we always go to lunch together. I don’t know when I realized it was more than just office comradery, but it’s been a while now.
But lately, things have changed. I find he’s the first thing I look for when I get in the office. I feel let down if he’s not here, even if I know he’s in a meeting or something. And if one of us goes for coffee, we always come back with two, it’s automatic.
Of course, I’ve caught him looking at my breasts lots of times, even down my shirt, but all the guys do that. But when Rob does it I pretend not to notice for a minute, giving him a good look, then smile just a little and turn a bit, never interrupting our conversation and not really blocking his view.
And there are other things. The touches. It was only a month or so ago when one day, he touched my shoulder when he made a point. He didn’t really have to, he just did it. It was so sudden I jumped, and he moved his hand.
But I was burning for minutes after, both my shoulder and my face. And even that night, I still thought about it. Thank God, I didn’t scare him off. The next day he did it again, it wasn’t an accident. But that time I was ready. I didn’t jump, just slowly turned my face to him and smiled.
And he smiled back. Ever since then it’s been more and more routine. Sometimes I touch him back. Sometimes I touch him first.
Now though, sometimes it’s other places too.
A week or so ago, I made a wise guy remark when no one else was around and he gave me a little swat on the butt. I almost jumped again, but instead I kept my cool and pumped my ass back at him. Then turned and stuck my tongue out. He had a look on his face I’ve never seen before. Longing?
But yesterday, everything changed. Right at quitting time, when the office was almost empty and no one was down our end, he walked over as I was getting my purse out of my desk. He never said a word, just stood behind me.
And I felt his hands on my shoulders. And he began to massage, gently at first, then harder and deeper. For a long time, maybe five minutes. At times his hands brushed the sides and back of my neck, but never strayed further than my shoulder blades.
When he finished he bent down, his mouth inches from my ear and whispered, “I thought you looked a little tense. Have a nice night, Becky.”
I managed to gasp out, “Thanks, you too, Rob,” but it came out so softly I don’t know if he heard me. I couldn’t move, I didn’t dare try. And when I finally turned to look, he was gone. That was a good thing, because by then I had tears streaming down my cheeks.
I’m not even sure why, I certainly wasn’t sad or offended, I loved it! I just didn’t want him to stop. Ever.
Last night that was all I thought about. Almost all night. Towards dawn, I managed an hour or two of sleep though. After I had made the
decision. So today, I’m ready. I haven’t a doubt left in my mind. I just need the strength.
But I can still feel those hands on my shoulders. That’s all I need.
This morning, when I came in he was at his desk, and I just gave him a cheery smile. “Hi Rob, you going for pizza tonight?” It’s an office tradition. Friday night, a dozen or so of us go across the street for pizza and beer.
“Of course,” he replied, “do I ever miss?”
He doesn’t and I was counting on that. So now, I’m watching the clock. It’s 10 of 5, almost time. I take a quick walk to the ladies room. And I take off my bra. Fuck it, all or nothing. When I get back, he’s just cleaning up his desk, so I lock mine and wait for him.
Some always cheat and leave a little early, so we aren’t the first. We usually take up three booths, and one is full already. One guy is sitting at the second, and Rob heads towards it, but I tug at his arm and say, “Do you mind?” and angle him towards the third booth.
It’s empty, and he waits for me to slide in, but I smile and say, “You first, ok?” I get a little questioning look, but he does as told, and I slide in next to him.
Pretty soon, a young secretary from the office sits next to me and I slide closer to Rob, my leg pressing against his. A couple of guys sit across from us, but they’re more interested in her. We order a couple of pitchers of beer and two different pizzas for the table, and there’s the usual chit-chat as we wait. Of course the beer comes first, so we start on that.
But somewhere along the line he notices. I have an extra button on my blouse undone, and he can see right in. I planned it that way, this shirt was always like that. And of course, he can see my braless breasts.
I say something and he doesn’t answer, and when I turn to him I see his eyes. Somehow he notices me looking, and his expression becomes a question, almost shock. He knows I wasn’t like this in the office.
I just give him the warmest smile I know how, turn a little more to him and bend slightly, to give him the best possible look. And I gently pat him on the thigh, beneath the table.
He closes his eyes, almost scrunches them up, and looks away for a moment. But now, he looks back, and he understands.
He accepts the invitation and I can feel his eyeballs slide right into my shirt and stroke my breasts. I have this terrible urge, and I have to fight it. Oh God, it wouldn’t be cool with the office bunch. But I want to lean over and kiss him SO bad!
My hand hasn’t moved since the pat, but now it does, sliding lightly up and down the top of his thigh. He sits back against the booth and very softly moans. I feel his hand settle on top of mine, moving with it at first, but then sliding softly up and down my arm, encouraging me.
The pizzas come and break the spell. Both of us manage to get down a slice or two, but it’s hard with only one hand apiece. And for some reason, I’m not really hungry at all.
And I didn’t eat breakfast or lunch, either. We finish our beers, and he reaches for the pitcher to pour us more, but I put my hand over the top of my glass. And I turn to him and say very softly, “If you’d like another beer, we could have it at my apartment.” Why do I feel like my whole life rests on that statement?
“Are you ready?” he says.
“I’ve been ready.”