Word up, this is a fantasy post, meaning it will contain sexually explicit material. Mum, civilised friends and family you can skip this post ;-)
Some music to set the scene… So this track is Feist’s My Moon My Man. It’s a very sexy song ;-)
Take it slow
Take it easy on me
And shed some light
Shed some light on me please
Take it slow
And shed some light
Shed some light on me please
Now where were we…
I opened the door to find him standing, facing me, waiting for me in the door way…
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
There he stood, even more wet than I and with an amused wry smile. A courier.
I looked down with relief. At least I didn’t have to talk shop and find an excuse to get rid of him quickly.
Closing the door behind the madness of what was the communal toilet, I walked passed him without making eye contact. I was still feeling a little precious about my looks and I figured the warmer I became in the corporate sauna, the less likely I would cause him injury by poking his eye out with my still erect nipples.
Looking at him properly for the first time and with a professional style smile, “Please, come in” I invited. Arms folded across chest.
I thought I vaguely recognised him and was trying to place where I had seen him. I was certain I had never seen him up close though. I would have remembered.
He followed me inside and said, “I hope you didn’t mind me waiting outside for you? I didn’t want to saturate your floors… and to be honest, it is hotter than hell in here!!” He sounded English but didn’t look it.
“Not at all, it’s an occupational hazard…” I quipped. He looked at me quizzically. “We are used to men waiting outside for ladies using communal restrooms.” He smiled a little embarrassed and this time I paid attention.
He was older, late thirties, nearly 6ft, no ring. With a mop, almost shoulder length, of brown curly hair framing his face. Drops of water were still falling from the ringlets of his fringe and around his shoulders. His eyes were brown, warm and playful. Being ruggedly good looking: defined eyebrows, full mouth, straight nose, chiseled jaw; made more authentic, with a jagged scar that ran diagonally from under his chin, to near the corner of his bottom lip.
His skin was a worn healthy golden brown and he had an athletic build. It looked like he worked out but not necessarily for fun or beauty. His body was leanly sculptured with purpose. It would take time and distinctive effort to look the way he did.
He was wearing a grey v neck T-shirt, with a deeper than usual v and that’s when I saw it. My weakness. A fan of his dark chest hair naturally ending at his collar bone. My arms fell to their sides.
He was a classic V shape and his soaking T-shirt clung to his body leaving little to the imagination. I could see the muscle definition of his shoulders, lats, pectoral cleavage, (is there a name for that?) highlighted by his tiny erect nipples and rib cage.
His loose army green shorts with a broken top button were slung low. I could make out the concave shape of his abdomen and a snippet glimpse of his snail trail. If my clit could make a noise it went “ping”.
I couldn’t see his thighs but I could imagine. Golden brown hairs trailed down his legs and his calves were as you would expect, cut like tectonic plates. Wearing no socks and red and white striped trainers.
The brief silence of my drinking in his image was broken when he says, “how can you manage to work in here with this heat?” As I look up he averts his eyes, from a level, just about where my nipples are.
The banter begins…
Pointing to my hair, “I sponge bath regularly in the toilets!”
He laughs and says “I watched you arrive at your office, I thought you already looked like you had one!!”
“You haven’t faired very well yourself!” Gazing appreciatively as he looked down at at his body.
“Eerrhm, I’m sorry, I am making a mess of your floor.” As he side steps a small wet patch on our showroom floor.
Hopping to attention, “actually it’s me that’s sorry, I haven’t offered you anything to drink or to dry yourself with.” Snapping back to being professional. “Can I get you anything?”
“Nah that’s ok, I am only going back out there.” He points to the window and we both looked outside. The rain was torrential.
Moving toward the window I remarked dryly, “who would have thought you could get a monsoon in London?!”
I can sense him as he moves behind me to see outside. My pulse increases. I turn around and we are close, nearly face to face. He has kind, inquisitive eyes. I decide he is more than good looking.
I could feel a strong physical attraction given our proximity. Like all my skin cells had small electric charges prickling on the surface. I wondered whether he could feel the same thing? I wanted to touch him to see if anything would happen, like whether or not my skin would ignite spontaneously.
Looking up at him and blushing a little, I was unable not to smile, “is that for us?” I pointed to the package he was yet to let go.
“Yes, of course” he doesn’t move back and maintains his position in my personal space. “Sorry, if I could just get you to sign here too…” I could feel his breath on my forehead.
“Let me get a pen” I said, walking through to the adjoining office. Grateful to breakaway from the sexually charged haze I thought I was emitting. He followed and waited at the doorway.
“It should be illegal to work in this kind of environment, but I could imagine as an Australian you should be used to the heat?”
Trying to concentrate on where to sign in my desire filled body, I stammered a little, “well… not exactly, our ahhh… ummm, our air conditioner unit is on the blink” and nodded toward the unit.
He peered around the corner to the unit that looked in disarray. “Do you want me to have a quick look at it for you?”
“Oh no that’s ok, you probably need to get back.” Time to get a grip and put to bed my lust for this courier fellow.
“Well no actually, I am in no major rush to head back out.”
Sheesh I thought. He should probably leave as soon as possible my rational brain warned me. “Really, it’s not necessary. I can’t ask you to play Mr Fix It.”
“Well we have one similar back at the office… And I am offering.” I considered it…
“Here, let me just take a quick look” he persisted. “I can’t see a young professional lady working like this.”
Professional!! I thought… He thinks I am professional… and a lady!! A glimmer of hope that I might be able to maintain appearances. But then I couldn’t be quite sure he wasn’t having a joke. My wet hair while in a pony tail was still dripping down my back and I was beginning to sweat again with the heat. My nipples on the other hand were defying all internal temperature gauges and stubbornly were not reclining.
“Well at least let me fix you a cup of tea? or cool drink of some sort… biscuits?”
“Sure, ok, only if it is not too much trouble.”
“No trouble.”
“Ok, I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“Ribena?”
“Ribena it is!!”
“If you are going to stay for a while do you want me to get you a towel?” He said yes, but I think that was more for my benefit seeing he was acutely aware he was leaving a wet trail wherever he went.
Through to our tiny kitchenette, I found the missing hand towel. Hung over the tap, it had gone stiff from being left in the heat. I poured our glasses and found a spare toilet roll under the sink.
“Here you go” I smiled, passing him his glass while he was checking the unit.
“I am sorry we don’t have any towels, but you can use this if you like?” He took the toilet roll and wound it around his hand in bunches. He began rubbing a little too vigorously, his face, neck and arms and bits of toilet paper were disintegrating in a flurry on the floor.
“Umm sorry… again” he says as he notices bits of white tissue falling around him.
“You might find it better if you blot, rather than rub.”
“Ok, yeah sure… like this?…”
“Yes, just like that!” We both laugh at the futility of the exercise as he continues to blot and pad himself dry.
“Here” I said, “you have some paper stuck here” and pointed to his brow. “And here” pointing to his temple. He exaggeratedly brushes his hands over his face. “Nope still there.”
“Would you do the honours?” He jutted his head confidently toward me, smiling playfully.
I hesitated and he took my hand gently and lead it to his face. We were becoming intimate. The closeness and gentleness of it all. Like the juxtaposition of being polite and yet over friendly at the same time. None of it felt odd. Like the love and care a mother would show an upset child that is not her own.
Him watching me considerately, I carefully removed what I could. To cover the silence I nervously remarked shaking my head, “it’s in your hair and everything.”
I had to move closer toward him to remove a stubborn piece from his temple.
“You smell fresh!”
“Thank you.”
My fingers entering his wet hair line and my thumb running over and over his damp slippery skin. I felt a deeper level of physical attraction. It was like the lips of my wannie had been filled with lead, made from desire. They became throbbingly heavy with lust.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
I held my breath.
I could feel the electricity charges of my skin sink deep inside my body. Accumulating in my stomach, throat and groin. No longer a tingling sensation but a heavy pulsating of yearning at my core. I actually felt a little nauseous with desire.
Our eyes held each others gaze. A look transpired that is hard to put your finger on. It was like… realisation. Of what exactly we weren’t sure. But we knew it was wonderful and kindred.
“Ok” I nearly coughed, “I think you are good to go” as my hand returned unwillingly beside me.
I stepped back and just as I was about to do something, anything constructive at my desk, he said looking serious, “well, looks like you’ve got a big problem here…”
Completely distracted by our little moment and not 100% certain that he was talking about the air conditioner. (The largest problem I seemed to be having at the time was keeping the sexual turmoil underneath the surface.) I cocked my head and asked, “how so?”
He went over and tapped the air conditioner. My heart sank and it showed.
He beckoned me to squat with him to illustrate the problem. Wearing no undies and unsure of squatting, I crouched beside him leaning over his shoulder. I could smell the scent of his wet skin and remnants of eau de toilette. I inhaled quietly, long, deeply.
He showed me how to open up a secret compartment I didn’t know existed. He pointed to the empty vessel inside. Wearing a wide grin, “no wonder it didn’t work… there was no water in it!”
I raised an eyebrow in mock skepticism for his technical wizardry. “So that’s it?!”
“That’s it, I’ll fill it up and make sure it works before I leave” he chuckles as he walks away.
“Ok” I muttered unable to say no to probably any of his requests.
He replaced the water filled canister and turned the air conditioner on. It comes to life and air filters through the vents.
“Ahhhh at last!! Thank you… thank you so much for helping me out.”
“Not a worry at all.”
He says poignantly, “it’s been a pleasure…” We smiled with a growing admiration for one another.
“It will take a little while for the cold air to come through though. You should probably also hook up the extractor pipe to the outside.”
I looked at the large pipe and said, “sure, I will feed it up here” pointing to the vent cut in the window.
“I’ll do that if you like?”
“No no, you have done enough already.”
“It’s not a problem.”
Getting a little flustered but brain back in gear, “I know, but it means you have to get up on the desk and if anything happened… like you falling out the window, I am not sure whether we would be covered. Honestly it’s ok, I’ll do it.”
“I’ll stay here then… in case you fall out the window” he teased.
Wearing heels, I attempt to step up on the office swivel chair, which nearly had me falling over before I began. (It’s difficult alone, to get a leg up wearing a pencil skirt.) He catches my flailing hand in his firm grip and half catches/ guides me with his other hand on the small of my back.
“Wow you really are saturated through hey!!”
“Yes I know, I’m… sorry” becoming a little embarrassed about how deceivingly damp, or should I say “saturated”, I still was.
“No need, look at me!!” he honestly reassured.
Safely atop the chair, he doesn’t let me go. Holding my hand gentlemanly he leads me aloft the desk. I tell the Courier, “wow it’s even warmer up here!!” Still not wanting to let my hand go as my Mary Jane shoes delicately navigate around computers, telephones and papers.
“I’m ok” I release his hand and steady myself using the window pane. My legs spanned wide for balance, across the obstacle course of a desk.
“You sure!?” he asks, looking at me like I am a potential walking catastrophe.
“Yep, righto, pass me the pipe.” He feeds me the pipe and with a bit of awkward jiggling and maneuvering, I get it to sit flush inside the external vent. This takes about 3 minutes, I was a little surprised at the Courier’s patience. No heckling or advice just occasional “you ok’s?” and “you’ve nearly got it’s”.
Feeling a little hot and bothered from effort, I turn around carefully holding on to the window pane. Once steady, I clap my hands above my head in jubilation. “Yayy we did it!!”
“Yes, yes we sure did.” He looked as happy as I was. “Now lets get you back on safe ground.”
That’s when I realised that with the sunlight behind me and no underpants, at his head height he would have been able to make out the unmistakable tear drop shadow at my groin. Or at the very least the silhouette of my legs through my cream skirt.
I felt horrified for a split second before my body achingly shuddered with desire and chills spilled down my back with knowing. I began to feel conflicted about the various directions this afternoon could turn. Could he tell? Could he see what’s going on underneath the surface? I could feel I was becoming wet. My pussy walls gently contracting wantonly.
He reached up for my hand and took it firmly as I stepped to the edge of the desk. “Look at what we have here” he said, a little bemused. I peered down not wanting to guess at what he was referring to; and with his other hand he gently dusted my shins and calf of stuck toilet paper. His hand lingering on my ankle.
He looked up at me and we both laughed and then paused, in the moment. My eyes drifting longingly to his sweet spot around his collar bone and the exposed hairs of his chest.
“I suppose I should let you down” he said wistfully. He took his hand with mine and delivered it on his broad shoulder, before reaching for my waist. All the while his other hand was still lightly resting on my ankle.
My clit, aware of where his every finger tip, rest on my body, screamed with anticipation of what may never be.
And that’s when it happened…
Thanks for reading… Olivia x
