“In school I liked it because I loved the science of it. But I also had time to pursue
other things. I took art classes and electives. It never felt real. When you’re in pre-med you never have to face the reality that someone could die because of what you do. In med school you realize that, and I didn’t want that kind decision on my shoulders. But I loved Seattle, so I left the hospital and stayed in the city. I realized I loved doing more creative work, and I kind of fell into marketing. Though I haven’t had the chance for any of my stuff to be used yet.” I make a face. “Sorry, that wasn’t exactly a glowing, happy story.”
“I said any story,” he says, moving his hips.
“You did say that.”
“We’ll save the story about how exactly you started working for Ellison for another time,” he says, as he rocks into me.
This time it’s not fierce or fast. We rock together, or hips rolling and meeting in a perfect sensuous dance. Chris wraps his arms underneath me, tilting my hips up into his, and suddenly the way he’s filling me sets off sparks. His mouth is on mine, and my cry gets lost in him. I curl myself around him, locking my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders, reveling in the feeling of being completely merged with someone else.
In this position his cock feels even bigger than our first time, and his smooth thrusts drag against the walls of my pussy in a way that’s making me pant. Our lips never leave each other, even though our bodies are starting to feel the beginning of that frenzy. But I don’t want that again. I guide him with my body, letting him slide into me, slowly, a steady climb to an inevitable summit. My orgasm starts low in my gut, a deep quaking of pleasure that crawls over my limbs until I’m shaking, my whole body in the throes of an intense vast pleasure. I can feel my pussy spasming on his cock, and I know that this is just the first. He’s not there yet.
Chris’s lips move to my neck, and I let go. I hold onto his body, and savor the feeling of him returning to me over and over. Every time he enters me he draws out my pleasure, and I feel a second spark coming, something hot and bright and entirely different. He grinds against my clit with every thrust, and that small spark gets brighter as he gets close to his own orgasm. He’s thrusting with more purpose now, intentionally dragging his body across my clit. I’m so close to touching that bright feeling, so close. Then Chris leans close, his lips against my ear and he whispers to me, “Come for me.”
He grinds against me again, and I do. My vision goes bright, and I groan as I hold onto him, shuddering, feeling myself come on his cock. My nerves sizzle with this intensity, and I’m not sure where I am but I don’t want to ever come back from this feeling. In my ear I hear the soft sounds of effort as Chris presses into me, his own climax desperately close. I’m still hazy with pleasure, but I manage to get enough control to squeeze down on his cock as hard as I can. “Your turn,” I whisper, and I feel him release.
The muscles in his back go taut, and his thrusts are short and staccato. His cock is so big that I can feel every twitch of it inside me. He finishes, and we lie there for a moment, breathing together, our foreheads touching. And then in the next breath we’ve come back to where we are, much closer than we were. Chris cleans himself up, and comes back to the bed, pulling me against him under the covers.
We haven’t said anything to each other, and I feel like we should. But there’s a wave of exhaustion crashing over me, and I don’t have the energy to find the right words to say. The last thing I feel is Chris settling behind me, his arm tucked around my waist.
The sounds of coffee wake me in the morning. I open my eyes to see Chris already dressed, shaking coffee into the machine. “Morning,” I say, sleepily.
“Morning,” he says. He doesn’t look at me, and the word doesn’t contain any emotion. It’s not warm, not cold, just “morning.” He pushes the button on the coffee maker and sits down at the table, flipping through papers. Probably stuff for the meeting.
I glance at the clock on the bedside table. Seven-thirty. “Shit,” I say. “I need to get ready.”
“I was letting you sleep,” Chris says. “They called and pushed the meeting a half-hour, so you’ve got some time.”
He’s still engrossed in his papers, and I feel like I should say something about last night, but maybe right now isn’t the best time. I hop out of the bed, hurrying to grab my clothes from my room and shower. I know he’s said that we have time, but I still want to be ready sooner rather than later. Thankfully I’ve never been a high maintenance girl, and forty minutes later I’m turning in front of the mirror to make sure my outfit looks good from all sides. I grab myself a cup of coffee, being more than careful not to spill any of it.
And then I grab my things. I have special materials for this presentation with Chris, all tucked away in my bag. I make sure to give the room another glance to make sure Chris didn’t forget anything the way he did yesterday, but the room is clean, and we both seem to have everything. Chris hasn’t mentioned anything about last night, but he seems to be in a good mood, he whistles as we head down to the lobby and he continues quietly jiving to his own personal soundtrack as we make our way uptown to The Pleasure Chest office.
Our three compatriots seem to be in a much better mood today. “I was thinking about it a lot last night, and I’m really excited to hear what you have planned,” Jason says as he sits down.
“Good,” Chris says. “We’re excited to present it to you. It’s going to be hot, even if it’s cold as hell outside.”
The three of them chuckle, and I can already tell we’re off to a better start. I give Chris a smile to let him know he’s doing great as I hand out the packets I brought with me from Seattle. Inside are mock-ups of everything from subway ads to bus station posters to potential TV-spot scripts.
Chris has come up with a brilliant campaign. It’s all bright colors and vintage energy, featuring everything from fruit to pin-up girls with fun taglines and barely concealed innuendos. It’s a perfect match for the company, which is fun and funky and caters to a young demographic who’s in love with quirky media. I watch as Chris charms the marketing directors, and it’s the complete opposite of yesterday’s meeting. They’re talking and laughing, and totally engaged with the material that he’s presenting. I help him fill in gaps when it comes to implementation. I’ve worked with Maureen for three years and I’m intimately familiar with how our marketing campaigns get rolled out step by step. I tell them the most efficient timelines for some of bigger elements, and Chris looks impressed that I know all of the information off the top of my head.
It’s a shorter meeting than yesterday, but a far more vibrant one. All three of the executives are smiling when we’ve finished ninety minutes later. “Chris,” Jason says, standing and buttoning his suit jacket, “this is really fantastic. I’m going to take it to the higher-ups later today, and hopefully we’ll have a final meeting to finalize everything.”
He reaches out to shake Chris’s hand, and Chris takes it. I can see a small weight lift off his shoulders as he shakes everyone else’s hands. We put on our coats and say our goodbyes, and Chris nods to Jason. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
“We’ll be in touch.”
Chris and I hold it together until we exit the office, and then we’re beaming at each other. “That was great,” I say.
He shakes his head in wonder. “I’ve never felt like that during a presentation. I could really tell that we were connecting on the material.”
“It was perfect,” I say. “Really.”
“Thank you for your help,” he says. “I think the way you described our workflow really helped them understand how we’re able to get done things effectively.”
“No problem,” I say, but inside I’m glowing. I knew that he would change his mind about whether I could do this job.
We pile onto the tiny elevator, and Chris presses the button for the bottom floor. But no sooner do we start to move than Chris hits the stop button. His briefcase hits the floor and then I’m pressed against one of t
he mirrored walls, his mouth on mine. “Chris,” I say, “what are you doing?”
He chuckles. “I would have thought that was obvious.”
A small hesitant thought flows through me, and I have to make sure. I ask, “After a meeting like that you need to blow off steam?”
He pulls back, his eyes full of heat. “This has nothing to do with blowing off steam,” he says. “I want you, and I can’t wait.”
Something in my chest eases and I surrender to the dance of our hands as we shuffle our clothing and Chris—already fully hard—puts on a condom. Seeing him so ready for me, knowing that he’s unable to wait even till we get back to the privacy of the hotel room, it makes me wet. And when Chris lifts me, pressing me into one of the mirrors and guides me down onto him, I can’t help but say, “Fuck, yes.”
He’s so turned on, that I know this isn’t going to take long. I look across the elevator and catch my own reflection. I never knew that watching somebody fuck you could be so hot, but it is. I watch his back as Chris thrusts up into me, the feeling of his cock in this different position, but just as deliciously filling. He reaches between us, working my clit with his fingers, and it sends my body into overdrive.
The combination of everything, the danger, the sight of him fucking me, and his body inside me drive me right to the edge. He strokes me with a skill that almost seems like it’s been made for me, and I come on his hand. I let my head fall forward onto his shoulder, surrendering to the orgasm as he plunges into me once more, twice, and comes with a final groan. This pleasure is hot and sharp, slicing through me and leaving me wanting more. He slips out of me, and lets me back down the floor. I readjust my skirt and underwear while he takes care of his own clothes. When we’re presentable, he pushes the start button again, and the elevator chugs downward. The door opens on the ground floor for to a line of people waiting to use it, and Chris and I glance at each other, barely able to contain our laughter as we head out to the street to call a cab.