as I got right to
work, drowning myself in my job to try and forget my shocking display earlier.
2
The
day passed in a jumble. No matter how I tried to focus on my work, I couldn’t
make myself concentrate. I found it necessary to double, then triple check my
work to make sure I'd done it right. The temp data entry assignments I was
given were tedious and brainless, but nevertheless I kept messing them up. My
mind would flash back to the elevator, the handsome stranger and the first
semi-public orgasm I ever had, and when I got back on track I couldn’t remember
what lines I'd entered onto the computer.
This
is so unlike me. I’d
always been a sexual creature but never the type who knew what to do about it.
The boys never asked me out; I wasn’t invited to parties or the like even in
college. The few boyfriends I’d had, if they could be called that, hadn’t
stayed around long. My life at the moment was boring, mostly out of necessity –
college loans didn't pay themselves, and living near the City made things even
tighter – but I couldn't find much connection with most men. They wanted to go party,
I wanted to read; they were Sports Illustrated, I was National Geographic.
Dating,
while the least of my worries at the moment, was definitely not a strong point.
Despite
my attempts to forget the whole situation in the elevator, by lunch I
desperately wanted my vibrator and a swift kick in the rear. My actions and
instant response to the stranger were troublesome, no matter my fantasy life.
It couldn’t happen again no matter how much I may want a repeat. I needed this
job, no matter how monotonous, and I couldn't afford any more distractions. But
my job didn’t require much brain power to begin with and I kept remembering how
soft his lips were, and how his teeth across the skin of my neck sent shivers
down my spine. His large hands had held a dual promise of strength and
tenderness and my body refused to forget that.
It
was a long day.
Barely
managing to get my quota of files archived turned in by the end of the day, I
contemplated taking the stairs down the fourteen flights but finally opted for
the elevator which I made sure was Stranger-free. I cut through the underground
parking garage while the bulk of the crowd headed for the taxis out front. Few
people were able to park under the building, certainly not a new temp even if
they did have a car, but it was a much faster route to the subway station two
streets behind the building and nobody had told me walking across it was off
limits.
I
headed down the single flight of steps and out into the chill afternoon air of
the underground garage. The squeal of tires came from somewhere in the
multilevel complex but I saw nobody else, just lines of cars. Rubbing my arms,
the bite in the air promising cold temperatures as soon as the sun set, I
turned toward the guard shack, wishing I’d brought something to slip over my
arms. It was late spring but the weather had taken a colder turn over the last
few days and I wasn’t dressed appropriately.
Someone
grabbed my arm and jerked me sideways into the shadows beside me. Before I
could make a sound a hand clapped over my mouth, and I was dragged back into a
small alcove half-hidden from the rest of the garage reserved for motorcycles.
I struggled but the arms holding me were implacable, like iron across my body.
“I
did tell you I would see you soon.” The voice was familiar and deep, and I
recognized it immediately. It had been running through my head all day long in
fantasies I’d tried in vain to stamp out.
As
soon as I heard his voice a wave of relief washed over me, followed quickly by
a confused anger. Why on earth do I trust him? Frustrated by my own
apparent stupidity, I stomped down as hard as I could on the instep of the
stranger’s leg. He grunted but didn’t release me, instead spinning me and
pressing me up against the cold concrete wall. His body molded itself to my
back, hands holding my
work, drowning myself in my job to try and forget my shocking display earlier.
2
The
day passed in a jumble. No matter how I tried to focus on my work, I couldn’t
make myself concentrate. I found it necessary to double, then triple check my
work to make sure I'd done it right. The temp data entry assignments I was
given were tedious and brainless, but nevertheless I kept messing them up. My
mind would flash back to the elevator, the handsome stranger and the first
semi-public orgasm I ever had, and when I got back on track I couldn’t remember
what lines I'd entered onto the computer.
This
is so unlike me. I’d
always been a sexual creature but never the type who knew what to do about it.
The boys never asked me out; I wasn’t invited to parties or the like even in
college. The few boyfriends I’d had, if they could be called that, hadn’t
stayed around long. My life at the moment was boring, mostly out of necessity –
college loans didn't pay themselves, and living near the City made things even
tighter – but I couldn't find much connection with most men. They wanted to go party,
I wanted to read; they were Sports Illustrated, I was National Geographic.
Dating,
while the least of my worries at the moment, was definitely not a strong point.
Despite
my attempts to forget the whole situation in the elevator, by lunch I
desperately wanted my vibrator and a swift kick in the rear. My actions and
instant response to the stranger were troublesome, no matter my fantasy life.
It couldn’t happen again no matter how much I may want a repeat. I needed this
job, no matter how monotonous, and I couldn't afford any more distractions. But
my job didn’t require much brain power to begin with and I kept remembering how
soft his lips were, and how his teeth across the skin of my neck sent shivers
down my spine. His large hands had held a dual promise of strength and
tenderness and my body refused to forget that.
It
was a long day.
Barely
managing to get my quota of files archived turned in by the end of the day, I
contemplated taking the stairs down the fourteen flights but finally opted for
the elevator which I made sure was Stranger-free. I cut through the underground
parking garage while the bulk of the crowd headed for the taxis out front. Few
people were able to park under the building, certainly not a new temp even if
they did have a car, but it was a much faster route to the subway station two
streets behind the building and nobody had told me walking across it was off
limits.
I
headed down the single flight of steps and out into the chill afternoon air of
the underground garage. The squeal of tires came from somewhere in the
multilevel complex but I saw nobody else, just lines of cars. Rubbing my arms,
the bite in the air promising cold temperatures as soon as the sun set, I
turned toward the guard shack, wishing I’d brought something to slip over my
arms. It was late spring but the weather had taken a colder turn over the last
few days and I wasn’t dressed appropriately.
Someone
grabbed my arm and jerked me sideways into the shadows beside me. Before I
could make a sound a hand clapped over my mouth, and I was dragged back into a
small alcove half-hidden from the rest of the garage reserved for motorcycles.
I struggled but the arms holding me were implacable, like iron across my body.
“I
did tell you I would see you soon.” The voice was familiar and deep, and I
recognized it immediately. It had been running through my head all day long in
fantasies I’d tried in vain to stamp out.
As
soon as I heard his voice a wave of relief washed over me, followed quickly by
a confused anger. Why on earth do I trust him? Frustrated by my own
apparent stupidity, I stomped down as hard as I could on the instep of the
stranger’s leg. He grunted but didn’t release me, instead spinning me and
pressing me up against the cold concrete wall. His body molded itself to my
back, hands holding my
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