Chapter 3

Office Relations

Laneira

Monday was a public holiday, so everyone came back to the office on Tuesday after the long weekend. Straightening out the crease in my long grey skirt, I waited for the elevator to reach the top floor. My heart thumped in my chest and I dreaded the day. I barely had any sleep the night before. I had almost called in sick to work that morning.

I got to the office around 8 in the morning. He usually arrives around half past 8. Like always. I got my coffee from the café downstairs and a croissant for breakfast. I usually get him a tea and a muffin on the way, but today I didn't — I couldn't. A part of me hated myself. I felt so much regret, not for what happened Friday night, but rather for not letting him know who he had stepped into bed with. I shouldn't have done it. I enjoyed it, but I shouldn't have done it. How am I supposed to face him every day after what we did? I can't. I feel awful.

I sat at my desk and placed down my coffee and half-eaten croissant. I began to respond to emails and check important files. The office I was in was a big, wide space with a desk for me and a few file cabinets ahead of me. To my left was a big glass door and window leading into his office. Most of the office had glass windows and doors, some with tinted panels. Other rooms had regular brick walls and wooden doors.

The elevator bell dinged, and I gulped. My legs began to shake under the desk, and I quickly steadied them with my hand. I kept my head down, eyes on my laptop, reading and responding to emails. I heard his footsteps draw closer. "Good morning, Laneira," he greeted, like he does every morning. And like every morning, he stopped at my desk for a short conversation. Except this morning, I couldn't join in. "Good morning, Darrian," I greeted, more coldly than I intended, without looking up. "Good weekend?" he asked, tapping his finger against his silver phone case. I felt a pang in my heart and shrugged.

"Anything eventful?" He tried to continue the conversation. "No," I gulped and continued typing on my keyboard. He walked into his office. From the corner of my eye, I noticed him searching his desk for the tea and muffin. I should have gotten it for him when I realised I'd forgotten. I was so lost in thought that it never even crossed my mind.

The rest of the day passed in silence. I never spoke unless necessary, and when I did, I made no eye contact.

"A Mister Hendrickson is on the phone for you," I announced at his door and immediately turned away before he could finish thanking me.

The next few days went on like this — the awkward morning encounters, the lack of eye contact. Every day I stared at the clock on the monitor, waiting for it to hit 5 p.m. so I could rush out unnoticed. I made sure all the work was done and tried hard not to let the thoughts in my head distract me from my duties. It was finally Friday, around 4 p.m. One more hour to go, I thought. "Almost there," I whispered under my breath. I only had one thing left to do for the day — make a few copies of some documents down in the printing room, two floors below. If I timed it right, I could drag it all the way to 5 p.m. The thought put a smile on my face.

Darrian

Did I do something to upset her? Why is she icing me out? The whole week has been like this. I can't stop shaking my leg under the table.

"Sir… Sir… Darrian?" A loud voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"The proposal?" George asks. He stands at the front of the conference room by the board where a screen is projected. I hadn't been paying attention to him this whole time. I tap my finger on the table and grunt. "Uhm… I'll need more time to look over it," I say.

"We'll need an answer by the end of the day," he says. I nod.

Everyone gets up and grabs their notebooks. Two of the executives stay behind to speak with me. I nod a few times, but my mind is elsewhere. After what feels like a dragged-out conversation, I get up and make my way down the hall and back to the office. She's sitting at her desk — no eye contact, no nod, not a word spoken. Her eyes fixed on her laptop screen. It's Friday now, and she has been like this since Tuesday. At first I thought maybe she wasn't feeling well, but now I'm worried it's about me.

Does she know? Did she put it all together? Last Friday we were… I gulp at the thought of what we were doing as I walk through my office and sit behind my desk. I forgot to close the door on my way in.

Will she join me if I ask? I wonder, thinking too long about an important conversation I had on Tuesday.

Until this morning, I thought she could be upset about something else. But no tea, no muffin all week, and me being completely shut out — it has to be more than that. So I thought, maybe she figured it out. That I was the one who… who… I can't think about that now. It makes me feel things I shouldn't.

I clear my throat and shift away the hardness forming in my pants. This isn't the time.

"Do you mind making a copy as well…" I overhear part of a conversation from beyond my office door. I look up and see George with a document in hand, passing it to Laneira. She takes it with a smile and says thank you. This makes me angry. Why did she look at him and not at me? Worse — she flashed him that smile. The one that extends from her lips to her cheeks. The one that scrunches up her eyes.

She gets up and walks towards my office. I straighten up and move the stapler to the other side of my desk, pretending to be busy. She knocks on the door softly, walks in and places a file on my desk, then leaves. Not a word spoken from either of us. I look up after hearing the sound of her heels fade in the distance. I watch her head to the elevator with a stack of files in hand.

I look down at the file on my desk — the one she just brought in.

The proposal.

I need to make a decision. I have about an hour. I flip through the pages, but I can't concentrate. Twenty minutes go by. She's still not back.

How long does it take to make a few copies… no. The proposal. I turn to the next page.

"Shit!" I hiss as I get up and make my way to the elevator. I tap my finger against my leg. Two floors down, I walk towards the printing room. I stand in front of the door, my hand on the handle. The area is quiet, with a few workers passing up and down. All that stands between us now is the wall of the printing room. I twist the handle and walk in, shutting the door behind me. She turns her head when the door opens, then freezes and turns away. I glance around quickly. There's no one here — just the printers, cabinets, and file stands with boxes.

I walk towards her. I see a document in her hand and hear the printer making copies. I stop about a foot behind her.

"Why are you ignoring me?" I ask, annoyed. She places the document down and turns to me. With a sharp inhale, she gulps. "What?"

She laughs awkwardly, still avoiding my eyes. I notice her rubbing her fingers together. She's nervous. But this has to happen — we need to talk.

"Don't pretend like you don't know," I scoff. My hands raise and fall against my leg. She looks away entirely.

She turns to face the printer. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not ignoring you. Everything is fine," she says.

She begins to straighten files that were already perfectly placed.

"Do you regret it? Is that it?" I ask. Unintentionally. The words burst out of me. I bite my lip the moment I say it. It's too late now. She stops straightening the files but doesn't face me or speak. She grabs the files and turns around.

"I'll leave these on your desk," she says.

"You've realised, haven't you?" I take a step closer. "And now you're upset with me." Her face turns pale. "I don't know what you're talking about," she sighs and walks past me, towards the door.

"Velvet!" I say sharply. She stops, frozen. I hear the files press against her chest.

I walk up behind her, closing the gap between us. I place my hand on her hip, over her white blouse. She's wearing a long black skirt with it today, one that falls all the way to her ankles.

I press my chin against her neck. Her body is warm, but I can feel the goosebumps rising there.

"I don't regret it," I whisper in her ear. "I… I can't stop thinking about it." I press my fingers against her blouse and slowly lift it.

My grip around her waist tightens. I can feel her soft bare skin beneath my fingertips.

"I miss having the taste of you on my tongue," I breathe into her ear.

Her breathing grows heavy, and she tilts her head back against my chest, her eyes falling shut at my touch. "You remember our safe word?" I ask softly. She exhales slowly and nods.

My other hand finds her waist, and I turn her around. The files drop from her grip and scatter on the floor.

She gasps.

"Leave it," I say.

Leaning forward, I press my lips against hers. Soft and warm. God, how I've missed them.

She reaches for my hair, her fingers gripping and pulling me in.

Pushing her backwards, I step over a few files and press her back into the door.

I kiss her. Harder. My tongue finds hers. Intertwined in this dance of burning skin and hot breaths.

My hands can't keep still. They travel up and down her body — around her chest, through her hair. I pull her chin closer as I push my tongue deeper. My palm finds its way under her bra and my hand fills with the warmth of her.

The hardness in my pants presses against her thigh. The only thing between us now are these clothes, which I desperately want to burn.

I move my hand from her chest to her skirt and slip it inside. I can feel her underwear — lace, it has to be. She moans against my tongue as I press my finger beneath the lace.

She shudders when my fingers find her. She reaches out and grabs me over my pants, rubbing slowly over the fabric. Teasing me.

"I need you," I pant, running my lips along her neck.

"You can have me," she moans.

I guide her to the table next to the printer, moving faster than I knew was possible. I lift her by her waist with ease and set her on the table.

She glances at the door.

"Eyes on me," I command.

She meets my eyes, her cheeks flushed. "What if…" She glances back at the door, then meets my gaze again.

I'm already undoing my belt and zip.

"If anyone walks through that door, I'll fire them." The urgency in my voice makes her scoff, but she's smiling.

"You're mad," she whispers, her eyes softening.

"Not having you would be far more maddening." I grin. I lift her legs and place them around my waist. She lets out a quick squeal and slams her palm over her mouth.

"If you're worried about making a noise, you'll have to keep your palm there until I'm done with you," I tease.

She rolls her eyes at me. Playfully.

I push her skirt up to her waist. Reaching over her thighs, I move her underwear aside and press myself against her entrance.

I need her. Now.

She's ready for me, and I slide right in. Her head tilts back, and she bites her lip, holding in her moan.

I reach for her blouse and pull it lower, to her elbows. I free her from her bra.

I push into her deeper. Harder. Faster.

I'm thrusting into her. In and out. In and out.

"You feel so good," I groan.

This feels better than before. I grab her with one hand, grip her thigh with the other.

Her legs tighten around me, her hands around my neck. Her body is close to mine and her head is pressed into my chest.

I keep thrusting. Her body shakes against my own. The table rattles beneath us, hitting the wall with every thrust.

If anyone is in the office on the other side of that wall, all they'll hear is banging. I don't want to get caught — I would never want to embarrass her. But I'm greedy. Too greedy. I need her.

She moans softly against my chest. I reach for her face, cupping her chin in my hands. She looks right at me. Full eye contact. This. This is everything.

I kiss her, more passionately this time. "I'm getting close," I whisper. Her arms pull me in closer. No gap between us. My chest against her bare skin.

Then she does the unexpected.

Her thighs tense against my waist, her legs locking behind me, keeping me in place.

"I'm too close," I pant against her lips.

"I need to pull out." My lips tremble.

I don't want to. I have to.

"I'm on the pill… Come inside me," she whispers.

My eyes go wide. My lips part. Only for a second.

I kiss her firmly. Shut my eyes.

I thrust into her. Fast. Feeling every inch of her warmth.

I twitch inside her. So good.

So fucking good.

I'm moaning against her lips, breathing into her. Then it happens. I explode. I feel myself... Hot and full... Spilling inside of her.

Her fingers dig into the back of my neck, and her forehead drops to my shoulder.

I groan. I curse. Loudly.

We stay there for a minute.

Her legs and grip slowly release. I pull out, and she presses her thighs together, not allowing what's left of me in her to spill.

"You're so fucking hot." I press my forehead against hers.

She smiles and smooths her skirt down. We're both still catching our breath.

"Do you think anyone heard us?" she asks, fixing her blouse.

"Who cares?" I grin. If they did, I'm sure they enjoyed the show.

She scoffs and slaps my shoulder. Softly. Then she shakes her head and giggles. Her smile is beautiful.

My body warms. My heart melts. God, what is she doing to me?

"What are you doing tonight?" I ask.

She raises her brow and shrugs. "I don't know. I didn't have any plans."

"Good. You're coming over to my place for dinner." I smile, fixing my pants and belt buckle.

She hides her face in her shoulder.

"Don't go getting all shy on me now… especially after what we just did," I tease.

She looks up at me, cheeks still flushed, and smiles.

"I'll pick you up at 7:30 — dinner's just after 8," I tell her as I help pick up and sort the files.

"You don't have to do that. I can meet you at your place."

My face scrunches. "Huh?"

She shakes her head. "If we're meeting at your place, then why make the extra trip? I'll meet you there."

"Fine. I'll have my driver fetch you." I leave no room for disagreement.

I glance at the clock above the door. 5:30 p.m. It's late. Most of the office will have left by now. There's no way we were in here for an hour.

Once we have all the files sorted, we make our way back upstairs. She grabs her bag and gets ready to head out. Every time I look at her, I can't help but smile.

"What is it?" she asks, noticing me staring.

"Nothing. Just admiring," I reply.

She smiles and walks towards the elevator. "I'll see you in a few hours," she says.

I walk back to my office to pack my bag and grab my phone. The proposal is still on my desk. Shit.

I check my messages. Two missed voice calls and five texts from George. The board needs an answer.

I go into my messages and respond, "Sorry George, go ahead with the proposal.

Hopefully he's not too upset. Then again, I couldn't care much right now. I have a dinner to prepare.