TODD and TÉA - PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY
by Tessaray
Chapter 1
Téa moves around Todd's office, briskly gathering up her belongings after an unusually tense, nearly silent lunch of Chinese take-out. He'd been even more unreadable than usual, darting glances at her from under his brow, scowling and looking away when she caught him. It made her paranoid, like maybe she had food hanging from her face and he was secretly laughing at her… and finally she'd had enough.
"It might be nice if you came home tonight," she says curtly, shouldering her purse and wrapping her coat over her arm. "I'm sure your daughter would like to see you."
He's sitting behind his desk, pencil tapping, leg jogging, and as she hoists her briefcase and turns for the door, she's acutely aware that his eyes have been following her every move…
She lets out a frustrated cry, wheels on him. "What?! What is wrong with you today?"
"You wear that color before?" he says.
She blinks, looks down at her periwinkle skirt-suit. "You've seen me in this a dozen times!"
"Right." He sniffs, scrubs a hand over his goatee, tosses the pencil, gets up. "How you feeling, Delgado? You look a little on edge."
"Me? No. No more than usual," she says, eyeing him pointedly.
He jams his hands into his pockets, comes around the desk, leans back against it and crosses his legs at the ankles.
"So, uh… you just get your hair… done…?" he says.
"Uh… nooooo."
"Lipstick? New lipstick?"
She squints, gives him a quick head-to-toe scan and sighs. "Oh God... you're trying to be nice. Okay, Todd, what do you want."
"Nothing!" he barks and shoves off from the desk. "Can't a man give his wife a compliment without her getting all suspicious at him?!"
"What compliment, exactly?"
He hunches a bit, throws out a hand and awkwardly gestures in her direction.
"Your… I don't know. Whatever."
"Gee, thanks."
He sighs, rolls his eyes. "Give me a break here, Delgado."
"Why should I? You invite me here, barely say two words to me, then you sit there sullen as a stone for half an hour and shovel food into your face."
"Fine!" he snarls, pivots away, long hair flying. "Just forget it."
She watches him kick at the carpet until she can't take it anymore. He's clearly sulking and, as usual, she softens toward him, pulls a deep breath and gives him another chance.
"All right. I'm sorry, Todd… you caught me off guard. What's going on?"
"Uh-uh," he pouts. "Too late, Delgado."
She shakes her head, chuckles mildly at his petulance and turns to leave.
"Hey, Delgado."
"Yes, Todd," she sighs wearily, casting a glance at him over her shoulder. His expression is darker, oddly intense.
"Put your stuff down and come here," he says.
She frowns, bristling at the tone of command and continues toward the door… but a tug of curiosity slows her.
"God, you are so weird today," she grumbles and turns, bites her lip as she regards him. He's obviously up to something... and she might as well play along. She takes her time placing her things on the nearby armchair and approaches him, cautiously.
"Well?" she says.
Usually he doesn't maintain eye contact with her for more than a few seconds, but now he locks in... and she feels probed, like he's looking for a weakness… or maybe something else…
"Face the desk," he says.
"Excuse me?"
"Christ, Delgado, for once in your life, don't argue with me!"
She blows out a sigh, turns warily toward the desk like she expects a nasty surprise… and stops only partway. Instantly he's behind her, his warm breath ruffling her hair. She jumps, gives a little yelp.
"Shh, nothing's gonna happen…," he says.
"Okaaaay. What does that mean?"
"It means, if something happens, it'll confuse things. I don't want things confused."
Before she can ask what the hell he's talking about, she feels large, warm hands on her hips, turning her fully toward the desk... and instinctively she freezes like prey in an open field. In four months of marriage he's barely touched her, and never intimately. But now he's leaning against her lightly, pressing his lips to her ear…
"Nothing can happen, Delgado. Nothing will happen."
She shakes her head to clear it, tries not to sound breathless. "Is this one of your mind games, Todd? Are you trying to make a fool out of me? Because I don't know what to think here."
"No need to think. Nothing's happening. Now lay your hands on the desk."
She's stunned, intrigued… and in spite of herself, in spite of always needing clarity and rules and context… she does as he says. She bends slightly at the waist, lays her palms flat on the wood surface, spreads her fingers… and catches her breath as she feels his hands slide slowly from her hips... and lower until they're cupping her bottom, molding to her curves, long fingers squeezing…
"Todd, if you want… why not just… just...," she stammers, half on fire.
"Shhh. I don't want anything. Nothing's happening."
His hands glide up again, warm and slow over her hips, around her waist, coming to rest on her flat, tense stomach. He pauses there as though giving her a chance to lunge free and slug him... but she doesn't move, barely breathes. And with a low sigh, he gently pulls her back against his body.
Her knees are weakening, but she manages to find words. "What are you saying… that you're not actually doing anything?"
"Exactly. Because that would confuse things. Understand?" His voice is a deep, soft rumble as he nestles his mouth into the curve of her neck.
She's torn between her body and her mind, thrown off kilter by his bizarre logic. She could argue with him, demand to know what this means in the grand scheme of their contract, their platonic marriage… or she could relax into his game, revel in his sudden desire for her… let him do whatever he'll do…
His hands on her stomach are strong, full of promise. She loves his hands — the graceful motion of them, the long, tapered fingers. And his body behind hers is so much larger and more solid than it appears in his baggy tailored suits. His lips are poised near her ear as though he's waiting for a sign…
She takes a deep breath, deliberately shuts down her protesting mind and lifts her hand from the desk. "I understand," she murmurs, weaving her fingers into his long, silky hair...
And with that, he makes a low, urgent sound, bites down on her throat and abruptly thrusts his hands under her skirt. Before she can react, he's touching her through her nylons and silk panties. She shudders, pitches forward with a cry… but his arms are strong around her, holding her upright and flush against his body… restraining her, but not quite…
"If something were to happen," he says in a rough whisper. "It would look like this. Exactly like this."
He shifts, shoves his hand into the waistband of her nylons, palm sliding down, then she feels his fingers slip inside her panties... into her wet, exquisitely sensitive contours. And the same Todd who for four months refused to touch her, boldly strokes her now, explores her, holds her tight as she mewls and parts her thighs for him...
She's stunned, overwhelmed by this sensual, dominant display from him. Despite her fantasies, she had no idea what he'd be like — his NO SEX EVER rule has been iron-clad, non-negotiable… and increasingly frustrating and unfathomable to her. But somehow, he seems to have found a crazy little loophole he can live with, a kind of plausible deniability… and she's not about to challenge the pretense... not here in his office, in broad daylight, Chinese take-out boxes strewn on his desk, with his fingers moving so skillfully, making her tremble…
Lost in shock, lost in sensation, she whimpers and moans as he rubs deeply now, presses inside, thumb brushing her clit. His lips and tongue are ruthless on her throat, his erection rocking into the curve of her ass…
"God, if this were happening, you'd be so wet... I'd make you feel so good," he growls, breath like liquid heat on her throat. "This is what I would do to you, if I could."
Her hips stutter and roll as his hand moves faster.
"But you can't…," she inhales the words, eyes slamming shut at the intense, mounting pleasure…
"I can't."
"And this isn't happening."
"Nothing is happening. You have to remember that."
"So… so I can't... come…," she gasps, straining, so close…
She feels him shudder around her, his voice low in his chest. "No. That can't happen. You can't do that. You can't…"
And he finishes the sentence with a single word, breathed directly into her ear like a command…
"Come."
It rips through her like white-hot lava. She cries out, convulses violently. "I'm not... I wouldn't…," she gasps, grinding down on his fingers.
"Good… that's so good," he whispers, his free hand slipping over her mouth as he thrusts hard against her. She collapses in slow motion in his arms... and when she goes slack, he holds her tightly for several long moments as though needing something more... but he lets her go and backs away unsteadily, adjusting his clothes like he doesn't know quite where he is…
And she sways on very shaky legs, mind reeling, body quivering with aftershocks… and as she gradually returns to reality, she smooths down her skirt and hair with trembling hands, sighs out a gust of air that ruffles the papers on his blotter. It takes her a moment to find her voice. She knows she shouldn't ask, should let it go… but she can't help herself.
"Todd—," she says, the word punctuated by little shivers.
He cuts her off instantly.
"—Don't. It was nothing. Nothing happened. I told you before, Delgado," he says roughly, clears his throat and drops heavily into the chair behind his desk. "Nothing can happen. Nothing will happen."
But he's not looking at her — he's watching his thumb run slowly over the wetness glistening on his fingers…
The sight ignites a spasm between her legs. "Okay, Todd," she says, more weakly than she'd like. "And is there… nothing I can do for you?"
"Nope. I'm good. Thanks for stopping by." He picks up the pencil again and taps it rapidly on his desk. His skin is flushed and damp with sweat…
And he's dismissing her, just like that. She hates being dismissed… almost as much as she hates the idea of this ending so abruptly. "Todd, you're always complaining that I push, but—"
"—So don't push," he says, eyes narrowing.
She huffs a laugh. "Oh, come on. As long as that… didn't happen, can't we make some other things… not happen?"
He throws the pencil down, shoves his chair back, gets up and heads for the door with long strides, hair trailing out behind him…
"Don't ruin it, Delgado," he snarls.
"I don't want to ruin it," she says, forcing the words out through the pain of so many past rejections. "I want to… reciprocate."
He stops, gapes at her. "Here? Hell no. Cut it out."
"Oh, you're suddenly shy? I seem to recall someone dry humping my butt just now—,"
"—Hey, quiet!" He shoots a furtive glance at the frosted glass windows on the door. "Look, this is a place of business. I have employees, very impressionable young employees. And very old employees. Decrepit almost. What kind of example—,"
"—I know you're aroused, Todd," she blurts out, eyes moving from his face to his groin and back again. After all these months of imagining how it would be to touch him, to give him pleasure, it was shockingly erotic to feel his erection… and the memory makes her drop her chin, bite her lower lip, gaze up at him through her lashes…
He stares at her, his mouth falling open. "Oh fuck," he rasps. "Not that look."
"My question is," she says, thrilled to make him squirm. "What are you going to do about that arousal?"
He turns away as though shielding himself. "You already asked a question, Delgado. The are you suddenly shy thing."
"Todd…"
"Whatever," he grumbles. "I'm not gonna do anything about it."
"So, just another celibate night in Todd's lonely world."
"You got it."
She leans on the edge of the couch to steady herself, tries to catch his eye but he's staring at his shoes.
"Well, if you're not going to do anything about it," she says, making her voice as warm as honey in the sunshine. "Can I?"
He stiffens, jaw working, says nothing.
"Why don't we call it… a demonstration of what could happen," she says, because it's far too late to back down now, and if he rejects her… well, what's once more…
"How many times do I have to say it, Delgado — nothing can happen, nothing will happen. Today was just… I was…"
"What?"
He scowls at her, crosses his arms tight over his chest, nervous energy shooting from him like sparks. "I don't know… bored. Whatever. Quit playing around. Seriously. I've got work to do."
She steps up to him, tentatively reaches for him, sees his face cloud with a mix of fear, longing, hostility... but he doesn't flinch away. She ghosts her hand over the swell in his trousers… barely touching. But even through the fabric, she can feel him, hard and hot.
"Cut it out," he growls.
"Cut what out?" she murmurs. "Nothing's happening."
He searches her face, seems to collapse a bit…
"That's right. It would... ruin everything," he says.
She strokes him, just the lightest pressure over his erection. "Not if nothing happens," she whispers… to urge, to reassure… to convince herself that this, today, just this once... this could be enough for her…
She takes his hand… and he lets her. She guides him down onto the sofa and he sits, nostrils flaring, tongue moving behind his upper lip in that anxious way of his…
"So you won't actually do anything," he says, looking hunted.
"Not a thing. Just like you didn't do anything to me."
Heart slamming in her chest, she locks into his eyes and slowly sinks to the floor between his knees, slides her hands up his thighs to his belt... and as she smoothly pulls the leather free of the buckle, unhitches, unbuttons... his apprehension rolls over her like heavy waves.
He grabs her wrist, stops her progress. "This isn't happening," he says.
She smiles sweetly, playing the game. "Of course not."
He grunts out some unformed syllables, lets go a shaky breath and releases her wrist. She expects that at any moment he'll bat her away... but he doesn't resist as she lowers his zipper, rubbing her knuckles over his erection through his black boxer-briefs. He grits his teeth, drops his head back, hisses as she traces his contours, gently strokes his length through the thin cotton, teases around the flare with her fingertips…
Flush with heat and intense arousal, she lowers the briefs just enough to free his tip. She brushes the silken skin with her thumb, spreads the drop of pre-come in slow, soft circles, and when he groans, clutches the sofa cushions with both hands and rocks helplessly into her touch, she feels euphoric, high as a kite…
So she withdraws her hands and sits back on her heels.
"If something were to happen," she says, folding her hands in her lap, cool as can be. "It would look like this. Exactly like this."
He freezes, eyes flying wide at the ceiling, and she smiles evilly to herself. A little payback for all the rejection and mind games, for months of him being an all-around unrelenting prick…
"But nothing can happen," she adds, licking her lips. "You said so yourself."
He takes a moment, sucks in air, seems to fight for language and control. "That's right," he grinds out. "It would confuse things. It would fuck everything up."
He heaves a sigh, lowers his chin, eyes dark and unfocused, and though he's motionless, it seems to her that every cell in his body is yearning toward her as she kneels on the floor between his legs…
She watches him with a small, challenging smile, and waits…
Fortunately, it's a very brief standoff.
He half-groans, half-snarls, reaches down and gently runs his thumb over her lower lip. "Good thing you don't want this either, then," he says.
"I don't. Not at all." She licks his thumb, draws it into her mouth, sucks slowly, never breaking eye-contact…
"So if neither of us wants it...," he murmurs, transfixed.
She pulls his thumb from her mouth, gives it a long, sensuous stroke with her tongue. "Then it's not really happening."
Something seems to break in him at that. Eyes hot on her, he slips his hands into her hair, sinks back into the cushions and pulls her toward him…
"Don't do it then," he groans. "Don't do anything to me…"
"I won't," she whispers, burning for him. "Not a thing."
She leans in close and reaches for him again, eagerly wraps her hand around his thick, straining shaft. She closes her eyes and absorbs every detail as she slowly takes him between her lips…
And with one arm draped over his brow, the other in her hair, he lets her do nothing to him, absolutely nothing… until eventually he stiffens, cries out, shudders into her mouth… and there's nothing left to do.
To be continued...