She had the feeling that someone was watching her but shook it off, she must have been imagining things. The gallery was busy, crowded even, with people absorbed in the exhibition. The murmur of voices preventing absolute silence but allowing her to still feel separated from it all, isolated in her solitary visit. The pictures were beautiful; she had been waiting months for the opening of this temporary exhibition of abstract expressionists. Caroline found herself absorbed in the image in front of her – a Rothko - fascinated by the contrasts, only to notice it again: just a sensation, not quite a prickle on the back of her neck.
She turned to look around her unable to find anything immediately amiss. Scanning the crowd in the ornate high ceilinged room of the National Gallery she saw a wide range of people, some old, some young, some standing still taking it in, others moving between paintings. No, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Mentally shrugging she moved on to the next room. As she glanced up from the catalogue to see what awaited her she caught a glimpse of a man standing stock still who seemed to be looking at her. She looked away, embarrassed at having caught this stranger's eye end when she glanced back he was looking at the picture beside him, she must have imagined it.
It was warm in the gallery, she had left her coat and umbrella in the cloakroom by the entrance, but she was dressed in formal work clothes having come from the office. The heavy rain outside had left her, and most of the other visitors, slightly damp and now they were steaming in the warmth causing the atmosphere to feel close and humid.
Somehow Caroline couldn't stop herself keeping track of the stranger's progress around the room. He was worth a second look: tall, dark blonde hair curling messily and a couple of days' worth of stubble over his face. And what a face, she thought as she glanced away quickly anxious incase he caught her looking. Beautifully cut with sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw but softened with full, sensuous lips.
His beautiful, slightly tousled face seemed at odds with his navy blue suit, which was perfectly tailored to his lean frame. City boy, she mentally categorized him, successful one if the Tom Ford was anything to go by. Bit unusual for one to be out at an exhibition over lunchtime on a weekday, but who was she to judge? She had taken a break from her job as a commodities trader to visit this show herself, tickets were hard to come by and this had been the only time available. She loved this movement and had been completely absorbed until she'd noticed him.
This was getting out of hand, seriously, how long had it been since she'd had sex? Her relationship with Tyler was far behind her. There had been others since then, but somehow it had never quite been enough, they hadn't quite been enough to make her throw herself into a relationship and she was feeling a little like she should have tried harder. Now here she was thinking about the sensuous lips of a stranger she had glimpsed across the room.
Laughing quietly at herself she moved on to the next picture, checking the catalogue to see what she could learn about it Looking up she found his eyes again, and this time he was definitely looking at her. No mistake. His eyes were blue, probably, it was difficult to tell from this distance, but more importantly than their colour was that they were fixed on her and the look he was giving her was impossible to misinterpret. He wanted her. Her cheeks started to heat up, in fact her whole body was warming up. She tugged slightly at the light silk scarf around her neck, feeling as if it were constricting her.
Suddenly jostled from behind by an older woman with a phone on a selfie stick (didn't she know they had banned those here?) she broke their short, intense eye contact. She felt the loss acutely but still couldn't completely bring herself to believe the situation was quite what she was making of it in her head.
As she moved on around the room she mulled it over, wasn't this just what she needed? A distraction? Something to get her over the dry spell she'd been stuck in recently? And when had she felt this sort of instant, burning attraction to a man before? Honestly she couldn't remember ever feeling like this. But what to do about it? Out of the corner of her eye she saw him move on to the next room.
She unwound her scarf and tucked it into her bag, making a deal with herself. If she saw him again, she'd hold his gaze longer and see whether he approached her. If not, well maybe she'd try to encourage him.
Feeling somewhat excited by her plan she straightened up and approached the next picture. There he was again, standing in the far corner, but hadn't he left room already?
He was still keeping his distance but he did seem to have returned to the room, perhaps to see the Pollock again? Or perhaps to see her. She waited until he turned round and met his eyes boldly, he licked his lower lip slowly and she could think of little else but how that mouth might feel on hers, on her skin.
She slipped the top few buttons of her blouse open, his gaze following her hand. It was still perfectly respectable, unless she turned her upper body just so, which would reveal the creamy skin of her breasts and the sheer lace of the bra cupping them. When she was sure she had his attention where she wanted it she moved casually, revealing herself to him, definitely more than could be called decent. Challenging him to respond to, or withstand her silent seduction. Frankly it didn't matter too much how he chose to react, the mere act of engaging in this semi striptease was turning her on. It was one of the most erotic experiences of her life, here in this crowded room with a complete stranger over 20 feet away.
Her breasts felt heavy and tender, nipples chaffing slightly against the roughness of the lace. His hot eyes were making her shameless, it was as if the rest of the visitors in the gallery didn't exist. She wanted to stretch languidly like a cat and rub up against him. Glancing at his crotch she could see that they'd both enjoy that, and the realization that he was as clearly affected as she was had her wet and aching. Her clothes felt too hot, too tight, she wanted to shed them all and bask in the heat she could feel in his gaze. She clenched her pelvic muscles, and squirmed a little bit. Almost without thinking her hand moved back to the buttons on her blouse again, stopping before she could actually flick any more open. That really would be indecent.
Startled by the close call Caroline broke eye contact again, losing her nerve, surely they were attracting attention? She forced herself to look at the final painting in this room. She stared blankly at it, unseeing, trying to gather her thoughts.
Looking up as she exited the room she realized with a stab of disappointment that this was the end of the exhibition and he was nowhere to be seen. She hovered, unwilling to leave the gallery, and with it the possibilities that had arisen from her encounter with the stranger.
The queue at the cloakroom was long. Caroline found the British love of queuing frustrating but she'd been living in London for nearly a year now and knew it was close to a national obsession. So she waited, thinking over the mountain of paperwork she had waiting for her back at the office.
As she stood waiting she felt someone a little too close behind her in the line. A hard body brushed up behind her, invading her personal space, causing her to stiffen momentarily. Then a palm cupped her ass over her skirt. It paused, resting hotly on her for a long moment then squeezed firmly before being removed. She knew who it was. The hand returned, this time rubbing all over her, tracing the cleft covered by her perfectly respectable knee length pencil skirt. Still she didn't turn around. He was standing directly behind her shielding her from prying eyes as his hand continued to rub over her, squeezing and touching her. No one had ever paid so much attention to her ass before and she loved it.
She fought to stop herself pushing back into his palm, to not moan despite the shortening of her breath. They were both almost perfectly still, not talking, seemingly like any other couple in the queue if you didn't look too closely. Caroline prayed no one was as she weighed up the options:she wanted to turn around to look at him but couldn't quite bring herself to shatter this illicit moment.
She was starting to pant under his continued ministrations. Her skin was super sensitive, and she was so thoroughly lost in the moment that she let out a long sigh, careless of the surrounding people.
The hand suddenly left her but the warmth of his body remained, his hot breath brushing her neck as he bent his head..
"Follow me," he whispered roughly in her ear.
Feeling him step back she turned blindly and he grabbed her hand pulling her down one corridor after another. In a daze she passed door after door in what she vaguely assumed was the administration wing of the gallery. All the time his thumb was rubbing against her sensitive palm and brushing her wrist keeping her focused on the point they were touching and the sensations he was creating. His fingers felt slightly rough against her skin, not your typical banker or hedge fund manager, she briefly noted before he pulled her into an office and shut the door behind them. She stumbled slightly in her high heels as she crossed the threshold into the office, not having anticipated the change of direction. He steadied her by pushing her up against the now closed door with the full length of his body, hands resting either side of her head, as he leaned in and kissed her. Caroline was glad of the support of the door and his body as their lips finally met. It was a kiss that was impossible to escape, capturing her attention and preventing coherent thought from forming. She had almost instantly opened her lips for him and his tongue pushed its way into her mouth, caressing hers and causing her arms to hook around his neck to pull him closer.
Finally, finally the kiss ended and she was staring into his eyes, they were indeed blue, and they were burning for her. She took a deep breath reveling in the feeling of his body against hers. His scent was warm, earthy and very male. The pressure of his chest against her breasts was very welcome, but it wasn't enough she thought as she arched her back, searching for some friction as a wide, seductive smile spread across her face. He may have made the first move but that didn't mean she was going to lie back and think of England. She knew she wanted him and it was time to go after that.
She remembered how much she'd enjoyed teasing him with a glimpse of flesh earlier. Pushing him back a little she worked her hands between them and started to undo the rest of the buttons on her blouse, letting it hang open revealing the beautiful French underwear that was her one big extravagance. She knew the bra made her look fantastic pushing her breasts up and showing her dark nipples through the sheer fabric. His eyes dropped and she saw his pupils dilate.
"Like what you see?" she practically purred, slipping the blouse off her shoulders and pushing him backwards until his legs hit the chair positioned next to the solid wooden desk. He sat abruptly and she bent forward at the waist giving him a closer view of her cleavage. He smiled confidently at her, relaxed and enjoying himself.
"Yeah, I think you do," she murmured as she leant in closer to him, one hand on his shoulder, one finding his hard cock through his trousers. She left her hand resting over him as she gave a long slow lick up the column of his throat, the sensation of his stubble against her tongue turning her on even more. She'd like to feel that against her nipples she thought. All in good time. She ended the thought with a hard kiss to his lips.
Standing up she turned round, and looking at him over her shoulder said, "Help me with my skirt?" He obliged, sliding the zip down slowly and smoothing the skirt down over her hips and thighs, until it pooled on the floor at her feet. She stepped out of it giving him a view of her ass, highlighted by the tiny sheer thong she wore. She knew he liked it so she bent forward again, with her legs slightly parted, ostensibly to pick her skirt up but allowing him to see how soaked the thin strip of fabric between her legs was.
Running his hands along it he hummed in appreciation.
"Nice," he commented, "but I really don't know why you bother with them."
She straightened, throwing her skirt onto the desk beside them and letting out a low sultry laugh.
He reached up placing both hands on her waist and with one quick tug pulled her backwards onto his lap His hands slid down her thighs and travelled to rest on their inner surface, encouraging her to spread them widely either side of his. She could feel his erection pushing against her ass through the fabric of his clothes, and ground against him a little, leaning forward to get better leverage by resting her hand on his knees. She knew she was soaking him through his clothes with her arousal.
Her legs were splayed wide apart and although she was still in her underwear it wasn't really concealing anything. They were facing the door, she couldn't remember if he had locked it, but instead of making her anxious, it just turned her on more. His hands were moving up her legs, over her stomach and higher, to cup her breasts, they barely fit into his palms and the feeling of his warm hands cupping her was amazing, he squeezed lightly and she moaned, he slipped his fingers under the fabric to tease her nipples and she writhed, falling back against his chest. She lifted her arms and slid her fingers into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp and neck as one of his hands moved down to slide under the band of her thong. He ran his fingers over her soaking sex, finding her clit and applying some pressure. She was breathing hard now, legs spread wide open on his lap and breasts thrust forward, grinding against the heel of his hand as he inserted two fingers into her tight pussy, fingerfucking her hard. It only took another minute or so before she was convulsing, riding out her orgasm as she drenched his fingers.
Caroline came down from her high, still lying back on his chest, limbs splayed, one of his arms wrapped around her waist while the hand rested over her sex under her underwear. It was the hottest thing she's ever done, but she wasn't finished yet. Turning her head to the side she kissed hum languidly, a contented sigh leaving her lips as they pulled back. She felt the evidence of his arousal firmly behind her, even clothed he felt huge, and she was ready to go again.
Pushing up off his lap she walked over to look at the bookshelves lining the opposite wall. She turned back to him from where she had been examining the books on the shelves, all weighty tomes on art history and conservation.
"So, it hardly seems fair. Here I am," she said gesturing to her barely clad self, "and there you are, a bit overdressed for the occasion."
With a smirk he started to strip loosening the knot in his tie and discarding it and starting on the buttons of his shirt. He really was something, Caroline thought, he'd looked good with his suit on, but then again, most men did. The body that was being revealed now was toned and athletic and she couldn't tear her eyes away, feeling herself getting wetter again under his heated gaze. He stood to shrug out of his jacket and went to open the buckle of his belt but paused.
"Care to return the favour, love?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.
Picking her way through the piles of papers on the floor in her spindly heels until she stood in front of him. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and dragged her nails deliberately down his well defined chest, stopping to flick both nipples briefly.
"And the rest," he demanded softly.
Biting her lip Caroline dropped to her knees looking up at him, meeting his gaze squarely as she undid his belt buckle and opened the fly of his trousers. She wasn't a naïve young girl to be ordered around and nor was she in the mood to pretend today. She let his trousers drop to the floor and he stepped out of them, toeing off his shoes. In other circumstances she might have laughed at the awkwardness of him removing his socks, like seriously, are any items of clothing less sexy? But the crazy impulse that had driven her to get to this point was still at the forefront of her mind and she was so completely enveloped in the sultry atmosphere of the office that no such thoughts intruded. He was left standing before her in his tight boxer briefs, while she knelt in front of him still in her bra and thong.
She slid his underwear down, freeing his cock, it was huge and thick and she felt the familiar ache intensify in her pussy. She longed to have it inside her, just knowing it would feel amazing, filling her the way she liked.
He sat back down spreading his legs and gesturing for her to kneel between them. She obliged gaze darting between his eyes and his cock. Leaning forward she encircled the base of his cock with her hand and brought it to rest between her breasts, rubbing herself up and down him. His shaft was practically enclosed by the firm mounds, the sensitive head moving tantalizingly close to her slightly parted lips with each upward thrust. He reached behind her and undid the clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts, and she leant back releasing him to let the virtually transparent garment slide forward off her arms. He was breathing hard but seemed content to watch as she lifted her hands and rolled her tight nipples between her fingers and thumbs, softly moaning, giving him time to come back from the edge of orgasm. Then she bent her head, took hold of him again and licked up the shaft and around the head, teasing him before taking him as far into her mouth as she could, sucking him hard. She moved her lips up and down on him using her tongue to add pressure and he wound his hand into her hair tightening his grip as she felt him start to lift his hips. The chair, having no arms for leverage, was limiting his ability to move so she placed her hands over his own, tangled in her hair, and encouraged him to move her head as he wished. He began, slowly at first then more firmly and quickly, using her mouth to get himself off. She reached down between her legs to finger her wet pussy and play with her clit, moaning in pleasure around him as she came again, this time from the sensation of her fingers on herself and her mouth full of his cock. With a shout of, "Fuck, yes!" he came in hot spurts in her mouth and over her lips and it was Caroline's turn to smirk as she swallowed and licked her lips.
"Was that OK for you? I do hope you've got a bit more to give me," she said, "I still need you to fuck my pussy. I really don't want to miss out on that."
He tipped his head back to look up at the ceiling, laughing softly in disbelief, as if asking "is this woman for real?"
"You're the overdressed one now, sweetheart."
Caroline rolled her eyes, really the nude lace thong hardly qualified as clothing, never mind fitted the definition of "overdressed" but she obediently stripped it off standing up as naked as he was.
Turning to the desk, he swept an arm across the surface, sweeping all the files, books and loose papers onto the floor. If the office had been messy before it looked like a bomb had hit it now. Ordinarily, Caroline would have been itching to start tidying it up. Colour coding the filing cabinets and arranging everything just so. But now she just laughed as he hoisted her by her waist to perch on the edge, spreading her legs as he came to stand between them and pushed her flat with the palm of one hand between her breasts. With his hands braced either side of her head he leaned over her, kissing her then proceeding to nuzzle her neck and suck the tender skin where it joined her shoulder. He moved lower, cupping her breasts and squeezing her nipples until she finally felt his stubble graze them lightly, his hot breath sending shivers through her. Then his mouth was on her breasts, sucking and biting the sensitive peaks. She shifted under his ministrations and as she did became aware that he was hard again. Caroline rolled her hips trying to feel his thick cock against her where she needed it, squirming and writhing against him until he straightened up, pulling her closer to the edge of the desk. He rubbed the head of his cock over her tight entrance and teased her, just barely penetrating her. She shifted restlessly, wrapping her legs round his hips, trying to get what she needed. At last he took pity on her and steadied himself and gripping her ass with both of his hands thrust hard into her tight, wet pussy. Caroline had never felt so stretched and full, and following on from the preceding events she was close to coming again. He was staring down at where they were joined with an intense look of concentration on his face, watching his cock piston in and out of her as she let out soft grunts and "oh"s with each thrust. Reaching down to touch her clit between her widely spread legs was almost overkill but she just needed that little extra push over the edge after her previous orgasms. A couple of seconds was all it took to have her coming hard, shoulders lifting off the desk as her abdominal muscles tightened and she clenched tightly around his cock. He came almost immediately after, pumping his come into her before dropping forward to rest against her, shuddering, supporting some of his weight on his forearms. She wrapped her arms tightly round him to pull him close in silent thanks for the most amazing lost afternoon of her life.
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That night she relaxed back on the sofa in her flat thinking back to her trip to the gallery, and the name she had read on the office door as she left. Niklaus Mikaelson, Curator, 20th Century Art.