Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all
I had been sitting there at my desk all morning, chewing my nails down to the quick. What was taking so long? It had been exactly three hours and forty-seven minutes since I'd made my rather impromptu proposal. The last straw on this camel's back had been the amazing dream I had about the two of us the previous night. I hadn't had time to take care of my, ahem, business this morning and had shown up to work in a rather aroused state. Carelessly, and very much like the hussy I was quickly becoming, I had marched my fanny right in his office and blurted out my feelings toward him. I proposed that we continue on with our impeccably professional front, business as usual, but for the sake of my job and my mental state, could we please do something, on a regular or semi-regular basis, about relieving the sexual tension between us. I just couldn't do it anymore. I felt like I couldn't get anything done. The fire crackling between us had only grown hotter over time, and I knew that he felt it, too. Lately, it had been so out of hand that I literally sweated bullets if I had to be in the same room with him for more than two minutes.
I sighed. Looks like he's not coming out for lunch.
In the office bathroom, which I might mention is kick-ass as far as public bathrooms go, I was checking out my outfit in the full length mirror, making sure that all was as it should be, when my hands started to wander as they so often do when I am over-the-top horny. With a moment's inspiration I locked the door and did a quick scan of the stalls. Sufficiently alone, I took action. I knew it wouldn't take me long in the state I was in. I didn't want to touch anything because hello, this is a public bathroom, so I went in one of the stalls and, with my pencil skirt hiked up, I placed one heel up on the toilet seat, pulled my absolutely-soaked-by-this-point panties out of the way and almost came undone at the first touch. I swung the door open so I could watch myself in the mirror. Flickers and tremors of pleasure started radiating out from where my hand was concentrating. My breathing picked up, my legs started threatening to give out, and I could feel my muscles starting to contract. Then I was riding the wave, out to the tips of my fingers and the top of my head. I knew I was moaning but didn't have the brain space to worry about that right now. As I gently rubbed my clit a few more times, the last of my orgasm fizzled out in a few jerks, and I felt the wave of calm and euphoria rush over me. Gotta love endorphins.
A few moments into my post-orgasmic bliss my brain started working again, and I couldn't believe what I had just done! This had to be a new low. How could I be reduced to masturbating in the office bathroom? I grabbed some toilet paper to try to clean myself up.
A soft knocking reverberated through the bathroom. "Ms. Swan?"
My mouth fell open, and I felt a rush of air leave my lungs. How was this happening? Why lord, why?
Louder knocking. "Ms. Swan. I've been trying to contact you for 20 minutes on the phone in your office. Gina told me you came in here. I'm...I'm checking to make sure you are doing...okay in there."
"Umm...yeah… ahem... Yes, Mr. Cullen. I'm so sorry you were waiting. I'll be right out. Thank you."
Mother of Christ, this was one hell of a morning I was having! I quickly tried to get myself together. Hair-check, outfit-check, makeup-I had a little sweat on my forehead, but I could touch up at my desk. I hadn't heard anything else from outside the door, so at least I could come out of here with my dignity. With one last deep breath, I pushed my shoulders back, unlocked the door, and pulled it open only to find Mr. Cullen standing directly in front of me blocking the doorway. He was staring at me with such intense hunger and frustration my first instinct was to shrink away.
"Ms. Swan?"
"Yes, Mr. Cullen?" I barely breathed out.
"Ms. Swan, what were you doing in the bathroom with the door locked?"
"I...I..." I collected myself, no small feat. "Excuse me, sir?" I was determined to give as well as I got.
He took one step forward, forcing me back a step in to the restroom once again.
"Ms. Swan, were you touching yourself?" Another step.
If he calls me Ms. Swan one more time while looking at me like that, my panties are going to combust!
Another step.
My back hit the wall.
"Uh...umm." I was shaking my head trying to dislodge a coherent response, but I was burning up at the way he was looking at me. Like I was something to eat.
"Ms. Swan, you know that would be against office policy, don't you?"
Panties on fire.
Another step and he pinned me to the wall with his body. I could feel everything from his breath on my neck down to his shins intermingling between mine. He was just so...hard! I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream or burst. Finally, this was going to happen. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven.
Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep.
"Son of a fucking dick-licking whore's mama," I wheezed out. "Rosie, get...off." I pushed my Great Dane off me and karate-chopped my alarm clock right off the nightstand. I hoped it died a horrible death when it hit the floor. I dragged my way into the bathroom and looked in the mirror.
"Pathetic."
Oh well, time to get ready for another day as Mr. Edward Cullen's executive assistant. Maybe today will be the day.