Author's Note: Thanks for the positive feedback guys! :)
Professional
It happened the night before we found Sonya. This time, it took place at work. Right around this hour - when everybody has gone home and it's just the two of us. It turned into one of those fast and kinky moments. One that's been provoked by the heat of the moment. I'm pinned underneath him on my desk, his tongue blazes a trail all along my body. I'm on the peak of pure and utter ecstasy while his fingers are deep inside of my wet, hot-
God, I shouldn't even be thinking like this.
It's definitely not the first time I have.
Not the first time? He turns the page to find the rest of the entry blank. His attention directs to the changing light. He hopes the next traffic light he drives up to is a red one. A red one that takes forever to change. Olivia stirs a little in her seat; a small, tired, moan escapes her.
Luckily, for him, the next light turns red right and he slows to a stop.
He prepares to slip the diary back into her bag when he realizes she's not waking up. He opens it back up and quickly, he flips through the previous entries. Based on the dates, she doesn't write in this everyday. The last entry is back in November - the day Calvin was taken away from her. The first entry is a few years back.
He squints his eyes to adjust to the text in the dark. They beg him to turn on the light above so they don't have to strain themselves. He ignores the struggle. His fingers rush through the pages, yearning to find something, anything, that'll feed his hunger. His search is interrupted by the car honking behind him. In an instant, the book drops into the shadow that covers his lap.
Olivia's eyes open at the sudden noise. In an attempt to stretch, she arches her back and extends her arms. Elliot's hands grip tighter on the steering wheel at the view of Olivia's back arched, her chest poking out, and her shirt teasing him by exposing a section of her slender figure. Even though he's watching out of his peripheral vision, he can't focus on anything else.
God damn.
"Elliot. Go," she demands.
Another horn blasts at him and a few cars drive around him. He directs his attention to the bright green light. His foot pushes down on the pedal and he continues his way to the bar.
He holds the journal tightly in his blazer pocket. He's nervous, frightened even. He never had a chance to return the black treasure. She doesn't seem to notice.
Yet.
He sits next to Olivia at a small table with Munch and Fin. She's a little livelier after having a drink. He tries to involve himself in the conversation but his mind is fixated on all the other unread entries that are waiting for him. The leather burns through his pocket and the heat of desire runs through his whole body.
His heart is racing.
All the undeciphered secrets about his partner taunt him.
Images of her latest fantasy fill his head while Olivia's laugh is the music in the background of reality.
She's on her back – under him. Her shirt is wide open and she's looking at him with eyes full of sexual desire. His hand occupies her revealed breast while the other remains concealed behind the promiscuous lace.
It's so real. Her moans are as clear as a bell.
She's whispering his name.
"El…"
A little louder now.
"Elliot…"
God, she's so tantalizing.
"Elliot!"
Suddenly, he feels a hand on top of his. He blinks roughly and looks over at Olivia. She watches him with concern.
"Are you okay?" She asks.
"We lost you for a moment," Fin says. Elliot's eyes remain on Olivia's and Olivia's only.
"Yeah. Fine. I'll be right back," he says in one breath. He stands and rushes to the bathroom.
He closes and locks the door behind him. He jerks out the diary and opens it. His eyes rapidly scan each turning page, looking for key words that can tame this lustful creature growing inside him.
November 11, 2006
I think I've been committing some type of sin.
I'm undoubtedly going to hell for this.
I don't mean to – he's (kind of) married and my partner! I don't know what comes over me.
How long has this been going on? I didn't notice it until tonight.
It started when Elliot and I went to "Jakes", the twenty -four hour diner and we had a great time. He's upset about Kathy and the divorce but he sure as hell didn't show it tonight. We were laughing and talking. God, he's so gorgeous. When we sat down, he took off his sweater and the shirt he wore just clung to his muscles and shaped each and every detail. They flexed whenever he moved. It's so hard not to stare – not just at his arms but every part of him.
I guess what I'm trying to say is…he turns me on. A lot.
For years he has, but tonight I noticed how much it excites me, which is why I'm definitely going to hell.
The whole car ride, I kept staring at his crotch; wondering what his length looks like. What it looks like when he's aroused.
Long. Throbbing. Begging for attention.
Fuck.
When I got home, I tried thinking of something else. I even took a shower, hoping it would go away. It didn't.
I didn't want to but I did anyway.
I was about to get dressed but I was so turned on. I caved. I had to take care of the problem – so I did.
As I was lying on my bed, I imaged Elliot inside of me. Thrusting in and out while whispering naughty remarks in my ear. His breath is hot and his words are husky.
"God, you're so fucking beautiful."
"Cum for me, Olivia."
"Does that feel good?"
And I would respond in a soft whisper,
"Yes."
Next thing I realize, I'm vigorously pumping my vibrator in and out, moaning his name (rather loudly) and reaching, probably, the best orgasm I've had in a while. I'm hot, sweaty, and my hair is sticking to my (rather flushed) face. I was disappointed to find that it was all a fantasy and shocked my fantasy was all about Elliot.
Damn, I thought writing about what happened would help me get over it.
Obviously not.
I feel dirty but at the same time, it excites me all over again. Knowing I can't really have Elliot only makes me want him more.
"Jesus Christ, Olivia," Elliot exhales.
Each and every word he reads makes him harder. By the time he closes the diary, the bulge in his pants pleads for release, for relief. He grips onto the edges of the sink and squeezes every time he feels the aching throb of his erection. He looks at himself in the mirror. His cheeks are florid, his heart is pounding, and his breathing is slightly labored.
"Jesus fucking Christ," he whispers again.
He looks down at his new addiction. The black leather diary written by the seductress he works with.
He slides the book back into his pocket and splashes water on his face. He relies on a few deep breaths to calm himself. It works only a little bit.
He returns to the table, hoping nobody would notice anything different. He makes eye contact with Olivia before anybody else. She's worried and curious. Elliot quickly takes his seat before her eyes travel south.
"Maybe we should call it a night. It's been a long day and everyone seems tired," Olivia suggests, mostly to Elliot.
His eyes remain on the bottom of his glass. The remains of the glass seem so unappetizing to him.
Not Olivia, though. She couldn't be more mouthwatering.
Elliot walks out of the bar only to find Olivia back at the entrance digging through her bag.
"Everything okay, Liv?" Elliot asks.
"Yeah, I must've left my book at the station. Have you seen it?"
He swallows strenuously, "What book?"
"That black one. It had a silver buckle on the front," she says and shifts some more things around.
"Maybe you dropped it in the car."
"Help me look?" She asks.
All four doors are open and Olivia and Elliot are on opposite sides of the backseat. Olivia's leaning over while looking under the passenger seat – her bra and cleavage in full exposition for his viewing pleasure.
He tenses and his heart speeds.
This is wrong. He can't. He shouldn't.
He grabs the diary and tosses it on the passenger seat.
Goodbye, sweet treasure.
He glances back at Olivia – too occupied to notice anything.
She looks over at him, "What?"
Oh, nothing, Olivia. Your breasts are just so tempting. No big deal.
He shakes his head as if it really wasn't a big deal, "Nothing," he says.
They both straighten. "Are you sure you're okay?" Olivia asks, "You've been acting weird all night."
"Yeah, just tired," he lies.
He's anything but tired.
Confused? Yes. Seduced? Definitely. Horny? Abso-fucking-lutely.
Anything but tired.