Explain the dragon. Okay, I can do that. Right? I can do that.
I don't want to do that.
Clearing my throat, I lean forward and peek at the page. Feigning ignorance, I speak through a serene smile. "You want me to go over the 4th quarter numbers?"
You're not smiling back and for the first time, I feel a slight tension start to creep across my body. You lean a little closer to me and I actually grit my teeth against the effort to not look at the expanse of skin above the neckline of your camisole. Keeping your eyes on mine, you reach one finger over and tap directly over the image of the dragon.
"Oh. You want me to talk about the thing eating the 4th quarter numbers?"
"Desperately."
That one word coming from you short circuits my brain and I lose the tentative hold I had on my self-control. Against my will, I feel my eyes dip down to caress the shadows and curves of the top of your breasts. The glance lasts only a split second but I feel the impact sprint from my brain to tumble across my stomach and land skidding across my inner thighs.
Dragging my gaze back up, I force myself to look you right in the eyes. Eyes that remind me of lush woods illuminated by moonlight. A place for fairies and secrets and…whoa. Where the hell is that coming from? That's it. No more Nora Roberts trilogies before bed. Maybe that explains the dragon? It could, if I really think abou…
"Natalia?"
Maybe I should actually explain the doodle. Taking a deep breath, I try to explain away the dragon with the boobs. "Okay see, I was sitting there taking notes on all the talking points that the departments were going over when Francis started in about her chocolates."
I pause, hoping for an encouraging smile since Francis is a frequent source of amusement for us, but your face gives me nothing. Swallowing, I continue along, picking my way through the potential minefield of this story.
"So then Jack starts in about how the unwanted chocolate pieces tend to melt on the linens and how much of a pain in the ass it is constantly clean. They were going back and forth for so long, I just kept thinking that I wish something would come along and swoop them away from here so I wouldn't have to listen to them anymore."
At that, your lips twitch but all you do is incline your head for me to continue so I do. "I don't know. I just started doodling and before I knew it, tada! Dragon."
"That's it?"
"Yup." Well, that wasn't that bad. Here I was thinking I was in some kind of trouble.
"Why does the dragon have these full lips and eyelashes?" You pick the page up and gesture with it in my general direction.
Crap. "Um, well, Francis was the one doing most of the talking so I probably was subconsciously drawing a girl dragon because I was hearing her voice."
You make a small non-committal sound and I let myself relax for a second.
"And the boobs?" At that word, my traitorous eyes drop once more to your chest and with a slightly audible groan, I lean back further in my chair.
Bringing my eyes to the slightly safer choice of the report you hold in your hand, I shrug and smile as if to say "oh, same reason."
At this point, I think I was prepared for you to laugh off the matter. At worst, I think I expected you to scold me lightly for having doodled on the quarterly report. I can safely say that I never could have anticipated your actual reaction.
Abruptly, you toss the paper sideways across the table. As I watch, it slides across the laminated surface before coming to a fluttering end, the corner of one side hanging over the edge of the table.
Tentatively, I spare a glance at your face and feel the breath clog in my lungs at the look suffusing your features. I can't tell whether you are angry or something else and it's that something else that has me ready to bolt from my chair.
Before I can even move, you place one of your hands on the back of my chair and use the other to brace your weight on the table in front of me. Leaning down, you bring your lips close to my ear and the tiny, naughty part of me is thrilled that I put my hair back before you returned to the room.
"I'm not stupid, Natalia. Do you think I'm stupid?" Your voice is barely audible and it takes me a few seconds to process what you've just asked me.
What? Do I think you're stupid? Of course I don't think you're stupid. "What? Olivia, I…"
"That's me, isn't it?" As you speak, my eyes are glued to the hand resting in front of me and I feel a distinct tightening in my stomach as I watch your fingers flex against the table.
Part of me feels silly even engaging in this conversation. Clearly, you're not a dragon and I don't see what the big deal is anyway.
"Natalia, answer me." Did you just nuzzle my cheek? Tensing my hands on the edge of the table, I go to push back, anything to get some space between us. You're not talking about just the drawing anymore and you're too close for me to have this conversation with you right now.
Before I can even move back, your hand slams down from the back of the chair to hold the armrest, effectively keeping the chair in place. Slowly, you turn the chair until I'm facing your body. Releasing your hold on the armrest, you curl your hands around the edge of the table, placing one foot at the base of the chair. A subtle movement but I get your message loud and clear.
"Olivia."
You interrupt me, your voice softer this time. "Natalia, just answer me. Why did you draw that?"
Suddenly, the absurdity of this situation knocks the wind from me. For weeks, we've been ducking and weaving around each other, neither one of us taking the chance on a knockout shot. Hell, neither one of us even pulled a jab. And here I am getting called out because my subconscious bled over into a stupid doodle. Is it no wonder? How long can a person carry something like this around with them? It's too much.
Angry, I push back from the table, sending the chair flying back into the wall behind me. Two more rivulets of sweat stream down my back and that's the last straw.
"You know what, Olivia? What does it matter? It's a stupid dragon. Obviously, you're not a dragon." Pacing in front of you, I indicate your body with an angry slash of my hand. "So what if it had eyelashes and lipstick and breasts? Why do you think that everything I do has something to do with you? Maybe I just wanted to draw a stupid dragon with stupid boobs on your stupid quarterly report!"
The last is said barely a foot from you and I can feel my chest heaving with anger and emotions I really don't care to name. All this time, all this time I've been wondering how to approach you, what sweet words I could say so we could talk about this wonderful thing building between us. Yet here I am, on the verge of yelling my feelings at you, angry and sweaty in some locked conference room. Just perfect.
Your eyes haven't left my face. In fact, the only indication you've heard anything I've said is the white-knuckled grip you have on the table. A few seconds pass and only the harsh sound of my breathing can be heard. One second, two seconds, three seconds more and still nothing from you.
"Forget it." I can feel the tingling of tears behind my eyes and my only thought is to be away from you when that happens. Before I can even turn to go, your hands release the table, opening wide to push your body forward. I have half a second to absorb the shock of your fingers grabbing the front of my shirt before I feel you start tugging.
Without a word, your fingers tighten, bunching the fabric and drawing me steadily closer to you.
"Forget it? I'd rather not."
"Don't." I grab your wrists and let the threat of tears evaporate in the heat of my anger. An anger that builds as I realize that my body is betraying me, holding you to me rather than trying to remove your hands from my shirt. "I'm telling you to forget it."
You straighten to your full height and tighten your grip. "No. We need to talk about this."
"Talk about what? Let me go." Now you want to talk about this? Well, that's great. You've locked me into this stifling conference room and now it's convenient for you to want to talk? I don't think so.
I pull back and honestly try to remove your hands from my shirt. My back has started sweating in earnest and the back of my shirt is starting to stick to my skin. Underneath my hands, I can feel the corded muscles of your wrist flexing as you keep pulling on my shirt and my discomfort is quickly partnering with my anger. "I mean it, Olivia. Let me go. I'm sorry I doodled on the report but you've addressed it with me and now we're done. I'm done."
"I'm not done."
"I don't care what you are right now. Get your hands off of me because I'm leaving." Despite my anger, I allow myself a few seconds to revel in the look of you right now. The muscles in your arms are flexed in your effort to hold on to my shirt and your eyes are the color of summer thunderstorms about to crash on the horizon. Your mouth is parted and as I watch, a drop of sweat rolls from your temple to drop from your jaw onto the edge of your camisole.
God, I need to leave.
You take a short breath and for the first time, I hear the leading edge of anger in your voice. "I said I'm not done. We are going to talk about this."
On strength borne of desperation, I wrench my shirt away from your hands, barely hearing the sound of two buttons hitting the table. My hands are clenched at my sides and I can feel my muscles trembling, anger and desire fighting their way across the landscape of my body.
"What? Talk about what, Olivia?" I let my exasperation show in hopes of goading you into being angry. If you're angry, then I can storm out of here and we'll be on some sort of even footing. Because right now, something is shifting and I'm not sure I can handle whatever it is when it settles.
"We need to talk about…I need to…" You pause and everything inside me burns, peeling away denial to reveal the raw awareness below.
"What?" My question sounds like a thunderclap in the quiet room and I see the flash of intent in your eyes before you even move.
"This." Your hands find my half-open shirt again and this time there is no fighting against your strength as you bring me flush against your body. The momentum of my body hitting yours knocks you back against the conference table and I'm forced to brace my hands on either side of your hips.
Without hesitation, your mouth finds mine and the shock of your kiss is quickly overridden by pure lust punching its way through my system. This is no tender meeting of new lovers kissing for the first time, all soft discovery and building desire.
I'm not sure I have the words for what this is and all I can do is struggle to keep up as your tongue sweeps across my lips. Your hands leave my shirt to grab the nape of my neck roughly, pulling me impossibly closer to you. Your tongue starts a familiar rhythm against mine and as I answer you stroke for stroke, my body starts to respond with primal instinct.
Bringing my hands to your hips, I let you deepen the kiss, groaning as the taste of your mouth wars with the feeling of your thighs pressing against me. I can feel your skirt lifting a little higher as my body instinctively starts to move and suddenly, it occurs to me where we are. At work, in a conference room with who knows how many people outside the door. What are we doing?
I pull back from the kiss and push away from your body. Your mouth is bruised and I watch as you lick your lips, realizing that you're tasting our kiss as you do so. I look down and see where your skirt is wrinkled from my hands and I can actually feel the throbbing between my legs intensify.
"Natalia…" Your husky voice almost brings me to my knees and I have to force myself to try and remember to breathe.
"Wait, just wait." I hold my hand out to you to stop whatever you were going to say.
"No." You brush aside my request as easily as you brush aside my hand. Reaching one hand behind you, you reach the other to wrap around my ponytail and pull me into your embrace one more. The kiss is softer this time and the heat of your mouth is causing an answering flare low in my stomach. Your lips suck softly on my bottom lip and your teeth bite down lightly as I become a quivering mass of moans and panting breaths.
I bring my hands to the muscles running along your spine, pressing against the dip in your lower back. I can feel the sweat through your camisole and I tug awkwardly at the hem, almost desperate to feel your skin against my fingertips. Your skin is slick and I lay my palms flat against your back, sliding back and forth, letting each pass bring me closer and closer to the waistband of your skirt.
You groan as just the tips of my fingertips brush against the top of your panties and your hips tilt towards me, silently inviting me to press lower. My thumb brushes against the zipper and very slowly, I start to pull it down.
Breaking the kiss, you trail your hands over my shoulders to the buttons of my shirt, opening each one slowly until it hangs open between us. My hands still against your hips as I watch you looking at me, love and want so clear in your eyes I wonder how I could have missed it before.
Using just your fingertips, you softly trace the drops of sweat that are running from my collarbone to my stomach. I can't breathe as my stomach tenses, trapping all the air in my lungs. You look up and keep your eyes locked on mine as you slide your fingertips from my stomach to cup my breasts in your hands. Your thumbs brush against my nipples and I feel them harden even further under your touch.
Arching my back, I press myself harder into your hands and have to look away from the intensity of your stare. Looking down, I watch my hands as they glide over your hips and continue down to the edge of your skirt. I can feel the soft skin of your thighs where they press against me and I want more. I need to feel more of you.
As I start to pull your skirt up, your hands go to the tops of my shoulders, sliding under my shirt to push my bra straps down my shoulders. Leaning forward, you bring your mouth to one shoulder, tasting my skin in long, slow strokes of your tongue.
Using my thumbs, I bunch your skirt around your waist and rest my hands on the top of your warm thighs. Groaning, you turn your head into my neck, resting your lips against the pulse point there as my name comes out on a soft exhalation.
I take a deep breath and my fingers tighten involuntarily. Underneath the smell of your perfume and lotion, blending delicately with the smell of clean sweat on our bodies, is the smell of your arousal. Closing my eyes, I let the excitement of the unknown course through my body, welcoming the gathering wetness I can feel between my legs.
Fantasies could never compare to the real thing and the realization that all my weeks of thinking about you and thinking about us, in this way, is coming true makes my chest feel tight. A feeling that intensifies as you lean away from me and start to raise my own skirt higher on my thighs.
Everything falls away, the heat, the conference room, everything as you grab my hips and pull me against you. The first touch of the softness of your inner thighs sliding against mine destroys any previous sexual experience that I could have labeled as erotic.
My eyes fly up and fall into the intimacy of your gaze as you use your hands to move my hips against you. "You're wet. I can feel you. Is this what you wanted?"
Modesty and embarrassment make me hesitate for only moment before need takes over. This is you touching me, you making me feel these incredible things and I will never be embarrassed about that.
"Yes." I'm barely able to force that through my lips as my stomach tightens.
"I've wanted this too. All this time…" Your low voice trails off as you lean forward and claim my lips in another searing kiss. My hips take over the rhythm as your hands make their way back to my breasts, your fingers providing relief to my aching nipples.
I can feel my wetness through my underwear where it presses against your thigh and I shift my leg slightly, shuddering as I feel your warm center press firmly against me. You are wet too. To think that what's happening to my body is happening to yours, just the thought that of that is driving me crazy with want for you.
It's the only way to explain how we are here, our skirts pushed against our waist, my shirt open, kissing and grinding against the conference table. I'm sweating and I can taste your own saltiness on your skin as I trail my lips across your jaw and kiss your throat. I don't want to stop and yet…I don't want our first time to be here, rushed and frantic in some conference room.
What I have in mind is going to take longer than the 15 minutes we've spent here and if I don't stop right now, all those plans are going to go to waste.
Even with the familiar tingling starting to creep along deep inside my belly, I force myself to stop moving against you. "Olivia, wait…stop. Not here."
Your hands cup my face and I can see the confusion in your eyes. "What? Why? Please…please."
God, that one word and I hesitate. How good would it feel to just let you keep moving like that, pressing your warm…No. Not here. Dammit, not here.
Gently, I kiss your pouting lips, soothing with my mouth as I pull your skirt down and settle my own against my legs. "If we're going to do this…"
"Oh, we are going to do this." Your rushed declaration makes me smile and I press a quick kiss to your cheek.
"When we do this, I want it to be at home. Our home." I start buttoning my shirt, frowning slightly as I realize I'm two buttons short. It doesn't matter. I don't plan on wearing this thing much longer anyway. "I want you naked and I really want…"
I'm blushing too hard to continue. It turns out I can be embarrassed about this.
"What, Natalia? What do you want?"
I lean forward and whisper in your ear, closing my eyes as the words leave my mouth. "I want to feel you inside me."
You don't say a word. Not one word. Suddenly, I find my hand in yours and you're pulling me across the room, giving me barely enough time to reach down and grab my bag and your suit jacket.
Unlocking the door, you pull me in front of you and press me hard against the door, kissing me deeply and then instantly breaking the kiss. You smile and caress my face, reaching down to pull the door open. Letting go of my hand, you leave the room, pausing just outside in the hallway.
"Thank you for your time, Natalia. Please schedule a meeting so we can follow up on the things we've discussed." You reach forward and grab your jacket from my arm, casually holding it in front of you to hide most of the wrinkles now adorning your skirt. With a grin, you turn on your heel and head down the hallway.
Taking a deep breath, I go to turn the light off and shut the door when the edge of the report captures my attention. Making sure you're gone, I dash back into the room and stuff the sheet of paper into my bag.
I settle the bag on my shoulder and flicking the light switch, leave the conference room. I get the car keys out of my bag and smile.
I wonder if I can beat you home.