She was going to have a major orgasm.
He knew it and backed off. Then he began bringing her to climax, but again—stopped before she could finish.
She was exhausted from it, but in a good way. Totally spent.
He stared into her eyes. “I love you,” he said. “I knew it from the second you walked into my office that first day.”
She barely contained her surprise. But then, from out of her lips; “I love you too.”
He moved into her, his thrusts quickening. She locked her legs around him and squeezed him deeply inside, locking him in as she had the most profound orgasm of her life, or any life she could even imagine.
He held her as she cried out, kissed her mouth as she moaned into his—his tongue penetrated her as he came with her. She could feel him spasming, feel him emptying himself into her.
She had another orgasm that swept her away, as if to the sea. She was floating in pure happiness.
When they were done, he lay with her for a while, stroking her hair and kissing her face. “You are so beautiful.”
It didn’t last long enough. Soon he was up, buttoning his trousers, straitening and tucking in his shirt, looking like Red Jameson, CEO, again.
“My shirt’s ruined,” she said, picking up the tattered cloth at her feet.
“I can remedy that,” he told her, walking to the closet. He opened it. Inside there were hangers of women’s clothing. Some of it was latex. He took a white blouse, held it up to the light and glanced at her. “This should do the trick for now.” He tossed it to her.
Nicole made a face. “This is another woman’s shirt.”
“Nobody else has ever worn that.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Then you can go home nude.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
He buttoned his cuffs. “Don’t test me, Nicole. I’m in no mood.”
“Neither am I.” She met his gaze.
He smiled harshly. “Fine.” He went to the trunk and kneeled down, opened it. After some rummaging, he came out with a man’s dress shirt. “How about this?”
“One of your shirts,” she said.
He didn’t reply. “You want it or not?”
“Fine.” She took it, secretly pleased. She wanted a piece of him with her at all times, and this shirt would do. She put it on, feeling the softness of it, buttoning it up. It was huge on her.
“You want a pair of khakis to go with it?” he said sarcastically.
“My skirt’s still in one piece. You owe me a new shirt by the way,” she said. “I’m not forgetting that.”
“Come on,” he said. “We need to get you home.”
***
She arrived home exhausted, and Danielle was up waiting for her. She was furious. “What happened to you?”
“Danielle, please…” she shuffled past her towards her bedroom. “I just want to take a shower and go to sleep.”
“Did you get raped or something?”
“Raped?” Nicole couldn’t help but laugh.
“Look at your shirt. What happened to the one you left in?”
Nicole didn’t know how to answer that. “Listen, I appreciate the concern but I’m fine. Really.”
“That wasn’t some old friend,” Danielle said. “That’s a new guy. Some big shot you met at work, right?”
“So what if he is?” Nicole spun on her. “I don’t judge you for the guys you sleep with. Justin Bieber and company.”
Danielle made a face. “I don’t sleep with tons of guys, first of all. Secondly, I don’t scare the wits out of you, disappearing and coming back looking like I just came home from war.”
“You’re being overly dramatic.”
“Have you taken a look in the mirror?”
“I’m sure I look a little messy…”
“Whoever he is, he doesn’t seem to have much respect for you.”
“You don’t know a thing about him.”
“I’ve dated a rich, older man before. When I was a senior in high school. I’d just turned eighteen and—“
Nicole put a hand up. “Danielle. If I want your advice on romantic relationships, I’ll come ask for it. But I’m tired now and I want to take a shower and go to bed.”
Danielle’s expression turned stony. “Fine. But maybe I won’t be around next time you happen to need me. I guess you’re showing your true colors, Nic.”
“I’m sorry if—“
“Whatever,” Danielle said, spinning on her heel and quickly going to her bedroom.
The door slammed. Nicole shook her head. This wasn’t what she needed. She felt confused and tired and emotionally drained.
When she got in the bathroom for her shower, she looked in the mirror.
Danielle was right. She looked awful.
***
She didn’t get into work until almost nine the next morning. First, she got up late and then the train was delayed for some reason.
When she arrived, the girl in the next cubicle stood up and peered over. Her eyes were wide. “Mister Jameson was looking for you,” she said in a hushed, awed voice.
“He was?” Her heart began to instantly race.
“He said you should go immediately to his office when you arrive. He seemed upset.”