I walk briskly across the lobby past reception with a stack of folders tucked under my left arm, and when I get to my desk, I set them down, take a seat, and settle in to enter data from these legal briefs into this Wang computer with a blinking green cursor at the bottom right hand side of the screen. Mostly I enter names and addresses, and a few other bits of information. It’s repetitive, tedious, and mind numbing work, and would otherwise be soul killing were it not for the fact that I like this place. It’s pretty low key as temp jobs go, especially for a law firm. No authoritarian types around (no one making sure you fill out your productivity sheet at the end of every day to account for every moment of time you were on the clock, no one poised to chastise you about returning from lunch five minutes late, no one snooping around to make sure you don’t have something other than water in your company issued water cup, etc), and the only people who wear suits are the attorneys, and only on days they will be in court. It’s also eight bucks an hour, and this gig could go for about two to three months, which is great because right now, cash flow is erratic.
In addition, there’s a beautiful Australian woman with short blond hair named Chloe who sits at the desk to my immediate right. Her accent is hot, and her vivid blue eyes arresting. On the one hand, she has a reserved, judicious, efficient, buttoned down, preppy way about her, but on the other, she has a sad, longing, and disconsolate manner. On my first day two weeks ago, she gave me a brief but deep yearning look when she was introduced to me that almost knocked my socks off because her eyes convey a melancholic craving, and a quenchless need. She came to the US to get her Master’s Degree in Physics at the UW, and met a guy named Jeff while she was in school and they got married before she graduated. He works for an insurance company and they live on the Eastside. He does most of the cooking, while she can barely make toast. He refuses to check the map before a trip and often gets lost, and like the stereotypical male refuses to stop and ask directions. Sometimes he’ll drive blocks out of his way to avoid making left turns. She almost ran into a car head on driving on the left side of the street recently because after three years, she still sometimes forgets that people drive on the right in this country. She also confesses that sometimes, she too forgets to put the cap back on the toothpaste. She volunteered all of this and more on my first day without any prompting whatsoever from me while she was showing me around the office, occasionally making deep eye contact, and for the first time I noticed that sometimes the left side of her upper lip moves briefly into a smirk when she’s amused by something, which I find molten. But still, there is an unequivocal power in her eyes.
In recent days she’s upped the stakes, allowing her hand to brush against mine when she walks by or taking me by the elbow to show me where she needed me to get something off a high shelf, and even hugging me when I leave for the night. And a couple of days ago, near quitting time, I still had a big stack of work to get through. She came to her desk and started to get ready to leave for the evening.
“It’s almost 5:00, aren’t you going home?” she asked.
“Not till I get all of this done. Nancy said so. Dammit, I’m beat. I just want to go home and crash, but…duty calls. And that sucks.”
“Does it spit or swallow?” After a beat, I look at her, and I’m left speechless. She starts laughing. “You walked right into that one, mate.”
I guess I did, but while she laughed, out of the corner of my eye, I noted the ever present wedding photos on her desk.
So far it’s been a good day today. I’ve stayed caught up on work and will probably be able to leave right at 5:00. Chloe’s mood had been pretty good throughout the day, but at about 4:30, it suddenly darkened. She sat down at her desk to check her messages, and after a couple of minutes she set the phone down a bit harder than normal, and stared blankly out the window for several seconds. Her whole demeanor cooled down significantly, and after a few seconds, she got up and stepped away from her desk, and was gone until just now, when she came back and sat down. She looks over at me.
“Tim, istanbul escort by any chance, are you hungry?” she asks.
“Yeah, you might say I’m feeling a bit peckish,” I say, not terribly surprised by her question.
“Wanna get a bite?”
“My husband has to work late tonight, and as you know he’s the one who usually cooks at our house, but we haven’t been to the store this week because we’ve both been so busy and our cupboards are bare.”
“Oh. Okay, sure. Um…let me finish these last few files, and then I think we can go,” I respond. She smiles and opens a drawer to get her purse, logs off her computer, and then gets up with some folders.
“I’m going to take these over to Nancy at the front desk, and then tell her I’ll be leaving for the day. I also have to take the mail downstairs because the chute is clogged, so I’ll meet you in the lobby by the elevators when you’re done,” she says.
“Okay, sure. I shouldn’t be too much longer,” I say, returning to work, entering the names and addresses and other vital data of five single women, and soon enough, I’m finished. I log off my computer, shut it down, gather up the folders I finished, and take them over to Nancy. I tell her good night, and then go over to the closet to get my coat before heading out.
When I reach the lobby, the elevator door opens up and Chloe is leaning forward in a chair in the lobby close to the elevators, and she gets up and smiles when she sees me.
“Hi! So, what sounds good to you? Burgers?” she asks as we walk out onto 4th Avenue. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been craving one.”
“That sounds great. I’ve actually had a hankering for a burger myself.”
“Well then let’s go to Red Robin down on Pier 55,” she says. “Is it okay if we walk? We’ll probably get there faster on foot than if he went down to the parking garage to get my car and drove over, and parking’s a bitch on the waterfront anyway.”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
So we walk down 4th Avenue in the darkening December evening, and in a few short minutes the Red Robin is on our right on the waterfront. Since it’s a Monday, it’s not too busy, and we’re seated at a decent table overlooking the water. Chloe orders us a couple of pints of Henry Weinhard’s from the waitress after she comes by. “I’ve got this, so don’t worry about cost,” she says, as she takes a good sip of her beer and smiling.
“Thanks,” I say, raising my glass. “Cheers!” Our glasses clink.
We engage in smalltalk during the first round, mostly about the office, and before I get a chance to signal the waitress to get a second, she beats me to it. When the beers come, she takes a long drink.
“So Tim, what do you do, besides working at Kuykendall, Pennywell, and Sutton?” she asks, her upper lip raising slightly in that immensely sexy way of hers.
“Not much. Work. Loiter. Make trouble.”
“Ooooh, trouble. What kind of trouble?”
“Whatever finds me.”
“It seeks you out?”
“Yeah. We always seem to find each other.”
“You find it in all the right places.”
“Mostly the wrong places. That’s why it’s trouble.”
“What kind of trouble are you talking about.”
“The troubling kind of trouble.”
“It’s the girl kind of trouble? Am I right? Has a girl found you?”
“That’s a bit forward, don’t you think?”
“Better than being backward.”
“This is true. You sure ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”
“I’m a curious woman,” she says. “So. Has a girl found you?”
“Kinda sorta,” I reply, after a moment. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I think a handsome bloke like yourself would have plenty of girls wanting to root around with him,” she replies.
“And I would think a married…Sheila? Is that how you say it?…wouldn’t be engaging in coquetry with some strange “bloke” like you are.”
She smiles and glows.
“Do you mind?”
“Do I mind what?”
“Do you mind that I’m talking sweet nonsense with you?”
“No, I don’t. I’m just wondering what you’re up to.”
“You are a very sexy man,” she says, leaning in, dancing her fingers on my hand. “And I want you.”
“You’re weaving a tangled web,” I say after taking a big swig of my beer. So am I, of course, but I don’t escort bayan have the same burdens she does, and morality and ethics aren’t necessarily must have virtues I’m looking for in a shag mate these days. Am I proud? No. Do I care what anyone might say about it? Also no.
“My husband is way ahead of me,” she says in a sudden moment of anguish.
“Yeah?” I ask, after a moment.
“Let’s just say he’s found himself a chica to root around with.” She pauses and looks down, then continues. “I don’t want to bore you with details, but we’ve been in a bad place the past year or so.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He’s been taking a lot of business trips this year. Down to Los Angeles mostly. Sometimes San Francisco. A woman goes with him. Her name is Ashley. He works very late, a lot. When he’s not at work he’s at the gym. He’s gotten really buff lately. He puts cologne on when he goes to the office, and I’ve smelled what I’m sure is perfume on his clothes when he gets home. And he’s been a real bastard for the stupidest reasons, like buying the wrong brand of bloody toilet paper!” She trails off and looks out the window onto the lights reflecting off the Sound. Then she turns back, and finishes her beer. “We haven’t had sex in almost a year. Whenever I try anything he pushes me away, saying he’s tired or whatever.” Another pause. “One of my best friends said she saw them at a restaurant after he said…” she trails off. “And I found out he has to work late again tonight.”
” ‘Sorry hon, I have to work late tonight.’ Does he think I’m that stupid?” She looks away onto the Sound again for a long second, then turns back. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“That’s okay. I’m sorry to hear all this.”She drains the rest of her beer and then turns back towards me, smiling. “You wanna skip dinner?”
“No. I really want to have that burger.”
“Really?” she asks, surprised.
“No,” I respond, rubbing my right foot up against her left. “Let’s go.”
Chloe pays the check and we walk back towards the parking garage at Century Square, and then we take the elevator down one level and walk a short way towards her silver Acura Legend and get in. She starts it, and as the car warms up she rubs her hands together and blows on them.
“It’s cold out there,” she says.
“Yup,” I reply.
We sit there for a moment, and then she looks over at me for a moment, smiles, and takes my hand and squeezes it. Then she takes a deep breath, puts the car in first and drives up the ramp one level to the exit. She shows the guard her pass, he lets her through, and she turns out on to 4th and makes the first left onto Pike, and heads up the hill and across the freeway to Bellevue, makes a left, and when she crosses Olive, I point out my building on the left hand side of the street, and she does a u-ie into a parking space right in front. After parking, she opens the glovebox and pulls out a CD of Come On Pilgrim by The Pixies and plays “Caribou,” turning up the volume slowly, closing her eyes to take it in.
“I love this song. It’s so sexy and surreal” she says as she sings along with Kim Deal’s shivery howl, swaying in the front seat with the rhythm. Her eyes open and she sees me and she smiles and raises her upper lip briefly into a smirk, and then we lean in slowly towards each other. She closes her eyes and I pull back a bit. She opens her eyes, surprised.
“You bastard!” she says, and then I lean in and kiss her softly. We look at each other again, and then kiss again – this time deeply as Kim Deal begins the second round of her long painful clamor. She cups my face with her hands, and then we pull apart. “I’ve wanted you to do that since I first saw you. Thank you!”
“Wanna come in?” I ask. She smiles and shuts off the car, gets her purse, and we both get out. She steps around the car, and opens the trunk and takes out a small black overnight bag and smiles at me as she closes the trunk.
“You were prepared, I see.”
“I always think ahead,” she says, kissing me.
I take her hand as she steps up on the curb, and we walk up the stairs of my old brownstone, and I open the door. We head inside and down the stairs to my apartment at the bottom of the stairs on the left. I open the door and escort istanbul we walk into my sparsely furnished pad. There is a couch, a table, three chairs, and a TV on top of another chair, and a lamp in the corner.
“Who is your decorator. I have to meet them!” she says with grinning sarcasm.
“Some guy I met when I first moved in named ‘Salvation Army,'” I respond, taking her coat and hanging it up. “I have beer, and I have beer. You want a beer?”
“I would love one,” she says, and I go into the kitchen and grab a couple of Henry’s and give her one. It just so happens that I have a couple of Pixies tapes lying around near my little Sony box in the corner, so I grab one and put it on and then join her on the couch. She smiles approvingly. We sit together drinking our beer in silence for a short moment, and then she slowly turns her head towards me with an apprehensive smile on her face. I lean in to her and we kiss again, and then she abruptly climbs on my lap and grinds as the kissing escalates into a life saving operation. Then she stands up, and reaches for my hand.
“I don’t think there’s enough room on the couch,” she says, taking me by the hand into the bedroom.
“I agree,” I add, following her, and as soon as we’re there, she peels off her grey rag wool sweater. The white T-shirt she had on underneath comes off next as her eyes lock on mine. I realize how beautiful her breasts with large areole are when she removes her front hooking nude colored lacey bra and lets it fall to the floor. Then she undoes her pants and lets them fall most of the way down her legs, and then she steps out of them, and is now wearing only black string bikini panties. She stands demure, tentative, and aroused, much like she was when we first met. I go and grab her and kiss her and embrace her, and then lead her onto the bed. She lies down on her back and her eyes open wide as I slowly remove her panties, and now she’s fully naked on my bed.
“Are you going to go down on me?” she asks softly. “Please lick my pussy. I love that so much.”
“In a sec,” I say as I remove my clothes, and her eyes note my throbbing erection as it pops out after I lower my boxers. Then I drop to my knees and crawl between her legs and take in the smell of her fresh clean pussy, breathing and blowing on it, and she squirms. And then I lick. And lick. And lick up towards her clitoris, making her squirm a little, then a lot, and I hear the first moan.
“Oh God, keep doing that!” she says, putting her hands on my head and pulling my hair. I keep licking that sweet sweet pussy, and her moans become more frequent and rhythmic. This continues for several minutes, and then I insert a finger, which moves her journey to orgasm into the fast lane, and I move it in and out faster and faster as I focus wholly on her clit, and then finally she thrusts her pelvis violently once, twice, three times, and then sinks into the bed spent. Her eyes are closed as she catches her breath, and then I get on top of her. We make full eye contact as my cock finds her pussy, and I reach down to enter her, and her eyes close again as I go inside fully. I pump and thrust a few times, and then she says, “I want to feel all of you!” So I get off and lie down, and she climbs on top of me, and maneuvers me inside. She closes her eyes and rides me and I reach up to play with those breasts, and bounces up and down and lets out sporadic moans and yelps and I can feel her PC muscles squeeze me right underneath the crown of my shaft, which is my most sensitive spot, and I think I’m going to cum right there, but I don’t. She pushes me to the edge a few times as she rides me for about three minutes and then looks down at me.
“Do you want to cum inside me?”
“Alright, then get ready to explode.”
Her PC muscle grabs me at that sweet spot beneath the crown and she rubs back and forth for about 15 seconds before several hot spritzes of cum shoot out of me and into her, punctuated by loud grunts. She collapses onto to me and stays there for a moment to catch her breath again, and then gets off quickly.
“I think I’m leaking. I better go stop it before I make a mess,” she says as she gets up and puts her hand over her pussy as she scoots to the bathroom to get some toilet paper to clean up any sponge draining down her legs, and then comes back to bed to snuggle up with me.
“That was very romantic,” I tell her, and she laughs and starts to curl up next to me. Soon we float off to sleep, serenaded by the sound of traffic just outside the window.