My pinhead boss sent me to the library to research concrete specifications to determine if there was some basis on which to establish negligence against our client. I wanted to go take a deposition. Argue a motion in court. I wanted to do something, anything, to distract myself from thinking about the night before. And researching concrete specifications wasn’t going to do it.
It had been our first night together. The first time I felt his hands running over my bare skin. The first time I touched the muscles that rippled under his bronze skin. The first time he stared into my eyes as I felt him deep inside me. He could so easily take control, making me do things I would normally never do during the first time. He made me feel loved while fucking me like he barely knew me. I had just had the best sex of my life and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
At least I could be alone in the library. I found the latest concrete specification guide and found a secluded spot to sit. I thought maybe, just maybe, I could distract myself by immersing myself in the specifications, something I knew nothing about. Finding the relevant specifications would take some effort. I’d have to learn the subject. I’d have to stop thinking about him to do it.
But when I sat down, I found sitting on the table, completely out of place, a very old book on the Kama Sutra. My heart fluttered. I instantly thought of the night before. And so I told myself not to look at it. I knew it would conjure up memories of him. But my curiosity caused me to slide the book in front of me and open it.
I shouldn’t have looked. Each illustration was either a reminder of our night together or a position I wanted to try. My breathing deepened. I felt a tingling between my legs. I leaned forward in an effort to make the tingling stop, but it only increased the pleasure. I found myself gently rocking, enjoying the sensation of my pants tightening against my clit.
I slowly began to surrender to the pleasure. After all, I reasoned, there was no one else around. So I unbuttoned a couple buttons of my blouse, exposing the edge of my bra. I traced my cleavage with my fingertips as I rocked harder. Sweat began to form on my upper lip as my need increased.
I began to lose myself in my memories. I closed my eyes, thinking of him, thinking of what he could do to me. Thinking of how he could act out the images on each page. I unbuttoned my pants. Began rubbing my clit with one hand as I pinched one of my nipples with the other. I moaned softly. I was working toward an intense orgasm and I was so close.
Then I heard someone clear his throat. I was startled to attention. I pulled my hand out of pants and let go of my nipple. My stomach dropped as I focused on the face of the man. It was my pinhead boss, smirking at my unbuttoned blouse and the look on my face.
I could say nothing that could explain away what I was doing. I could only offer an awkward apology. “Sorry,” I mumbled, “Concrete specifications make me hot.”