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The angst of my forced celibacy had been plaguing me for days. There was desire in her eyes but she looked a little shocked that she had followed me, as though she'd moved without thinking. I mustered as much courage as I could to walk confidently up the path and knock on her door. Her lower back rested against the edge of the kitchen bench.It was that time in my cycle where I become perpetually turned on, my whole body tingling and the sight of a woman in tight jeans leaving me winded. For me, it manifests as the overwhelming desire to taste a woman's skin, to feel her melt into me. I steadied myself, remembering how nervous she was - I wanted to put her at ease. I resisted the cheap double entendre, instead replying "Are you glad I did? Come in." She stepped aside but I couldn't help brushing passed her. I stood only a meter or two in front of her, just outside the invisible line that marked our personal space.
I needed to be distracted from watching the minutes drag by and hoped a new soundtrack might offer an escape. I played a game with myself, guessing what was on her mind. How much, I didn't know, but she'd definitely learned more about my sexual desires than a little flirting would have conveyed. I pictured her face; her brow furrowed with need, her mouth parted, a deep groan escaping her throat. I locked up, turned out the lights and headed to the bathroom for a final primp. I'd worn my hair straightened and down making me feel feminine and sexy.I sat on its edge, wringing my hands and all but folding myself in half in an attempt to generate heat.Business was slow and the owner had confiscated the remote for the heater, apparently deciding that employee comfort was a luxury.I focus my energy on the fictitious person in my mind and try to take in her scent, hear her moan, feel her against my lips. She stopped at the kitchen bench, poured two glasses and handed me one. I was new to the casual hook-up, but not to seduction.But at work, with a window to a world able to see the look on my face, I had to be careful not to let my imagination become too vivid. She somehow felt safe and familiar enough for me to let myself be led by instinct.The occasional customer wandered in and I'd offer explanations of the materials and techniques used to create the custom pieces.
They'd admire the work but made it clear they were only curious with no interest in buying. I wasn't on commission and working alone all day made me appreciate even the most fleeting distraction. It wasn't necessary but a computer on the desk gave the illusion of customer inquiries being attended to.
There was nothing professional about it, but unfortunately my online activities were still limited.
A full-length mirror sat on the floor behind my desk, reflecting the contents of my screen to anyone who walked in and cared to look.
So this time I had an idea; I'd write my thoughts down in the hopes that typing would look like work related concentration. The songs had a slightly sexier vibe than I'd intended, though that was probably to be expected. Once close enough to feel her without touching, I slowly leaned in and reached beside her to place my glass on the bench behind. I gently took her glass from her hands marking the first electrifying moment my skin touched hers.
I turned the brightness down on my laptop screen to make sure the reflection of my words in the mirror wasn't too visible. I leaned in again putting her glass down next to mine.
I read it back and felt sexy and empowered but realized it didn't fully satisfy me. She looked relieved when I chuckled and gave a knowing smile. As my lips grazed her skin, my hand found her waist, resting there and hopefully providing reassurance.