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Staring at Jessica’s mouth while she ate a corn dog landed me in trouble in more ways than one. I couldn’t take my eyes off the way her lips stretched around the phallic-shaped food. I couldn’t stop myself from making comparisons.
Cameron’s stretched further and were tediously careful. His were puffier, free of lipstick, and his eyes were glazed with a haze like pleasuring me was his undoing, as though there was no other activity that he would desire as much. Jessica flashed me a twinkling-eyed smirk, almost like a challenge that I’d have to earn the right to be her corn dog. I didn’t even want to be her corn dog. That’s not why I was staring. But her reaction displeased that terrifying personality in my head that my time with Cameron awoke.
I don’t think I’ll ever have the patience nor be intrigued enough by someone to play the tit for tat game. Why would I strive to earn something with a stranger that I never desired before Friday night? Why make the effort when I know how my past attempts at intimacy were all eventually voted lackluster?
I was hopeless before I met Cameron, but now I’ll be completely hopeless. He edged my standards to a new level. Apparently, worship is my weakness. I’m afraid now that no one could meet my new expectations.
Closing out of my screens, I rub my eyes in a last-ditch effort to blot out this latest onslaught of an episode called ‘An Evening with Cameron Fairway.’ I can’t sit here with my thoughts any longer. Eyeballing my leave bank printout, I glance at the clock. Almost eleven thirty. It’s the perfect time to miss him if I head down to HR. With any luck, he’ll be out to lunch.
I can’t chance seeing him while I’m at the office. If he looks at me again like…
I just can’t. Who knows what I’d do?
Booking my way down the hall, I plunge into the elevator, not caring that it’s packed with people who smell like twelve different foods. When I make it to the sixth floor, my pulse is like a jackrabbit’s.
Canvassing the hallway with my gaze, I can’t decide, though, whether I feel like a predator or the prey. I don’t want to see him. I don’t. Why did I ever let it go that far? What would he think of me if he knew he was the one who was duped?
Heather, the HR manager, is at her desk when I enter the room. There’s no sign of Cameron, and I have to kibosh the twinge of disappointment that brings me. He glorified me enough this weekend. I neither need nor deserve another dose of it.
After I inform Heather of my leave donation for my office raffle, she prints me out an update of my remaining balance, although I assure her I don’t need it right now. Every second that I’m stuck here is one more second that puts me at risk of running into Cameron.
It takes effort to thank her at a speed that sounds congenial before I turn on my heel and speed to the elevators. The doors open, though, and out comes a vacuum that steals all my air.
What did I imagine? That he’d forget it ever happened? That I would?
One look at the way his eyes light up when he sees me, the way those talented lips part, the way the tip of his tongue wets them, and I want to shove him into the nearest room to see if he wants a second helping. What is happening to me?
Averting my gaze when he passes me, I try to exhale a whiff of his fabric softener scent. It’s like a barnacle, though, affixing itself in my senses even when I frantically hit the elevator button and dive inside.
He looked like he was going to say something. He can’t possibly want to talk here. Only smitten teenagers are that careless. I basically kicked him out of my house as soon as the last drop of my come was spent. There’s no way he can be smitten after a jerk move like that.
Great. Now, I have egotistical and callous to add to my new personality trait of sexually domineering.
As the doors begin closing, a hand reaches out, stopping them. I never got love notes in high school. I was the kid with hand sanitizer before hand sanitizer was cool. Cameron forcing the doors back open and recklessly hopping back on the elevator with his moon-eyed gaze, though, officially tops any sentiment a love note could offer. He’s lost his fucking mind.
And apparently, I have too, because my gaze rakes him from head to toe like I’m scavenging for any details about the shape of his body that I missed Friday night. He’s not on his knees now, but his slighter frame stirs something primal in me. It whispers that our differences in build would fit perfectly against each other like long-lost puzzle pieces. I can’t possibly know that, no matter that I analyze facts and figures all day long.
“Hey,” he says, breathily. Softly. Intimately.
We’re just hovering here in limbo; the elevator paused, like it had some hand in this moment. Clearing my throat, I punch the button for the eighth floor when he doesn’t make a move.
“Hello,” I reply. There’s no avoiding him now.
His smile over my simple greeting feels akin to some great reward for a gladiator victory. I created that smile. Me. With one word.
That kind of power is dangerous, so I direct my gaze to a scratch on the doors. ‘Unleashed Pete’ doesn’t need any more temptation.
“Is…everything okay?”
No. Abso-fucking-lutely not, I want to shout. You sucked my cock. It’s all I can think about, and it’s fucking up my schedule. By this time tomorrow, I won’t even know how to open an email. And the fact that I’m not even worried about it terrifies me.
“I was just getting my leave balance from Heather,” I say, instead, gesturing with the file I slipped her printout into.
“Oh. I hope you don’t mind that I ride with you.”
Before I can even think of how to respond, he reaches in front of me and hits the stop button. The elevator chugs to a halt. Why did he do that?
“I know this isn’t the place, but I can’t very well email you or just show up at your house, and I don’t have your number,” he lets out in a rush.
