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As I wait, my anxiety grows as the clock ticks by. What the fuck is she doing that she can’t respond straight away? My mind wanders. Don’t go there.
Charlotte: Explain
One word is all she gives me. No ‘hello, how are you today.’ She’s brief, and I don’t blame her. Charlotte needs to know the truth, and so I finally explain the situation, hoping she’ll understand. She’s quick to question me as to whether I’m lying, telling me to check in the mirror to see if my nose has grown.
I can’t resist, it’s just too easy.
Typing quickly, I tell her my nose may not have grown, but I can’t say the same for down below. Anxious I may have pushed our boundaries, the bubble hovers on the bottom of our text for what feels like forever.
Charlotte: I didn’t know you and the mirror had a thing for each other. Get a room.
This is the Charlotte I remember, feisty and witty with a comeback for everything. I smile, thinking of a comeback to keep our conversation rolling.
Me: I tried but turns out it prefers it in a dark kitchen against the cold fridge.
I don’t know what she remembers about Saturday night since she drank so much. Beneath my pants, my cock hardens again. Jesus fucking Christ, I need to rub another off if I plan to get any sleep tonight. This tension is killing me and waiting for her text feels like hours on end.
Charlotte: Ha! Funny! I could’ve sworn it was an elevator.
Well, fuck me. She remembers.
I had told her once about a reoccurring fantasy in which she was wearing fuck-me boots, a short, pleated skirt, and nothing underneath as we rode an elevator. Everyone would exit, and I’d push the stop button, fucking her into oblivion. If the universe has any favoritism toward me, in the city that never sleeps, with thousands of elevators all around us, maybe my fantasy will come true.
Me: It still is, baby.
She never responds to my text, and my self-control debates whether or not I should push her for more. I finally sleep on it for only four hours, and as soon as dawn kicks in and the sun rises, I send another text.
Me: Are you free today for a coffee? I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.
I have back-to-back meetings this morning with stakeholders and agents. I email Kate asking her to send me today’s schedule all while I wait. Considering it’s only six-thirty in the morning, I don’t expect a response until my phone lights up.
Charlotte: That depends. Do I get a chocolate brownie as well?
My lips curve upward into a smile, and resting back into my chair, I read her text again. I had forgotten what it felt like to smile, to look forward to something, or should I say someone, to feel those damn butterflies that women always ramble on about. Fuck, when did I become such a pussy?
Me: Depends on what you’re wearing.
I can’t help myself. Maybe they are horny butterflies since they’ve been kept in captivity for so long. She texts me the address and warns me to behave.
Fuck, here we go again. My cock throbs as she calls me Mr. Edwards. The image of whips, kinky shit, and a librarian come to my mind. It does nothing to ease the tension.
And so I force myself to ignore it, attempting to concentrate on work. I fail miserably. I can’t focus during my first meeting. I have stakeholders talking my ear off about profits, revenue, and budgets. Thankfully, I have Kate there to take notes.
“I have a quick catch-up with an old friend,” I advise Kate at the end of our meeting.
“That’s fine, Mr. Edwards. Your next meeting is a lunch meeting at midday.” She tells me she’ll email me the details, then we part ways.
I take a cab to Café York, a small coffee shop, very cozy and i
ntimate. It’s just before eleven when I arrive, and Charlotte hasn’t arrived yet. I check my phone to see if she has texted me until a surge of warm air floats past me.
“Sorry, it’s been one of those crazy mornings.”
Charlotte hovers at the table, out of breath. My eyes wander toward her shoes—Louboutins—my fantasy right there. Controlling myself, I lift my gaze slowly up her legs to the high-waisted skirt, thick black belt, and finally, the black pin-stripe shirt, slightly unbuttoned revealing the top curves of her beautiful tits.
Today, she’s wearing reading glasses.
Kill me now.
