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Chapter Nine
The next two years were some of the happiest of my life. I spent most of my time with Hilde, simply by nature of her position.
We worked well together. She was smart, competent, and efficient. She handled things before I even asked for them.
I told her she was a mind reader and she laughed, and she would jokingly call me predictable.
Then a few days ago, I ruined everything.
One night, we were working late. I was strutting about my room, impatiently rewriting a horribly drafted press release that had been made by one of the PR interns.
I was pretty much stomping around like an angry monarch in my stiletto heels when I realized Hilde was watching me. Watching my legs, really.
I stopped walking. “What?” I asked testily. She was so patient it made it hard to hold my own patience, though I tried to live by her example.
She said with a shake of the head, making gentle fun of both of us, “I don’t know how you walk around in those heels all day. I can do standard heels, but stilettos? No way.”
I looked at my shoes. I was so used to them I hardly notice them anymore. Just slip some on in the morning that match my dress for the day and take off.
She seemed both impressed by them and thought me slightly silly for wearing big heels every day for no real reason. She was smiling playfully.
I wanted to be playful, too. I kicked off my heels.
I gestured to them, saying, “I’m sure you’d do fine. Want to try them out?”
She laughed me off, “No, I’d fall flat on my face.”
I scolded jokingly, “Come on. Every successful woman needs a pair of stilettos. For walking across a stage and accepting an award, at the very least.”
She said, “My award for biggest klutz?”
But she got up and put on the shoes. Her feet and mine were, surprisingly enough, similar sizes, though they clearly were not comfortable for her.
I lectured, “Put the weight on the ball of your foot,” and tried to say other helpful things.
She did passably for a bit, only a little wobbly, until she strode toward me and flat out fell forward, slipping out of the shoes on the edge of the carpet I was standing on.
In a half-second I had jumped to her and caught her mid-fall. She was in my arms. I’d caught her by hooking my arms under her armpits, so her arms had reflexively reached up and wrapped around my neck for support.
Her entire tall, slender form was pressed against my body. We were so close after the fall that I could feel the heat radiating from in between her hips, even through the soft, silk slacks she wore to work.
The fabric of my dress was not much thicker. We were practically skin-to-skin, breast-to-breast. I could feel her heart beating.
I didn’t want to break the spell. I didn’t move. Neither did she.
We stared into each other’s eyes and felt the heat and smoothness of each other’s bodies underneath our work attire.
Then I noticed her heavy breathing, pushing our breasts more firmly together with every intake of air. She was trying to hide it, not sure what to do or what this meant.
I knew what this meant. We wanted each other, desperately. But I didn’t know how to tell her if it was not already clear to her.
I saw her plump, open lips looking up at me expectantly, while her eyes searched mine for clues about what to do next.
I couldn’t let this go. This chance. It seemed like everything I ever needed to be happy was wrapped up in those two pink lips.
I slowly dipped my head down, so she could clearly see what I intended to do and have time to move away.
She didn’t. She closed her eyes and relaxed her firm body against mine even more totally.
