“Oh, dear boy, I don’t think you have that ability.” I pat him on his cheek, condescending.
“Last I heard—I believe it was at Central Park—I’ve shown just how precious your time is to me. And you and that damn mouth of yours should always know that I never waste my time because I finish what I start.”
He traces a path up my arm with his fingers to my collarbone, then up my neck to my jaw and lips. I shiver at every lingering moment.
Thumbing my bottom lip, he pulls it down and inserts the tip of his thumb in my mouth. Instinctively, my tongue teases it, licking it delicately. I melt underneath his touch, and I begin to move against him.
But suddenly, both of us spring up, distracted from a loud crash on the other side of the room.
We look to see what it is, and to our annoyance, it’s looks like a fallen picture frame, another victim to the aftershocks of our disastrous play.
I survey the room and take in the devastation and laugh at the sight.
“Shit, we really did a number here.”
He looks around and smooths his hair in place. Smiling at me, he stands up and reaches his hand down to help me up. I take it and use it to find balance on my shaky legs.
“We did good,” he says, laughing and winking at me. “So, should we take our curtain call?”
I appreciate his ability to turn our performance off and on so easily, as I was aiming to do, but I also find it slightly disconcerting how well and quick he can do it.
Suppressing my thoughts, we move to the door, and I slowly open it. We both peek out to face our audience.
But to our surprise, there’s no one there. Not a soul is standing on the other side of the door, and it’s dead silent. It’s the opposite of what we expected.
We hear a random gurgle coming from the water cooler, and we see a frightened, red-faced intern, all young and naive, hiding behind it.
He looks at us, and then immediately looks away, and scurries off into a nearby office—one that I’m sure is not his.
I notice as he tried to escape that he was hiding one of the largest tents in his pants I’ve seen. I swear, a whole squadron of boy scouts could fit under there.
I close the door, and Tanner and I burst out laughing.
“We almost made an intern come in his pants,” Tanner says, trying to catch his breath.
“That’s damn impressive,” I add.
We look at each other and nod, feeling a sense of pride in what we just did. Once again, the Lingerie Lovers have a satisfied customer.
Tanner looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “I’m fucking starving. Care to join me for lunch?”
Not what I was expecting him to ask, but what the hell, I am hungry. And if I can pretend to fuck him and be fake-engaged to him, what’s one lunch going to do?
“Yeah, sure,” I say, and I head over to the mess under my desk to find my purse.
We make our way to the lobby, and we see only a few other employees. Weird. I wonder where they all went.
“Oh, Monique!” I call for her as we pass through the hallway where the elevators are.
She’s engrossed in a conversation with another woman. I think it’s Kate from the marketing department. She stops talking and turns towards me, her cheeks turning pink.
“Hold my calls, will you? I’m going to lunch.”
“Will do, Elsa.” She nods and turns back to Kate, trying her best to avoid any eye contact.
While we wait for the elevator, I hear them whispering about who knows what.
But my ears perk up when I hear Tanner’s name.