“How did you get in here?” She was sitting still on my desk, her legs crossed. One heel in my desk chair and the other dangling.
“Isn’t this your favorite tie? Burberry right… It’s hard to find the perfect red. Not every man can pull off certain colors.”
“How did you get in here?” My cell was vibrating in my pocket, my keys in my hand. I needed the phone to keep ringing, I needed the keys in my hand so I could have something to squeeze. Something to take my mind off her belly button, off her nipples.
She uncrossed her legs and it looked exactly like I remembered. My tie around her neck in a perfect knot. Her heels strapped across her ankle and nothing else but skin.
Her perfume was in the air, sex was in the air. Licking her finger she started to play her favorite instrument. The first time she touched herself for me she smiled and bragged.
“Men love the hole, you’ll love how wet I get. How tight it is but I haven’t stuck a finger in there since I learned how to play the clituar.”
That night I’d never seen someone so comfortable with their sexuality. So intune with their body. I wasn’t watching her touch herself. I was watching a musician play her instrument to perfection. Every moan was a note, every flick of her finger was a different key. Watching her I was jealous because I knew I could never pleasure her like she was pleasuring herself; I could never know her body like she knew her body.
But that was then, a lifetime ago and this was now. “You need to leave.”
She ignored me and started to use two fingers on her instrument. The more aroused she got, the wider her legs opened. It was like watching a flower bloom.
“If you want me to leave, come tell her. Look her in her face and tell her you no want to play today.” This was a game to her and I was being played just like she was playing that fat, wet button.
I walked over to my desk and sat in my chair. The heat coming from between her legs drew me in. I brought my lips close. Her fingers never stopped moving.
“I don’t want to play with you today.” She used her heels to bring my seat closer to the desk.
“Tell her again, she didn’t hear you.”
Before I could stop myself, before I could say it again my tongue found her clituar and her hand found my hair and we were making music together. My slurping with her moaning and my phone vibrating with her on the other end was the perfect soundtrack to sin.