The day after our lunch I was typing away at my desk when the screen of my phone lit up. Jack was calling.
“Good morning,” I answered, my voice still pre-ten o’clock raspy.
“I have a solution,” he announced.
“Oh yeah?” I assumed he was referring to a work issue we’ve been trying to resolve.
“Yup. I figured it out last night. Two words: air mattress.”
Now please understand, I love mornings. The promise of a new day has always topped off my glass half-full optimism. I wake up happy, smiling, affectionate… but my brain doesn’t start firing at optimum speeds until after my second cup of coffee, which is usually around 9:45. Jack rang me at 8:12.
“An air mattress! It’s genius! I have it all planned out.”
“I’m lost. How is an air mattress going to fix [work issue]?”
“Not the work problem Marian!” He was beginning to sound frustrated. “The truck bed problem!”
“Ooooohhhhhh… THAT problem.” I’m sure he could hear my smile through the phone.
“Yeah,” he laughed, “I was lying in bed last night thinking about it.”
Ok. Pre second cup of coffee or not, I completely understood that Jack had just admitted to fantasizing about having sex with me. Out loud. He had said the words. This was my opportunity to put on the brakes. I could reign in the banter and ease us back into professional co-worker land. But the suggestiveness of his confession sparked my lust. As my nipples hardened and my body quivered, I spurred him on.
“Do tell,” I purred.
He took a deep breath.
“We’ll drive out of the city, my hand on your thigh, until we find a secluded back road. Then I’ll toss the air mattress in the back of the truck and let it self-inflate. While that’s going on, I’ll press you up against the side of the truck, kiss you, reach up your skirt, push your panties aside and slip a finger inside of you. “
My heart was racing. I managed to choke out an, “Uh huh…”
“And then… Hell,” his voice lowered and intensified, “You’re gonna ride me. I want you rocking back and forth on my cock while I play with your amazing breasts.”
There was so much I wanted to say but couldn’t. Someone could have walked by my office at any point and overheard my side of the conversation. He knew this and used it to his advantage.
“Does that sound like a plan?” he asked with a chuckle.
“That might work,” I said in the most professional voice I could muster. Just then my name was paged over the intercom system: Marian Green to conference room please. Jack heard the loud summons.
“I have to go,” I said.
Before I hung up I heard him growl, “I want to fuck you so fucking bad.”