The risk becomes worth it in that moment, however, that instant I imagine that lipstick all over someone else. Someone else who isn’t me.Maybe just this once. Maybe just to get it out of our systems. There’s only one place you’d probably enjoy her brand of crazy, and that’s in bed. Preferably tied up.
I spend the next forty minutes trying to get Lina out of my office, not caring, perhaps for the first time in my career, about the work I need to do.
“Lina, I have to go,” I snap impatiently, at the forty-minute mark, ten minutes after Georgia says she will be at Tim’s. After looking up from my watch, I realize Lina was actually mid-sentence about something or other.
“—check in with…” she trails off. “Oh… sure, Oliver.” She looks down at her watch, too. “Wow, sorry. Didn’t realize how late it was. I gotta get home to Mike,” she says, referring to her piece of shit boyfriend who I’ve met once or twice.
Normally, I would go off on a diatribe about how much of a dick he is, “can’t he make his own dinner?”, etcetera, but today is not that day. I stand up and start cleaning my office while she gathers her things.
“Okay, see you tomorrow, Oliver,” she says, and leaves.
I wait at the door for a full thirty seconds before ripping it open and striding out.
The first thing I do when I arrive at Tim’s is to scan the room for any PS 2 teachers, staff members, or parents. When I see none, I feel secure enough to zero in on the luscious auburn waves of the woman sitting in the back of the bar.
Georgia’s back is to me, but the back wall is mirrored, so we make eye contact through the reflection. I walk to her, slowly, holding her eyes the entire time, thinking about what part of her body I want to touch first.
When I reach her, I decide,hair. I wind my fingers through the strands, close to the scalp, and tug lightly, watching her face in the mirror. Her eyes are half closed. I move my hand down, down to wrap around the front of her throat, lightly resting around it. I feel her pulse flutteringlike a hummingbird’s, her throat vibrating as she moans lightly.
“Get up,” I murmur. “Get up and move to that booth over there,” I tell her, gesturing with my head to the one isolated in an alcove in the far corner.
She stands, body slightly trembling, and takes her things and moves. I stand still, watching her hips sway in her jeans as she goes.
I turn on my heel, order a beer from Tim, and finish half of it on my way back to the booth. I sit across from her, making sure I can see the front door, and clock the gorgeous flush that has spread up her chest to her neck.
She doesn’t say anything, choosing to stare at me instead. We catalogue one another in silence, eyes roaming.
“That smart mouth of yours has nothing to say, for once,” I tell her, not recognizing my own voice.
She seems to collect herself. “You’re late,” she says.
“I’m here,” I say, taking a sip of my beer.
“I thought you chickened out.”
I think for a second about how honest I should be. “I was all in once I saw the mouth of my nightmares painted in red. Once I thought about how good it would look wrapped around my dick.”
She squirms. “This version of you is… surprising.”
I frown. “Is it too much?”
“I’m dying for it,” she whispers.
My cock gets impossibly harder.
“Take off your bra.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Here?”
I stare at her and wait instead of answering. She reaches around and unclasps her bra, slipping the straps off each of her arms under her sweater, pulling it out, and stuffing it in her backpack. Her nipples poke through the thin material of her sweater obscenely.
“Are you wet?”
She nods, imperceptibly.
“Show me.”
Georgia looks around us, making sure no one is near. She uses her right hand to reach under her sweater and down the front of her jeans. She pulls out fingers that glisten with her arousal. “Want a taste?” she asks me.
