“I’ve, uh,” I pause and chew through “never seen him before,” because that’s obvious. “I’ve never met him in person before.”
Kathy just kind of leans back against the hotel lobby wall and shrugs at me, not looking particularly cowed at being caught with her pants half off. She continues to fix her clothes. “Probably because he works at the other office.”
“Oh.” I nod. I don't know if I can process what I just saw. “I thought you two...well, I didn’t think you’d...”
The words trail off with every thought I try to start, because I can’t seem to figure out how to end any of them appropriately.
Kathy catches my eye, her usual glare much more striking from the side than it is from the front, like most birdish types. She knows I’ve handled most of her and Ted’s complaints about each other, because she’s the reason half of the time I go into the office for one-on-ones. Normally when she comes in with her coffee and catches sight of me, her feathers immediately bristle because she knows what’s coming.
“What happens on work trips stays on work trips,” she says simply, but the look in her eye suggests she doesn’t want me bringing this up next time I have to schedule a meeting with her. “Seeing people from the other office doesn’t happen often.”
There’s some smartass stuff I could say about maybe they should work together more often, but the alcohol is hitting my brain wherever it keeps my sense of balance. I cling to the wall for several long moments.
Honestly, I don’t have the capacity to lecture her. I wish I could do that. It’s been a while since I was with anyone, even a one-night stand.
It’s also made more difficult because sirens need sex to survive. Well, that sounds kind of dramatic. I get all depressed and listless without it, the same as if I had a vitamin deficiency. The older I get, the harder it hits my body.
Sure, I could get it the traditional way, by seducing people and rawdogging their sexual chemistry like my ancestors did, before letting them get impaled on some rocks. But being around people drains me. Flirting with people on purpose makes me die a little inside. Seducing people is a lot of work when you're an introvert, and not actually a skill inherent to being a siren, despite the common misconception.
And even then, seducing comes with its own hurdles. Like, I get that people have to worry about getting pregnant and STIs and I want to appreciate that, but on the other hand, maybe a girl just wants to be fucked raw and whine, “Cum in me, Daddy,” without explaining herself every damn time.
I sigh, and wave her off. “Yeah, ok. I didn’t see anything.”
Without even a “good-night,” Kathy departs and leaves me sitting alone in the lobby, staring intensely at nothing in particular.
I lean against the wall and try not to let my thoughts seep with jealousy, because I’m not. Normally I wouldn’t want anything like that, it’s just that I’m in that part of the year I get supernaturally hot for anyone I have the barest amount of chemistry with.
I press my hands against my face.That’s probably why I launched myself at that gargoyle guy.
My cycle is really trying to kill me. I don't remember it being this bad last time. I only felt a minimal need to hump my chair, not for an entire work conference. Yeah, there were some bones I wanted to jump, but it was never this desperate of an ache. I've never salivated over a granite carved jawline before, or wondered exactly how prehensile a tail was, and all the things we could do with just that.
It’s then that I breathe in again; a whiff of a familiar scent, that fresh rain on pavement smell, makes my body nearly double over with that aching need again. The wave hits me so suddenly, it reminds me of the reason I left the bar in the first place, what I’m going to need to take care of.
A combination of things had made me flee—the question he posed, what are you, and the fact that the growl in his voice when he asked it soaked my panties thoroughly.
I needed to get out, I needed to tame the need clawing through my being.
There is a growing restlessness in my lower abdomen that will not leave me alone. This feeling has afflicted me before, but never had it felt like a fucking plague. It overwhelms my senses until I can't act like a normal person at this hotel.
The conference room we held our company meetings in is empty at this time of evening, and nearby thankfully. Slipping in quietly, I lean against the wall and unbutton my dress pants. Had it felt this pressing, this urgent, last time?
Last time, there wasn’t a hot gargoyle every time I turned around. Last time I stayed home and ordered takeout and seduced whoever was delivering the food. There’s a rush of excitement in me as I press back and slide my hands over my breasts. They are small, each barely a handful. My hands brush over my nipples, pinching and rolling them between my fingers as they pucker with pleasure.
When all this soft touching does nothing to truly satisfy me, I spread my legs and slide a hand down my stomach. I pop open the fly of my dress pants, while the other hand keeps preoccupied with my breasts, groping and flicking. I stroke slowly over myself, my hand brushing my lips, fingertips grazing more of my inner lips with each passing, doing little to relieve the need hollowing out my core. My body demands more, and I half wonder if it’ll be enough to try to just satisfy myself. With a fingertip I find my clit and begin rubbing in circles. I close my eyes and imagine the gargoyle, tall and handsome, running his hands over me. I want to kiss, to mouth, to taste him, to touch and feel that hard muscle in my hands.
The conference room door creaks open, freezing me in the sliver of light.
I’m mentally composing my two-week’s notice before I even see who it is, but when my eyes adjust to the harsh light, I find myself staring at a familiar tail, flicking behind well-polished shoes.
6
It’s kind of inevitable that the gargoyle sees me, it seems like the sliver of light that catches me falls exactly on my hand down my fucking pants.
“Oh, hi again,” I mumble at the floor tile, way too casually. I think about attempting to arrange myself into something less inappropriate, but my body is frozen. I mean, he must be able to sense whenever I’m in less than spectacular circumstances.
This is the night that will not end. I need to just climb into bed and reemerge again only for check-out.
“Are you alright?” the gargoyle says, surprise in his voice.
