That apparently short-circuits her brain because she stays silent, jaw hanging. When she shakes herself out of it, it’s to say, “We obviously can’t be trusted to be alone in the same room together, like hormonal teenagers with no boundaries. So, from now on, being alone together at work is off-limits.”
“I don’t like that.”
“Well, tough luck, big guy. Ten more seconds and that woman would have found us with your dick inside me,” she explains, pointing at the door.
“It would have been my tongue,” I refute. “I was going to eat you out first—I’m not a savage.”
Heat creeps up her cheeks, and she nearly scowls at me. “I’ll tell you when I need help, and you can come downstairs. Or I’ll come up here with someone. Or we leave the door wide open.”
I still don’t like that, but I give in with a sigh. “Alright.”
She looks satisfied with that, so she walks up to the door. “Let me know if you have some free time while your sister’s here.” With her hand on the handle, she impishly adds, “I’m sorry for the blue balls.”
“And I’m sorry for the blue ovaries.”
That makes her giggle, and the sound stays in my ears long after she’s gone.
I don’t know what Lucy has planned during her stay here, but if I can get even half an hour to myself, I know how I’ll spend it.
Buried to the hilt in that tease of a woman.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I lasted ten months deprived of sex, and now I can’t even handle five days without it. What has Lex done to me?
I’m a Lexomaniac, aslexaddict. I need my dose of it before I go insane. If I’m completely honest, my addiction isn’t solely focused on the phenomenal dick but on the whole man attached to it. I miss spending time with him, simply talking and being around him.
Work-wise, things are back to normal. The high of the convention wore off, and my old habits with the guys are back—gaming lunch breaks, geeky debates about video games, movies, shows… At home with Tami, everything is smooth as well. We have a furry companion for a few days—friends of hers who are going on a short getaway—and we go through a few rom-coms with the cat by our side.
It’s all very nice, but thank fuck it’s Friday. As incredible as the party will be, I’m even more impatient for what comes after. The whole office gets the afternoon off so we can get ready while the party planning committee prepares everything.
Tami is dressed up as Sasha from Pokémon, looking cute as hell, and I’m a real-life Mario—red sweater, denim overalls, an alarmingly realistic mustache, and an actual tool kit belt. I regret not being a little more feminine, but I’m still proud of the fit, so I send pictures. Kate says I’m hot, liking the creepy vibe I’m sending off, and my mom jokes that I’m five minutes away from luring kids into the back of a van with candies.
The party itself is ’80s themed, which I adore. The desks of the open space have been pushed to the side, hidden by panels covered with graffiti. The color scheme is vivid neons, with accessories, balloons, a giant boombox, a disco ball… It’s all very kitsch but also perfect.
And the costumes… Oh, the costumes are fantastic, and it shows that it’s been going on for years because people got extra creative about it. Someone dressed up as a GameCube, and their partner is the controller, with a rope tying them together. There’s also a banana peel fromMario Kart, but the most impressive costume is a pot fromZelda, which can break and be reassembled thanks to magnets. Soon after arriving, I’m much less proud of my costume. It’s too basic. I don’t have time to dwell on it as my eyes catch a flash of bright pink.
“Hi, guys!” I greet them with enthusiasm. Then, unable to hold back a smile, I turn to Oli.
Because we were the finalists in the battleto be Mario, I got to choose his costume for tonight, and I must say, I chose well. He’s wearing a Birdo onesie that is several sizes too small for him. The sleeves barely reach the middle of his forearms, and the legs sit mid-calf. Finding a costume on such short notice had to be hard.
“Hi, Birdo,” I greet him with a grin. He smiles back with a roll of his eyes.
Kevin’s here with his wife, who disguised her very pregnant stomach as Kirby. Kevin wears an “I heart Kirby” T-shirt, which is cheesy but adorable. Everyone and their plus ones are here, it seems. Or almost everyone.
I find myself upstairs a few minutes after arriving, opening the door to Lex’s office. Of course, he’s working while everyone is having fun downstairs. When he sees me, he does a surprised double-take, and I remember my mustache. Time to see if I’m sexy-creepy or just creepy-creepy.
“Hi, workaholic.”
“You look very… handy,” he jokes when I’m by his side, pointing at my tool belt.
“That’s exactly what I was going for. Thank you.”
“Any time.”
He, on the other hand, is wearing his usual clothes. “You look very boring.”
“Thank you for the honesty. I appreciate it.” His cheeky smile is endearing, and once more, I fight back the need to kiss him.
