"Doing something radically different to the status quo seems like the opposite of that," she said. "Just give them time. They'll adjust."
Easier said than done. I was about to grind my teeth into a powder as it was, and the last thing I needed was a bunch of jumpy interns. On second thought, an Adderall party was probably a bad idea.
Right on cue, my jaw popped audibly, and I realized I was clenching every muscle in my face. I made a concerted effort to relax.
And then, my phone buzzed with an incoming message.
I thought we should probably see each other soon.
Jenna was reaching out to me? What the hell happened?
My fingers were typing before I had a chance to overthink it. Run out of batteries?
I pictured her smiling and rolling her eyes, but blushing a little, prettily, because well, you know.
Don't flatter yourself. I just thought it would look suspicious if we spent too much time apart.
She was right. There was even a party coming up that would be a perfect opportunity for us to appear in public together, and I'd be stupid to pass that up. My presence wasn't mandatory, but it would certainly get the buzz going.
I hit the "call" button and held the phone up to my ear. She picked up on the first ring.
"Just to get this out of the way, I'm wearing old sweatpants and a Snoopy tee-shirt," she said. The sound of her voice sent a wave of warmth through my chest.
I tried hard to ignore it. "Are you doing anything on Friday night?"
Jenna made a small noise of acknowledgement while she flipped through her calendar. "I have Laura until six o'clock," she said. "Will that work?"
"Sure. We'll be fashionably late." I cleared my throat. "I can pick you up right from the Thornes. I'll have your dress sent over there, if you think you can get ready while you're watching her."
"Okay." She swallowed audibly. "Can't I just wear the same dress as before?"
I chuckled. "But why would you?"
"I don't know. You seemed to like it." She was keeping her tone innocent, but that just made it more alluring.
"It wasn't the dress," I said.
For a moment, my heart stopped beating, then picked up again at double-time.
Did I actually say that?
"I think it was the dress," she said. I could hear her shifting, sighing, like maybe she was reclining in bed. "At least, a little bit."
All right. Okay. So, where was the harm in admitting we were attracted to each other? It wasn't like we didn't already both know.
"The dress just made it harder to ignore," I said, glancing at my desk phone, and stabbing the "Do Not Disturb" button. Of course I had a Do Not Disturb button. The whole "Carol, hold my calls" thing was just for show.
"Ben?"
"Hmm?"
"I lied. I'm not wearing a Snoopy tee-shirt."
My mouth was very dry. "What about the sweats?"
"Nope." She sighed, softly, then laughed a little. "I'm wearing that dress. I really like it, you know."
Shit, shit, shit. I was instantly hard, instantly throbbing, instantly wanting.
"Do you like the dress, or do you like remembering the way I looked at you in it?" My voice was slipping a few octaves lower, quieter, without meaning to.
"Both," she said. There was another rustling noise, like she was sitting up. "We probably shouldn't do this, right?" Her voice was regretful, but I didn't like the tone of finality.
"It's fine." I glanced over my shoulder, as if anyone could see me from the other skyscraper windows. "What could possibly be the harm? Other than you running out of batteries, of course."
"No, I'm sorry," she said, in a rush, "I really can't do this. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tease you. I just..."
"It's fine," I reassured her, even as I cursed silently, gripping the arm of my chair so hard my knuckles turned white. "We'll just pretend this never happened."
"Thank you," she exhaled. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
This time, I did it right at my desk, and I didn't feel guilty in the slightest. She started it, after all.
But still, there was vague sense of unease, settling into my chest just as soon as the momentary bliss of release faded. This was bad. This was very, very bad. Things were spiraling out of control.
Once I'd washed my hands, caught my breath, and reassembled myself into something presentable, it still took me a few minutes to remember the Do Not Disturb button. I pushed it warily, and the whole thing immediately lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Sir?" Carol never buzzed directly into my intercom unless it was an emergency. I braced myself.
"Yes?"
"The senior partners want to know when you're planning on showing up for the board meeting."
Shit.
***
True to my word, I didn't mention it.
Not with my words, at any rate. But when I looked at her, sashaying down the staircase in that sleek black dress that flowed like water over her curves, I couldn't think about anything else.
We almost had phone sex. We almost had phone sex. We almost had phone sex. You called me specifically with the intention of turning me on. You wanted it. You wanted to have phone sex. With me.
I didn't exactly blame her for chickening out. Not after how quickly I'd cut off our real-life encounter that almost ended in disaster. Blissful, messy disaster. It was understandable. She knew, as well as I did, that it was a Bad Idea to really get involved.
The dress dipped down low in the front, and even lower in the back, but she wore it unselfconsciously. Her attitude was no different than it had been last time she'd climbed into the backseat of the limo beside me.
"Hi," she said, scooting in and kissing me on the cheek. Her hand cupped the side of my neck, pulling me closer. My whole body tensed, before I forced myself to go with the flow. She was right. We had to put on a show for Tim, too. Not that he'd talk. But the more people who were convinced, the better.
"Hi." I didn't want to talk - couldn't talk to her without bringing up the one thing I wasn't allowed to discuss. My jaw ached, my head ached, fucking everything ached. Including, yes, those. It didn't matter how many times I came thinking about her lounging in that dress, in bed, touching herself. I still wanted more. Needed more. I'd thought I was prepared for tonight, but I already felt like I was on a hair-trigger.
All I could think about was putting up the partition, and dragging her over my knee for a well-deserved spanking. She might not have meant to be a tease, but oh, she was. She'd be so wet for me, my punishment sending her to heights she didn't even known existed. I'd spank her and finger her until she was sobbing with the need for release, and then I'd lick her off my fingers and send her into the party aching and empty. Give her a taste of what it was like to really be teased. I'd be in agony too, but it wouldn't matter. Seeing her meet all of my high-society so-called friends with flushed cheeks and rubbery legs, with the smell of her arousal smeared all over her thighs, would be worth it.