12. What Are You Going To Do About It?
“Is there a particular reason you’re wearing a skirt today?” This is what I get for attempting to be nice to Joanie. I brought her a banana nut muffin this morning, and now I’m being interrogated.
“There’s nothing special about me wearing a skirt.” I take a bite of my apple cinnamon muffin. I want to coat myself in the streusel topping. Maybe order Stuart to lick it off. The blush on my cheeks is instant.
“That. What is that?” Joanie points to my face. I pretend like I don’t know what she’s talking about and wipe cinnamon sugar from my cheek. “I have literally never seen you, Ms. Office Tough Ass, wear a skirt. Or blush.”
“We’ve only known each other a few months. Maybe I have a whole closet full of skirts I’ve been dying to wear to work.” I don’t. This is my only skirt that isn’t meant for funerals and retirement parties. It’s a mystery to me why I chose to wear the purple and black plaid skater skirt the Monday after I woke up on top of Stuart Smyth. Why I took extra time with my cat-eye eyeliner. Why I was popping a breath mint after every cup of coffee. “I contain multitudes.”
“I call bullshit. You don’t think these old romance writer eyes don’t see all? I see everything,” she whispers, her eyes narrowed into suspicious little slits. I lean against the counter in The Base’s kitchenette and try to find a way to distract her. But Joanie is like a dog with a bone when it comes to anything with just a whiff of romance.
I glance over her shoulder and don’t try to hide my smile. “Payback’s a bitch,” I mutter.
“What...” Before she can finish, Colin enters the kitchenette. Colin, The Base’s resident teddy bear. The guy Joanie seems to avoid and gravitate to at the same time. And every time he’s within ten feet of her she short circuits. It’s a thing of beauty and the perfect distraction from my outfit.
“Hey, Colin. How’s business?” He grabs a mug from the highest shelf in the cabinet next to the coffeemaker, not needing to stretch too far. I’ve never been this chatty in my life, but the opportunity to torture Joanie is too tempting.
“No complaints. Loving the freelance life, aside from paying thousands for health insurance.” He glances between me and Joanie, his eyes lingering on her messy brown hair spilling out of a bun on the back of her head.
“Word,” she says and then squeezes her eyes shut like she can’t believe that came out of her mouth. It takes a miracle to not spit muffin crumbs all over the kitchen.
“You kids have a wonderful Monday morning,” I tease as I walk away in my completely not-special skirt.
Shoving my glasses up to my forehead, I rub my eyes in frustration. Words are hard today, and the script for the intro to my next podcast episode isn’t flowing. It’s supposed to be about the dynamic between older and younger brothers in a large family. I even have a family therapist lined up for an interview later this week. But I can’t think about anything other than how Meredith felt laying on top of me, her softness molding to me.
And then she went and wore a skirt today. She never wears skirts, and the riot of fantasies tripping through my brain makes it hard to focus on anything but the movement of her thighs as she goes up and down the stairs. Fucking torture. I’m a miscreant for ogling her. But I’m not sure it’s the skirt that’s fucking with me right now, because I once tried picturing Meredith in a burlap sack, and I still got hard. I’m a creep for obsessing over what she’s wearing, and I tap my pen against my skull several times trying to clear my thoughts.
The sandwich I had for lunch sits like a brick in my stomach, but I keep thinking about the episode intro I’m supposed to record this evening. Settling my glasses back on my nose, I try to dive back into Runt of the Litter. Meredith will kill me if I even attempt to do a recording session when I’m not prepared.
Stuart’s being weird. Not his usual peppy, tail-wagging self. I want to ask him what’s wrong, but things are...awkward between us. Wobbly. Out of whack. Sylvie’s husband, Will, is in the office today, banging away at his laptop. And banging away at other things if Sylvie’s backwards shirt and mussed hair are any clue. Will’s wearing the smile that Stuart usually sports, and the contrast is upsetting.
And when I’m upset, I get spiky. I walk up to Stuart’s desk. “Are you done with that intro yet?” It comes out harsher than I intended, but his gray mood has me off kilter.
He looks up and his eyes flash with something I’ve never seen on him. Defiance, anger. Push back, Stuart. Fight me. “Don’t worry, I won’t waste your time, Meredith.” The bite in his voice is barely there, but I notice it. And I want to push him more. Especially when I notice his eyes slide down my body and land on my skirt where it hits midthigh. I paired it with fishnets and my usual black boots, and honestly, it’s longer than the shorts I sometimes wear over tights, but Stuart seems really stuck on the skirt. Which might’ve been my goal this morning when I put it on.
I take a step closer to him. “Make sure you don’t.” I want to say more but Sylvie pokes her head out of her office and asks Stuart about a furniture delivery. I blink out of the frustrated haze. “See you up there. Be prepared.”
“Like a fucking boy scout,” I hear him mutter behind me as I head back upstairs.
The words aren’t flowing, and the headphones are inexplicably tight. I finished writing the intro to the episode, but I hate it, and I hate wasting Meredith’s time. I hate the look of frustration on her face as I flub take after take. I don’t want to keep her here for hours. I mean, I do, but purely for selfish reasons.
“Fuck it,” I say after stumbling over a line I wrote only a couple of hours ago. It’s not like I have to memorize it—it’s on the iPad right in front of me. But these headphones are biting into my head and my suspenders might be too short, because it feels like the crotch of my jeans is tighter than normal. It’s not the suspenders, asshole.
I adjust the headphones for the millionth time and watch as Meredith rips hers off her head and storms towards the booth. She practically rips the door off its hinges. “What the fuck is going on? Why is it so hard?” Oh, honey.
“I don’t know. I’m just finding it difficult to focus.” Because you smell like deep red flowers and that skirt has been fucking with my head all day.
She steps closer to me, letting the door to the booth fall shut behind her. And then I’m aware. Aware of how small this booth is. How soundproof it is. How The Base is probably empty because it’s late in the evening. How her eyes won’t let me go and her body is right fucking there. The hand not holding the headphones fists at my side, otherwise I’d reach for her, and she hasn’t said she wants me to touch her. But this frustrating little dance we’ve been doing around each other is going to end one way or another.
She grabs the headphones from me and puts them on the hook next to the window. “We’ve been at this for an hour, Stuart, and we still don’t have a single usable take.” This booth is so small I can see the flash of frustration in her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m trying not to waste your time.”
“Don’t be sorry, just get it done.” She takes another step towards me and we’re almost chest to chest. She’s not that much shorter than me and I want to lean forward and nip her lips. Instead, I choose to push back.
“What are you going to do about it, Meredith? Kiss me again?” Even in the dim light of the booth I can see the instant blush on her face. I want to trace it down her neck to see how far it goes.
For a split second it looks like she’s considering it. I open my mouth to say, “Never mind,” but before anything comes out Meredith grabs me by the suspenders and pulls me down to her lips. Just like at New Year’s. But this is fiercer. I freeze for a split second, just long enough for her to start to pull away. Not fucking happening.
I grab her by the back of the neck and haul her closer, biting and licking her lower lip until she opens for me with a moan. And then the battle of the tongues is on. Her hands fist my suspenders and shirt, and I have a good grasp of her hair. We’re locked in this hot crash of lips, but I need more.
She presses her chest to mine, and I groan into her mouth, kissing her harder. Drawing my lips across hers in a fierce drag, exploring the field of battle. She moans when I nip at her lip again. The taste of mint and coffee and Meredith drives me mad. I band my arm around her waist and push her against the ridges of the acoustic tiles. She gasps into my mouth, lifts one leg, and wraps it around my hip.
Her fingers tug my hair, guiding me, pressing me to her. I want to feast on her mouth, but I won’t stop there. Can’t stop there.
“You taste like heaven.” My mouth drags across her cheek to her ear where I take her lobe between my teeth and tug. Her hands tighten in my hair as her panting breath turns into moans. I tug again and she tilts her head to give me better access.
And suddenly I’m starving. Famished. “Can’t wait to taste every part of you.” She pulls back, her eyes dancing between my own and my mouth. Her teeth chew at her swollen lips, and I punish them even more with a hard, bruising kiss.
“Don’t wait then.” She gives me a small shove backwards and then bends down to take off her boots. My cock weeps with joy at the idea of getting my mouth on her. A small laugh escapes her when she sees me standing there with my mouth hanging open.
“Take off your shirt.” I start to unbutton it as she watches, willing my fingers to move faster. “Leave the suspenders.”
“Fuck, I knew these would get me somewhere one day.” I tear my shirt off and pull my suspenders back up. Meredith stands there almost fully clothed, but I want to see her, touch her. I grab her around the waist and start to lift her sweater up.
But she grabs my hands, stopping my progress. “Uh-uh, not yet.” I’ve never seen her so wicked, but my cock thickens at the puckish little gleam in her eyes. “You have to earn it, like a good boy.” Oh fuck me sideways. Things just got deliciously more painful.
“Tell me what you want.” I punctuate it with a quick kiss. I pull back in time to see her blink out of a daze.
Meredith puts her hands on my shoulders, pushing me to my knees. On my way down I brush a hand below her sweater, across the soft skin of her stomach. Her breath hitches as I hit my knees. I look up at her and lick my lips.
My hands trace over the diamond pattern of the fishnets covering her lush thighs. She’s a woman of texture and patterns, soft and warm, hard and demanding. I want to discover all her facets. I start by drawing her stockings down slowly. I follow them down her legs with my tongue. Her inner thigh, her knee, her ankle. I lift her foot to strip off the stockings then give the arch a little nip.
A magic little moan escapes her, then her breaths grow shallow. I do the same with the other leg. “Stuart, fucking hell. What’s taking you so long?”
“I don’t want to neglect anything. Wouldn’t want an unsatisfied Meredith on my hands, would I?” I nudge my nose against the hem of her skirt, dragging it higher as I kiss and lick up her thighs. My fingers circle the backs of her thighs where they meet her ass, and I celebrate the tremors that I feel in her skin. I bunch up her skirt and look up at her. “Hold this.”
Instead she quickly unzips the skirt and drops it at her feet. “That’ll work too.” I sit back on my heels and take her in. Soft, inviting thighs meeting at her apex covered in pink cotton panties. Unexpected but sexy as fuck. I want to sink my fingers into her hips, her thighs, her wet pussy. The damp spot on her panties grows as I catalog the feast awaiting me. “Beautiful.”
“Stuart.” It sounds like a warning. Or a command. I glance up at her face and suck in a breath at the need I see there. Lips parted, eyes half closed, the tip of her little pink tongue caught between her teeth. I’m so turned on, I’m afraid I’ll come before I get a chance to taste her.
So I don’t waste another moment. The drag of her panties down her legs isn’t slow. I have a goal, a destination, and nothing short of her telling me to stop will deter me. I tap the inside of her knee and she widens her stance. She’s holding her sweater up, just below her belly button, giving me space to do some of my best work.
The black curls covering her cunt tickle my nose as I drag my tongue along her slit. The moan she rewards me with sends a pulse to my cock. I give it a quick squeeze before grabbing her thighs. Over and over, I lick and suck, drinking in her warm nectar while exploring her folds. Her clit is right there, but I’m working my way to it, trying to be patient. Meredith’s hands grasp my hair as she tries to steer me higher.
“Be patient. I’m getting the lay of the land here.” I pull back a bit and nip at her thigh. She rewards me with a growl and another tug on my hair. I love it.
I draw my fingers through her wetness, teasing her entrance, mesmerized by the glisten on her lips and my fingers. “Such a pretty cunt, Meredith.” Before she can protest, I lay my tongue on her clit and press hard. A choked sob escapes her, and I smile. I circle and tease and suck until my lips and chin are coated in her. She presses her hips against my face, chasing what I’m giving.
“God, Stuart. You’re so good at this. Such a good boy.” I almost come on that declaration. It spurs me on. My only goal is to please her, make her melt, put her back together, and make her melt again. I find her entrance with two fingers and ease inside, reveling in the feel of her silken walls. As I work her with my fingers I redouble my attention on her clit. My cock throbs in my jeans, but he’ll have to wait his turn.
Then I feel Meredith’s hands move from my hair to tangle in the suspenders on my shoulders. She pulls on them, snapping them against my skin. The sting feels like a reward. She’s using them like reins, pulling me even closer. I add a third finger, feeling for the spot on the front wall of her pussy. Meredith’s thighs quiver like her inner muscles, and then she’s there. Squeezing my fingers, her whole body shaking, tugging on my suspenders, and screaming “good boy” over and over.
I keep licking, keep pumping my fingers until she places a hand on my forehead and pushes me away. I finally relent, sitting back and wiping my chin on her discarded panties. Meredith’s chest heaves as she sinks to the floor. “Holy shit, Stuart. You’re full of surprises.”
I beam at her praise. “You taste like my favorite meal.” I lean in and kiss her. It’s meant to be a quick teasing peck, but she grabs me by suspenders again and pushes until I’m sprawled on my back. The booth is so small that I have to bend my knees to fit, giving Meredith just enough room to crawl between my legs.
Her eyes drag down my chest, raising goosebumps as they go. “Who knew you were hiding this under those cute little button up shirts?” Her fingers drag through the sparse hair on my chest then circle my nipples. Electricity shoots from where her fingers tease me down to my cock.
She follows with her lips, and now it’s my turn to have my hands in her hair. “You’re gorgeous,” I whisper as she swirls her tongue along my skin. She hums as she goes, then reaches the button of my jeans, popping it open.
“Meredith.” My voice is shaky, needy. I thunk my head against the floor when she drags my zipper down and takes my aching cock out of my boxers. I want her hands and her lips on me, and I want to come so hard that I lose the ability to speak.
She pumps me a few times before taking me into her mouth. I can’t name the sound that escapes me.
Meredith takes me to the back of her throat, sucking me until I feel my soul leaving my body. “Your mouth. Fuck me, your mouth.” Her hand works up and down, and my balls draw up even tighter to my body.
“Two second warning,” I garble out. I feel her giggle around my dick, and it’s almost lights out. But she pops off, grinning at me.
“Condom?” she demands.
“Take off your sweater first.” I’m already reaching for my wallet and pulling out the foil packet. She quickly complies, and I almost choke on my tongue when I get my first look at her tits in her bright blue lace bra. I hastily pull my suspenders down and shove my jeans down to my knees.
“Fucking grand prize,” I mutter as I roll on the condom. She crawls up my body and sinks down on me without ceremony. Everything stops. Her breathing. My breathing. All sound and movement. It all stops because it feels that good. We fit that well together. Then my brain reconnects, and I push up into her, holding her hips in my hands like she’s in danger of floating up to the ceiling.
Her nails dig into my chest, and she throws her head back, gifting me with the sight of her long neck. I want to plant my lips there and feel her rapid pulse while she squeezes around me. So I pull her down and do exactly that.
Salt and sweetness meet my tongue. My hands migrate to the lush globes of her ass, and I squeeze. Hard. Meredith’s breath hitches and her inner walls flutter. “I knew it,” she moans. “I knew you’d be a good fuck.” I smile into the curtain of her hair and thrust harder, lifting us both off the floor.
“You going to give me a gold star?” I’m holding on by a very thin thread, wanting her to get there before I lose it. We move like this is the last time we’ll ever have sex. Literally going out with a bang. Her hips roll and twist on me as I press and press and thrust up into her. “Come on, Mugs. Get there.”
“Give me more. I need more,” she commands, like a queen sitting on her throne. I bring my knees up so she moves a little higher up my body, so I can get close to her tits. I quickly unsnap her bra and fling it aside. Before I can get a good look, my mouth finds her nipple, and I suck hard. That earns me a scream. “Yes, just like that. More.”
“Touch your clit.” It comes out like a command, and she doesn’t hesitate. I quickly lick two of my fingers and then give my tongue to her other breast. Soft and perfect. I squeeze her ass one more time before dragging the two fingers through her crack and pressing on her tight little pucker.
“Oh, fuck,” she screams as I circle and press and tease. It’s like I’ve unlocked her. She clenches and trembles, her muscles squeezing me until I have no choice but to come. Fire shoots down my spine as I empty into the condom. With thunder in my ears and sparks behind my eyelids, I groan out her name.
Meredith slumps on top of me, sweaty and soft, her breath slowing. My heart thunders. This tiny sound booth has become a portal to another world, one where Meredith and I aren’t simply coworkers who sometimes butt heads and circle each other like an alligator and a bunny.
When our breathing finally steadies and I can’t hear my heart in my ears, Meredith props herself up on my chest. Her usually neat bob is a tousled mess and her cheeks pink. I smile up at her and brush a hand up her neck. Something flickers in her eyes, a stutter in the assessing stare.
“Hi,” I say, because I’m the master of words.
“Yeah, hi,” she whispers. I could be wrong, but I think she nuzzles into the palm of my hand on her cheek. It’s the subtlest of motions, but I feel it.
I open my mouth to say something. Not sure what, maybe you own my dick or be with me forever. Maybe something about love. But she stops me with a kiss that’s so tender, I wonder what happened to my prickly Meredith.
“Let’s not complicate things, okay?” she mutters against my lips.
I glance down to where we’re still connected, thinking about horses and barn doors. “Uh...”
“I’m not saying this was a one-time only thing,” she continues. Well, thank fuck for that. “But it doesn’t have to mean more than it does.” A boulder tumbles around in my stomach, but I smile.
“So we’re not getting married?” I figure while my dick’s still in her I can fuck with her a little. Part of me wants to laugh at the sudden look of horror on her face. Part of me wants to curl into a ball. “Don’t worry, cowgirl, we can do this however you want. Or not at all.” I buck my hips up into her, a reminder of how she just rode me into the sunset. In a sound booth.
“Right. Well.” She runs her hands through her hair, looking shy. She’s still sitting on me and my still semi-hard cock as she reaches for her bra and shirt. We both wince as she disentangles us. Even though I’m not ready to leave the booth, I make a quick trip down the hall to the bathroom to drop the condom in the trash and wash my hands.
When I get back to the studio I catch Meredith holding my shirt up to her nose, quickly lowering it when she spots me. Busted. Meredith obviously doesn’t want to be in a relationship with me, even if she enjoyed fucking me. I’ll have to accept that and keep my hope for something bigger to myself. If I push her on this, on wanting more of her, she’ll run the other way. So I guess I just acquired a new fuck buddy.