13. How Do We Do This?
“You look like you just got fucked.” It’s the first thing my sister says when I FaceTime her later that night. She’s not a brilliant sleuth...she can probably tell by the still-present flush on my face and the fact that I can’t get my usually pin-neat hair to lay down flat.
I put my hands over my face and groan. “Stuart” is all I say.
“Oh my fucking granola, I knew it,” she shouts into the phone. I can see up her nostrils.
“How could you possibly know it was Stuart?”
“Because you talk about him constantly. Like he annoys you, like he’s gotten under your skin.”
“Yeah, well he got a lot more than under my skin tonight. In the sound booth.”
My sister groans. “My life is so boring. Tell me everything.”
I tell her how it started, how we left it, but leave out the juicy details, and I don’t know why. What happened in that sound booth between Stuart and I...it feels too private. Too fresh. The muscle aches I’ll have tomorrow will be delicious.
I snap out of my reverie when Maggie taps the phone with her fingernail trying to get my attention. “You drifted. Tell me, are there more sound booth shenanigans in the future? What’s next?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t know. We got dressed, and he walked me to my car.” I suppress a sigh at the memory of the lingering kiss he gave me before I got in the car and drove away. Damn Stuart and his firm lips. Maggie taps on the screen again.
“Meredith, you are a useless conversationalist tonight.” The joking admonishment feels familiar, sisterly. I wonder if Stuart would want to have us on the podcast.
“Sorry, I’m a little distracted,” I huff out. “I don’t know if there will be more sound booth, um, sessions.”
“But you’d like there to be.” It’s not a question.
I lay my head down on the table, giving Maggie a shot of the top of my head. “It was so good. He was so good. I don’t know how I knew he would be, but I’m not even surprised.”
“It’s that golden retriever energy you talk about. He’s eager to please.”
“Mission accomplished.”
“So why won’t you date him?”
“I never out and out said I wouldn’t date him.” The denial flies out of my mouth. In my mind, over the last few months I’d tried to ignore how...captivating Stuart is. How I secretly look forward to running into him in the kitchen, or how he doesn’t annoy me nearly as much as he thinks he does. How I want to follow him around all day just so I can play with his suspenders and hear his deep, resonant voice.
His voice is like a party trick. The idea that such a deep, velvety, sexy sound comes out of wiry, eager, office clown Stuart splits my brain in two.
“I know you don’t particularly like people, Meredith, but with the way you light up whenever Stuart comes up in conversation, I think it’s worth exploring.”
“But we work together,” I start to protest.
“Weak. Bobby and I met at work. Mom and Dad met at work. You’re mature enough to keep things from getting weird if it doesn’t work out. Plus, you’ve already experienced the man’s dick. At work. I’d say at this point things are going to be complex no matter what.”
“I hate it when you make a good point.”
“It’s because I’m smarter than you. Always have been.” She kisses the screen.
“Give the monsters a squeeze for me. Tell them that their Aunt Meredith hopes their future therapy bills aren’t too burdensome.”
We end the call on a laugh, and I feel lighter. And exhausted. The things Stuart did to my body...holy fuckballs. I fall asleep to memories of us in that sound booth.
Red suspenders.He’s wearing red suspenders today, and his glasses are extra...shiny? They look different. Or maybe he changed his hair. Whatever he did, I can’t take my eyes off him today. I’ve spent almost half of my morning down here in the kitchen, getting coffee, or grabbing a snack, or setting up my laptop here instead of working in my audio cave upstairs.
Red suspenders over a light blue shirt that has buttons I can’t help but think about ripping open. I cross one leg over the other as I sit on a stool at the kitchen counter facing the desks. Thoughts of Stuart’s mostly smooth, subtly muscled chest dance through my head. I bite my lip as he walks by while giving a potential new member a tour of The Base. I watch as he escorts them to the door, shaking their hand. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and catch Joanie looking at me from her desk. She makes the I’m watching you gesture with her fingers, and I flip her off. That makes her smile.
Stuart comes into the kitchen, and I straighten on my stool. “Hey, Meredith, how’s your day so far?” The smarmy little jerk gives me a guileless smile. I want to tackle him to the floor. I want to drag him under the counter and find out how stretchy his suspenders are today.
“Good,” I say. It sounds like I swallowed sandpaper.
“I’m glad.” He passes behind me, and I feel the tip of a finger brush so lightly against the exposed skin between my jeans and my sweater that I might have imagined it. I shiver either way. “Cold?” Who knew Stuart could be a cheeky asshole? It’s hot.
I shake my head as heat pools between my thighs. We’re at work, dammit.
He grabs a mug and pours himself some coffee. I watch him add his usual heap of sugar and creamer, shuddering a little at how tooth-destroyingly sweet it will be. He leans his hip against the counter, standing a little closer than two friendly coworkers would. The small smile he gives me before taking a sip of coffee flips a memory switch. Him on his knees, playing with my pussy. Me riding him in the cramped sound booth. I had to leave the door to the tiny room open this morning because it still smelled of sex.
I uncross and recross my legs, trying to ease the ache that’s been there since yesterday. His smile kicks up higher, then he goes back to his desk. My jaw drops open. We were having a moment, and he just...leaves?
Obviously, he’s not as worked up this morning as I am. He’s not suffering, unfocused, and jumpy like me.
He heads down the short hallway that leads to the room for nursing mothers and the storage closet. I don’t think, I just follow him.
I try to be nonchalant, but it’s no use. I could compete in a speed-walking race and place decently high the way I trail after him. It’s embarrassing. He’s in the storage room, where The Base keeps extra office supplies, with the door open. I don’t know why he’s in here, and I don’t care. I close and lock the door behind me.
He turns away from the shelf of printer toner and raises an eyebrow at me. How dare he. “Can I help you with something, Meredith?” It sounds like he’s laughing at me. Like he’s not burning alive, reliving the best sex of his life like I am. I want to smother him and wrap myself around him at the same time. My usually organized brain has shorted out and it’s all his fault.
“Shut up, Stuart.” His eyes widen. “And unzip your pants. Leave the suspenders.” His mouth drops open, but he complies almost without hesitation. The red on his face blooms instantly. Two quick steps bring me up against him, chest to chest. My nipples are already painfully hard. I’m aching.
“Meredith...” With hooded eyes he looks at my mouth, focused solely there. So I give it to him. I mean for the kiss to be quick, perfunctory. But then his lips remind me how great they are, and I get lost for a moment. Tasting the pineapple of his lip balm, I moan into him, and his arms wrap around me, drawing me closer, pressing me to him from chest to knees. He’s hard. So hard. For me.
Goosebumps cascade across my skin when his hand dives into my hair and grabs on tight. My gasp is an invitation for his tongue to explore my mouth. He’s so thorough, so insistent and eager, like he can’t get enough. His other hand finds its way under my sweater, and I jump a little at the contact of his cool hand against my bare stomach, but then I press closer. Getting lost.
“What is it with you and tight spaces?” he whispers against the sensitive skin behind my ear. I chuff out a laugh. That’s the thing about Stuart, nobody has ever made me smile or laugh so much, no matter how much I try to lock down my reactions to him. I plant my lips on the warm skin of his neck and dart my tongue out. Quickly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his fitted shirt, I suck hard just below his collar bone. A spot only he and I will see.
“Are you...are you giving me a hickey?” I nod without breaking suction. “Fuck, that’s so wrong. But I like the thought of you marking me.” I suck harder, hoping the bruise sticks around for a while. When I’m satisfied with my work I pull back and admire the mark. I brush my thumb over the bruise. I want to grab one of the Sharpies from the shelf behind Stuart and use it to sign my name.
I feel his eyes on me, and I get a little self-conscious under his scrutiny. I reach up and pull the glasses off his face, carefully fold them, and put them on a nearby shelf. Then I kiss him again because he’s right fucking there, and I can’t help myself.
I feel his hard cock against my belly, and my mouth starts to water. My mouth isn’t done with him. I’m not done with him. And I may not be for a long time.
I unbutton the rest of his shirt while his hands run through my hair and up and down my neck. His breathing gets harsher when my lips trail down his chest. “Anybody can walk by and hear us. Are you sure you want to do this here? Now?”
“Just be a good boy and keep quiet.”
“Anything you say, Mugs.” I palm the ridge of his cock through his boxers, and my core clenches when I feel it pulse against my hand.
His pants are already unzipped, so when I sink to my knees, I hook my fingers in the waistband of his boxers and tug them over the head of his cock, then lower.
He’s so hard, so perfectly sized. I hear a metallic thunk and look up. He’s pressing his head against the shelf behind him, his eyes closed and his lips moving in what looks like a silent prayer.
I can’t wait any more. With a quick flick of my tongue, I capture the growing bead of precum at his tip. Then I wrap my lips around him and play with my new favorite toy. He fists his hands at his sides, but I grab one and bring it to the back of my head. He gets the message and guides me further down his cock. I work him with my tongue, my cheeks, my throat.
His breathing is harsh, and he alternates between chanting my name and oh fuck, but he’s doing his best to keep it to a whisper. I pull off him and lick him from base to tip, then back again. I never stop looking up at his face. His brown eyes blaze with leashed lust. His hips pulse in small, controlled movements, and his hold on the back of my head is loose.
That won’t do. I dig my nails into his thigh with one hand and play with his balls with the other. Then I swallow him as far as I can. He goes past the back of my throat. My eyes water and I fight a gag, but I manage to relax my throat even more.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Meredith. I’m going to come. Honey. Sweetheart. Oh fuck.” I hum around him and that’s the end for him. He tries to pull me off him, but I stay where I am, taking everything he gives me. Warmth shoots down my throat and I swallow as much as I can. I feel triumphant, like I won this round, like I defeated something. Stuart’s cock? My own attraction to him? Nope, that’s still very much in place and isn’t heading anywhere but up. Are we doomed to give each other head in every room of The Base? I guess there are worse fates.
I drag him slowly out of my mouth and wipe my face on the closest thing, which happens to be the bottom of his shirt. A weak, tired laugh escapes him. His breathing is labored, and his face and neck are deep red. His chest rumbles in what sounds like a purr.
“You’re amazing,” he says, gliding his thumb over my lips. Whatever he gathers there he presses into my mouth. He grabs my hand, pulls me to my feet, and I stumble against him as the blood rushes back into my calves and feet. He catches me and seals his lips over mine. I can’t keep from smiling.
“I know.” I pull back a little. “Hungry?”
He reaches for the button of my jeans, but I pull back with a laugh. “No, I mean actually hungry. Want to grab some lunch?”
“Yeah, I could eat the entire Curly’s menu. It feels like I just ran a marathon, but you did all the work.” He reaches for my jeans again, but I slap his hand away.
“Later. I need a milkshake.” I start to button his shirt as he smooths my hair back into place.
“I just gave you one.” Oh, he looks so proud of himself. I tweak his nipple for that, and he lets loose with a yelp. That’s when I remember where we are. We stare at each other with wide eyes, then he loses his shit on a loud, guffawing laugh.
Joanie’s going to know exactly what we were doing in here—nothing gets past her. Hopefully nobody needed a stack of Post-it notes or staples, and the rest of The Base is happily ignorant to the fact that I just sucked Stuart’s dick.
We sit across from each other in a booth at Curly’s. I munch on a few fries as I watch Meredith happily moan whenever she takes a bite of her BLT. “Jesus, how does Bruno make the bacon so good?” I want to make a meat/penis joke, but I’m trying to show this woman that I’m not an immature doofus.
Bea, the diner owner, comes over to ask how our meal is good. “Orgasmic, apparently,” I tell her, throwing a pointed look at Meredith. She almost chokes on her sandwich.
“Not the first time I’ve heard that.” Bea smiles at us and tops up our water glasses.
Meredith leans across the table, wiping her mouth and hands on her napkin. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” I have no idea what she’s asking about.
“Say whatever pops into your head with no fear of judgment or consequence.” She takes a sip of her milkshake and I can’t drag my eyes away from the way her lips wrap around the straw. Holy hell.
I take a sip of my coffee, contemplating her question while staring at her, cataloging her features. Her brown eyes that are darker than mine, her pointy little chin in an otherwise round face.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I think part of it is inherent personality and part is growing up with so many siblings. We all had to fight for attention, and because I was the smallest and youngest I had to be pretty loud and talkative. Having a filter is too much work. I mean, I never want to hurt or offend someone, but otherwise I give my tongue free range.”
Her eyes go wide, and I realize what I just said. “I stand by that comment.” I take a bite of my sandwich like it’s no big deal that I mentioned our...connection. God, I’m starving.
Her fingers fiddle with the spoon in front of her. “So yeah, about that...” She’s either about to tell me that we shouldn’t do what we’ve been doing or that...honestly, I don’t know. I won’t be able to take whatever rejection she’s about to hand out, so I cut her off.
“We’re having fun. There’s nothing wrong with that.” My preemptive attempt at protecting myself feels like thorns in my throat. Which is a shame because this sandwich is fantastic.
Meredith doesn’t say anything, but I watch the furrow between her brows deepen. “Fun,” she repeats, her tone flat.
Shit, did I over correct? “Unless you want more than fun?” I do nothing to keep the hopefulness out of my voice. She stares at me like she’s trying to figure something out. Then she lifts one shoulder the tiniest amount.
“I guess I’m good hanging out and having fun.” Disappointment rockets through me. It’s not a declaration of love or a marriage proposal, but I’ll take what I can get. Fuck it.
I lean across the table and lay my hand on hers. “But I want to make something very clear.” I lower my voice so she has to lean in to hear me. “If you want more...anything with me, sign me up.”
She squares her shoulders and sits back. “Nah, I’m good with fun.”
Crap.