Jan lives on the top floor… #2
My heart rate is accelerating.
I reach for my cell phone, go into the bank’s mobile app, enter my PIN and, the moment the dashboard appears, my heart leaps. My eyes are practically popping out of my head! I can’t believe it.
Available funds: PLN 42,850.
“Oh, Holy Mother of God.” I click on history, and there is a transfer for PLN 42,210 made by my employer, with the description Overtime payment: January-December. Stunned, I look at Jan. “What is this?”
“Your overtime since the beginning of the year.”
Once again, I direct my gaze to the astronomical amount.
“But so much? That’s impossible.”
“If you have doubts, I’ll send you a file with the statement. It came out to exactly one thousand four hundred and seven hours.”
I lift my head.
“You counted all my overtime hours?”
“I did.”
“And you approved them as payment?”
“No. The company’s policy is that overtime is compensated in the form of additional days off.”
“Then where did the amount in my account come from?”
“You needed money to start a business, and I wasn’t going to give you days off.”
“And you decided to wait until the end of the year to pay the full amount? Why didn’t I get a salary increase every month?”
“I wanted to make sure you invest everything in the business. Large amounts motivate better than small amounts. It’s easier to avoid the temptation to spend the monthly income on the ongoing needs, and this way you have all of it to start the business.
I already have buyers for the furniture I acquired from you.
Several connoisseurs purchase watches from me and are my regular customers.
I’ll give you the difference in the amount, from which I’ll deduct ten percent for myself.
In total, your share is about PLN fifteen thousand.
Oh, and I decided not to sell the wing armchair.
I’m not sentimental, but you apparently have a soft spot for it.
I must admit that I was impressed with your determination to acquire it. ”
I sit with my mouth gaping wide and my thoughts in such a turmoil that I can’t gather my wits. What’s more, my heart is pounding so fast and hard that I might have a cardiac arrest soon. I’m trying to figure it all out. Overtime, paycheck, buying furniture…
“Does Tadeusz work for you?”
“Yes. He deals with customer contacts and shipping watches. Sometimes he substitutes as my courier. He also drives around pawn shops, flea markets, and bazaars looking for good bargains.”
I’m going to kill Tadeo! The bastard kept mum about working for my boss. I wonder if he repeated to Jan how much I badmouthed him during our meetings. I recall how I met him when he knocked on my door, accompanied by Ms. Ala and…
“Wait. My neighbor claimed that it was Tadeo who brought the wing armchair on the day you wouldn’t let me out of work.”
“That’s right.”
“So were you the one who sent Tadeo to Pi?sudskiego Street to get the chair?
“Yes.”
“But… I don’t understand. You wouldn’t let me go get it myself, you pissed me off so much that I felt like killing you, and then you sent your employee to pick up the chair so that you could buy it later? This is ridiculous!”
“No, Maria. What was ridiculous was that you wanted to lug that chair alone from the fourth floor and carry it by bus across half the city. Besides, I couldn’t give you the afternoon off that day because we had a meeting with Spendimex about the tax audit.”
“Why the conspiracy? Couldn’t you just offer to have your employee pick up my chair?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you wouldn’t have agreed.”
Jeez, here we go again!
“I certainly would have agreed.”
“After you stated in the men’s room, and I quote, ‘Fucking Jan, a stiff bastard. Jesus, how I hate him,’ or before?”
Oh damn, the genius and his memory. And he’s smart.
And contrary to what I thought of him, he is helpful.
And he believes in the success of my business.
And he made extra money for me by reselling furniture.
And he arranged for me to be paid overtime instead of taking days off.
And he’s so sexy now, as he leans against that door frame and waits for me to say something.
I feel like throwing myself at him and violating him.
And right now!
I spring to my feet, cover the distance between us in four steps, and I’m already about to throw my arms around his neck, but then Jan retreats unexpectedly with a strange expression on his face.
“What are you doing?” he asks, clearly confused. I can’t really tell if he is looking at me with surprise or dislike. Or is it disgust? Something tightens in my throat.
“Yyy, I wanted to kiss you.”
I can see from him that he is processing my words. He looks at me intently.
“Kiss,” he repeats slowly.
“Yes. If you don’t feel like it, it’s okay,” I take a step back.
Jan closes his eyes.
“I do. Sorry. It was an instinct.” He shakes his head as if he is angry with himself. “It doesn’t matter. Forget it.” He opens his eyes, takes a step toward me, pulls me close and kisses me on the lips.
When someone tells you that “it doesn’t matter, forget about it,” the last thing your brain tends to do is consider that message unimportant and let it go.
And that’s why my mind, instead of focusing now on the awesome deep kiss with Jan, is obsessing over what it is that ‘doesn’t matter’ and why I should ‘forget about it’.
I tear my lips away from his mouth. “Jan?”
“Hmm?” He starts kissing my neck.
“Why did you step back?”
“What?”
“Why did you react that way? Because, you know, it’s a little strange when a guy I’ve just had great sex with pulls back when I want to kiss him and has this look on his face like he’s disgusted with me. Did I do something wrong? Do you regret what happened before?”
He freezes with his mouth on my collarbone; a groan escapes from his throat. He looks deeply into my eyes.
“You do everything as you should, Maria. I don’t regret anything.
And my behavior had nothing to do with you.
” He lowers his gaze to my lips and moves his thumb across them.
“If I ever feel disgusted with you, I’ll be sure to communicate it clearly.
For now, you turn me on like crazy, and I can’t wait for you to take me in that sexy mouth again”—he pulls my lower lip—“and to suck on your nipples.” He slides his hand down my arm, then cups my breast. “And to put you on your stomach on my bed…” He moves his hand to my waist and pulls up my skirt.
“I will lift your hips, spread your buttocks and start licking your pussy.” He finds the wet slit with his fingers and begins to caress my clitoris, making me shiver all over.
“And then I will fuck you so hard that you will scream in pleasure and beg for more until you are finally exhausted and fall asleep in a split second.” He slides his fingers into me, and my legs give way under me.
“Tell me, Maria, in your opinion, if I felt even a little disgust for you, would I have such plans for you?”
I smile to myself, feeling the growing excitement.
“You like to have everything planned just right, don’t you, Jan?”
“Yes.” He kisses my earlobe.
“And you really don’t like it when someone surprises you, do you?”
“I don’t.”
“What if I modified your plan slightly?”
“Meaning?” He sucks the skin on my neck.
“Sixty-nine. You like numbers, don’t you?”
He groans.
“Oh, yes.” He slips his fingers out of me and lifts me up. “I like numbers and you.” He presses his lips to my mouth, and I wrap my thighs around his waist.
We kiss as he carries me into the bedroom, and as he turns on the dimmed light, and as he lays me on the bed, and as he hastily unbuttons my shirt. Panting, we thirst for each other’s bodies, almost devouring each other’s mouths, tearing off each other’s clothes until we are completely naked.
God, how perfect he is. He rolls onto his back and I admire his muscular arms, chest, belly… Oh wow, and his erection. A cock as hard as granite.
“Come to me.” He puts his hand on my hip, his fingers pressing into my flesh, his eyes ablaze.
I feel my cheeks burning with shame at the thought of what I’m about to do in a moment.
Why the hell did I propose sixty-nine? After all, I’ve never done it.
I once saw what it looks like in a naughty movie, but somehow they didn’t show the moment when the chick climbs on top of the guy and sticks her bottom out right in his face!
God, such an embarrassment that everything flops. Correction, not everything—Jan’s penis stands at attention so bravely that I feel pressure in my vagina.
“I want to lick you. Come here,” Jan says in a low voice, and glides his hand over my thigh and buttock.
What the hell, here goes nothing.
I go over on all fours and sit astride him. I see his long legs and impressive erection right in front of me.
“Oh yes, give me that sexy ass.” He grabs my buttocks and pushes his hot mouth into my pussy.
A shudder runs through me. My pulse speeds up, my desire catapults into the stratosphere. I prop myself up on one hand, grasp his penis in the other and take it into my mouth.
Jan’s muffled murmur reaches me—the sound resonates in my pussy and lower abdomen, triggering additional stimuli.
My excitement intensifies. I start to move my head, taking the hard penis deep into my mouth, and some movement suddenly catches my attention.
I glance to the side and I’m surprised to see my reflection in the mirror of a huge closet.
It’s the two of us, completely naked, on white sheets, bathed in the glow of dim light casting shadows on our bodies.
Me sprawled over Jan, bent over his crotch, him lying beneath me, his face between my buttocks.