School is back in and I don’t know about you but I’m in dire need of an adult break. A freaky adult break at that. It’s time again for another #EroticFiction Friday by our neighborhood storyteller, DNC.
“I’ll lock the door when I leave. . .don’t worry about it,” I yelled to Dora, the operations manager.
“Thanks, Nat. You’re the greatest,” she responded.
I had decided to stay as long as it took to complete my dashboards. I walked back to my reception desk and unlocked my screen to notice that I had an IM up.
Marc: You still here too?
It was the new guy. He was working late on his first week — poor baby.
Natalie: Yeah. They work me to the bone every day.
Marc: Man, they’re tough here. How do you do it?
Natalie: I just do it. Like Nike.
Marc: LOL. Yeah I like that motto, in more than one way.
I sat back and wondered exactly what he meant. How many ways could you just do it? Was he flirting with me?
Marc was the new IT manager brought in to help with our computer chaos. He seemed quiet, even shy at times. Most of the ladies thought he was cute; twenty-six years old, five/ten with caramel skin. He was alright. Okay, maybe a little cute. Let me stop fronting; he was hot. It was the first time in a while that the office had had some eye-candy, but he was definitely delicious to the eyes.
Natalie: My bad, I just got a phone call.
I lied because I didn’t want him to know that I was trying to figure out his comment.
Natalie: What are you up to this weekend?
Marc: I’ll probably go play some ball and then chill at home. Maybe do some cooking.
Natalie: Oh you cook? Go ahead! I don’t know too many men that can cook.
Marc: Oh I cook, girl. I do it well, just like other things.
All the innuendos were starting to add up: I was sure he was being flirtatious now. I crossed my legs and moved a little closer to my computer screen.
Marc: What do you like to eat?
Natalie: I love seafood, especially crab legs.
Marc: I’m not really a seafood person, but I do love fish. I’ll try anything twice. I have a thing about having different textures on my tongue.
My mind shifted to wondering how much he would like the taste of me. What am I doing? Jon was at home. At this moment, cooking dinner waiting on me to join him. I refocused my mind and shifted the conversation.
Natalie: So, are you watching the game this weekend?
Marc: Yeah, but I think I’m going to come in this weekend and do a little work.
Natalie: Yeah, I think I am too, because I need a head start on some projects for next week.
I thought it was a little funny how we both felt the need to come in and work on the weekend.
Not too many other people in the office like that idea at all, but I usually do. I have a key and pass-code for every door in the building.
Natalie: I’m coming in the afternoon on Saturday. If you want to come then I can let you in.
Marc: Sounds good. See you at 1:00 on Saturday.
I was just getting back from a five-day vacation, so I had only been in the office three times since he started. Marc was a nice, hardworking guy. He had a genuine smile and spoke to everyone; even the “I hate my job every day” grouchy people. It was refreshing to have someone else around who seemed to be as calm as I was.
On the ride home that night, I was thinking about whether or not we had everything for dinner, when my mind slipped back to the IM conversation I’d had with Marc. I could just hear his soothing, mellow voice speak those words to me: “I have a thing about having different textures on my tongue.”
I felt a little moisture develop between my legs. Could I be attracted to Marc? Hell yeah, who wouldn’t be? I told myself as I pulled up to my apartment complex.
That night, I’m not sure if I had a dream or a nightmare. Marc was inside of me, deep inside my pink walls, and I wanted him to go even deeper, but Jon was watching…