Liaisons

“Bugger, bugger, bugger,” I cried, while my hands raked their way around the cushions of my navy suede love seat. As usual, my keys were M.I.A. and I was running late. But this was the biggest meeting of my career and I was close to just running out the door and leaving it unlocked, even though that’s never a good idea in Brooklyn.

Spinning around, I dart across the floor to my wall to wall bookshelf, my second stop last night after I came in from a late meeting to finalise plans for the presentation this morning. First stop, couch to remove the killer heels I’d been wearing for ten hours straight (I may be willing to compromise on many things, but my taste in fuck-me heels isn’t one of them). My second stop, the bookshelf, to select my escape for the evening.

Running my hands along my favoured shelf, I stopped as my fingers brushed my original cloth bound edition of Wuthering Heights, which I found for a couple hundred in an obscure second hand book store in London two years ago. I’m pretty sure the owner had absolutely no idea he was housing a first edition worth thousands, if not millions. The edition was sticking out oddly. Pulling it out delicately, I reach in the small hole and wrap my hands around the keys jammed in there. Rolling my eyes at my utter carelessness, I replaced the book, gathered my project files and sprinted for the door.

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Most days, my fifth floor Downtown Brooklyn apartment offered excellent views over the bridge and the East River, as well as a free work-out regime, due to the unfortunate lack of elevator. But today, five floors with of stairs in four-inch heels and an arm full of files meant a likely head-first tumble straight down. Hauling off the heels, I sprinted down the faux marble stairs, two at a time.

Successfully keeping my spinal cord intact, I replaced my heels, and dashed for the next train into the city. Finding my luck improving, I grabbed myself into the only available seat I could find. Settling in for the journey, it was barely five minutes before my head was leaning against the window, dreamily staring out across the East River.

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He laid me back, my head hitting the soft sheets below me. His heated skin caressed my leg as his hands began running their way slowly, tantalisingly up my legs, leaving a scorching trail in its wake. My back arched as he reached my abdomen, his light kisses scattering across my skin. Reaching down, I tangled my fingers through his silken hair, impatiently pulling him up and pressing my lips hungrily against his. He tasted like citrus fruit, tangy and delicious. Sliding his hands around my back, he pulled me closer, pressing his naked body against the length of mine, craving the contact. Pulling me closer, we suddenly found ourselves rolling, our bodies twisting together as we rolled right to the floor. We laughed into each other’s mouths, our lips never breaking contact. Our tongues twisted together, eating up as much of each other as we could. Running his hand down my back, he gently pulled my legs apart, reaching down to massage the wet mound that lay between. A moan escaped my lips, muffled by his. Flicking his finger against my clitoris, I moaned harder. His teeth bit down delicately on my lower lip as his fingers stretched their way into my channel. I pushed myself down, my body eager for more. He responded willingly, picking up the pace of his fingers. My body began to arch, the tension building low in my abdomen. “Oh god,” I called out. “Faster!” Keeping up the pace, he flicked his finger over my clitoris again and I screamed out.

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Jerking awake, I fumbled for the source of the electronic chirping that had broken me from my reverie. Pulling my Blackberry from the depths of my handbag, I tapped it to light the screen. Rolling my eyes at the caller id, I tapped the text message:

You gotten laid yet? xx – Charli

It was Charlotte, my libido-incarnate. She was permanently complaining that I worked too much and would benefit well from a “good, hard banging!” as she put it. Sadly, I agreed. But I just didn’t have the time, or a decent man. Other than my nice fantasy she had so kindly interrupted, my bed has been vacant for far too long. Keying in a quick response, I attempted to reclaim my imaginary Mr “Perfect”.

Oh yeah, your interrupting my prescribed “hard banging” right now :D – Hannah

However, I quickly gave up my vain attempt and headed off the train and straight for my office building.

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Reaching the lobby, I waved to Rachel at the front desk. She was an insanely happy person who had been unbelievably helpful in getting the meeting set up for me – as well as having PR connections. I kept telling her she should be the concierge for some five-star hotel, but she just bats her eye lids, blushing furiously and tells me to stop. Reaching the elevator bank, I spot one just closing and shot for them to hold it. A male hand sticks out and I make my way over, pulling out my chirping phone again. Muttering thanks to whoevers there, I absentmindedly push the button for the 12th floor and focused on the text.

Miss Rosemore, you should know better than to bullshit me! Good luck with the presentation today. Celebratory drinks at the pub tonight? xx – Charli

I smiled to myself. I loved Charli’s sense of humour: Raw, full of innuendos and overly British. I knew I really shouldn’t get my hopes up about today, but respond yes anyway. If I don’t land this investment, I’m going to need “fuck, I’m unemployed” drinks instead.

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Today’s meeting was with the board of BookAid – a massive book charity that specialises in helping illiterate children learn to read and write. For my publishing house it was just a way to spend a little money and get a lot of good publicity in return. But for me, I had been begging my boss to take up the meeting for months. I was so passionate about the cause, knowing that so many people would benefit from the money we put into it. Finally, one day my boss caved, but decided that since I was so “passionate” about it (yes he used actual air quotes), I should be the one to front the whole thing. He was no doubt trying to cover his ass if it went south, but I didn’t care. I’d spent months prepping for today’s presentation and there was no way I was going to screw it up.

So naturally, of course, the elevator took that moment to make a dramatic tremor, sound effects and all, and cut out completely. “Fuck!” I uttered, forgetting I had company. I turned around to apologise for my rudeness and standing in the opposite corner was a young guy, maybe mid-twenties, wearing an obviously tailor made and expensive black suit which matched his sharp features. He had sharp, strong features and silky chestnut hair that was slightly too long styled to match his suit, but that looked like they belonged on a cheesy romance novel cover, rather than stuck in a publishing house elevator with me.

Looking up at my movement, his piercing green eyes met mine and I was lost, trapped in his intense gaze. Pulling my eyes away, I shook my head slightly, trying to gather my senses and attempted to apologise for my rudeness. “Oh…sorry,” I stuttered. But I never stutter. What was with me? Looking back at him, I noticed he was smiling. Not in that patronising what-is-she-blabbering-on-about kind of way, but more like I’d beaten him to the punch with my expletive.
He then turned his back on me, facing the floor button panel. He pushed the emergency call button and a loud ringing filled the box, from a speaker embedded in the panel.

“Hello, security. How may we help you?” came through in a tinny voice from the speaker. I recognised John’s voice. He was the building security teams lackey, tasked with playing desk jockey all day answering calls and keeping an eye on the CCTV.

“Hey Johnny,” I stepped forward and called over the suit’s shoulder. “We’re stuck in elevator three and you know I have a major presentation about 10 minutes ago, so any chance you could wave your magic wand and get us moving again?” I asked hopefully, letting my voice go just a little flirtatious in the hopes it would move things along. After a brief pause, a reply came through on the speaker.

“Well you know me and my magic wand would do anything for you Hannah, but I’m afraid your stuck until emergency services spring you.” I swore again, knowing John would not take offense.

Throwing my hands in the air, I turned my back on the gorgeous suit and the useless speaker to retrieve the files I’d dropped when the elevator jolted to its unfortunate stop. I may have spent slightly more time bent down than was absolutely necessary, but I knew, if anything, Charli would be proud.

Sitting them in a neat pile in the corner with my handbag, I turned back around to find the suit staring at me. Not in a creepy way, more like he was just people watching while sitting in one of the street-side cafés up town that I love to frequent for lunch.

“So, big meeting huh?” he said, trying to fill the awkward silence. This was the first time he had spoken and his voice was a sweet as honey, but with a deep resonance that vibrated through your core. I found myself stupidly staring at his mouth, which was, once again, curved into that mysterious half smile that made you wonder what he was thinking. Biting my lip, I imagined what those lips would be like on mine, Soft and sensuous as he held me close.

Shaking my head out of the daydream, I attempted to answer quickly, before I looked like any more of a moron than he must already think I did. “Yeah, really important. I’ve been preparing for weeks. But if I don’t get out of here soon they’ll just all leave and I’m going to lose the biggest chance of my career to actually do some good.” I was rambling and tripping over my words. My exasperation was obviously getting the better of me because I’ve never been this inarticulate.

He gazed at me; his smile vanished in replace of a look of confusion. “Career changing meeting? What could be so important?” he asked. I was shocked he was willingly giving me another opening to talk after shocking display of verbal skills. But he had this intense look on his face, as though hanging on my every word, so I folded my legs under me and sat on the carpeted floor. I attempted to be graceful, but a pencil skirt and four inch heels begged a differ. Sitting beside me, close enough that I could feel this heat emanating off him as it coated my body. Settling himself against the elevator wall, he turned back to me, eyes still intent upon me. Figuring that we may be here a while, I decided to try and improve my situation. Holding out my hand, I introduced myself. “I’m Hannah. Hannah Rosemore, editing director.” His eye brows shot up in surprise, though I had no idea why. Recovering quickly, he held out his own hand. But instead of shaking, as intended, he slowly grasped my small pale hand in his larger rough one, and pressed his lips gently to the back of my hand, never breaking eye contact with me. A shudder ran through my body at his touch, his soft lips leaving a delicious burning sensation where they touched. “Well Miss Rosemore, my name is Daniel Person.” Releasing my hand, he leaned back and continued, “So what makes this meeting so important?”

Shaking my head in an attempt to recover from the sensation that ran through my body at his touch, I found myself reeling of my memorised presentation: All about the benefits of joining with our company, its advantages and why it was important to the company (or more accurately, to me). This sparked an in-depth conversation as he questioned me endlessly on the scheme I had been planning, never relenting from his tirade of questioning. Yet I never minded. I was so passionate about this project; I was excited to discuss it with someone who was showing a genuine interest.

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I paused, biting my lip nervously. “Sorry I’ve been rambling on for ages, you must be sick of hearing me go on,” I say, giving him the chance to shut me up. However, he smiles again. That funny little half-grin that makes me desperate to know what he is thinking. Biting my lip again, worrying what he must think of me, his eyes dart away from mine, towards the movement. He stares at my lip and I swear I see a glint of this primal hunger in his eyes, but it’s gone before I can be sure.

I must be ridiculous. Why would he be looking at me like that? We’ve only just met. But my subconscious couldn’t help but dig up the fact that I has already fantasised about kissing him once already. But…no. There’s no way. It couldn’t be. Glancing away from my space on the wall, I look at him again, seeing no trace of that hunger. Just the same, mysterious smile playing on the corners of his mouth.

“Now, why would I do that, when I so enjoy watching you speak?” He smiled, somewhat sheepishly, as though a little embarrassed by his boldness. I couldn’t believe it. This gorgeous man was flirting with me. I was frozen, unsure how to respond to him. Before I realised, I was biting my lip again. Glancing at him, I saw him gazing at my lips, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“Well Mr Person, if I didn’t know you any better, I’d think you were flirting with me,” I tease, shocked by my own streak of confidence. Shifting my weight slightly, my leg brushed against his, causing us both to glance down briefly then back at each other. Before I knew what was happening, he reached forward, touching one of his rough hands to my bottom lip before brushing his lips, lightly first, against mine, then more insistent as I responded, shocked by my enthusiasm. I had no idea what had gotten in to me, but his lips on mine sent my senses into overload. My skin was tingling as he ran his hands slowly over my back, pulling me back to my feet. He then tangled them through my long hair, pulling my head closer as he pushed me back against the wall. I reached my hands up to rope around his neck, pulling his body against mine. I could feel his erection pressing against my legs as he pinned me to the wall with his body, sending shivers down my spine. I wrapped one leg around his as our tongues began massaging each other, desperately seeking out the pleasure we craved from each other.

Suddenly, an echoing voice came from through the elevator doors and we sprang apart. Turning to the door, a crack suddenly appeared in the door, slowly getting wider. Above us were the fire crew wedging open the door. It looked like we had stopped short of the top floor.

Flushing scarlet at the thought of being caught in such a passionate embrace with an almost stranger, I bent to pick up my belongings and passed them to a fireman, who then reached down and pulled me up out of the elevator. No daring to look back, I retrieved my things and practically ran for my office. Setting down my things, I checked the desk-top clock, which claimed I was running twenty minutes late. I quickly righted my appearance and attempted to cool my burning cheeks with some cold water, then headed for this floor’s reception desk, coming to a halt in front of the head receptionist, Abigail. I asked her hurriedly if the board had already left. She looked at me confusedly, obviously having no idea of the situation I’d just been in. She replied with a simple, but slightly confused “I thought you already knew?”

“Knew what?” I asked, anxiously.

“I just got a call from someone at BookAid. They said you were amazing. You got the deal!” She exclaimed.

“But…how? I don’t understand? I didn’t even get a chance to give my presentation.” I said, caught between confused and elated.

“I don’t know honey, but you need to give your guardian angel a big fat raise” she stated, grinning. Her smile was infectious, and as I turned away, I too was grinning. Headed back to my office, I caught a glimpse of a jet black suit whipping around the stair door, iPhone in hand.