Let's Waste Time

The next day, I ran into Chris when I was coming back from the coffee shop.

“Hey,” I said, lugging my computer bag up the front steps. He had a laundry basket under his arms and his keys out.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m on my break.” He got the door open and sent me a smirk over his shoulder.

“How much time do you have left?” I looked at my phone and then back at him.

“Not enough.”

“So be late.”

“I can’t be late.” He tossed the laundry basket into his apartment onto the floor and then leaned into the doorjamb.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s my job.”

“Then what are you still standing here for?” I sighed and looked at my phone again.

He was good at calling me out. I should have just gone into my apartment and logged back on. But he had really come through for me the night before. Really made up for attacking my face by making me have the biggest orgasm I’d probably ever had in my life. My knees trembled just thinking about it. I pulled the bag strap up over my head.

“Alright, but we have to be quick,” I told him. He smiled.

“You got it.”

He moved aside so I could go into his apartment. I set my bag down on the couch as he shut and locked the door. Then we went for each other like rabid wolves. He moved me toward the bedroom, but I tripped going backward. He was fast enough to catch me. But instead of helping me back up, he just moved me onto the floor. We both decided there wasn’t enough time to recover from it. So he got to work shimmying my jeans down over my hips. We didn’t even get our clothes off all the way before we were going for it. Right there. On the floor in his apartment. My pant leg over his shoulder, one boob out, his jeans at his ankles.

And it was amazing.

When we finished, we both stayed that way for a moment as if stunned. I had one of my legs over his shoulder, the pant leg hanging in his face. He’d lost a shoe at some point though I didn’t remember him taking it off. We only moved when he let me go and dropped to the floor at my side, pants still at his ankles, breathing hard, hand over his heart. I got up, still feeling a bit dazed, as I yanked my jeans back up.

“I gotta work,” I told him. He sighed and saluted me.

“Have a good day,” he said. So I grabbed my bag and let myself out, practically tripping over my own clumsy feet on my way to the front door. I felt elated. Like when you get up too fast, and your brain goes fuzzy.

We were developing another schedule. Tuesday was supposed to be our movie day. But I was starting to doubt we’d ever get back to watching movies. It was just going to be a scheduled—well—sex day. But we were seeing each other more than every Tuesday. It seemed like every time we bumped into each other, we’d end up going at it like we couldn’t be alone with each other.

The very next day, he knocked on my door while I was working. I’d given him a key and claimed it was because I didn’t have a place to hide a spare outside. So it was one of those neighborly things you’re supposed to do. But actually, I just gave it to him so he could come and go as he pleased. However, the only rule with the key was that he wasn’t allowed to use it when Trent was in town. But I hadn’t seen Trent since we started this whole fiasco anyway.

I turned to wave at him to let him know I was busy. I was on my last call of the night, and I was dying to get it over with. Chris stayed quiet as he crossed the room. He leaned against my chair and kissed my cheek, and then moved it down to my neck. I heard my breath catch, but I was in the middle of a call, so I had to pretend it hadn’t happened. He moved his lips to my shoulder, pushing the collar of my shirt aside, so he could nibble on my skin.

And then he must have decided he was too eager to wait for me to finish the call. He dropped to the floor and moved around the front, squeezing his large body beneath my desk. His fingers went to my jeans, and my voice got a little higher in pitch. He pulled the zipper down, and I glanced at him. He just grinned and began to work them down my legs.

I knew I shouldn’t do this. I didn’t want to get fired. But he already had my body all hot and bothered, and he was barely even trying. So I lifted my butt a little so he could get the jeans off. He pulled them down my legs, and I helped him wiggle them off my feet. Then his fingers laced in my underwear.

They were going to fire me. I dropped my head back onto the seat and shut my eyes. My breathing was already going off rhythm. I was trying very hard to control it, biting my own lip to stop myself as my customer rambled about their technical issues. He slid my underwear down and gripped my knees, pushing them apart. Then he slid his hand right between them.

I squeaked. But thankfully, the customer didn’t seem to notice. I just had to hope that the call wasn’t going to be under review. He began to kiss my thigh, and I moved my legs farther apart. I was biting the absolute shit out of my lip.

But then he stopped, thankfully right on time. I quickly scrambled to answer a question, typing away at my computer again. But Chris wasn’t done. Instead, he gripped my hips and pulled me toward him. The chair made a squawking sound, and even though I knew we shouldn’t be doing this, I braced my feet on the wall anyway.

“Oh—Lord,” I whispered right as he buried his head between my legs. I reached down with my free hand to grip a handful of his hair, lifting my hips just a bit to give him better access. He pushed his arms under me, lifting me up even higher. It was enough to make me let out a whimper. I had to end this call, or I was definitely going to be fired.

“Uh—Mrs. Peterson?” I said, trying to get her attention again. “I’m going to have to transfer you. There’s uh—I’m having some technical difficulties.” I jolted and gripped Chris’s hair again, trying my hardest not to cry out in the middle of a phone call.

“What? I don’t understand,” she retorted on the phone.

“There’s just a problem—with my server. I’ll have to transfer you. Hold on.” I pinched my lips shut and quickly moved to transfer the call before I let it out. Once it was done, I logged out, dropped my head against the back of the seat, and let it go. “Oh shit!” I exclaimed. “You are such an asshole.” He didn’t reply. He was too busy. “If I get fired for that—I’m gonna kill you. But don’t stop.”

He only gave me a thumbs up to show me that he heard me. I let him continue only until I was about ready to burst. His hands were gripping my waist, his tongue was working overtime, and I was about to lose control. So I grabbed his hair and pulled him back. Then I slid my chair back. He whacked his head on the keyboard dock as I scrambled for his jeans, and he tried to work my shirt up. We fell onto the floor like a couple of desperate idiots. Not caring that his head was now tangled in computer cords and the computer itself would probably fall on top of us if we shook the desk too hard. I climbed onto him, and he gripped the legs of the desk. Then we went for it. Right there. Under the desk. With my work computer still logged in.

And it was incredible.

The next day he showed up when I was on my lunch break. There wasn’t even a “hello.” As soon as he came in through the door, he scooped me up by the waist, dropped me onto the couch, and then we ripped each other’s clothes off.

We were like animals. We couldn’t stop. What was supposed to be a casual thing on a scheduled every Tuesday night became a daily ritual. We did it everywhere in my apartment. In every room. Even the kitchen one time when he came over while I was making dinner. I’d ended up pantsless with my ass banging against the counter while he gripped the edges of the sink.

We did it in every room of his apartment, too, even in his car one time when he caught me taking the trash out when he was just getting home from a game. He’d stepped out, said hi, and then dragged me into the back seat. We didn’t climb back out until the windows fogged up, and we were too sweaty to step outside into the chilly sea air.

I was addicted to Chris. I didn’t admit to myself what was right in front of me. Chris and I had incredible sex. Every single time. He took the time to learn what I wanted, and I did the same for him. And we never went to bed disappointed. We were on each other every single day. And I knew, somewhere deep down, that Trent had never done for me what Chris did. But I wouldn’t allow myself to think on it too long or too intensely.

Chris and I were building one hell of a clusterfuck. And we were going to be in a lot of trouble.