Pen Meets Ink Pt. 01

It all started with a secret glance from across the room, one he had not intended for her to see. Smooth as silk, he tried to play it off as though his wandering eye hadn't settled on her seraphic countenance yet she was more alert than he had realized. The--now embarrassed-- watcher ducked his head to the side so that his computer monitor blocked his face, hoping beyond hope that maybe she hadn't noticed. Poking his head back out with the speed of a leisurely tortoise, he noted she wasn't at her desk at the far end of the airy, late-century designed office. Relieved, he pulled up the spreadsheet software on his computer, resolving to bury his nose into his work rather than face his earlier social faux pas.

The office in which he worked had all the warmth of a sterilized hospital: white walls and large panes of tinted glass windows that filtered the gloomy grey of an overcast sky onto a maze of indistinguishable cubicles. Clickity-clack! The man's fingers tap, tap, tapped a rapid rhythm into his well-worn keyboard, the repetitive sound melded with the offsetting chorus of ringing telephones; It drowned out the sound of her approaching heels. Before he knew it, the scent of her perfume danced on the air as she sashayed past his drywall enclosure. He stopped mid-keystroke, turned to look over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of her lithe silhouette: her sable black hair was kept in a simple plait that ran down her spine and fell to the small of her back, her purple & white floral business blouse seemed to flourish as she passed, her black pencil skirt fell at a respectable knee-level; the clap of her swift walking against the linoleum floor told him she had forgone her usual high-heels for flat shoes.

To his surprise, saw her flash a radiant smile that warmed her creamy caramel-colored countenance. Awkwardly, he waved to her as she proceeded out of the cubicle pit into the nearby break room.

"Malcolm... MALCOLM!" His neighbor napped him out of the momentary spell her presence had cast on him; Malcolm the watcher turned to the direction of the voice and saw the beet-red face of his co-worker peering over the wall with watery-blue eyes.

"Yo, what's up?" He tried to play it off.

"You have any sticky notes over there stashed away?" He asked, clutching the top of the wall with his pudgy, sausage link fingers, tapping it as if he were playing an imaginary piano, looking curiously at him.

"Uhh, yeah." He cleared his throat, trying to get his bearings, as he opened his top right drawer to scrounge through his supplies. "I should have some in here somewhere..."

While Malcolm dug deeper through his desk, the needy neighbor leaned in and whispered,

"So... you and Aria, huh?"

"What? Noooooo." He denied with vehemence, resurfacing empty-handed.

"Why not? You sure seem interested the way you were eye-humping her just now." The nosey co-worker pressed the issue, those ocean orbs followed her movement until she rounded a corner out of sight.

Malcolm scoffed at the idea, shooting a disbelieving look,

"You're kidding, right? You've seen her, she's light-years out of my league, for starters. And even if I had that level of game, I couldn't make a move while I'm working here." Malcolm explained.

"Right, that whole 'don't shit where you eat' cliche." He rolled his eyes, not buying what his work neighbor was selling.

"I like to think of it as not 'dipping my pen in the company ink', but sure that lovely turn of phrase sort of applies to this situation." He responded sardonic, finally unearthed those elusive post-its buried under a stack of windowless envelopes, holding it up between two fingers. "Besides what's your sudden interest in my love-life, Bob? When's the last time you got laid?"

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell." Bob, the interrogator countered smugly.

"That may be true, but you hardly qualify as a gentleman." Malcolm jabbed back.

"Oho, someone had their Wheaties for breakfast." Bob shot back, snatching the post-its; he stopped and playfully punched his arm, "Might wanna save some of that alpha energy for your secret lover, 'cause here she comes again."

She appeared, arms laden with stacks of folders brimming with documents, evidently in quite a hurry; she misstepped, tripping over a buckled portion of the slate grey runner rug that lined the hallways and falling face-first. Copy paper flew up and fell down onto her like snow; Malcolm hopped out of his chair and rushed to her aid.

"That was a nasty fall. You alright?"

"Yeh, yeah I'm okay." she chuckled to cover her embarrassment, "Guess I should've been watching where I was going."

"Someone really should have helped you carry some of these." He extended his pale freckled hand to help her up which she gladly took; her dainty hand was swallowed up by his, as she was gently lifted to her feet.

Upon landing squarely on her feet, their size difference was all the more apparent; Malcolm knew she had a slender frame, almost pixieish in her dainty curves but being this close to her made him realize how much larger he was than her. Standing some five feet, eleven inches he was nearly a foot taller than her, her body felt so delicate as he easily helped the woman of his late night thoughts with her filing burden.

"How long have you been working here?" She seemed surprised at his concern.

"About... a year now?" It hadn't occurred to him he had lost that much time to this dead-end corporate tomb. "I just transferred to this location two months ago. Why?"

"Ah, still kinda new. You'll find out quickly that they don't care about us as much as they try to appear. Well... uh, I didn't get your name, I'm sorry. Oh my god." She giggled, caught herself doing it and stopped with reddening cheeks.

"Oh I'm Malcolm." Her laughter was infectious, he felt himself chuckling gathering all his collected files into one hand to offer her his right hand to shake. She took it, her smooth butter pecan hand melted into his meaty freckled one.

"Quite a handshake you have there." She said, a flicker of something underlying danced an evanescent cha-cha in her amber brown doe eyes.

"Sorry. Sometimes I forget my strength." He pulled his hand away, noting something as he did that perhaps she wasn't even aware--if I didn't know any better, I'd swore I just saw disappointment.

"No worries. I'm Arialana but my friends call me Aria." She replied, squatting down to scoop up the remaining scrambled pages sprayed across the drab slate gray carpet like print-covered snowfall.

"I know... well I didn't know your whole name. I've seen you around here on those rare days we are scheduled to work the same shifts. You should go by your full name more often; it's pretty." He remarked, coolly.

Holy crap, is this happening? Should I be doing this? Jesus fuck on a pogo stick, I hope I'm not screwing this up-- his thoughts ping-ponged off skull in double time, he hadn't dare attempt to engage in conversation in the past.

"Aw thank you Malcolm." She seemed genuinely touched, she shifted the armful of disheveled folders more firmly into the crook of her arm, pushing her unusually overflowing bosom up against her floral button-up blouse, seemingly putting them further on display.

"Any time." The words came from his mouth but he didn't recognize who spoke them; he became a different person around her. He strolled shoulder to shoulder with her, and knew without looking that she was smiling at him. Oh boy, you better cut this short now or it's gonna come back to bite you in your ass--his better judgement warned him.

"Where are you headed with these?" He asked her, walking in stride with her, allowing her to lead.

"H. R., I'm an assistant manager." She said in a proud tone, a smug smirk lined her pink, pillowy Cupid's bow lips.

"Oh... well you should probably stop hitting on me, then." He joked, cutting his eyes sideways as they walked despite his nerves threatening to lock his whole body up in a fear paralysis. "It's so unprofessional."

She scoffed, faked clutching her imaginary pearl necklace and playfully swatted at him, her palm batting at his stomach and finding his abs.

"Okay Malcolm, you kinda husky underneath those work clothes huh,?" She asked playfully.

"I'm just a piece of meat to you, aren't I?" He played along with her, chuckling.

"Shush, people might get the wrong idea about me, Mal." She warned, nudging him in the ribs, leading them into a corner office that had two prominent glass windows with khaki blinds half drawn.

They moved past the imitation red oak door into a desktop metropolis of stacked documents collared by a wall-to-wall spread of identical steel filing cabinets. She went to a particular filing cabinet, bending over the open drawer to scour through the forest of folders for the right place to temporarily stow the jumbled files.

"You can leave 'em anywhere on the desk near me." She suggested, folding her sleek form over it, standing on her tippy toes. Whether or not it was intentional was unclear to Malcolm, what was clear was--goddamn, she has a nice ass--his filthier thoughts rose to the forefront.

The form fitting skirt clung to the firm curve of her bubble-shaped bottom, her soft thighs were shielded by the alluring black nylon stockings; Malcolm's eyes couldn't help but see the faint peek of a turquoise colored G-string barely breaking the profile of her curves.

"I should... probably go." He said with his voice trailing off, as he tried to look away; something that was easier thought than done. "Nice meeting you!"

He turned quickly, nearly running into the open door as he did, doing his best to get out of there.

Weeks passed, their schedules thankfully fell out of sync in those days of respite. Summer hung up it's long days & exciting nights to give way to the crisper chilly mornings of Fall when Aria's slight form power walked past his cubicle again. Malcolm, a little bushier in the beard and noticeably trimmer in those three months sat at his desk, tapping away at his keyboard to fill out some inconsequential form he was required to fill out.

"Knock, knock." Little fists rapped against the doorway to his roofless corporate jail cell, she popped her cute face in from the side of the partition; she wore a vibrant fuschia sundress, she wore a scarlet red yarn-knit sweater with chunky brown buttons at the lapels, her creamy caramel-skinned legs were bare save for the knee-high rainbow colored cowboy boots; clearly he had forgotten it was dress-down Friday.

"Hey HR lady, what brings you to my dungeon-like corner of capitalist hell?"

"Corporate needs hard copies of everything to be processed and filed, and since my boss Rosanna broke her hip, I'm gonna on my own. The job's offering overtime if you'll stick around a few extra hours all this week " she seemed a little high strung: her usual bun was a bit loose, sable black hairs flared out from their hairband tether like snapped filaments

"What would this overtime entail?" He asked, trying to keep the lecherous undertones out of his question and failing spectacularly.

"Easy there, remember who makes sure your direct deposit is right every two weeks." she fired back, sharp as a tack, yet that innocent face shone brightly with a perfect alignment of pearly whites.

"Zipping my trap shut right now." he made the gesture of zipping horizontally across his smirking face.

"Good. So to answer your question you pervy old man, the work is mostly data entry, copious amounts of copying and scanning in triplicate." she sighed, her dainty shoulders slumped with the packed on burden of this new stressful task thrust upon her. "I wouldn't ask if I wasn't drowning in paperwork, I've been really off lately."

"Sounds like a tedious night." he said, as if he weren't interested.

"I understand, you probably have somewhere better to be than stuck doing grunt work with me, in this dump."

"Hold on, I didn't say all that." he said, making her face light up like fireworks, "Count me in to stay a few hours tonight and tomorrow, hell I could use the extra duckets."

"Mal, you're a lifesaver. This is gonna help me tremendously, I owe you for this, I promise!" she sounded excited.

The following day seemed to relish in passing at a snail's pace, as if it knew he anticipated what came after work. Cool your shit, she probably invited a bunch of other people, he tried to level out his line of thought, knowing he was destined to get in his own way if he psyched himself up too much. His eyes scanned the clock for the hundredth time in what felt like the last three hours, yet in reality only twenty (!) minutes ticked away on the bare minimum digital clock affixed high up on the wall outside the break room.

"You know if you fixated harder on the time, the slower it's gonna move for you." Bob piped up without anyone asking, his know-it-all drawl grated harder on his raw nerves more so than usual, "Einstein's general theory of relativity and whatnot."

Malcolm grumbled his correction,

"It was his theory of special relativity--not general-- that deals with time/space, Bob."

"Oh... well I was in the ballpark. My point is, son, that you counting the seconds 'til your shift ends isn't gonna make them fly by any faster." Bob then leaned in, his tone shifted to something that was an unexpected combination of wise and perceptive, "I take it things with your HR lady have taken a turn for the better?"

He couldn't help but have a shameless Kool-Aid splashed across his mug, he fought to keep his cool when he responded,

"Maybe. I don't know yet, it's too early to tell yet, Bob-o."

"What happened to not dipping your penis in company ink... or whatever that saying was?" He jabbed at the younger Malcolm, the tricenarian redhead took silent solace in the fact Bob would probably die in his sleep in a year or two.

"Pen--Bob-- I don't dip my pen in company ink." Malcolm scoffed as he corrected, shaking his head at his senile co-worker as he continued to explain why, "You see, if on the slightest off-chance we do hook up, things would undoubtedly be great... at first. But all it would take is a minor argument at home that neither of us could escape from because--surprise!-- we still occasionally see each other at work. So all that bad blood festers and simmers until another small event acts as lighter fluid to the patient bonfire until--"

He clapped his hands loudly enough to startle Bob a bit, who exhaled through his pursed lips at the fright; Malcolm finished his spiel,

"--now her and I are on the outs and one of us has to quit or get fired. And I'll tell ya, Bob this is a very cushy gig, minus the soul-crushing repetitive labor. I'd like to stick around for a while longer if I can help it."

No matter how crazy the sex would undoubtedly be--his mind taunted him with one in a long list of not-so-subtle jabs.

Bob, realizing he could no longer live vicariously through Malcolm, huffed and descended below the line of his cubicle to return to the Sisyphean task of answering emails. Malcolm found his mind wandering as he milled through countless keystrokes of reports, charts for fiscal quarters and whatnot. A trained monkey could do this job--he realized, giving up on being productive with less than an hour left in his regular shift.

"47 minutes and counting." He told himself, going through the motions of shutting down the myriad of interconnected programs he operated out of, finishing by shutting his computer monitor off.

As if by magic, she appeared again as if summoned by his thoughts; she left her sweater, her petite voluptuous body unobscured now. Malcolm made sure he maintained eye contact with her.

"Hey, they're really piling it on today, could you close up early? I could use your help now, actually." she said, craning her neck to see what he was doing; she nodded in approval at his station being shut down. "Nice, you're already good-to-go. Hope you haven't had your fill of mind numbing busywork yet, because I'm serving up a whole heaping of it to you all."

--You all... I knew it wouldn't just be me there, he buried deep that crestfallen feeling of disappointment gnawing at his gut and put on a stiff upper lip. At the very least, you get to hang out with her in a slightly less-professional setting, Malcolm tried his best to find a silver lining in this situation.

"Ready and willing for more." The moment he let the words fall off his lips, he realized how it sounded; why is it whenever I try to sound cool I end up sounding like a meathead with a vague idea of what an innuendo is?--he scolded himself, wishing desperately he could hit the "reset button" on this conversation already.

She smiled wordlessly, shaking her head slightly as she led them to the HR department which was stacked to the ceiling with paperwork jammed in sustainably recycled cardboard boxes, yet strangely... was absent of people.

"I guess I'm that loser who shows up super early for a party." He joked, looking around to be sure there wasn't some corporate worm rustling behind a stack of papers.

"I'm always that loser, sadly." she shrugged with a carefree smile. "My parents really drove home the value of punctuality. Of course they're a bit older than most parents and it escaped their notice that being on time in high school was lame."

"Somehow I can't quite see you being anything other than someone from the popular girls clique." he remarked, taken back by this information.

"Oh god, if I start going down "Nostalgia Boulevard", I'm gonna need something stronger than this lukewarm mud water passing off as coffee." She gestured towards the glossy black mug with scratched off Batman symbols on one side.

An idea lit up in his head at her suggestion,

"Hmm, I might have just the stuff for the job." He broke out into jog, then remembered he was still at work and decided on an urgent power walk back to his desk. He ducked in, peering over the partition to Bob's neighboring desk; however upon noticing the standard issue corporate clock read that it was 4:48pm he figured his co-worker slipped out early to beat traffic home. But if I know Bob like I think I do--he thought, backing out of his own workspace to round the corner to enter Bob's cubicle; Malcolm looked from side to side to make sure no one was watching, then knelt down in front of the filing cabinet affixed to the eastern wall and yanked on the bottom drawer's handle.

The lock held the drawer closed tightly, Malcolm cursed his neighbor for actually remembering to lock it for once. Wait!--he realized, turning towards the desk and pushing the wheeled computer chair away to crawl under the desk. His hand felt the uneven grain of the warped wooden desktop's underside until his searching fingers felt the shape of a key adhesed with a neat square of duct tape. He yanked it loose, ripping the tape off the key's side before slapping the end of it on the desk edge before jamming the key into the cabinet's lock. With a little jimmying, he manipulated the lock to open where--amongst a small stockpile of rationed off office supplies were two half-empty handles of liquor. He inspected their labels and found one was some no-name brand of coffee liqueur while the other was a bottle of "Kraken" spiced rum.

He made his way back as casually as one might with a bottle of booze tucked between each of his arms & body, making sure to slow his stroll down to seem as cool as possible.

"Hope we aren't expecting more people soon, cause this could get awkward if we run out." He revealed the liquor with the flair of a stage magician and the grin of a content fool.

"I doubt anyone else is coming, it's just gonna be you and me-" She stopped in the middle of her sentence, her hand still pressing the stapler down into a stack of papers, "Um, Malcolm... is that alcohol?"

He stopped, his smile faltered a bit this time,

"You--uh--said you wanted something stronger." He answered, unsure if he misread her intentions.

"Close the door, we need to talk." She spoke with a stern tone, her inviting eyes hardened to scrutinizing gems.

Suddenly, his day went from hopefully expectant to catastrophic in one fell swoop; solemnity dogged his movements as he resigned to the trouble he brought upon himself by thinking with the wrong head, yet again. When the door shut, the air seemed to leave the room until the buzz of energy efficient fluorescent tubes above them seemed to fill their entirety.

"Take a seat Malcolm." She navigated the canals of clutter forming the cardboard topography to find her seat in a high-backed computer chair, reclining some as he sheepishly took his seat in front of her, bottle still in hand.--Ugh put it away already, you look like an idiot.

"I'm in trouble aren't I?" he blurted out without much thought, instantly regretting opening his mouth only to put his foot further within.

"We take our handbook seriously here, Malcolm. You do know that consuming any controlled substance on company premises is grounds for immediate termination? No slap on the wrist, no written warning, company policy is to remove the culprit, post-haste." She stated in a matter-of-fact tone, eyes scanning over him.

You've gone and done it now, you got yourself fired from a good gig, chasing after some forbidden booty. Happy? Was it worth it? This is what happens when you shit where you eat. Never, everrrrr shit where you eat!--his inner voice cried turmoil while outwardly he maintained his composure even while she continued, her adorable face was all hard-looks and unyielding firmness,

"Now I COULD file an official report of this and you'd be out of here so fast your head would hurt OR... I could just be fucking with you this entire time." She broke character, bursting out in a cute storm of snort-filled laughter.

Relief poured down his face, he felt his heart skip a few beats as he tried to catch his breath.

"Super uncool, Aria!" he yelped, his hand rested over his toccata-rhythmic heartbeat, hoping it intended on slowing to healthy levels.

"Dude you had to see your face, I couldn't help but mess with you." she laughed, shoving aside her busywork to clear an unobstructed lane of desk between them; the prankster Aria gleefully pushed her mug across to him, reaching into her desk drawer to retrieve a plain white mug for him. "C'mon you have to admit, I got you good."

"If by 'get me good' you mean cause me to nearly shit myself standing then, yeah you got me good alright." He admitted, chuckling slightly at her little practical joke while pulling himself forward to pour a generous mix into her cool, caffeinated swill.

He picked up her mug to hand to her and as she reached to grab it, her fingertips found the rough portions of his knuckles accidentally. She seemed embarrassed a bit by this, but she smiled while her silken hands lingered on his for a bit before she realized and took her boozed up java concoction. Aria breathed a soft "sorry" while he did his best to steady his hands enough to fill his own mug. Rather than talk, she filled the silence with a greedy gulp of her drink; her eyes shot open as she smacked her lips softly to enjoy the taste on her tongue.

"Does that make it any better?" he raised the mug to his lips and took a swig, letting the warming coffee flavoring fill his mouth and warm his throat as it went down.

"Significantly." she raised her mug up, he clumsily raised his to clink the bottom with the lip of hers, as if to toast.

"Sláinte." he said before taking another drink.

"Whatever the hell that means." she answered, nodding and smiling wider now.

The night wound on, hours slipped past their notice until it was well past 11 o'clock and even the custodial staff had long gone home. The metropolis of meaningless reports dwindled to a stack of organized boxes piled neatly outside the perimeter of Aria's office; the two midnight oil-burners sat on the floor against the wall with their mugs cuddled close themselves, the bottles still sat on the desktop--though drained dry, at this point.

"Here I thought tonight was going to be all about uncomfortable silences and the romantic drone of a copy machine making six thousand copies of..." He reached out blindly beside him to grab a random document, "...'Article 99: the dangers of urinal cake oversaturation & its loss of optimal functionality.' Ya know, really scintillating stuff."

"Life is just full of pleasant little surprises, Malcolm." she countered his sarcasm with her unflapping insight; she looked down at her cellphone, seeing the time, "Like just now... did you know it's almost midnight?"

"What? No way!" He squeezed in closer, they were almost shoulder-to-shoulder now; the inebriated redhead leaned in some to see her phone's display and accidentally bumped his head against hers.

"Ow! Yup, you're flagged now." she rubbed the spot of impact, wincing a bit.

"Shit, I am so sorry!" he began to apologize profusely, genuinely embarrassed he did that. "Are you okay?"

He reached out to touch it, his thumb grazed her forehead gently. A twinge of pain passed across her cherubim face that buried the knife of guilt deeper in his chest. Yet strangely, he felt her nuzzle her head against his touch, her saucer wide eyes looking up at him. His throat grew too dry to swallow, as his hands moved all on their own, daring to brave the unknown like Evil Kineval jumping a rocket bike across a canyon. Before he knew it, he was cupping her cheek, his thumb flicked aside a long trail of midnight tresses from her face, smoothing along her cheek.

"I-uh... I think I'm okay." She replied, Aria's breath caught in her throat, her plump lower lip quivered somewhat.

She watched his eyes, her gaze darted back and forth between his lips and his soothing mahogany colored eyes. Reality bent around them, enclosing the ambitious Malcolm and the mesmerized Aria drew closer to one another, until both closed their eyes while leaning in towards each other. Is this really happening?--he asked himself, incredulously. The universe, however, had other plans; a sharp, triplicate knock broke the spell cast over them in that tiny private moment. She hesitated, pulling back and blinking furiously as if waking from an awkward dream. A drab grey uniformed security officer preceded his entrance with a jiggle of the doorknob, giving Malcolm enough time to snap out of it and fix himself, creating a safe distance between them to disperse any lingering sexual tension that may be lingering in the air.

"Oh, I thought everyone went home by now." His grizzled eyes took inventory of the room--I hope to god he doesn't smell the booze wafting out of the suspiciously placed coffee mugs on the carpet, he couldn't help but think in his panicked state; his attention turned to the poker-faced Aria when he asked, "Everything alright in here?"

Despite being inches from an incredibly compromising situation, she chased suspicion away with her casual, even tone,

"Sorry about that! The higher-ups dumped this project on us at the last second--typical, right?--but we were just about to call it a night. Right, Malcolm?"

Right on cue, a yawn escaped him as he stretched his body with a tired groan, pushing himself onto fumbling feet, doing his best not to look like how he felt--intoxicated.

"Please and thank you, I'm ready to face dive right into my bed." He scratched the back of his head, smacking his lips as if fighting off the comforting tendrils of sleep threatening to pull him under into sweet, blissful oblivion.

The security guard hesitated, but sought no further investigation. Instead he nodded, and quietly shut the door as he left. Relief flooded out of them both, a collective sigh fell from their lips as if they'd been holding their breath in tandem. She turned and when their eyes met, that crackle of electricity began its steady climb once more.

"C'mon let's get outta here before we have another close call." she urged, averting her eyes to turn towards the door.

"... Yeah, that's probably for the best." The dejected Ginger resigned to his abysmal luck's ongoing misdoings, knowing it was a pipedream for him to get closer to her.

He shuffled past her when he felt something small and soft grab his forearm; confused, he looked back to see what it was, only to find it was her hand. Though small, her fingers were deceptively steely as they held him in place. Aria rose to her tippy toes to kiss him, pressing her other hand on his chest to keep herself balanced. Malcolm--while wide-eyed-- didn't hesitate this time, coiling his arm around her waist to pull her against his body, bent his head down and pressed his lips against hers. All that mounting tension, all those months of dancing around each other with intricate little jabs, subtle subtext and gestures passed between them, it all built to this one kiss. Her fists balled up some more of his shirt, as they moved while locking lips; his back found the back of the door hard, he wasted no time when he blindly groped for the doorknob where he thankfully found the lock.

She backed away, hiking her dress up to reveal a pair of white panties with a bright yellow sunflower printed on the front, he got down on both knees to run his hands up and down the length of her thighs. Those hands didn't stop until they reached the waistband of her underwear, he looked up at her for her approval to lower them.

"Wait, Malcolm--" she spoke up, putting her hand on his gently, "--are we moving too fast?"

He chuckled, bowing his head before looking back up at her,

"Honestly? That's entirely up to you. We can keep going the way we're going, or we can stop here and pretend none of this ever happened, I'm fine one way or another."

Even though, I'd really prefer to split you open like firewood--the primal part of him broke the surface of the darkened fathoms that was his mind. Kneeling there waiting for her to answer felt like three lifetimes had passed, looking up at her. She gyrated her hips just enough for them to ease themselves off of her to slide down her toffee colored skin until they fell in a cute little pile at her ankles. She stepped out of them, looking down at him while rubbing plump pouting nether-lips preceded by a thick black landing strip of hair.

"You have your answer." her words came out breathy as he fingers rubbed with more intensity; she leaned against the wall adjoining the door, the right strap to her sundress slumped off her shoulder as she swayed from side-to-side seductively, as if she were dancing to music only she could hear. "Come get it."

He grabbed her by her tapered waist, hoisting her petite form off her feet with ease, Aria grabbed the hems of her dress to keep them suspended as he rested her on his shoulders. Into the faded lavender scented flesh of her lotioned thighs, he commanded with an authority he didn't know he possessed,

"Hold onto my shoulders."

The moment she did, he parted her thighs to the creamy pastry between and nibbled his way to it; Malcolm reached behind her to cup her butt for support, surprised to find how firm and abundant it actually was.

(Those dresses & skirts she wears don't really do her justice. This ass could carry a tray on it!)

She shifted one of her hands from his shoulders to the ceiling that was only a few inches from the top of her head where she sat; the slender, sultry Latin woman shimmied her hips forward, urging her aching sex against his lips. He chuckled into the crook of her leg & body, he awarded her eagerness with an expert undulation of his fingers that massaged her goosebumps flesh. A moan escaped her yet she clapped her hand over her mouth before it filled the room, tangling her fingers in the curly mane of his chestnut hair to hold on while he adjusted with her on him, and dove in face first. He flicked his tongue along the puffy outer lips, kissing and sucking with gentle care.

"Don't be afraid to be rougher, papi." The professional neutrality of her voice was abandoned, allowing her everyday speaking voice to come out for the first time; her thick Hispanic accent was lighter fuel to a roaring blaze, he moaned against her sweat-slick flesh diving his face, lapping at her bowl like a thirsty dog. Her fingers clenched his hair tighter, making him moan, the vibration of his pleasure radiated to her sensitive places; she cried out, trying her best to muffle the sounds that fought to erupt out of her slight frame.

"Malcolm?" her luscious lips posed his name to him as a question, struggling to keep her eyes focused, "Ohhhh fuck, Malcolmmmm?"

At the urgent behest of her sexy, pleading voice he ceased demonstrating his oratory prowess long enough to flip the dress off his head to look her in those adorable eyes.

"Something the matter?" He hoped he hadn't done something wrong.

"Yes and no..." she said, her body quaked as the last vestiges of his cunning linguistics left her body.

"Okay, so I guess the next question that needs to be asked is: did I do something wrong?" He tried to deduce why she wanted him to stop when he was throwing her his best moves.

She hesitated, those light brown eyes as deceptively deep as quicksand drew him in every time they locked eyes. The bantam vixen opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, yet decided to close it, punctuating it with a smile and an adorable tilting of her head.

"I didn't know how else to say it without sounding like--well, to be honest--a slut, but..." she played coy at first, still holding tight to her restraint before his hands spread her firm bum and began massaging the cheeks, nuzzling his cheek against her thigh so that his beard bristled lightly against her lady bits.

Her body tensed up as a quake of pleasure tremored out from her leaking sex,

"I need you to lower me off your shoulders so I can taste your cock.... I need it, so fuckin badly." her voice pleaded, she let go of the last piece of restraint she held onto snapped.

Out came the beast.

Dumbfounded, her words were carnal music with which he was in tune to dance. Malcolm hoisted her up off of him, though instead of putting her to her feet, he flipped her upside down, making her dress fall over her body like a bumblebee canopy.

"Hey!" She cried out, confused, "What the hell are you--oh!"

She got her answer in the form of him splitting her legs wide while wrapping his sinewy arms around her waist to hold her up; he bent his head down some, stuck his tongue out and pirouetted the dexterous tip of his tongue along the rim of her untouched butthole. Dangling, she moaned helpless while he traced the outline of the unclaimed hole with the topside of his tongue. Eventually, her cute, flailing hands found his pants legs which she gripped for dear life. As his oral assault grew more intense, her hands climbed higher until she felt the expanding protrusion working its way across his thigh diagonally. In the chaos of her carnal awakening, she breathily confessed--albeit lightheaded,

"Fuckkk, no one's ever ate my ass before... flip me over, I want you to feel good, too PAPI!"

With little effort, he managed to revolve her to face his body so now she faced the palpitating protrusion. Upon getting her bearings once more, she ignored the belt of his work slacks, going straight for the fly hidden behind the pleating instead. He stopped to watch her fingers work the zipper down with a dramatic zzzziiipppp. Her other hand was already smoothing itself up and down the length of him, squeezing it gently much to his approval.

"Unless I'm mistaken, you're not wearing underwear under these." she said, walking her fingers along the median of his formidable shaft; he could feel her finger grazing the ridge of it, making it twitch uncontrollably in it's confined space. "Was that for my benefit or do you always do that?"

Her hand found the pulsing head, her feather light touch was maddening enough to make his thundering erection buck against it.

"What do you think?" He asked, knowing the answer, a mischievous flame danced in his eyes as her nail grated along the ridged skin.

She coyly asked him, knowing the answer, "Oh my touch does this to you, does it?"

"I'd have to be dead for it not to." His breathing was already ragged, teeth gnashing his bottom lip to contain a whimper.

The temptress Aria persisted, she attempted to grasp it in her hand but her fingers could not fully encircle its expanding girth; her doe brown eyes lit up agog, the Hispanic vixen's other hand joined the fray, cupping the other half of it. Running her smooth hands along it, Aria revelled in his face's contortions of ecstasy, knowing he was putty in her literal hands.

"Not gonna lie, I'm a little surprised at how--er, well--big it turned out to be." she confessed, as she spoke her eye contact never left it as her fingers mix in a chaotic concoction of adrenaline and sex phermones within him, "I think I'm in trouble here."

"Why's that?" he managed to ask through the paralyzing waves of pleasure that eroded away the bedrock of his restraint.

"Because I don't know if this is going to fit anywhere inside me." she bent down and dragged the entirety of a deceptively lizard-like tongue against his quaking manhood, the last flick of it ended tip of tongue to the summit of his speckled rod to slather it in her spit; she followed up by planting a juicy kiss on the tip.

A buzzing cut through their feverish play, she stopped what she was doing to begin searching for the source, finding it wrapped up in her castaway panties strangely enough. Aria hurried to unlock it, answering just as it seemed the ringing was about to end. When she spoke, she cleared her throat to reset back to professional mode.

"Aria Valentiné de Oro, speaking." Her hands fidgeted with her hair while she held the darkened screen of her phone up to her face as a mirror.

The nasally voice boomed out in an obnoxious crackle; it belonged to a young woman, Malcolm surmised, no older than her early twenties.

"Hi, Mrs. Oro I was wondering if you're gonna need me to stay overnight? Little Jacen was tucked in hours ago, but..."

Little Jacen?--he thought while attempting to look her in the eye for clarification, but conveniently she wasn't looking his way.

"Oh my god, of course! I am so sorry Izzie, I completely lost track of myself at work." she replied, visibly and audibly flustered now as she avoided his gaze. "I'll be home in fifteen minutes. Thank you for sticking around for as long as you did, I'll be sure to throw a little something extra in your pay tonight for hanging around."

"No problem, I figured you were busy. We'll see you when you get here!"

She hung up, then began fixing her slightly wrinkled dress, hand-smoothing it but it was to no avail; she gave up, endeavouring to corral the rest of her ensemble.

"You didn't tell me you had a kid." He declared quietly.

"I thought you might lose interest with that teeny tidbit of information." she countered, blunt as a spoon.

"I probably wouldn't have believed you, to be honest. You barely look old enough to work here." Malcolm's response took her off-guard, Aria was so sure he would've been outraged.

Yet here he was, exhibiting his devilish tongue could get him into as much trouble as it could get him out of it.

"Solid answer, but--uhh--where does this leave us, exactly? I mean..." her eyes fell down to the frustrated appendage tapping compulsively against his thigh, "I do owe you, in more ways than one."

Tension mounted, somehow higher than when her fingers throttled the engorged organ; Aria seemed to wait on bated breath while he gave his answer,

"Hmm. Well how's about this--" he suggested, wrangling the fleshy distraction by its veiny base and stuffing it back into his work slacks, fingers begrudgingly reset his zipper, and waist button, "Why don't we meet back here again, you bring the booze of your choice, and we see how that scenario plays out?"

She nodded, considered his proposal while scooting her panties back up before putting her shoes back on her feet.

"Game on, Mal." she tapped her toe on the ground of each shoe, adjusting her dainty feet in the flats, she twirled herself, making her sunflower sundress flutter like pinwheeling petals.

He couldn't help but smile as she came to a graceful stop in front of him, closing the distance between them quicker than he anticipated; her steely fingers clutched at the sticky-tipped, half-mast erection clinging to the front of his pants, the clear dew from its tip saturated through the airy cloth leaving little ellipses-shaped spots down his thigh.

"Aww poor papi, I'll make sure to take care of you next time." She stood on her tippy toes, all four feet, nine of her stretching to meet his lips.

He threw his arm around her waist, yanking her up to him to kiss her with enough passion to make her eyes roll when their lips broke.

"A strong kisser all-around, good to know." she said, eyes wide with breath stolen right from her; it lingered on his lips, tasted of rosewater and a few other herbs he couldn't place.

She returned back to Earth wobbly, instinctively he reached out and caught her; in his arms she felt so weightless and fragile. Her hand gripped her forearm squeezing gently as he set her down gingerly.

"You gonna be okay to drive?" he asked with concern even though he was secretly proud he had such a profound effect on her. Never would I have imagined in a thousand years that she would fall into my lap so surreptitiously--he thought as she steadied herself leaning against him, the lingering ghost of her perfume haunted the air around her just enough for him to catch a whiff.

"Umm, uh-huh." She uttered, a bit unsure herself, "I'll be alright the moment that summer heat hits me on the way outta here. Besides I've already held the babysitter up long enough. I'm gonna have to give that poor girl a $50 tip after this."

He looked as if he wanted to argue but thought better of it, instead offering,

"Let me at least walk you to your car."

She smiled at how sweet he was being, and conceded,

"Fine. Let's get a move on, then."

She led the way, looking around to make sure the coast was clear, as the circumstances at the present hour seemed suspicious; Malcolm emerged shortly after, pawing at the still-evident bulge in his slacks, adjusting it from the outside to make it less evident as he tried to walk out as coolly as possible with adrenaline burning like rocket fuel through his veins. The office was fortunately clear of all support staff that might be roaming the halls, Malcolm caught up to her, walking single file he would periodically reach out and cup her surprisingly firm, bubble butt, much to her surprise ("Quit it Mal, someone might see us!") and delight. Their walk to the car felt like a blink of an eye as they moved through those soulless corporate halls, finding their way to her newer model, rose gold Hyundai SUV.

She clicked the automatic locks to open with her key fob, opening up the driver's side door to toss her purse into the passenger's seat. Yet she stopped there, wheeled towards him to take his hand; just as he was about to be gentlemanly and kiss it, she took it one step further by hiking up her sundress to the middle of her thighs; before he knew what she was going to do, she shepherded his fingers between her thighs, her panties were damp to the touch. Her hips ground against his hand in needful gyrations, eventually his fingers found their way past her panties and with her own motions his middle finger breached past the pouting petals of her flower. A moan slipped out before she could clap a hand over her own mouth, her body compulsively bucked against his hand even though she knew this was neither the time nor the place. She stroked his forearm, patting it while reluctantly saying,

"We should probably save this for next time, stud."

Malcolm sighed, withdrawing his finger from her deliberately while twisting his finger like a corkscrew so she felt him exit her with every nerve she possessed; Aria let her dress drop and hopped up into the seat of the car, slamming the car door. She fired the car up, rolled down the window to declare,

"You had better call me."

He raised the hand that did the dirty deed, plugging his middle finger into his mouth, sucking the juices clinging to it, right off. Not for a single second did he break eye contact.

"Definitely will."

Watching her drive off, he felt a ballooning swell of hope fill his chest for what the future would hold, of what intimate little moments only they would share. Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest, grinned at the neon-tinged night and turned to find his car. I guess I can only go upward from here--he thought as the early 2000's navy blue Toyota hatchback came into view, having no clue how WRONG he truly was.

[END PART 1 OF 3]