Forced Partnership

"Sam," he questioned, "are you listening to me?"

"Yes," I muttered. I tried to concentrate - to remember - but it was so hard with every muscle in my body in quivering ecstasy at feeling him. "I'm older." I repeated. My body started shaking harder – demanding my undivided attention and needing his cooperation.

"Damn," he cursed. "You're shaking. You know I'm not going to hurt you." He soothed quietly. His hand loosened against my scalp. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he started to pull his body away from mine.

My body rebelled. I could feel myself leaning forward – trying to maintain the contact between us. I closed my eyes and clenched my hands into fists to keep from digging them into his shoulders as he peeled his upper body away. Somehow I stayed leaning up against the wall – it was the only thing supporting me. God knows my quivering legs weren't.

"Look at me." He muttered.

I could feel his hand cupping my face. I forced my eyes open. His familiar half mocking smile was back. I didn't know whether to cheer in relief or shout in frustration – especially when I realized he had combined the familiar smile with the new strange dark glinting eyes.

He ran his other hand through his hair and shook his head. "Are you ok?" he questioned.

I let out a shuddering breath. I was 33 years old and had just had the strongest sexual reaction of my entire life watching a male coworker I'd disdained masturbate in a public place. I wasn't ok. I was suddenly exhausted along with being hungry, frustrated and confused. I wanted and needed some distance to figure out what the hell was happening. I was tempted to let him believe that I did feel physically threatened by him. That he had frightened me. But I knew better – I was scared of my own reactions. If he hadn't immobilized my hands when he trapped me against the wall, he would know better too. Honesty and yes – pride - wouldn't let me pretend my shaking had been caused by fear.

"I know you're not going to hurt me Jim. I'm exhausted and confused. Just tell me what's going on here and finish this."

He tipped his head to the side causing his hair to cascade forward and partially hide his face. He eyed me thoughtfully behind the concealing veil.

"Not just being macho are you Sam?" He questioned – almost seeking reinsurance. "I know I startled you coming in behind you like that – and we have had some pretty heated arguments in the past – but you do know I'd never hurt you. I think I've proven my general good nature and self control by not taking a swing at you months ago."

I felt my eyes flash – he'd lit my fuse again! "YOUR good nature and self control!" I growled. "Like I haven't had to deal with your superior attitude. Believe me I would have dearly loved to kick you around a time or two!"

"No fear, no shaking." He sounded satisfied. Suddenly he stepped closer into my body. I felt him lightly rub his body against mine. I couldn't control my reaction. I tensed and shivered against the wall. I heard his breath sighing out. His hand once again wrapped around my head and tilted my face down toward him. I forced myself to meet his eyes. He was watching me carefully.

"So – you started shaking again. Maybe we don't have to discuss all that much. Except – my age?" he muttered to himself. He leaned in closer to me "Sam, I'm not a boy – I'm 30 and a man. Do you understand that? Repeat it."

"30." I repeated in confusion. Was he purposely trying to drive me crazy? I couldn't take swinging between emotional anger and disdain to physical raging hunger.

"Not the damn age part – Man, Man." He repeated in frustration. "Fuck it." He growled. I was suddenly flattened against the wall again. I had no breath – he stole it all. He ate at my mouth, licking and sucking on my lips. I gasped trying to get some air and his mouth sealed tightly over mine. He breathed air and my starving lungs sucked it in. His tongue tangled with mine, dominating, demanding a response. Suddenly he broke off and pushed away.

I heard the pounding and calling at the door.

"Is everything ok in there? I heard shouting - should I call the cops?"

I took a deep breath and managed to call out huskily. "Everything's fine."

"I think I should call the cops. We don't allow carrying on in there." This time I recognized the firm voice of the attendant.

My face burning, I glanced desperately around the room. Jim was leaning against a counter, his hands over his eyes, shaking silently. I wanted to kill him when I realized he was laughing. My eyes landed on the duffel bag.

"I'm sorry – look – I'd spilled diesel fuel on me and my relief is helping me out – he brought me some stuff." I prayed she hadn't seen the duffel in my hand earlier.

"Oh – well one of you has to come out – we have rules here."

"Get out," I hissed at him and pushed him towards the door. He sobered up but didn't budge. "Will you get out?" I questioned desperately.

"We still have things to work out. Where are the keys to your rig?"

"Shit, they're still in it." I started for the door. His hand caught my arm and stopped me.

"You're beat." He said. "Get your shower, I'll get your keys and then we'll talk. I'll be at the rigs." He paused with the door half open and looked at me over his shoulder. "And Sam, we only have 3 hours to work things out – I'll give you a ½ hour before I come back in to find you."