Many Apologies

I paced, a ball of nervous energy. Anxious. No matter how I'd planned it all in my head, I couldn't calm down. He always got here first, got a room, and told me where to go. I've never been the one waiting. Anxiously. Ready, excited, and still a little nervous, all though I can't for the life of me figure that one out. But I still get the tingles deep in my belly, the same ones I got the first time I knew for sure that there was more than friendship between us. Before, I had thought there was, but for years, it had continued to be nothing but my imagination.

I remember sitting in the uncomfortable chair, my back to him, then too I was nervous, I knew he was coming to see me, but I still wasn't convinced it was more than flirting. I couldn't bring myself to turn around or look at him, and damnit if he didn't turn me into a mindless ball of pleasure, and all he did was touch my neck that first time. We still worked together then, and didn't have the opportunity to spend a lot of unaccounted for time together. Just his breath on my neck had me wet and tingly. I cursed him when he turned and walked away after just a minute had passed. "Damn you" I yelled after him, and he just laughed. But he kept walking.

When he came back in later, I was still humming from what he'd done to me. Over the course of a few days, I learned to count on there being numerous, though all to brief, encounters that would leave me utterly exhausted from anticipation of something I wasn't sure would ever come. I was sitting on the edge of the chair, as he came behind me, and tilted my head to the side. He kissed my neck, but what tortures me more, what always has, what always will, is he whispers in my ear. I have to focus all my attention on what he's saying, b/c if I don't, then it is all nonsense, but the words he says, always arouse me. It is always something that seems to reach out and touch me, and pleasure shoots down my spine straight to my pussy.

"When are you going to quit teasing me?" he whispered that day.

It took me several seconds to even comprehend what he'd said, the words were lost in my haze of arousal. My first thought was "ME? Teasing him? Damn, the man had kept me right on the edge of something incredible for days, weeks, hell, years, and he accuses me of teasing HIM?" What little rational thought was left in my head knew that probably wouldn't be best answer. Instead, something along the lines of "Whenever you want" came out. I really don't remember what I said, but, as usual, the answer has always seemed to be with him, whenever, however, wherever. How pathetic is it to admit that?

He took my hand, and placed it over his dick, hard behind the zipper of his jeans. "Mmmmm," I sighed. Any doubts I had that he was just flirting with me now, were long gone. There was no doubt now that his body was responding to me as mine responded to his. I tried to grip my fingers around the hard length better, but, then, just as he'd done before, he walked away, leaving me panting for more. "Damn you" I called out as my head fell to my hands, this was exhausting. I heard him laugh as he walked away.

For a week, he would tease me mercilessly, then walk away, leaving me frantic for more. I don't guess much has changed. Little details are as clear to me as if they'd happened yesterday. The sound of his zipper opening, as he had me bent over a chair with my skirt up over my ass. But the tortured me even more, he only rubbed his dick between my legs, along the slit of my pussy before he lightly slapped my ass and walked away. Or, when he pushed me up against a wall, and raising my skirt up around my waist, he knelt in front of me, and tortuously licked, bit and nibbled along my thighs, every once in a while lingering touch close enough to my pussy to make me think FINALLY there would be some completion to this sweet agony. But, again, he stood up, and laughing again, walked away. "Go ahead and say it, you know you want to."

"DAMN YOU" I yelled after him.

Well over a year ago, and those days, those tortuous days still make me wet, just thinking about them. Just like him, it doesn't take much more than a few words, especially when they are whispered close to my ear, where I have to strain just to hear them, and I'm weak kneed, and ready to beg for more.

And no matter how many times I run over in my head the times, and the ways he's brought me to the point of begging for the release I crave, I still get these butterflies before I see him. Not just now, waiting to touch him, but always, even when I see him with a million other people around, I get that punch of desire deep inside me. I have often accused him of knowing exactly when and how he does it, but maybe he doesn't. It never matters to me if he does it on purpose, as long as he keeps doing it.

Back to my pacing, a million thoughts run through my head, anticipation, excitement, all mixed with a little fear. After he had been so busy lately, too busy to even have lunch with me, I was a little worried he wouldn't show up this afternoon either. I thought I'd go just a little bit crazy if he didn't. I'd wanted this for months now, I'd needed this for months, and now, even the few minutes that I paced seemed to stretch to hours.

Instead of make myself a little crazier, I moved to the chair and bent to unfasten my heels and kicked them off to the side. Standing, I opened the buttons on my pants and let them fall past my hips to the floor. I bent to pick them up, and placed them over the back of the chair. I unbuttoned my shirt, and dropped it onto the chair, then reached behind me to unhook my bra and dropped it to the floor. I sat back down and slipped my stockings down my legs, and placed them beside my bra on the floor. I went back to pacing, walking from the chair towards the door, and back again.

My mind drifted again, thinking back to all the times he had left me anticipating, left me wanting more. The times he'd done something random, or some small thing and I could think of nothing else the rest of the day. He'd cornered me in a hallway once, I'd recently questioned my affect on him, and he walked me into a corner and reached for my hand. I hesitantly reached out and he placed it against the zipper of his jeans, again, letting me feel the very evident reaction to me. My eyes flew to his, "Hmm, really?" I really enjoyed knowing that I had some small affect on him; although, I often found it easy to forget. So many times I would swear he didn't even know I was in the room, yet my pulse was heightened and every nerve ending in my body was on high alert.

I glanced in the mirror and felt a little vulnerable pacing in nothing but my thong, so I moved back to the chair and grabbed my shirt and slipped it back on, buttoning a single button to keep it on. I sighed loudly and dropped to the bed, nearly defeated, just as I bounced on the bed once, I heard a knock at the door. I sat up so fast my head spun. "If that's not you, you are SO dead," I mumbled to myself as I walked to the door. I turned the handle to open the door and stepped back. When he finally walked through the door and reached for me, I felt the satisfaction I'd been waiting for. The end of the anticipation, and it felt delicious. Now THAT is a story worth really living.