A Stringed Instrument Ch. 08

"You have a deal." And I let go the mouse and thrust my hand under her bra, shoving it up and out of the way as my other hand slipped back into her, drew back out, spread the moisture around her clit. As I squeezed and circled and stroked, I whispered to her.

"Lie back."

"As you command."

She fell back into my arms, one foot braced on Peter's desk and threatening his paperwork, the other on the floor. And I played her, fingers and teeth and tongue tormenting her. Taking her to the brink, letting her subside a little. Pushing her closer again and then backing off, winding her up a little further every time until she tumbled over the edge...

When she came, it was in a slow wave that rolled through her body: her toes curled, her thighs squeezed, the air went out of her body in a series of sighs. "Oh, oh... oh."

"You okay, honey?"

She blinked twice, opened her eyes wide and gave me a dazed smile. "Oh yes. I needed that. Last couple of weeks have been... really shitty."

"I can see that."

"Except for the bits with you."

I cradled her while she caught her breath. Somewhere along the way her briefs had come off and ended up under the desk, along with her shoes. I made sure to hook them with my foot and pull them out before we could forget them; some things can't be explained away. (I knew one guy in IT who got fired for having sex on the boardroom table... but that's another story.)

"Mmm. I believe I owe you one, but I need to sit and bliss out for a bit first."

As she sat up, there was a series of popping noises. "Hey, was that your back?"

"Yeah." She wriggled her shoulders experimentally, and there was another pop. "Been locked up all week. You really know how to relax a girl."

"All part of the service." I stroked her back, leaned forward to share a kiss. "I really should get on with this, so I can let Janelle know not to panic. And then we can get on with something more interesting. You want these off?"

"Yeah, would you?"

I got out a pair of snips from my bag and cut Phoebe's ties. She shook out her arms, then recovered her clothes and dressed while I worked.

I copied the tender document onto my thumb drive along with a couple of earlier versions I'd noticed, then plugged it into my laptop and scanned the files. As I'd expected they were all infected, but for once we were in luck; my AV software was able to clean them up without destroying them. Once that was done I opened the last one and skimmed it, checking that it wasn't obviously damaged, and then started an email.

"So that's it?"

"Mostly." I turned to look at her as I typed. "Going to mail copies to Peter, RJ, and Janelle. That way Peter can't fuck it up too badly. Then I just need to clean Peter's PC and scan it, and we're done." I turned back and checked the message I'd just typed, making sure I hadn't said anything likely to get me in trouble, then hit send.

"Hey, did you type all that without looking at the screen?"

"One of my many talents. You're not the only one who can play by touch."

"Show me again." She came over and stood behind me. I started another email, and she covered my eyes as I typed. When I was done, she lifted her hands and I looked at what I'd written.

note to self: talk to Peter about virus protection, why not to disable it, find nice way to tell him to follow our policy about non-work-related use. And why he should use network drive. Change passwords in case of keystroke loggers.

"You weren't peeking? At all?"

"Nope."

"Okay, that's impressive. Let's see how you do with more distraction." She came around between me and the desk. "Can you reach the keyboard past me?"

"Bit of a stretch, but yeah."

"Okay then. 'The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.'" She kissed me, completely blocking my view, while I tried to think about typing: click clicky clicky click, clicky clicky click clicky click. After a good length of time we broke off, and both of us looked at the screen.

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

"You should have been a pianist. Okay, one more. 'I'm not the pheasant plucker, I'm the pheasant plucker's son, and I'm only plucking pheasants 'till the pheasant plucking's done.'"

She kissed me again, harder this time. I typed briefly — click, clicky, clicky — and then let go of the keyboard, hands on her back as I returned the kiss. My heart was fluttering with something approaching panic, and I held her as tight as I could until eventually she broke off the kiss, frowning at me. "That was lovely, but you can't have finished. That wasn't enough letters."

"Look for yourself," I said, with my heart in my throat.

So she turned, and saw. "Oh. Yvonne."

I love you.

She hugged me fiercely, head pressed against my chest. "I love you, too." And a jolt went through me, the feeling of leaping from a terrible height and being caught safe and sound.

We held one another still and quiet, and perhaps Peter would've found us there the next morning, but that my bladder eventually began to protest. I ducked out to the ladies', and on my way back I remembered that we still had two anxious people waiting to hear from us.

RJ's phone was switched off, so Phoebe messaged him and I phoned Janelle. She was effusively grateful, and when she started commenting on how late I'd stayed to fix this problem, I started to feel quite the charlatan; I couldn't very well tell her that it hadn't all been work.

By the time I managed to escape Janelle's gratitude and finished repairing the last of the damage to Peter's PC, it was half-past ten. "And done. Finally." I powered it off and collected up my things.

"Well, then. I believe I made you a promise."

"You did. But not here, let's go home. I've been here fourteen hours already today and I miss my bed."

When we finally made it into my bed, at the other end of a cab ride and a hot shower for two, we both succumbed to fatigue. I agreed to take an IOU on her promise. Instead, we cuddled up together, very much content with one another's company and contact. After she fell asleep I lay there a while, listening to her breathing, wondering how on earth this had happened, until I too drifted off into a calm and dreamless sleep.

We rose much too early — Phoebe had a seven-o'clock flight, which from my place meant a 5:30 cab — and we said our bleary goodbyes still half asleep. I escorted her down to the front door and kissed her on the doorstep, but I couldn't quite find the courage to repeat the words I'd spoken last night. It all seemed too unlikely and unreal, and I was afraid that if I tested my good luck it would suddenly unravel in the harsh light of day.

So I waved farewell as she carried her bags to the taxi, and then I trudged back inside, second-guessing myself. I switched on my PC and spent a couple of hours distracting myself with the Internet before gulping down breakfast and heading into work. I was just starting on my agenda for the day, wondering whether caffeine would help wake me up, when my phone buzzed and my heart jumped two gears.

Hey gorgeous. Guess what I completely forgot?

What?

Happy valentine's day. ILY - P.

And so it was. I'd seen the ads, of course, but I'd been so wrapped up in my own concerns that it hadn't even registered that the day after February 13 would be February 14. I was still grinning like an idiot when Janelle stopped by my desk with a box of thank-you chocolates.

Author's note: I don't intend to turn this into a safety tutorial, but please note that cable ties have the potential to cause serious injury if misused. With any form of bondage, but in particular with this one, you should do your homework first.