Daytime Distractions

This was agonising. Well, no. Having the dental abscess and a long weekend before her dentist opened had been agonising. This was just incredibly frustrating and distracting.

She sat at her desk, a gentle breeze from the inch of window drifting across the bare flesh her scoop neck top exposed. The tendrils of it, as the wind took its own time with deciding where to blow and where to pause, were as beautifully inconstant and unpredictable as the fingertips of her lover. She shifted in the chair, parting her legs a little to allow some of the discomfort to drift from her centre out the hem of her skirt. Her attention, she decided, would turn back to the monthly activity report she was preparing. The second week needed summary figures. The second week was when they had slipped into the orchard at lunchtime, and followed the stream at the bottom to where the tended boughs gave way to wilder wood. Where they had rested, eaten tiny pastries and fed each other olives, and he had taken her hand and played across her index finger as he did her nipple. Where his breath and eyes and suggestion had driven her a hot as a pizza oven, and she'd thrown caution, along with her pants, to the wind and ridden him there by the burbling brook. The second week... she forced herself back again to the present... that needed the figures from this database.

Her lips began to throb. She could feel them swollen and wanting in the crush of her underwear. The memory of how carelessly she had stripped this same pair away, and how the cool air had touched her heat carrying the rush of the river began to play in her mind without bidding. Her lover had caressed her as she hovered over him, his hands almost icy against and within her. That contrast, like an ice cube in a movie scene, had intensified her desire, so when he released her she speared herself fully upon him, groaning in relief. Right now, as she sat and squeezed the muscles of her pelvic floor, she felt the absence of him more keenly. But she had to get this report written. She needed to access the original data, which meant re-authorising with her phone. Which, conscientiously, she had silenced.

There was a message waiting.

Her lover had suggested he bring lunch.

Filo parcels.

"Yes please" she managed to reply, restrained. Then a moment later "Like by the river"

It had to be only ten or fifteen minutes until he arrived. She would concentrate very hard until then. And find the figures. The authenticator had expired; she turned to request again. The phone buzzed in her hand. After she had ridden him, first furiously thrusting herself down upon him, loudly crashing into him, secondly sliding along him, his length a perfect, slicked rod made to tease every inch of her folds and floods, the finally engulfing him again within her canal and allowing him to take over the pumping as she swayed and squeezed herself to relief, after all that, he had placed his lips together over her clit and hummed. It had been so ridiculous, so loving, and when his smile broke the seal and his tongue took over, so utterly satisfying, that she could not help but recall it vividly once more. She was brimming with urgency again right now. And she needed to re-authorise.

Third time lucky, the database was accessible. Once swift set of instructions later and a summary presented itself, along with a knock on the door. She rose, and opened it, allowing her lover to come in. He placed a paper bag of lunchtime treats on the table. She placed a passionate kiss upon him, rising onto tiptoe and pushing herself against him. She felt him growing in appreciation. Her hands danced across his chest as he shrugged off his jacket, and she kissed him again. Her tongue slipped and skipped on his lips and within him. She urged him to show her how he wanted her. He lifted her, as easily as a sack of cotton candy, and his hands then gave a ledge for her butt. She wrapped her legs around his waist, using his hips for extra lift.

He kissed her strongly, as his hands found the fullness of her arse. It tracked down, and centrally, strong fingers probing her pants. Through the material, she gasped as he barely entered her, breaking the kiss with her awe, then her trekked further. He found the aching peak of her. Fingers pressed, slid off, stroked and circled. She felt the shocks and flames of his transmuted touch, amplified now by the vice her legs had him in. Her head bowed and burrowed into his shoulder and neck. She held him to stay aloft, though each touch had her sag onto his intent. Gravity, grip, and her own fevered need brought her to an earth shattering climax, moaned into the light cotton of his shirt. She stayed in the air, throbbing and shivering, as it rebounded then settled.

Gently, her put her down. Smoothed her skirt. Readjusted his shirt and trousers. Smiled, and unpacked their lunch.

--

AUTHORS NOTE: This was inspired by Sapho's Fragment 22

"Sweet mother, I can't do my weaving--

Aphrodite has crushed me with desire

for a tender youth."