Fornever and for Always

It was the passion that drew her to him. Not his face, not that slight shadow of facial hair, not even those clear blue eyes. It was the passion he exuded, the passion she felt for him, the passion she knew they could create if they just gave it a try. All they had to do was throw caution to the wind, take that plunge. She knew if they just gave themselves a chance, they could have something beautiful.

There was a slight flaw in her plan. She didn't let herself think about it much, but it was always there, a thorn in her side. He was married. Neither of them paid it much mind, didn't bring it up in conversation. They both acted like it didn't exist, as if his vows were just a minor inconvenience, a mosquito buzzing about their plans.

So here she was, late on a Friday night, huddled beneath the covers. She'd worked side by side with him all day, thought about him the entire drive home, and here she was in her bed, letting her mind drift to an alternate reality where the two of them could be together.

They'd hugged just once at the end of the day, to sustain themselves. They'd gone behind the trash cans where the smokers gathered during the day, but just to be safe, they didn't dare go further. As much as she'd longed to lean forward and kiss those firm lips of him, she controlled herself. Her nose pressed to his shoulder, she breathed him in deep, knowing this would be their last encounter for the weekend. She was higher on the ladder than him, she'd been there longer, so she got weekends off. Before, it had seemed like a blessing. Now it was a curse. She longed to be in his arms again, craved even a glimpse from his amazing eyes.

Her mind drifted to the first day they'd met. She'd been there a few weeks, just long enough to feel confident. As she settled at her computer for a long day of credit card applications, she spied what could only be the new training class out of the corner of her eye.

"Look, there's the newbies," she said, leaning over the low wall that separated her desk from that of her friend and colleague, Chris.

"Wow, there's only three of them," he replied. "Seems like the classes are getting smaller."

"It's all your fault," she'd teased him. "You're too handsome, you're scaring them all away." He grinned, then winced as his headset beeped, alerting him to his next call. Her eyes strayed from him and watched the "newbies" as they wandered toward the training room, their eyes scanning the room of agents warily. She took the moment to appraise them, sizing them each up. A young-ish skinny guy, mid 20's at the oldest, looked around, obviously bored. He was good-looking, she supposed, in that sort of obvious way that got old fast. There was a girl who looked fresh out of high school, about fifty pounds overweight, with a slighly snobby but not altogether unkind look on her face. And the third....she'd only gotten a brief look when BEEP BEEP went her headset, and she switched into her persona.

Selling credit cards was to make a deal with the devil. She knew every day she was taking applications from people with no chance at the Platinum cards she threw at them, knew these nice people were torching their credit by applying, but it was a living. She was paid per sale, and she made the most of it. The moment she answered, her young voice confident to draw the customer in, getting this sale was her only goal. And she knew, from the moment the elderly gentleman stammered about his medical bills and his wife's passing, she could get it. All was well.

She didn't see the newbies again for a few days. They'd pretty much faded from her mind until that Tuesday, when she wandered into the cafeteria in search of a drink. The cocky guy wasn't there, but there were the other two, together at a table on the far side of the room. Now, at last, she got a good glimpse of the third one, and was suddenly and oddly speechless.

It wasn't that he was attractive, per se, but he had this charming quality about him. There was an ever-present twinkle in his blue eyes, his face was shaven but there was a slight sexy shadow of whiskers on his chin.

"So, you're the newbies?" She half-joked, joining them at their table.

"Yup, such fun," the girl answered.

"You see, you were wrong," the tall guy said, turning to the girl.

"I was just mentioning how it seemed like all the people who work here are old ladies and creepy old guys," the girl said. She took a bite of her sandwich. "I'm Anjelica," she introduced herself. "And you?"

"Tabby."

"I'm Derrek," the guy said .

That all seemed like so long ago now, though it'd only been a few months. As if by fate, she'd later been assigned to have Derrek shadow in on her calls as a teaching method. It turned out they had the same twisted sense of humor, and soon were discussing their past sex lives. It was during this conversation he'd causally mentioned his wife. And ever since then, that thorn had been in her side, before she even realized she was attracted to him.

It was about a month after that first day when it hit her. They were sitting together, as was their norm, discussing their daily lives. It was a Sunday, a slow day, with barely any calls. They'd wiled away most of the day talking, and he'd let her draw on his arm. And it was then, as she held his hand inside hers to put the finishing touches on the fire-breathing dragon that now covered his arm. She felt the warmth of his skin, the strength of his hand, and suddenly imagined how that hand would feel pressed against her bare chest...

She needed to see him. To talk to him. Anything, anything at all. She punched the familiar numbers into her phone, praying he'd answer.

"Hey, Derrek here," he answered in the way they'd decided he would if his wife was present.

"Hey, just me," she replied. "Any chance you can get away for a bit? I just...I really need to see you."

"I'll see what I can do about that," he said in a professional voice, obviously pretending for his wife's sake that it was a business call. "I'll get back to you on that matter ASAP, ok?"

"Thanks, hun," she said, hitting the end button. It was only a few minutes later he texted her, saying he'd meet her in "their spot," the deserted parking lot where they'd had their first kiss.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked her, his arms around her, touching every part of her he could.

"You know I do," she answered, her lips on his ear. "I've waited so long," his lips whispered, nibbling on her earlobe. She felt the strength of his hands as they explored under her shirt, pulled him to her hungrily. "This is so wrong," she moaned, her lips on his neck, his chin, any part of him she could reach.

"No," he said. "You and me, that's right. All we need, baby." His lips were on hers then, sealing her sounds, his tongue seeking entrance. She kissed him back, he was her everything. All that existed in the world was her and him and this moment. She could not let herself think beyond this moment. His hands were in her bra, the skilled fingers undoing the simple clasps. His hands, so rough, so manly, covered her breasts, fondling every inch. He broke the kiss, pulling her shirt up inch by inch, kissing every piece of skin as it was revealed.

His eyes looked up, met with hers, as his lips met her breasts. His eyes savored every inch, memorizing, almost worshiping them. His lips on her nipple, tongue just barely touching. She felt herself shudder with desire, wanting more, wanting all of him. She felt the need, the need to belong to him, the need to be something to him. She pulled his face back up and kissed him, her hands caressing the strength of his shoulders.

"I need you," she whispered in his ear. She wasn't sure he understood the depth of those words, but he took her in his arms all the same, guided her hand to his groin. Together, they undid the buttons and zips on his pants, pulling them down. She plunged her hand into his boxer shorts, desperate in her desire to feel him. And there it was, rock-like, pulsing in her hand.

"All for you," he whispered in her ear, making her smile. All for her. She was the one he wanted, nobody else. In this moment, in this cloud of passion, it was her that he thought of. She bent her head, tasting him, her tongue cherishing every inch he had to offer. His strong hands were in her hair, guiding her. His moans excited her and she took more, more, as much as she could.

His hands left her hair, sliding down to her waist. One hand slipped inside the thick denim of her jeans, the other resting on the curve of her hip. His fingers found her wetness, her secret desire. She looked up at him, their eyes met. They both felt the sparks, felt the need to be together in every sense of the word. She needed to feel it, feel their bodies connect, like two pieces of the same puzzle. He was on top of her in that instant, her pants were on the floor, and he was guiding himself inside her. Slowly, slowly, so slow it almost hurt. His lips were on her neck, whispering wordless phrases in her ear as he slid in so slow. She moaned in pleasure, savoring the feeling of his manhood, feeling whole for the first time in forever.

"This is exactly how I pictured it," she told him, her arms around him, their eyes locked. "Just like this.

""Shh," he told her. "Just enjoy the moment." He thrust himself into her as she lay there, reveling in the feel of his body. This was better, in fact, than her countless dreams. The months of waiting. The excitement, the dread, the desire in the pit of her stomach every time she thought about him. Despite what he said, it was wrong. They should not be here.

He moaned lightly in her ear, making her wetter still.

"Mhmm," she moaned back. "Right there...oh god..." He smiled as he thrust himself harder, knowing he was driving her to the edge. He could see it in her eyes, see how close she was. Just like she'd been in his dreams, every night since he'd first laid eyes on her. She'd had no idea, at first, how he felt. The simple jokes, the friendly hugs. How he cherished those moments. She'd been slow to catch on... A lingered gaze, a hug that lasted just a bit too long. And they both knew. These things were wrong. At night, his wife asleep on his other side, he knew. But it couldn't keep him from his desire.

"Let go, baby," he whispered in her ear, his hands on her chest. "Let go for me."

Her eyes found his, and he savored the expression on her face, the pure pleasure and satisfaction. He felt it coming himself, buried himself in her, lost in the release he'd longed for all these months.

They knew it would happen again. It could never be, but it was.