In Plain Sight

"No, these are this month's reports," Kylie said, with strained patience. "Those are last month's..." Her boss could be a little dense for someone with a PhD.

Kylie risked a glance over at Grant across the room. He was typing at his own desk, but seemed to sense her looking at him, and turned those arresting blue eyes her way. He smiled, in on the exasperation, which she knew he shared. Kylie returned her attention to the task at hand, trying to ignore the feelings she sometimes got when Grant looked at her.

Not a chance, she admonished herself. You're a mess, and he's...just get back to work.

It had been a rough eight years. Her single mother's death when Kylie was only twenty-one, leaving her to take full custody of her little brother, who had finally—FINALLY-graduated high school and gone to live with their aunt in Pittsburgh, where he apprenticed at a good graphic design firm.

He'd only been out of Kylie's apartment for two months, and the sense of overwhelming responsibility had not eased much. She'd bee running to stand still for as long as she could remember. Boyfriends? Pfft...when would that have happened? The nights were eerily quiet now, just her and her stacks of books. Occasionally it seemed as if she should be out doing something, but normal 29-year-old life was alien to her. Kyle was increasingly sure that the window for her to do normal things had passed. And because that thought depressed her, she usually chose not to think about it.

Working for the symphony kept her plenty busy, anyway. Their past two seasons had sold out, which was why they could afford to hire Grant. Tall and well-dressed, with close-cropped brown hair and a gorgeous speaking voice, Kylie suspected he wouldn't stay an admin assistant for long. He had greener pastures written all over him, but she did enjoy his presence. He got all her jokes, which was unusual in that somewhat stuffy crowd.

The old gay guys liked him—and why wouldn't they? He took their tame bawdy ribbing with good grace, but he was clearly straight, although there was never any mention of a significant other. But Kyle wasn't one to pry. Besides, if he was taken, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

He had asked earlier if she was going to the Thanksgiving banquet that night. He got just as bored at those functions as she did, but of course they were both going. Cindy had asked if she was bringing a date, but Kylie just laughed. Yeah, right. At this point, spinsterhood was less scary to her than seeking romance. At least she knew what to expect.

That night, Kylie examined herself in the banquet hall bathroom mirror. The outfit was simple, like all her clothes. The pleated skirt was knee-length, a muted, proper black. The deep green of the silken blouse brought out her eyes behind the black rims of her glasses. The office ladies always said she was pretty, and at times like this, she could more or less believe them. Her shoulder-length red mane was unruly, as usual, with odd kinks sticking out here and there. That usually bothered her, but today it worked somehow.

The pinch at her waist highlighted a hip flare that, from certain angles, might be considered sexy, but from others just made her think she was fat. No one had ever said either way, so her insecurities were left to run wild on their own. However, tonight things seemed to be hanging together pretty well, from what she could see. Feeling presentable, she ventured out into the fray.

Hugging the wall in the main hall, she cast her eyes around, looking for Grant. He wasn't hard to spot in that room of elderly bent-backs and matronly cubicle-dwellers. To her secret delight, he also seemed to be scanning the room for her, and shortly, their eyes met. Kylie felt that tingle again. Calm down, she reminded herself, and made her way over to where he'd set aside two chairs for them.

It wasn't hard to figure out, she reasoned. They were the only two under-30s in the organization, although she barely made that cutoff. Kylie wasn't actually sure how old Grant was, but sneaking a peek at his hairline and smooth face, she was pretty sure he was her junior by at least a few years.

"Are you ready to be symphonized?" he asked, playfully.

Kylie rolled her eyes. "Oh, god..."

The tagline had emerged from an endless marketing meeting, and the pair had been ridiculing it for days since, working it into sentences where it didn't belong, amusing themselves, if no one else. The new phrase did at least replace the ill-fated Orchestral Maneuvers in the Park campaign, which was no longer spoken of by management. "It was all just a dreeeeam..." Kylie had quipped to Grant at the time, knowing he would be the only one to laugh.

"All these years, I've been waiting for someone to symphonize me," she said, in jest. Something in his eyes when she said that made her aware of saucier implications, and she looked down quickly, studying her wine glass. Then Grant laughed, and she laughed, too, but there seemed to be a frisson of uncomfortable tension as they did so.

No, she thought. It's not what you think. Stop.

The speeches began, and went on for too long. Kylie's skin was too warm, and she realized that over the course of the program and too many refilled glasses, she had gotten tipsier than she'd intended. Not sloppy, but certainly not on the safe side of decorous. The thoughts streaming through her mind as Grant's long-fingered hand lightly drummed the table right next to her were not remotely safe, and she excused herself.

Pull it together, she told the tottering woman with the flushed face in the mirror. Don't make an ass out of yourself in front of...in front of anybody.

That wasn't what she meant, though. Her brain was operating on two separate tracks: One that busily laid nefarious plans of a most immodest nature, and one that worked hard to studiously ignore the activities of the former.

Go home, she told herself. Sober up. You'll be fine in the morning.

Hearing the final applause through the bathroom door, Kylie praised Zeus that the debacle was over. Stepping out, she saw that Grant had left his seat. Half of her heart ached, but the other half breathed a sigh of relief. It would be much harder to mortify herself and others if his gravitational pull wasn't exerting any influence on her discombobulated body.

Collecting her coat, she was halfway through the lobby when the voice brought her up short.

"Kylie," Grant's gentle baritone called. The sound of her name in his mouth sent shivers through her anxious frame. She composed herself, and turned to see him, standing there all suited and tied like a classic movie star. It hurt to look at him.

"Hey, she said, as nonchalantly as possible. "I'm, uh...I think I went a little overboard on the chardonnay," she offered, bugging her eyes for comedic effect. "I probably need to..."

"Okay," he said, too quickly. Too conciliatory. What had he been planning to say? Dammit, Kylie, you fucked it up, she cursed at herself. Fucked what up, exactly, herself asked snidely, too damn sure that it was right.

"I mean, unless..." she managed.

"No, it's okay," he said. "I was just...but you're right, you know. I mean, if...I probably did, too, honestly."

Oh, fuck, her brain screamed. Oh fuck, he IS. Oh my holy fuck, what are you doing?

"Yeah," she said, trying not to blush. Yeah? Yeah what? Do something, goddammit!

"Well," Grant said, decisively. "I had a good time. See you Monday."

Smiling, the beautiful man walked away. Kylie's nerves tried to jump out of her skin. Go after him, they shouted. And say what, she asked them. She hadn't dated anyone since high school. Who knew how this shit worked outside the pages of a novel?

Kylie crumpled her back against the wall. Oh god, she thought. How fucking stupid are you? How completely clueless? This whole time, he'd been flirting with her, and she'd just been too obtuse to catch on. MONTHS, now. And she'd turned him away. He would hate her now. No, he wasn't that way. But he wouldn't look at her like that anymore. That way she'd told herself was nothing, knowing somehow deep down that it wasn't. She wanted to rip her hair out by the roots and scream. But there were too many co-workers around. Kylie had to escape.

At her car, she fumbled in her purse for the keys. Predictably, they dropped onto the ground, clattering loudly, and she propped herself against the car door as she tried not to lose her mind.

"You okay?"

The voice shocked her, and she nearly fell over as she whirled around to find Grant standing there, concern deep upon his brow.

FUUUUUUCK, she thought. Do something, please...but her body was frozen to the spot. She pulled herself upright, gingerly meeting his gaze with something approaching comportment.

"Let me get you some coffee," this lovely man said, in a perfectly reasonable and non-judgmental tone that made her want to weep in gratitude. "I worry about you driving."

There, her mind shouted. That right there. Take it.

"Okay," she said, absently pushing a stray red tress behind her ear, completely unable to suppress a vivid blush at her predicament, and all that it might or might not imply.

Politely, Grant averted his eyes, bending to pick up her keys and pass them to her. Their hands did not touch, which was good, because she probably would have flinched. They walked in silence to his modest sedan—who knew what make it was, they all looked the same these days—and she accepted his open-door invitation to the passenger seat. Even that little bit of chivalry warmed her blood, and she fought against the imaginitive permissiveness the wine gave her fantasies.

Don't fight it. This is real, they said. Kylie was still not wholly convinced. How? A man like this. It wasn't possible. Was it?

The coffee shop was nearby, and Grant helpfully distracted her presumptuous imagination with a few humorous remarks on the evening's ceremony. She laughed at his impression of the Chairman. It felt good to laugh with him. It always had.

Oh, Grant, she thought desperately. Please be for real.

The laughter made her have to pee, and she excused herself to hit the ladies' room. Her breathing was fast as she examined herself again in the mirror. Kylie wished she were more beautiful for him. She did have a figure, kept shapely by eating smart and walking a lot. Not skinny, not fat, just...average, at least as far as she could see.

She did catch guys looking every now & then, but she always darted away quickly, uncomfortable with the attention. Guys would fuck anything, she knew. That was all Ken had wanted, back in high school. Ken, the smooth jock, slumming with the mousy library aide in his backseat one day after class. He'd gotten what he wanted. She'd wanted it, too. The experience was mostly nice, if a bit brief.

Victory in hand, Ken had moved on to the next nearest target, as she guessed he would. They'd never told anybody, to her knowledge. The bragging rights weren't worth much to him, and she wasn't inclined to boast about being a notch on his belt. He'd married a pretty blonde last year, she saw on a friend's Facebook post. Someone he could show off. Not like her.

At the time, Kylie thought her sexual career had probably already peaked, having boinked the class studmuffin. Her mom got sick shortly thereafter, and she hadn't had the time nor energy to even think about any further explorations since then.

Until now. As she allowed the possibility to gleam in her mind, she realized that she wanted Grant ten times more than she'd ever wanted Ken. Grant was...Grant was waiting for her to return, she remembered, shaking herself out of the dreamy fugue. Straightening her skirt, Kylie rushed back to the table.

"Everything all right?" the man with the magic voice said, and involuntarily, her nethers tingled.

"Wine and coffee," she said, mostly keeping her composure. "Right through me."

Kylie had mostly sobered up now, but part of her regretted that. It would be so much easier to throw her drunken body at him and ask forgiveness later. He was so close. She could take his hand if she wanted. Let him know: You are SO cleared for takeoff, mister.

"Want to go for a walk?" he asked, and her heart raced. Friends didn't ask friends to go for walks in the dark. He was laying groundwork. Build me up and knock me down, she thought, and nodded her head demurely.

Downtown was beautiful in the fall, and Kylie pretended to admire the buildings she walked by every day. He was bound to make a move any moment now. After a few minutes, the waiting grew painful, and she could stand it no longer. Finding the warmth of his hand easily at her side, she took it in hers, without a word. His fingers laced perfectly with hers.

Kylie could not look at Grant, but she felt his eyes on her. Why me, she tried not to ask. I'm convenient, her memories spoke. Any port in a storm.

No, her heart fired back. This is different. And even if it isn't, there is no way in hell I'm going to turn it down.

It was then that he pulled her close, there under an antique streetlamp. A perfect setup. Yes, her heart cried. Oh god, yes.

Grant turned her to face him, and she gazed up into those soft blue eyes, full of desire for her. For her, doubts be damned. Feeling his arms snake around her waist, she trembled, and could do nothing but close her eyes, open her mouth, and give herself to him.

An electric glow pulsed through her as his full lips made contact with hers. More loudly than she'd intended, Kylie moaned in ecstasy, opening to him, relinquishing control of her body as he pressed her up into him, a firm but soft wall of warm, sinewy amazingness. Of man, pure and undiluted.

Kylie thought to kiss him back, but she was breathless, and her free hand faltered as it skittered along his forearm, a vain attempt to gain purchase as her senses plunged into freefall. Grant's mouth consumed hers, feasting on her helplessness.

Quite suddenly, she felt her own tongue dive into his mouth, moving of its own volition, exploring the inside of his gorgeous lips. He let out a low, rumbling sound, and she shivered to feel his tongue entwine with hers. No one had kissed her in twelve years, and her body released a torrent of pent-up pressure she didn't even know was there. Her free hand gripped his arm at last, and she held on, willing this moment to last forever, yet simultaneously craving more of him. All of him.

After a small, blissful eternity, Grant's lips slowly released their hold on hers. He was panting as hard as she was; hot, steamy air flowing between their mouths, still barely an inch apart.

Kylie's body screamed for his touch, with an intensity she'd never felt for any other man. Possessed by animal lust, she kissed her way up his cheek and whispered urgently in his ear.

"My apartment is only two blocks away," she said, thrilled at her own audacity. Grant's grip on her waist doubled, and he devoured her ear, melting her into a pool of hormones and quivers. Her breath came short and fast, and her vision went swimmy.

Or we can just make out here all night, she thought, the distance between this blessed lamp and her bed seemingly impossible to traverse in such a state.

After a few moments of furtive kisses, Grant pulled himself together, raising his head to regard her. His face was transformed. No one had ever looked at her like that. Such hunger. For her. The endorphins coursing through her veins would not allow her to think of how impossible it was.

Taking his silence as acceptance, she reluctantly turned from his scrumptious face and began walking, pulling him along by both hands, one in hers and one fast upon his waist. Their fingers were laced on his far side, and she looped her arm around his body to keep them together, her forearm registering the tight bulge of his ass beneath the slacks. Her imagination threw off its chains as they walked wordlessly through the night city, every breath a withheld kiss, burning for the fantasy to come, so close, so painfully close...

At her door, Grant's will broke down, and he pulled her to him, his tongue diving deep between her lips as she fought for air, gripping his arms in a desperate attempt not to buckle from the ferocity of his passion. The kiss went on forever, and her hips twisted involuntarily, scooching forward to rub her thighs against his. He groaned feverishly at the motion, and opened his eyes, pulling back to take the temperature of her desire. It could not have blazed hotter. Kylie's green eyes were alive with her need for him, a need she had never dreamed conceivable.

Tearing her gaze away, she fumbled for the keys, deep in her coat pocket. With supreme effort, she pivoted in his arms, put in the key, and unlocked the door. His breath scorched her neck even as they crossed the threshold. He could not pull away from her, and the realization sent lightning through her body. She heard his foot close the door behind them, and what remained of her resistance was shattered.

Kylie pressed her round ass up against his crotch, reaching back to caress his hips, gyrating upon the rock-hard bulge now sandwiched between her buttocks, their flesh separated only by thin layers of fabric. Her breath caught as she felt his hands slide up her soft tummy, rising to cup her full breasts. The sensation of his hands kneading and stroking her tender orbs lit up the cavernous warehouse of her sexual longing, glowing brightly now after being closed off for so many years.

All the trashy love scenes she'd ever read came flooding through her mind. Anything could happen, she thought in wonder, as her nipples tingled beneath his nimble digits. Anything I want.

I want to be your dream girl, Grant, her heart called. I want to make you come harder than you ever imagined you could.

A memory of Ken's brevity inside her flashed by, and she fought a surge of fear. Grant's domination of her pussy, when at last it happened, was a thing to be savored. Recalling a few key bits of received sexual wisdom catalogued from years of one-handed reads, Kylie made a decision.

With a slinky sexiness that she thrilled to discover she possessed, Kylie slithered around to face her lover. His hands did not cease their hungry motions, traveling down her arched back and sliding smoothly over her shimmying derriere. She shivered, but was steadfast, kissing him hard while her fingers unbuttoned his shirt before ripping off the tie that bound his supple neck. It landed on the floor, and she tossed her glasses upon its silken ribbon.

Grant's firm chest and belly glowed hotly against her hands, and she explored his torso eagerly as her mouth moved down his lower lip, across his chin, and onto his throat, caressing the sweet bulge of his Adam's apple with her fevered lips. Kylie descended relentlessly, tasting her lover's chest, flicking his nipples with her evil tongue. Grant had caught her drift now, and his hands slid gratefully up her back. She moaned as she felt his fingers touch the base of her head, lacing themselves through the strands of her fiery red mane.

Yes, she thought. Guide me. Take me to your treasure.

Blissfully, she felt him easing her head down his belly. As smoothly as possible, her legs bent until she was on her knees before him, an offering on the altar of his manhood. Her tongue teased the soft skin around his navel, and one hand dipped below her chin...below the buckle of his belt.

Grant's bulge was tremendous, and she grasped it through his thin pants, eliciting a heavenly groan that traveled from his lungs down through his belly, vibrating her tongue, sending shock waves through her spine. Greedily, she made short work of the belt and zipper. With a satisfying thunk, her lover's pants dropped to his ankles.

In the same moment, the warm, throbbing heft of Grant's cock bobbed up, smacking thickly against her neck. Kylie's blood roiled as she basked in his body's desire for her, but she maintained her grip on control, kissing his belly, moving her hands down now to touch the base of his prodigious package.