Thirsty

He was standing in the doorway, back lit by the light within the room, still wet from his shower, loosely holding a towel around his waist. He looked at me, took a step back, and slowly closed the door with his free hand. Was that lust in his eyes?

My heart was racing. What had just happened? We were co-workers for chrissake. I had surprised him. It was late, and my room had no air conditioning. I was hot and restless, and in a fit, I had flung my door open on the way to the kitchen for a glass of water. I was in my tank top and board shorts, not the usual business attire he was used to seeing me wear.

In all of two seconds, I was soaking wet and not from sweating. Why did he affect me this way? He was so not my type, an aging player twenty years older than I, who was late all the time. Well maybe not all of the time, but most of the time. He was the kind of guy who annoyed me; he made me feel like I was vying for his attention when I wasn't even trying to get it. He was always pointing out the assets of this random girl and that. What girl wants to hear this? But, he was handsome in a natural, rugged sort of way - Mike Rowe without the smart ass -- ageless and all man.

I only knew how old he was because he had admitted it to me on one of our long road trips. It made him uncomfortable that I had laughed and commented that he was only nine years younger than my father. He and I had been working together for years. He was the transporter for my company. He packed our merchandise and trucked it to various venues for shows, and my job was to coordinate our exhibits. Sometimes, I drove with him and helped with set up.

We flirted more than we should, but we always maintained the boundaries. He was a gentleman and always had my back. Maybe that's what bothered me. Why was there a boundary with me and not every other girl he ever hooked up with? I was, of course, being unfair. I wouldn't have tolerated anything other than professional behavior, but, over the years, I had started wanting him to cross the line.

On this particular trip we had rented a house for the whole work crew for the week, and his and my room were across the hall from one another. I leaned against my door, still thirsty, but afraid to venture out into the hall. What if he was standing there waiting for me - dark, thick, damp hair, broad shoulders, beads of water on his chest trailing down to... Jeezus.

I crawled back into bed, even hotter and more restless, involuntarily replaying the last few moments. Having actually seen what I had only imagined was just too much. My hand drifted down, reaching the barrier of my waist band. It was absolutely ridiculous how turned on I was. I was pathetic and horny. I hated that word. "Does it make you HORNY, baby?"Austin Powers cheese.

My fingers traced my clit, and I sighed, giving into the sensations rolling over me. I followed the folds, wet, so wet. I arched my back against my hand, wanting to be filled. I needed it, needed him, in a way I never felt about anyone else. I was sure this was what it was like to be a guy - no back story, no romance, no candles - just raw, hard sex. I wanted him to bend me over - in an elevator, over my desk, against the transport van - pull up my skirt, push my panties out of the way, and drive straight into me. No foreplay, just a good old-fashioned, pounding.

I pulled my shorts down, reached around, and slid my middle finger in from behind. Not the most comfortable position, but fuck it felt so good. I groaned with the intensity of it. My other hand found my clit. I was so close already. Fuck. Now that's a word I love. F.U.C.K. He always smelled so good; it was just detergent, but a brand that was his alone. It was absolutely primal. We worked in close proximity when we did set up - climbing ladders, stretching, reaching. I'd get a whiff and my rat brain would kick in. God he smelled good. I had spent the whole day shaking off the urge to lean in closer.

A few more thrusts and flicks on my clit, and I came hard. I loved the way my finger smelled, and I licked the sweet, wet juices, imagining I was looking into his eyes. Release would have to be enough to quench my thirst for now.