You Can't Unring a Bell, Son

Author's Foreward: A story built around a single sentence idea that makes its appearance near the exact middle. I kept adding words before this sentence and after it until it made sense as a story, and then I turned it over to Kynhalis to edit and they fixed everything.

Be aware that the story does NOT contain explicit sex. It is very much built around sexual tension and explicitly sexual content -- both thoughts and conversations -- but I left the "Put Tab A in Slot B" section to the imagination. I felt it contains way too much eroticism to allow for placement in "Non-Erotic," but some readers have had a problem with this story being placed in "Erotic Couplings." Stop here if that bothers you, but if you like the sexual tension that brings two people together and can handle that some mystery is ok to be left to the imagination, then READ ON!

Originally published: 25 Sep 2021. Last updated: 12 Apr 2022.

-----

We had an early start to the day as the client contingent came in from Europe and wanted to meet at 6 am. They were here to see the results of the last eight weeks of intense design and prototyping for their custom office furniture -- what would become a 4,000-piece order for us if we could make them happy.

I head the Manufacturing Department. Sabine heads the Design Department. Together, she and I led the briefing and fielded the endless questions that went with it with the support of a handful of members from our two departments. Going into the meeting, I would have put 2-to-1 odds against a go decision. During the meeting, I could tell we were in a good spot with our preparations and progress and how we were handling the questions from the old man and his staff. At that point, I had us at even money. At the end of four hours, we had a go for production on the preferred prototype and twice as many units as initially contracted. It appeared that they had decided to open a second hub office sometime in the previous few weeks. Goddamn, it was a great feeling to close out that meeting with a hell of a win.

On the way out of the door, as everyone in both firms was shaking hands, congratulating each other, and making small talk as we said goodbyes, I caught Sabine's eye from across the room. She was glowing and had a smile on her face from ear to ear. I winked, falling back on our ability to silently understand each other: You did good, girl. She winked back: Not so bad yourself. It was only a split second we shared conspiratorially as we were both immediately pulled back into handshakes, congratulations, and goodbyes.

-----

Thirty minutes later, I walked to her office to see if she was available for a quick debriefing. Both of our teams had some action items to complete in the next two weeks if we were going to hit the contract date and we needed to sort them out immediately. I didn't want to wait until after lunch if I didn't have to.

Her assistant nodded and motioned to Sabine's office as I walked by. I was a regular so I knew the sign language. She's in there and available to meet with you now. I turned the corner and saw Sabine pumping her fist and doing a quiet jig next to her drafting table as she stared out the window.

I cleared my throat.

She stopped immediately, but when she turned and saw it was me, she beamed. I'm not sure I had ever seen her happier. "Nailed it!" she said confidently.

She came and gave me a hug. A deep and intimate embrace between two people that had just made it through something together. She smelled like cinnamon and anise and a half dozen other spices that blended together as I breathed in her scent.

"Congratulations on a job well done, Ms. Brandt."

"There's a lot of you and me...and our people...in this line of furniture, Cory." She had paused at the "you and me" part and then added our staff as an afterthought, it felt. What in the world did that mean? Or had I imagined it?

She continued, "I could never have done this myself and you know it."

"I do. I guess then I should congratulate myself, too." We both smiled. I pointed to the door and held up my pad with action items on it. "Are you in a rush to start lunch or can we debrief now?"

Sabine walked to the door and told her assistant she could head off to lunch. Just before she closed the door, I could already see other folks on their way out. I sat in one of the organically shaped wooden chairs in front of her desk, expecting her to sit in her comfy chair, prop her feet up on the desk, and stare out the window as we talked. I never understood why she did it, but it was her routine. Instead, she surprised me when she pulled up the other chair in front of her desk and sat right next to me.

"Show me what you wrote down," she said almost in my ear. She was sitting really close to try to read my notes. Now, I'll say that this is not an altogether unusual thing as she and I don't necessarily have too big of a hang-up about being physically close to each other, but she was really, really close right now. As she leaned over the armrest, I felt her breasts brush against my arm. I shifted away involuntarily and when I looked at her, she was smirking. She looked back at the pad and so did I.

Now, another thing that needs to be said here that might explain a little of my reaction is about how she looked today. She's a shortish and very cute brunette with a body that is more voluptuous than athletic. Her smile is infectious and her high cheekbones make it so that she can wear her longish hair 50 different ways and look good in them all. Today, though, she was dressed to impress. Her black pencil skirt was tight and her off-white blouse was cut low and was sheer enough to provide the impression of what was likely a dark blue bra underneath. She had blue heels to match (I assumed they matched anyway) which got her within a few inches of my height.

Right now, though, she had her legs crossed and one of those heels was dangling precariously off her toes. Her arm closest to me was propped on the armrest of my chair and her hand seemed to be playing with her hair. Her other arm was crossed in front of her, pointing to my pad, and she was saying something to me, but I really couldn't concentrate. She was pushing her tits together as she talked -- whether or not she knew it -- and I could almost see straight down to her toes out of my peripheral vision.

Damn.

"Sabine, what is going on?" I shifted away from her in my seat and turned to look at her.

She had a half-grin on her face. "What are you talking about?"

"I know your routine with these guys. I've watched it a few times now, so I know you get dressed up and play the Old Man. He's got a thing for you and you keep him eating from the palm of your hand."

"I do not." I stared at her with a disbelieving expression. After a long pause staring at each other in silence, she relented. "Okay, Katie found out he has a thing for women with raven hair and big tits." I went stone-faced. "What? You don't think I have big tits?"

I was sure I turned red at that. "I hadn't noticed." Now it was her turn to stare at me with a disbelieving expression. I had definitely noticed every day we'd worked together. She had a top-shelf that would have made Jayne Mansfield jealous. "Anyway, why do I have the feeling you're running the same game down on me right now?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Jealous much? I think you're imagining things. Let's just get through your list so you can take your suspicious mind somewhere else."

I focused back on my notes. When I asked her to explain the design change she had agreed to, she tried explaining it, but I still couldn't visualize it. I asked her to sketch it and handed her my pen, but I knew she'd decline like she always did. Sabine was very picky about what she drafted with.

She stood up and leaned across her desk to grab one of her own pencils. It was a wildly exaggerated motion that seemed to take a second or two longer than it needed to. Had her ass had been put on display for me just then? I burned the image in my brain: Sabine bent over her desk.

She sat back down and within a minute completed a sketch on the top of the page that illustrated the change to the front edge of the production desktop perfectly. All I could really see when I looked at it, though, was the image of her full ass bent over it.

She poked my arm, "Earth to Cory. You there?"

"What?" I hadn't been registering any sounds after she went for that pencil.

"You spaced out. Are you okay? You look pretty flushed." Why was she smirking as she said that?

Her smallish office has suddenly become as swelteringly hot as a sweatbox. I wasn't thinking clearly. Damn, damn, damn. We had to get through these action items now. I continued, even though something in my brain was saying, "Do this later."

"It is a bit warm in here." She was pouting her lips and fanning herself with the edge of her blouse, giving me peeks at the tops of her breasts.

That was it. I was sure that she was fucking with me. I didn't need this. At all.

"Goddamn it, Sabine. Cut it out. I thought I was just reading something into it, but come on. This teasing shit is too much."

"Cory, come on. I'm just playing around. I'm in a good mood. We got a yes on the biggest job we've ever had. So I'm flirting a little. What's the harm with a little flirting? All I was trying to do is get a reaction from you. You're like a statue. A statue that blushes. It's adorable, actually."

"If it will satisfy your curiosity of what the 'blushing statue' is thinking, then, yes, I can see how men find you somewhat attractive. Now, can we finish this so I can start getting the production line set up?"

It was getting hotter in the room now. I was getting flustered, and unfortunately, my cock was reacting to her flirtations. I kept the pad placed strategically so that my erection wouldn't be noticed. Of course, this ended up being my undoing when Sabine snatched the pad from me playfully, "Okay, then, let's see what's...left..." She noticed. Then she tossed the pad onto her desk and sneered at me haughtily, saying, "Well, well, well. Look who decided to join us."

She looked me right in the eyes, put her arms on my chair's armrest, leaned forward in a way that had to have been done to accentuate her cleavage (which was already impressive without the help), and said, "With you and me and your boy there and my two girls here, we could have quite the party, don't you think?" She was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

And, then--I just lost my shit.

"Fuck!" I could tell my face was flushed and I was feeling really steamed at how embarrassed she was making me feel. "I've asked you to stop, but you just keep on. You wouldn't be doing this if you had the slightest inkling of how this could end up." My voice had dropped an octave to what was probably a growl and likely was still a lot louder and menacing than it should have been.

And then I said it...

"Keep on, Sabine, and you're going to end up bent over that desk again. But, this time, with your skirt around your waist and me in your ass up to my balls..."

Shitshitshitshit. What the fuck did I just say?

Everything went perfectly still. Sabine's jaw went slack. Her eyes darted around the room. Then, she looked like she wanted to say something as her mouth opened, but then just as promptly shut.

The room was perfectly quiet, in reality. In my mind, though, the echoes of my words threatened to deafen me. ...bent over that desk...me in your ass...

"Get out," she whispered to the floor.

"Sabine, Christ, I'm..."

"GET THE FUCK OUT!!!" she screamed, this time staring upwards and clenching her hands into tight fists. It was clear by the fury on her face, her rigid posture, and the tone she used that this was the final word. I was up in an instant but still trying to think of something -- anything -- I could say as I was leaving.

As soon as I was out of her office, I turned just in time to see her leap up and slam the door in my face. She hadn't looked at me even for an instant once those words came out of my mouth.

As I walked back to my office, I kept hearing my grandfather's voice from a summer twenty-five years earlier in my head over and over again: You can't unring a bell, son.

We had a great little company, and we were doing terrific things. But most of that success was due to how well Sabine and I got along and how we directed our departments in a similar manner to each other. Our collaboration was contagious and our groups worked with their counterparts the same way. I also happened to consider her worthy of true friendship -- someone that I was willing to show what was behind the everyday mask -- even though we just spent time together at work. Now, all that was gone if I couldn't unring that bell somehow.

Jesus Fucking Christ. Why in the hell had I let such a great morning turn into such a shit biscuit?

-----

When I went to check on Sabine later that day, I lost all hope. The lights had been turned off, her computer was shut down, and her purse was nowhere to be seen. She was gone. I got to the window just in time to see her walk across the parking lot, get in her car, and speed away.

Shit.

I had made a colossal mess of the day and now, there was going to be no fixing it. I wasn't going to try explaining myself to her over the phone. It would need to be face-to-face.

I turned and started for the door but stopped dead when I saw Sabine's assistant standing in the doorway.

She spoke first. "Ms. Brandt said to give this to you after she left," and held out a small stationery envelope.

"Okay, thanks." I took the envelope from her. She eyed me as I contemplated whether I truly wanted to open it.

"Thank you, Katie. I have it from here." She harrumphed in mock disappointment and left me alone in the office, illuminated only from the light of the late afternoon sun.

I tore open the envelope and read in Sabine's impossibly neat drafter's script, "You started this, so you'd better be ready to finish it. Bring a bottle of wine, a box of condoms, and your 'A' game. I'm going to fuck the living shit out of you tonight. 1114 Crescent Hill Cove. XOXOX, Sabine"

Jesus, I sure as hell hadn't expected that. Did the bell need unringing at all? In my mind, I could see my long-dead grandfather smiling at me.

In the blink of an eye, though, I was already on to the more important issue: What's a nearby store that sells both good wine and condoms in the same place?

-----

Finding her house wasn't very difficult, though it was a lovely little garden home completely identical to all the other garden homes in the neighborhood except for the address branded into the façade. I parked my car in the driveway just behind hers and was now gathering up everything from the trunk that I had gotten in Ralph's. I slung the sack over my shoulder, tucked the oversized part behind my back so it wouldn't be seen immediately, shut the trunk, and then noticed Sabine staring at me from the porch.

It should be said here, before going further, that the majority of my time getting to this point was spent debating whether Sabine's intentions were the same as what I read. Or what I put in my head that I read. What was about to happen? Did she want me? Did my comments repulse her? Was it an easy way to use my own poorly worded feelings to humiliate me?

I knew the Work Sabine. We worked well together. Very well. We both anticipated each other's thoughts. It could be entirely logical to see us in lockstep on more than just work issues. On the other hand...

I went from bookend to bookend. I was anything but calm inside by this time, but I took a deep breath and held it briefly to still the roiling emotions ongoing inside me.

She was still dressed in her work clothes -- the very same ones that had contributed to my head being scrambled earlier in the day -- and was leaning casually against one of the white wooden posts supporting the porch roof. I started from my car down the sidewalk toward the path up to her house. Her face was expressionless. Her demeanor, unfathomable. My anxiety about this being a trap intensified. As soon as I got halfway to her, I stopped. The bag on my shoulder seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. The items inside could have been made of granite as inappropriate as they seemed at this moment.

Which tiger did I have by the tail here?

"Hey, Sabine," I offered.

She crossed her arms. "Hey, yourself. What's in the bag?"

Deadpan. She was having fun with me, one way or another. It was a strange thing to happen considering the circumstances, but at this point, I relaxed. I didn't know where this was going, but I recognized the woman talking to me was the exact same one that I knew from work -- sounding tough while playing it very cool. The realization helped me get out of my head and focus.

"You asked for wine. I didn't know what you planned for tonight, so I brought a South African Shiraz and an Austrian Eiswein."

Did I see her react to that? It took a moment for her to reply. "Anything else in there?" She eyed me intensely. Her eyes seemed to sparkle in the early evening light.

I had her at that. I reached around to the item that was too big for the bag and was hidden behind me -- a long, narrow, clear plastic box. I pulled it out and held it in front of me as I approached.

"A moth orchid. I thought it would make the table."

She did smile at that remark. Score.

She looked at the flowers and then back at me. She shook her head ever so slightly as she spoke, "Damn. I didn't expect that. I wanted to give you a hard time about that other item in there, but I couldn't keep a straight face. I love orchids. Bastard."

"Other item? What other item? My 'A' game?" By this time, I had climbed two of the three steps of her porch and was eye to eye with her and close enough to smell her perfume for the second time today. I handed the plant to her and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry for what I said to you this morning. And especially for how I said it."

"I'm not." She turned and started toward the door. "If you hadn't, we wouldn't be talking right now." I followed her inside to the kitchen. Whatever she was making smelled good enough to distract me from my baser thoughts.

"I'm finishing Turkish pork chops and risotto now, so that red is perfect. Will you help me with the salad after you open it?" She rummaged briefly through a drawer before handing me a corkscrew.

"Of course." I watched her as I spent the next minute opening the bottle. She was a whirlwind, checking the oven (giving me a perfect view of her curvy butt as she bent over -- an act I was sure was quite deliberate and meant for me to appreciate), checking the stove, unboxing the plant, setting it on the smallish dinner table, adjusting its position until suitable, and then setting two places of silverware. By the time I had uncorked the bottle, she was at the refrigerator removing items for the salad. I placed the bottle on the table to allow it to breathe until we were ready for it. By the time my hands were washed and dried, she had utensils ready for me.

"You get to chop." Pointing to several piles of freshly washed vegetables, she said, "These all end up in the bowl there. Big pieces or small, it's up to you. As long as you don't cut off a finger, you can't really mess it up." She turned off the oven and stove. "We're all set as soon as you do that." She started pulling out the plates, salad bowls, and wine glasses as she spoke.

I shook my head, "You're a machine. I feel like I'm moving in slow motion compared to how much you've just gotten done in the last hour." She started plating the pork chops and risotto for both of us. I looked around at the parts of the house I could see. "The house looks great, too. Am I allowed to ask if it always looks like this or if you made time to clean up as well?"