by Ariel Graham
(04/14/10)

At 1:30 in the morning, Nate finally walked into her office and asked if she was ever coming to bed.

Kelly looked around her office and almost said, "Just give me 20 minutes and I'll -- " and realized in 20 minutes she wouldn't be any closer to ready for bed than she was now.

Nate stood there in the doorway, dark hair sleep curled around his face, pj bottoms hanging low on his lean hips. His chest was lightly furred and she loved to lay her head on his shoulder and one arm over that broad chest, her palm resting lightly on the hair there.

How long since she'd spent time doing nothing else? Abruptly all the energy went out of her. She'd just been working, head in the game, figuring out the logo for a local painting contractor. Her computer screen still bore splotches of color because color seemed important in a painting contractor's logo.

But she'd just been working, not engaged. Not in the zone where the world fell away the way it did when she painted or did graphic design for herself, the way shapes and forms and colors pulled her away from the real world and took her into a dream reality.

Gods, she thought. How long since that? A quick look around her office-cum-studio revealed all the projects, stacked, teetering, towering, colors and notes and notebooks and books, she wasn't good at keeping everything on her screen, or even on her desk or, really, in her office. She could track her graphic design business through the entire house, the logos for several companies, the pro bono for the library, the arts organization fliers, the book layout for a client, her own Web site potential because, of course, she clearly needed more work --

"Help," she said weakly to Nate. "I'm drowning." Another 20 minutes wasn't going to make any difference. Another 20 hours might.

Nate took one step into her inner sanctum, and held his hand out to her. It wasn't that Kelly had ever refused him permission to come into her office. It was more that Nate was deadly afraid of Kelly's office.

Probably thinks I'm going to put him to work, she thought. I should. Except that Nate had a job, a perfectly reasonable nine-to-five selling air time for a radio station and if the job required the occasional drink after five with a potential client, still Nate left the office at the office most of the time.

Kelly worked for herself. Which meant if she was awake, she could be working. Which lately was how things were going. When had she last gone running, or even used an elliptical machine at the gym?

She took Nate's hand and actually used it to keep her balance as she navigated over a stack of sample papers. Beautiful paper, she could easily sit down right now and lose herself in the colors and textures though she actually remembered what project the samples were for. She half turned to look down at the stack.

"Uh uh," Nate said and tugged her to him. "Turn the light out and come with me."

Kelly looked back at him, at that wide, generous mouth. His eyes were warm and she thought he had something in mind. It made it easier to turn out the light and leave her office. Nate pulled her past him by one hand, then let her go of her long enough to step back to her office and close the door. Kelly gave him a questioning look.

"Just don't want anything following you."

She smiled and took his hand again. The bedroom was warm, the windows open on the spring night. It would have been a nice day to take a run but she'd gone from project to project, getting lost in what she was doing each time.

She loved her work. That was the good thing. And the bad thing.

"What are you doing?"

He'd stepped behind her, hands on her shoulders and now Nate moved her hair aside and kissed very gently from the bone just behind her ear down her throat and across the distance between her neck and shoulder. Kelly started to turn in his arms but he held her steady, her back against him, and when he pulled her closer she felt his hard cock rigid against her ass.

"I'm going to undress you from your lovely office attire." Today it was a raggedy old sweatshirt one of them might have already used as a rag once, and old jeans. "And I'm going to give you a long massage until whatever you're working on is out of your system." He kissed her neck again and Kelly shuddered. "So what project are you working on? I need to know what I'm working with."

She sighed and leaned into him. "Farmer's market re-logo. Painting contractor logo. Arts organization fliers. Mmm. Book layout for the weight-loss doctor. Layout for a friend self-publishing a book on brain injury. A pro bono for Community Cats -- "

He paused, then pulled the sweatshirt over her head, released her bra with more finesse than Kelly ever managed, and circled his hands around to cup her breasts. His fingers flicked her nipples, which hardened instantly under his hand. He pinched, began to tug them. Kelly moaned and leaned harder against him.

"We're not hurting," Nate said. "You don't have to take on so much. Is that why you're working so late?"

His breath on her neck, just at the top of her spine, made her almost incapable of answering his question. It felt so good, warm and soft and his fingers hard, pinching on her nipples. A pulse started between her legs. She wriggled, wanting to be free of her jeans.

"No. I'm on deadline on a couple projects but mostly the work's out there and I love it. I want to do everything. I want to do it all. If there's work, I want to do it." She turned in his arms and laced her hands behind his head, laid her cheek against his chest. His heartbeat was quick, his cock very hard.

"But everything is always on deadline," he said into her hair. Not exactly pillow talk. Kelly's mind had started to shift from work to play.

"Because there's so much," she murmured, starting to drop soft, wet kisses along his collar bone, licking a little as she moved to the hollow of his throat, under his Adam's apple. Nate swallowed hard.

"But that's my point. You don't have to do so much." One hand rubbed her back. One came up and tangled in her hair and kept her from dropping lower.

"I know. I just -- like it. And if there's a slow spot, I still have work. Or bank."

"Everything can't always have the same deadline," he said, but he'd distracted himself, pulling her jeans open, tugging them down over her hips awkwardly until she took over from him and stripped them off herself.

"No. It's just." Just what? It was getting hard to think. She stretched out on the bed, face down, and Nate straddled her hips, hard cock lining up along her ass, sliding into her crack but he was already beginning a slow, deep rub, his hands on her neck, and she wanted, the way she always wanted, everything at once: Relaxation and massage, excitation and sex, delight and cuddle and dreams.

"It's hard to get started," she said, and knew Nate didn't understand that. Nate's job had some creative aspect but Kelly's, once she'd gone through the networking phase and found the client, and gone the administrative phase and the contract phase, was all creative. All inspiration. All subjective.

And all scary. Each job held the potential to fail and it wasn't cold hard facts or whether a computer could be taught to do X or if the IRS liked the way she had put together a tax return. It wasn't serving food or making coffee. It was inspiration and art, putting a piece of herself and her creativity out for someone to judge and accept or reject and pay her for or fire her over. The fact that she was good, and that most of her jobs ended in more jobs, never mattered -- just as every time she started a new painting she couldn't remember how she'd done it last time, every new project was a challenge. A threat. A mystery.

"Well, something needs to change," Nate said. "You can't keep going like this. I never see you. And you never sleep."

Or run. Or eat. Or read. Or watch a movie and relax, she thought.

Except now. His hands slid lower on her back, digging and releasing, finding what felt like handfuls of muscle and rubbing nearly to the point of pain, then smoothing it until she relaxed and sighed in pleasure. Kelly stretched, languid, joyous, her head turned to one side, arms under the pillow, the pulse between her legs growing more insistent. Nate moved down, working her lower back and then the muscles in her ass, rolling and rubbing, even her ass was tense, and she longed for him to work calves and forearms at the same time she wanted his hands --

There. Just as hard. Rubbing into her cunt, spreading her juices from inside to out. Rubbing to almost the point of pain, pressing to find muscle and pleasure and Kelly wanted to raise up under him, tilt her hips so she could get a better angle, but Nate knelt over her legs, keeping her down, rubbed along her cunt lips, fingers slipping hard and rhythmic inside her, and she moaned, pleasure starting to flood her. Her body flushed, skin going warm, and he moved his hand forward, rubbed hard and long strokes against her clit and rings of pleasure exploded, all the throbbing coming together in one spot and instantly radiating out, pleasure going out through her body like rings of water at the spot a rock was thrown. Her muscles tensed briefly, seconds of rigidity as she rode the sensation, breath held, body tight.

Then everything tumbled loose and she spilled against him as Nate slid down to one side of her. She reached one arm up over his chest, straining the shoulder but too limp to care, and Nate snuggled close to her on his side, one arm around her in return, his face close to hers.

"This is how you should be," he said, and through waves of sleep coming hard to her, she asked, "Is there anything you -- "

Nate, smiling against her throat, kissed her gently. "Not tonight. Tonight is just you. Just sleep." He kissed the end of her nose and she roused herself enough for him to turn onto his back and pull her over, her head in the spot she thought she'd worn into his shoulder. "Tomorrow we'll figure out the rest."

She was asleep before she could ask what he meant.

She woke in a panic, because the sun was in the wrong spot for seven a.m. and she didn't have time to oversleep. Kelly shot up, trying to focus on the clock radio across the room and beside her, Nate stirred and said, "Relax. It's Saturday."

Kelly lay back, heart still pounding. Saturday or not, she could do a little work today, but there was also a trip to the farmer's market and Saturday errands they ran together and a movie out with Tim and Jen in the evening. Kelly loved Saturdays because she only required herself to do a little work. Sundays -- every Sunday lately -- usually started lazy and happy, sharing the paper and drinking coffee, sometimes one of them making brunch, something like baked French toast or some kind of Mexican food, but by two p.m. she was starting to think about the coming week, by three she was making a To Do list and by four she was working again and dinner was often later than it should be, the same way it was on week nights.

So best to get up, she thought, still half asleep, and get the Saturday hours of work done so she could enjoy the rest of it until some time mid-afternoon Sunday.

But when she shifted and started to rise, Nate stopped her.

"It's Saturday," he said again. "Relax."

When she started to protest, he stopped her mouth with kisses, long and deep. Kelly lay back in his arms and Nate rose above her, cradling her, kissing her mouth, her cheeks, her ears, the sides of her neck. His hands traced slowly down her body, sending shudders through her, and Kelly held on to his broad, strong back until she locked her legs around his calves and then she slid her hands down his body and found his cock. She stroked, long and slow, the same speed Nate kissed and licked, and slowly they both rotated until his tongue lapped down her belly, over her mons, separated her and teased her clit, making it harder than it had been. One hand played between her legs, dipping inside her, spreading her wetness, and Kelly in return kissed her way to the head of Nate's cock, then teased the head with her tongue, darting around the outside, dipping the tip of her tongue into the salty, glistening tip, before finally wetting her lips and sliding her mouth all the way down, taking him as deep into her throat as she could.

Nate thrust slowly, then, in and out of her mouth, and at the same time his tongue slid inside her, taking the same rhythm, until they fucked each other with faces and fingers, mouths sucking, Kelly's fingers wrapped around the base of Nate's cock as she shortened her strokes, Nate's fingers sunk deep into her pussy as he concentrated on her clit, sucking and tonguing until she arched against him. For an instant he only rested in her mouth while waves of pleasure fired through her and she made soft noises against him. Shuddering down, she sucked in earnest and Nate's hips took up a rhythm, faster now, while he found his own release.

They spilled across each other, moving but not quite parallel, her head ended up on his stomach, her legs curled down his body. Nate dropped a lazy, contented arm across her body, holding her against him. Early sunlight fell across them and they slept, content, time passing.

"So," he said when she pulled the flamingo-covered shower curtain back.

Kelly, who hadn't known he was in the hot, steamy bathroom with her, jumped.

The flamingo shower curtain had been a joke, Nate's sister had initially said something about lawn flamingos and picket fences when her flirting, love-'em and leave-'em brother fell in love at age 34. Nate had threatened a pack of children and a minivan and other things no one had much believed, but the flamingoes became a theme for the first few years. Eventually they'd weeded out the more obvious offenders, like the flamingo margarita glasses and the flamingos actually meant to perch on the lawn. The remainder now lived in the bathroom and dictated a somewhat tropical decor there. Kelly reached for a pink towel. "What's up?"

Because Nate held a spiral notepad and a cheap pen.

"I'm here to help you make your To Do list," he said, and smiled what should have been a winning smile.

Kelly froze. Nate had his own work. She had hers. They shared almost everything in their lives -- friends, the last piece of pie, good books, the best times -- but Kelly didn't play well with others when it came to being told what to do. Or even suggested or hinted at what to do.

That was part of the why behind working for herself.

She moved past him to the sink, wrapped the towel around herself, and started combing her hair. "I'm not sure this is such a good idea," she said.

"Because it's working so well for you the way things are?" he asked. No bite to his voice, but she bristled. The phrasing was the type that made it hard to argue with the statement, the interrogatory as statement that both demanded response and assured its content.

When she didn't answer right away -- it was also the kind of question Kelly thought could be given an annoyed eyebrow and ignored -- he said, "I don't want to take over anything. You know what you're doing and how to."

When she glanced at him in the mirror he sat on the edge of the tub behind her, hands spread in a show of reasonableness. She frowned, but didn't interrupt.

"It's deadlines that get you."

"I haven't missed a single -- " she started, her voice going up instantly.

"No, you haven't. But what else have you missed?" And before she could answer, he went on. "When's the last time you didn't work at least a few hours both days of the weekend? Or took an unscheduled day off midweek?"

"Well, I don't -- " she started, turning from the sink, but Nate kept going.

"You've said it's fear. You take too long to start. If you work better under pressure, I understand. If you work better with a finite amount of time, so you don't feel overwhelmed, I understand that, too. But you're damned good at what you do, which is why you're in demand. Which is why you have so much work. Which makes you panic more."

"Which makes me stall more," she said, and put down the comb. "Thanks, Nate, you're a bunch of sunshine this morning." All true, maybe, but he'd just ruined this Saturday. Maybe the way she worked wasn't perfect, but she kept it going. She hadn't lost any clients because of it, and she did work better with one week to produce rather than three.

"Not the point," he said, and stood as if he meant to hug her.

"But the effect," she said, holding up a hand against him.

"Actually, I meant this to be the effect," he said, and held up the notepad again.

Kelly sighed and went back to combing her hair. "Look, Nate, I make To Do lists every week. I try to schedule in time for my own painting and time for us, and I do prioritize. Some things just take longer than I expect. Or I think of something better for the project. Or -- "

"Or you don't start in time to begin with," he said, nodding. Daring her to argue.

She didn't argue. She just said, "Writing it down doesn't change that."

And now, abruptly, almost alarmingly, he grinned. "Exactly! Give the girl a gold star!"

Kelly raised her eyebrows. "What?"

"You, my sweet, my dear, operate in a system of -- " He stopped, and frowned.

"A system of?"

"Um. That was going somewhere. Well. It's negative. It's not checks and balances, but you're definitely not getting balance."

"Thanks a lot." She turned back to the mirror.

"Carrot and stick," Nate said suddenly.

Maybe if she ignored him, he'd go away. "I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about," she said.

"And you should. Carrot and stick is how you get the horse to pull the carriage."

Warily, she nodded.

"The stick is to beat the horse and make it move. Works," he said, reaching out as if he meant to slap her on the flank. Kelly moved fractionally and glared him into submission. "Carrot is the reward. Hold the carrot out, um -- "

"On a stick," she supplied.

"And the horse thinks it can reach the treat and keeps going forward."

"First off, the horse doesn't actually get the carrot, so the reward is a lie. Second off, I'm not a horse. I have promised myself all manner of rewards but we run out of money or you end up going out without me that day or I just forget. Or -- something," she finished lamely.

"That's where I come in," Nate said, and grinned.

"You're wielding the stick? I'm not that gullible." She moved her bottom further out of range.

"With me," Nate said, sliding his arms around her. "Providing." He leaned down and kissed her neck, nibbled the edge of her jaw, her earlobe. "The incentive." Another kiss. His arms slid down to her waist. "The goal." His hands cupped her ass and drew her against him. "The reward."

Kelly grinned up at him. "The carrot?" She moved her hands between them and down the front of his body.

"Hands off the prize, lady. You haven't done anything yet."

Kelly moved back. "Not playing, then. The idea of only --"

"Not only. Hear me out." He lifted her effortlessly and set her on the counter, then leaned in between her legs. "Also. In addition to. And just that."

He'd lost her again. "Just what?"

"You. Exploding. Whatever it takes. Whatever you want. You're the horniest woman I've ever known, even if after marrying you I'm not supposed to admit to ever having known any others. You're sexy, you're hot, and you're always, always -- let go of the carrot, lady."

"I'm seeing possibilities," Kelly said.

"Yeah, but you have to earn a prize."

"Maybe I want to make certain the prize is worth it. Test drive the merchandise."

"You're mixing your metaphors."

"Mmm," Kelly said, and pulled him against her.

When they got up again on Saturday he explained his idea to her. Her To Do list would set the stage. Routine tasks didn't count. She protested. He pointed out he wasn't made of steel. Her week could be ranked by the potential of each project to cause fear and -- loathing? She suggested, and didn't move fast enough. This time he swatted her on the ass. "Fear and procrastination."

Together they'd work out how long she actually needed, or at least wanted, per project. They'd give numerical value to each of her procrastinating behaviors.

"I don't get it," Kelly said.

"Simple. If you bake cookies instead of doing your work, that's not as bad as doing something stupid like playing computer Mahjong."

"I don't think I've ever made cookies instead of working," Kelly said thoughtfully.

"I know," he said, wounded. "But, I mean, what's usually the most time consuming way to procrastinate? What do you do the most?"

"Look for work," Kelly said promptly. "I troll the lists and check my Web site and sign up for network lunches. I've found some jobs that way, but most I got word of mouth."

"From clients whose projects you'd finished."

She nodded. Blushed, but nodded.

"But some of that you do need to do. Right? Web site? Networking?"

"But not while I'm doing the actual work," she said, getting the idea finally. "So if I check my site twice a week, say Monday and Thursday, say, with routine updates and suck no more than 20 minutes -- "

"And if you keep to that schedule -- "

"And I don't use it to avoid working on what I'm apparently afraid I'm going to fuck up?"

"You get so many points. And points are good for prizes."

"Show me some of the prizes," Kelly said.

"You're not trusting. But demanding. And I'm sorry, but you've worn me out for now."

"Umm. So if I meet two early deadlines in a day, what will you do?"

Nate grinned. "Start banking your points?"

"Try again." And when he didn't, she said, "You have lips and fingers and mouth and an entire basket of toys under the bed."

"You mean," he said, pulling her over as she tried to get up and get dressed and trapping her in the circle of his arms. "That you'd feel this was enough?" His hands moved down the front of her body, slid between her legs, still slick with want and their mingled wetness. He found her clit already hard under his hand and began to stroke and pinch and rub and tug and Kelly, leaning against him, drew a shuddering breath. Everything in her office seemed to hammer outward at her, and she closed her eyes and thought, A little. I'll just do a little work today, and then the orgasm started like a wave and she rode it upward.

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