by Inna Spice
(08/08/07)

My computer screen faced the window, catching all the annoying glare. To relax my eyes, I'd secretly spy under my lashes at whoever went by the always-open door of my tiny office.

One bright morning our advertising manager stood with four new sales trainees. One of them, in his thirties, looked familiar: tall, with jet-black hair and a tanned, animated face. I couldn't take my eyes off him, but I didn't want him to catch me staring.

I continued to peek, trying to remember where I might have seen him before. I couldn't recall the circumstances, but I knew I had seen his dark face: round and smiling, excited, vivid and animated, with black piercing eyes that burned through my whole being. But the where of such a memorable face was lost in the swirl of my busy life as a community reporter.

"Hello, Yana!" He boldly stuck his head into my office, with his broad smile and gleaming eyes. "I remember you. So you work here? Who could have thought I'd find you one day like this, hah? You look great! Haven't changed a bit. You look as elegant and mysterious as you did the evening you took my photos."

Photos? I photographed him? If I could only remember where and why.

"I'm Chad Denver, but I go by "Charlie" when I sing. Did you forget me already? What a shame! It's only been a couple of months...the Christmas concert at St. Mary's school for children's charity. Ring a bell? I sang and played my guitar and you were shamelessly pointing your camera in my face."

God! For a twenty-four-year-old I sure do have a terrible memory.

"Oh, yes! I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. I'm preoccupied with this story about wild horses. An important issue and due tomorrow." And I did remember; he had a sweet voice. He'd do well in the phone-sex business: Just listening to him chatter melted my insides.

"Horses won't let you free, huh? What time's your lunch?"

"I may have to work through; I brought some granola bars I can chew while I write."

"Well, let's lunch together tomorrow. You're so energetic! I miss that in people. I'll be seeing you every day, so don't be shy. Pop by my office -- two doors down to the right. Got to run before they catch me flirting. Bye!" His eyes shot a lightning bolt through me, and he disappeared as swiftly as he'd appeared.

Good luck concentrating on the horses after that. I should take a lunch break one of these days, I thought.

Suddenly the office didn't seem so dull anymore. I managed to write a few more paragraphs about wildlife that day. Then I transcribed an interview tape, trying to fight the images of Chad's radiant smile floating in my mind.

At five, I wrote a to-do list for the morning, stuffed a couple of tapes in my bag to listen to at home, and rushed down the hall. I wasn't going to look into his office, but I couldn't help a quick glance. He sat with his back to the door -- thank goodness -- talking on the phone. All I could see were wide shoulders and black wavy hair.

I wanted to bury my fingers in that hair, stick my face into it, and breathe its scent. I smiled like an idiot all the way home.

Opening the door of my apartment, I stumbled over a leather biking jacket. Oliver, my husband, was already setting the table, supper sizzling on the stove. He'd come home early to surprise me.

Oliver, my love. He was so good -- romantic and homey. Or wild and naughty. I married him because he was so hip. We biked together all summer, went skinny-dipping, and won stuffed animals at amusement parks. We made out in the woods on top of his motorcycle with me wearing nothing but my leather shorts.

"You're home, Yana. Don't look -- it's a surprise. Freshen up and have a seat. I'll bring you your glass."

I loved being served. We drank wine and savored spicy vegetables and steak, mostly in silence. Meanwhile, my imagination basked in the rays of Chad's hazy smile. Oliver noticed my unusual quiet and decided I needed a relaxing treat. He kissed and nibbled the tips of my fingers and told me to shower and come by the fireplace...naked.

Feeling spoiled and happy, I stepped into the shower and let cool water run down my face, replacing my restlessness with an eager tingling. The more I tried to get rid of Chad's image, the harder it stuck with me. I was aroused by two very different men wanting me. Or did I make it all up about Chad? Take it easy, I told myself. Watch what happens in the next few days.

Even though that decision made me feel powerful and free, I longed for a comforting masculine hug. Barely drying my skin, I hopped to the living room to find Oliver had spread our fluffiest blanket in front of the fire. He rubbed his palms together, warming them, and held a tiny bottle of aromatic oil between his knees. As I stretched my limbs, his hot hands slid along my sides and pressed my back. They swirled around my buttocks. He kneaded my thighs, patted my calves and rubbed between my toes. I giggled, and then relaxed even more, picturing Chad's big hands massaging me. I imagined he'd probably quickly flip me over to rub my breasts.

Oliver worked my shoulders and arms. He kissed my neck and whispered into my ear, asking if I wanted to turn over.

"I'm falling asleep, babe," I said. "I love you."

But he knew I needed more attention, so he continued, melting me under his magical touch; his silky, affectionate strokes made my cunt water. He lay beside me, facing my back, his body tenderly spooning with mine. His hand cupped my breast and massaged it, squeezing my nipple between his fingers. A sweet, dim pain flowed through it.

He breathed on my neck and shoulders, making me moan and gasp. Slowly he turned me over to lick my mouth with his tongue. He sucked my lips, at first gently, then rougher and more intense. With my eyes closed, I saw Chad's smile again, and his burning gaze. I opened my eyes; my handsome Oliver -- with a curly strand of sandy hair stuck to his moist forehead -- hovered above me. He slipped his swollen penis inside me, amazing me for the hundredth time with its perfect fit. The fullness of his cock ground against my walls, faster and faster, till I could no longer muffle my screams; I sank my teeth into his shoulder.

He came. My insides shuddering, I echoed his staggering eruption. Then he lowered himself onto me; I loved his weight to press me down after we came.

The next morning was unusually hot for mid-May. As soon as I got to the office I ripped off my jean jacket, leaving only my tank top on. No one would be around that early.

It wasn't even eight thirty when Chad came in, holding a music CD.

"Morning, Yana," he murmured. "Would you like to listen to this?"

"I don't think I can. The music program is disabled on my computer. I'm supposed to be working..."

"They're that strict around here? We'll just have to teach them a few lessons. You will help me, won't you?"

His voice caressed my ears. And his eyes caressed my shoulders, his fingers stroking the CD case's rim. No, all that could not be just my crazy imagination! I found myself shaking my head. Yes. My eyes sought an innocent spot to set my gaze.

"I can listen to it in my car."

"Great. Listen, they scheduled a meeting today at lunchtime. So I won't be around. Give me your e-mail, I'll write you as soon as it's over."

My phone rang: the managing editor wanted to know what time I was going to hand in my story. As I finished talking to her, Chad squeezed my shoulder and dissolved into thin air, leaving me with a sensation of emptiness where he'd touched me. I rushed to finish my assignment -- I just had to double-check a quote from an e-mail.

I opened my inbox to find two messages from Chad. He asked me about my accent, my birthday, and my zodiac sign, and who I considered my family. He told me he was a Sagittarius, which he claimed made him very sexually driven. No, really?

His messages boosted my curiosity. Even though I don't take horoscopes seriously, Sagittarius was supposedly my best match; many of my friends and exes were born in that sign. Not Oliver, though.

Later, more mail from Chad. He wrote that he was excited to learn I was Czech; he wanted to learn my language and converse with me in it. That was impressive, considering I hadn't managed to teach Oliver more than ten words in the three years we'd been together. Oliver was more of a tech guy; but sometimes I wished he showed some desire to invest a little extra effort in pleasing me.

The presence of Oliver in my life didn't scare Chad away. He wasn't exactly thrilled to know I was married, but it didn't discourage him -- it seemed to make it more challenging for him to seduce me. He wanted to know how Oliver and I were doing, whether Oliver made me happy. I told him very much so. But I knew his game and I was ready to play along.

He found an online dictionary and wrote me in Czech: I love your deep hazel eyes. I am so glad to have met you again. You just don't know how great you are. It wasn't like I hadn't heard such things from Oliver, but they were beautifully versed by a man I barely knew, in a language he didn't really know. Surely he was hinting that my husband didn't know or love me enough, and express his feelings with adequate eloquence.

My dear Oliver ranked high. He surely satisfied my needs, but Chad was deliciously tempting. I watched my door, second by second, waiting for him to appear, picturing his mischievous face, his sexy chuckle, his luminous smile. But only the empty doorframe stared back at me, cold and indifferent.

Just before leaving for home, I opened an e-mail with trembling heart and read:

Sweet Yana,

Can't wait to see you, Goddess.

His explicitness left me shaking with desire. Images ran wild in my head -- caress your divine neck. I shut my eyes. Oh, Charlie. Suck in your juices. I squeezed my legs together -- lace our bodies -- I pumped my ass, discharging the wet between my legs into my underwear.

At home, I found our apartment lifeless. I dragged myself to the bath, and after a lukewarm soak I crashed, fighting away any thoughts.

When I got to work the next morning, I found a message on my answering machine: a local artist I was supposed to photograph had rescheduled our appointment for the following week. I could have used that time to catch up on things, but was I really going to do that? Having gained a few hours of freedom I thought it was time for a little fun. I set my new Nikon ready to shoot and walked out of my office in search of adventure.

Pop by my office, it's only two doors down. And there it was, second door on the right, just a few steps in front of me. I tiptoed toward the long narrow window by the door and quickly peeked in. Chad sat in his usual position with his back to the door.

Time to play paparazzi. I checked the camera, pushed the door open, stormed into his office, and shot half-a-dozen quick frames.

"What are you doing, Yana? I never know what this woman is up to." He laughed. "Hah! I was working my ass off trying to bait you, and here you are flying right into the cage." He jumped up out of his chair. "Now it's time I photographed you."

"Wait, wait, I'm not finished yet." I changed my viewpoint several times, told him to stand still, squat, make a face, look smart, look serious, look like a goof. And then a loud buzz from the camera indicated the end of the roll.

I smiled. "Want to go for a coffee?"

He sat across the table, his eyes thoughtfully fixed upon my face. I gazed back, seeing my reflection in his big moist eyes. Could I imagine looking into them for the rest of my life? I didn't really need to. I thought about Oliver, about those deep green eyes I adored. The two men were complete opposites. One was my closest friend, another was a total stranger. One was romantic and fair, another provocative and daring.

I wanted them both, one at a time. I longed for their affection, touch, smile, scent, and conversation. In that order.

Chad laughed. "What are you thinking about?"

"That it's time we got back."

We walked to the office holding hands. For a lingering second we hugged in front of the office entrance. "See you upstairs," I said.

"Let's run away."

"We already have, in our imagination."

I sat at my desk, burning. Waves of unbearable desire attacked me. I wished I were a tiny mosquito that could quietly sit on Chad's neck and suck his blood, drink the essence of his being.

My phone rang and I reached for it. It could be my editor. "Yana speaking."

No answer.

"Hello?"

"It's just me. Wondering..." Click. Silence.

My raspberry cheeks needed ice water.

Thank goodness the hallway was empty. I sneaked across to the restroom. Water gushed into my cupped hands. I splashed my face.

I glanced at myself in the mirror, and Chad's face appeared just behind mine. He seized me; I turned around to answer his wild kiss. He was shaking with passion, holding me tight, his strong brown hands rubbing my thighs, lifting my skirt, pressing my pubic bone through my lacey shorts. I tore my lips away from his, gasping for air. He licked my neck and pushed his face into my cleavage. With his teeth he pulled down the zipper lock of my blazer, and my tits spilled out. His lips devoured my stiff nipples.

My fingers dug into his flesh, squeezing and pulling, and traveled down to find the buckle of his belt. I'd never seen a pair of pants fall away so fast. They were down and off in the restroom's corner in an instant. A large velvet cock stuck out, searching for company.

Abruptly Chad pulled away and looked into my eyes. "I have something for you," he whispered.

He pulled a small crispy black package from his chest pocket and handed it to me. I ripped it open, and out popped a purple octopus, a flexible little monster atop a condom.

I squinted at him with a smile: "You mean it?"

Chad nodded. "You'll like it, I promise."

He didn't have to tell me again. In a moment the octopus was wagging its happy little tentacles on the end of his eager cock.

Chad fingered my wet, puffy pussy, which smiled at its new purple friend. Chad lifted me onto a sink, spreading my legs wide. He carefully pulled my lips apart with his fingers to make an easy passage for the little monster. It slowly moved through the walls of its new cave.

It made a perfect fit, making a happy dance, circling, tentacles swaying and twirling. It pushed deeper, making me convulse.

I gripped Chad's shoulders. "Please, Charlie. Hold me tight."

He did. His buttocks bounced until he exploded...and became soft. He pulled out, careful not to forget the purple monster inside. He lifted me off the sink.

Suddenly, we had nothing to say to each other.

Blushing and sweaty, we fixed our clothes, washed our hands, and walked out into the hallway.

The next morning Oliver and I were supposed to drive to a cottage in the mountains to spend a weekend hiking in the wilderness, getting drunk and celebrating our anniversary in some naughty manner.

I wasn't quite sure I could manage that. My sleep was deep, black and long, like a fall into a well. I was falling, and so were large rocks, tumbling in on top of me, crushing my head, bruising and cutting my body. Choking, I noticed a rope and frantically grabbed for it. But the rope slowly grew a tiny head with flashing red eyes, wrapping around me like a snake. It twisted and jerked underneath me.

"What on earth are you dreaming?" Oliver almost rolled me off the bed trying to pull the blanket from under me. "We need to undo this mess you made."

"Mess...yes, of course," I mumbled, waking up.

"Yana, I'm going to shower. We leave in an hour," he announced. I heard the cranky edge in his voice.

I complained of a headache, so we drove in silence. I slouched in my seat, resting my forehead against the side window, trying to doze.

I woke when Oliver slammed the car door at the parking space in front of the cottage.

I watched as he took our baggage inside, his face serious and pouting. I stepped out of the car and followed him.

I threw my arms around him from the back. "Let's go see if frogs are in the lake," I whispered.

We walked hand in hand along the lakeshore, the swish of our feet through the grass unable to compete with shrilling of countless frogs. I looked in the deep dark water and wondered how many secrets it hid, how many lives it had taken...how many couples it had brought back together.

I had my camera with me and decided to take a picture. But then I remembered what was already in the camera. I walked to a trashcan in the picnic area, opened my camera, stripped out the film, and held it in my palm. It felt light, useless.

It hit the metal bottom of the can with a quiet thump.

In the afternoon I'd sneak away to a sex shop in town. Octopus condoms. Perhaps they came in blue. It was Oliver's favorite color.

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