to six and everyone starts to leave, and for the first time in months, I shut off my computer and get my bag and leave too. I have to. If I don’t, I’ll be in that chair in his office, desperately trying to masturbate away the tingling ache that I’ve had between my thighs all bloody day. And I don’t want to do that. All of a sudden, what I’ve been doing for the past few weeks feels wrong, and I can’t work out why.
When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I bump straight into Ethan and Cal. Shit. Shit. Talk about bad timing. I think about ignoring them and going straight home, but there’s no way to do that without looking rude, and anyway, they’re both looking at me with obvious curiosity.
‘Leaving early tonight, Tasha?’ Cal asks me. God, he’s an arrogant bastard. He’s good at his job though, I have to give him that. Clients love him, particularly the women.
‘No,’ I reply.
‘We’re going for a drink,’ Ethan tells me, his voice gentle. ‘Do you want to come with us?’
And because he asks, and because of the way he asks, I find myself nodding. ‘Okay.’ I have to act like everything is normal, like nothing happened earlier. If the men are going to the pub for a drink after work, that’s what I have to do too. Everyone knows that just as much work goes on over a pint as it does in the office. A sudden anxiety scratches at me, wondering how many of these informal meetings I’ve missed when I’ve been in the office.
Cal leads the way, hands tucked in his pockets, long legs swinging at a casual pace. The pavement is narrow, and I’m forced to fall behind. Ethan brings up the rear. I can feel him behind me, feel the prickle of his gaze on my back and I want to look at him, but I don’t. I want to know what he’s thinking. We reach the pub and Cal pushes the door open and steps inside. He holds the door for me, and I put my hand to it, but when he lets go it’s heavier than I expect and it swings back on me. Then Ethan is there.
He puts his hand against the door, just above my head, but he doesn’t push it open. I’m stood on the step and he is stood on the pavement, and he’s slouching slightly, and I can’t seem to breathe as our gazes lock and he looks down at me. And his mouth, it’s just there. It’s just right there, and no-one can see, and there’s a moment, and I take it.
I lean forwards and touch my mouth to his.
Electricity arcs though my body like a jolt from a power socket and I jerk back. ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Sorry.’ I set my shoulder to the door and shove it open and march into the pub, clutching my bag tightly. Cal is at the bar, and I make my way towards him.
‘What do She-Devils drink?’ he asks me. ‘I was thinking babies’ blood, but I’m not sure they have that here.’
‘I’ll have tonic and lime,’ I say. I reach for my purse and pull out a tenner before he can stop me. ‘My round.’
Two pints and the tonic and lime are plonked on the bar in front of us. When Ethan reaches across to take his drink, his cuff skates across my arm, but I hold it together. I have to act normal, act like this is okay, act like I’m not aching with lust simply from breathing the same air as him.
We find a table at the far end of the pub, next to the quiz machines, and sit down. The two of them talk about a client they saw today, about the football, about some party that Cal is throwing at his house at the weekend, and then he gets up and goes over to play on the quiz machine, leaving me with Ethan.
I don’t know what to say. We’re not friends. We work together. We sit in awkward silence for a long moment, as I try not to watch his hands and not to think about them on me, but the heat inside me is growing. And the reason that the heat inside me is growing is because Ethan’s thigh is touching mine. There isn’t much room at the table, so we are sat close together on the hard bench seat, and a moment ago he moved slightly, and bingo, bodily contact. He’s sipping his pint, saying nothing, not even looking at me. But I have to put a stop to this. I have to make him understand.
‘About what happened earlier,’ I say.
‘Yes.’
‘It shouldn’t have happened.
‘No.’
‘But it did happen,’ I continue, ‘and I think we need to decide what we’re going to do about it.’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you ever talk in words of more than one syllable?’
‘Occasionally.’
God, he’s infuriating. Now I’m cross as well as horny, and I don’t like it. I pick up my glass, and I’m about to take a drink, just to stop myself from talking before I say something I’ll regret, when he leans in a little closer.
‘What do you want to do about it, Tasha?’
I want to do it again. I want to do it again, and I want to do more. I want to do all sorts of filthy things with him. ‘We work together,’ I say sharply, all too aware that only a few minutes ago, I lost control of myself and kissed him.
‘I see.’
‘I’m not sure that you do.’
‘Then please, enlighten me.’
‘I liked what we did today.’ I have to stop for a moment, struggle to catch my breath. ‘But you have to see that we can’t do it again. What if we…’
‘What if we what?’
‘What if we got caught?’
He turns his head then, and I see a gleam of something in those water-blue eyes, something dangerous, something I know I should walk away from. ‘Yes,’ he replies. ‘What if we did?’
‘We…’ I say, and then I stop. I stop because his hand is sliding over my thigh, and because I like it. I stop because he’s found my hand, and he’s pulling it towards him, pressing it down on his own leg. He covers my hand with his, hard and firm, and then he lets go.
I don’t move my hand away.
This is wrong. I know this is wrong. We work together, and I don’t have time to get tangled up with this right now, and the last thing I need is some sordid office affair. They always end badly for the women involved, everyone knows that.
But his thigh is so solid and warm beneath my hand, and his hand is wandering, drawing soft circles on my leg, moving higher, closer, making me throb and ache and squirm, and Cal is only a few feet away, and I’m thinking about what would happen if he glanced across, and saw Ethan groping me under the table.
I could lose everything.
I swallow hard as I think about that, as I think about losing everything I have worked so hard for, my career hanging in tatters, my reputation destroyed, because it’s always the woman who loses everything in these situations, who gets branded a tart and a slut, who is forced to crawl away in shame.
And I’m thinking about how horny and wicked and exciting it was, sucking his cock in his office earlier. How everything I did alone in my office pales in comparison. About how, for the first time in as long as I can remember, work is not the main thing on my mind.
Ethan’s hand is at the top of my thigh now. ‘What
