My Time in the Affair (12 page)

“No. I thought we'd go have lunch, but when I saw you in this dress, pussy sounded like a better option,” he replied bluntly. She snorted.

“You think I'm so easy,” she teased.

“Maybe a little,” he agreed, and she felt his hot breath against her nipple. Then he blew cool air over it, and she felt it tighten up. His tongue followed, sweeping across her areola, and she moaned low in her throat.

“We could go for a triple-play,” she suggested, and this time, her voice was the husky one.

“Babe, I thought you'd never ask. First, though, you're going to get on your knees, and I'm not letting you up till you've fucking suck-,” Tal started to get filthy, but he was interrupted by a noise.

A bell tinkled from the front of the building. It was the sound of the door being opened.

“
Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Get off me!
” Mischa hissed, shoving at his shoulders as voices filled the outer office.

Tal stood up casually, but she went into fast forward. She pushed him out of the way and raced around her desk before practically slamming the door to her office shut. She leaned back against it, thumbing the lock into place without looking. She had her eyes closed, and it was a moment before she realized Tal was laughing.

“God, I wish you could see yourself.”

Misch opened her eyes and looked down. Her dress and bra were still yanked down, her breasts still exposed. She glared at him before putting the material to rights.

“You need to get out of here,” she growled in a low voice as she dropped to her knees and began crawling around.

“How am I supposed to do that when you've got us barricaded in here? And what are you doing?” he asked as she shuffled under the desk.

“Climb out the window!” she told him, ignoring his question. She heard him moving around, and she figured he was working out how to get through said window, but then he cleared his throat.

“Looking for these?”

She stood on her knees and looked up at him. He had her panties dangling from his index finger, and he swung them back and forth. She rolled her eyes and climbed to her feet.

“Yes, thank you. Now this window, hurry and sneak out,” she urged, overturning a trash can and standing on the bottom of it so she could reach the window. She unlocked it and pushed it open before hopping down.

“I've never seen you move this fast, it's almost impressive,” Tal teased her. She glared at him.

“Shut up and leave,” she snapped, grabbing for her underwear. He moved his hand out of reach.

“Oh no. No, no, no. Give me attitude? After the fucking I just gave you? Then I'm keeping these,” he informed her, and she watched as her underwear disappeared into his pocket.

“What!? You can't do that! Give me those!” she demanded, reaching for his pants. He grabbed her wrists and held them behind her back, pressing his chest against hers.

“No. Good girls need to earn presents. Bad girls walk around bare assed,” he told her.

“That is the stupidest thing I've ever-,”

He let go of her wrists and one had grabbed her ass, forcing her hips against him. His other hand went underneath her dress and grabbed the other side of her butt, his palm warm against her bare flesh.

“What were you saying?” he asked, his tone low and dangerous sounding.

“Please, Tal, we don't have time for this,” she begged. He ignored her, and his hand stroked down to the underside of her ass.

“I always have time to make you come,” he whispered, his fingers moving between her legs, trailing through the wetness that was coating the inside of her thighs.

“
Please,
” she breathed, pressing her forehead against his chest. The ignoring continued and his long, long fingers were making themselves at home.

“For the rest of the day, you're going to be thinking about me fucking you,” he informed her. She nodded.

“Yes. Yes, I will,” she agreed, panting as his fingers picked up speed.

“If you fuck yourself before you come home,” he began, and his fingers slipped away. Made their way from her sticky wet center to the base of her spine. “Send me pictures.”

Before she could say anything, he pulled away from her. He ignored the overturned trash can and simply pulled himself up to the window. She drooled as the muscles in his shoulders strained underneath his t-shirt. Then he was moving through the opening and he was gone. Not even a backward glance.

“
Mischa! You in there!?
” her boss yelled, followed by a banging on her office door.

She knew she must have looked weird. She'd finger combed her hair as best she could, but Tal had made a mess of it. Her dress was also stretched out, the v-neck now dipping down to show the top of her bra. She was red, she was out of breath, and she was jittery.

Her boss didn't seem to care, just wanted to know if she'd faxed off the paperwork and to tell her they'd brought lunch back for her. She smiled her thanks and followed him out to the main office. Was very aware of the fact that she was wearing no underwear, and was still very wet.

Fucking Tal.

She only lasted about twenty minutes before she excused herself to go to the bathroom. Luckily, it was a private room, no stalls. A space she could have to herself and a door she could lock. She went about cleaning herself up and was almost ready to head back out when her phone dinged. She picked it up and saw she had a text message from him.

Hanging in there?

She glared at the screen and banged out a response.

Barely. You're a prick.

Yes, but I'm your prick.

Still not a good thing.

Have you done it yet?

That threw her for a loop.

What?

Fucked yourself.

She was alone in the bathroom, and she still blushed. She would never get used to the way he talked to her.

Of course not! I'm at work. You're disgusting.

Not disgusting. Just incredibly turned on by a prudish woman. Do it now.

No.

Do it. Send me a picture of you touching yourself.

No!

I'll send you a picture.

That made her pause. This was all stupid – she'd seen the PSAs, she wasn't some teenager. Sending a nude selfie was a bad idea on a galactic scale. But on the other hand, getting one from him wasn't such a bad idea at all …

Misch glanced around, worried at her bottom lip. By the end of this little affair, she wouldn't have a lip left. She'd taken a seat on the closed toilet and she began to squirm. Rubbed her thighs together. Sought friction.

You first.

Please, I'm not a sucker.

She took a deep breath. She wasn't about to flash her vag, that just wasn't attractive, in any sort of lighting. But her breasts were a different story. She kinda liked her boobs, thought they were pretty okay. Tal spent a lot of time on her breasts, so he must have liked them, as well.

She ran her hand across her chest and dipped into her bra. Her nipples were still sensitive from his ridiculously attentive mouth, and when she touched the tip, she found it was already peaked. She pinched herself and hissed, relishing the feel.

Maybe this isn't such a bad idea.

While her breathing picked up, she worked the top half of her dress down. She cupped her right breast with left hand, trapping the nipple between two fingers, and then she took the picture. She didn't even look at it, didn't want to psych herself out, and just sent it to him.

It only took a minute for him to respond.

Fuck, you look good. Are you wet?

Yes.

Show me.

You owe me a picture.

A moment later, and she got one. It was of his crotch. He was still wearing his pants, but they were completely undone, and his hand was down the front, only visible from the wrist up. She panted as she stared at the picture, and then she noticed the caption - “
I'll show you mine, if you show me yours.
”

Mischa had never had phone sex. Had never
sexted
. Had never done anything like that – usually that kind of stuff made her uncomfortable. But with Tal, it didn't. It almost felt necessary. Something she
had
to do.

She stood up and faced the mirror. She worked the skirt of her dress up and held the material at her sides, pinning it with her elbows. Then she cupped her crotch, immediately sliding the tip of her middle finger inside her opening. Even she had to admit, it was a pretty sexy picture. Erotic – she was clearly touching herself. Not crude – nothing naughty was actually visible. She took a picture of her reflection and sent it to him.

Goddamn you're amazing.

Then she got a picture in return. Tal wasn't as shy as she was; it was a full on shot of his erect penis. But there was something different, and it took her a second to figure out what was going on.

He's got my panties wrapped around the base of his cock.

It wasn't easy to keep quiet, and texting dirty words and dirtier pictures with one hand proved difficult, but she managed to come in minutes. She whispered his name to the walls, wanted the foundation to feel what he did to her, even when he wasn't in the room.

That was amazing.

You're amazing.

You make me this way.

Don't go to Positano.

Misch was actually washing her hands when the last text rolled in, and she stared at her phone like it was some sort of poisonous insect.

What do you mean?

Don't go. Stay here. Stay with me.

I can't.

Why?

Because. My job.

Fuck your job. Stay with me.

I can't.

Why!?

I'm married.

Stay with me.

Why was he doing this to her!? And of all the ways to say that kind of shit, he chose to do it via texting!?

She didn't answer. She went back out, finished having lunch with everyone. Then she threw herself into work, didn't even look at her phone. It was six o'clock before she knew it, and she was the last one left in the office. She locked up and walked back to her hotel, dragging her feet.

Tal was waiting in her room.

“I was beginning to wonder if you'd avoid me all night,” he said as soon as she walked in the door. She glanced at him, then took in the rest of the room. He'd had dinner ordered up for her – gnocchi in a garlic herb sauce, and a small bottle of pinot grigio. Her favorites.

She felt like she was going to be sick.

“No, I came here as soon as I got done,” she assured him.

“Are you okay?”

“Sure.”

“Misch.”

“Tal.”

“Cut the shit.”

One of the things she loved about him, he always “
cut the shit
”. There was no beating around the bush with Tal, no avoiding the topic or dancing around it. If she was in a bad mood, he demanded to know why. If she was being a bitch, he told her to cut it the fuck out. And whatever she said back, even if it was “
go fuck yourself
”, he just rolled with it.

One of the things you love about him. One of the things he loves about you. How many “things” does it take before it becomes the whole thing?

“I have to go, Tal,” she said, toeing off her shoes before crawling onto the bed.

“Tell me why,” he demanded. She turned towards him, then laid down and curled into the fetal position.

“Because I have a job and I have to go where it tells me to. Because I'm married, whether we like it or not, and I owe it to that marriage, to that man, to tell him what's going on,” she answered.

“Fine, that's all fine. But then come back. Let's finish this,” he urged. She shook her head.

“I can't. We're going to Turkey after this, to open a new office, remember? I have to go.”

“Why? You don't even like your fucking job,” he reminded her.