Dahlia

Tell me what you want.

I stare at the message, my heart already in overdrive. When I don't immediately respond, another message pops up.

Tell me.

I take a deep breath. There are so many things. He's been on my mind constantly since we started, but the new picture of him in my room made it all seem so much more… intimate. What was he thinking? What did he touch in my room?

I want to see more of you.

Tell me more.

I start to type, then stop. What can I say? That I want to see all of him? That I want to feel him close to me? I want him to show me how he touches himself, watch him touch me? What can I say?

I'm so wet for you right now.

I bite my lip. It's the truth. As I'm sitting at my desk, I feel my body clenching and throbbing, feel how swollen I am.

I would like to feel that, he texts immediately. I want to see those panties again.

My body clenches again. I almost can hear his voice in my ear.

I want to touch them, pull them to the side so I can see your pussy.

I almost see it, he continues, did you know that?

I gasp, standing up suddenly from my desk. I can't be out here in the middle of my office like this.

Heart racing, I rush to the back of the room, trying to find some privacy. There seems to be somebody in the ladies room, so I duck down the other hallway, toward the storeroom where we keep boxes of paper and file folders.

The single overhead fluorescent fixture buzzes and vibrates, giving the room a sort of movielike quality.

My hand trembles as I stare at the face of my phone. I'm hungry to hear more. Is he done? Is that it?

Then what? I dare to ask.

First I want to just look at you, he texts back. I want you to spread your knees for me. Lie down. Open your legs.

My breath is quick and flustered, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning.

I want to, I tell him.

Cautiously I edge to the back of the tiny room, fitting my shoulders between two tall metal shelving units. I don't think anyone would come in here, but just in case…

I want to just look at you until you’re wet for me. Until you’re soaked through your panties.

I'm so wet right now, I confess.

Of course you are. And you know what I want. You know what I want to do to you.

You want me to… I stop, afraid to text more, as though writing the words is as real as doing the deed. My body is throbbing so intensely, I feel like something is definitely happening to me.

Tell me.

The door to this room doesn't lock, and I keep glancing at the pale metal handle, expecting it to jiggle at any time.

You want me, I write, knowing it’s not enough.

…

Tell me more.

I take a few deep breaths. He's already opened the door, already got further than I thought we were going to. Can I tell him? Can I really even put it into words?

I want you to see me, I text, my fingers trembling so hard I barely get the letters right. I want to feel your hands on me. I want to feel your weight over me.

And then what?

I hold my breath. I remember the dream, the way his shadow moved across me like the moon eclipsing the sum. The way his weight covered me all at once. The way his body fit along mine, threatening to either break me or fill me, I didn't know which.

And I want your cock, I type, shaking hard. I want to touch it. I want to wrap my fingers around it.

Yeah. I want to give it to you. I want to stretch you over my big, fat cock.

I'm so hard for you right now, he continues. I read each word hungrily, over and over. Is this really happening?

You want to see?

Blinking, I moan into the silence of the empty room. I do. More than anything. My body shudders and clenches with waves of desire, pulses of something I've never felt before. It's like light or electricity.

Show me, I type back.

In a few moments, another image pops up. This is a video. The preview image is his familiar, broad palm, cradling his hard, thick cock. I can make out the veins swirling across the surface, and a gleaming jewel at the tip. It's pointed at the camera, so enticing it makes my mouth water.

I press the triangular Play button and watch, enthralled. His hand moves up and down the shaft, his wrist rolling nimbly as he works his cock, pumping two, three, four times. Then he pauses, and swells. Before I realize what's happening, he comes, the white, thick liquid spurting out in a abstract loop that fountains from the tip and drips over his rigid hand.

My mouth falls open. The video stops and the Play button reappears.

I’m panting, shocked. I press play again and watch the entire sequence, completely rapt. I've never seen this before. It's thrilling, strangely beautiful,.

And when video stops… and just disappears.

I gasp, panicked. What did I just do? Did I lose it? Did I somehow broadcast it? Oh my God. What just happened?

I call Bunny in a panic.

“Hey, I can't talk right now,” she says in a rush when she picks up the phone. “Lunch rush isn’t even over yet. I'll call you right back —”

“Bunny, I lost a video!”

I hear her make a surprised noise. “You lost a… what are you talking about?”

“He sent me a video? I played it… And now it's gone! What did I do?”

“A video of what?” she chuckles.

“Bunny, I don't a time for this! What did I do?”

“Oh, geez, relax,” she drawls. I hear voice changing as though she's moving, maybe sitting down. “When you send videos through Instagram direct message, they don't last. You can play them once or twice, I think, then they just disappear.”

“They disappear? Like on purpose?”

“Yeah… actually, I don't even really understand why. Maybe for privacy or something. Like Vines, kind of. But if you played it a couple times and it disappeared, that's exactly what it was supposed to do. You didn't do anything wrong.”

“Oh my God,” I sigh, relieved. “I mean, I thought I lost it! Like sent it out into the world or something!”

“No, no,” her voice drifts off, and I can tell she's clearly distracted. “You didn't do anything. So… what was it a video of?”

“It was his… you know. Penis.”

“You don't say!” she purrs, and I can tell I have her interest again. “What was he doing with his penis? Is it nice? Is it enormous?”

“He was… you know. Holding it. Pulling on it. Like for real.”

“Oh my God! Did he come?”

I push myself back farther between the shelving units. “He totally did! I can't believe it!”

“He sent you a cum shot?! Wow, August! Did not know you had it in you, old man!”

“I know, right?”

I breathe excitedly, trying desperately to keep my voice down. I'm so glad Bunny understands. My body is still buzzing, thrilled and enthralled.

“Did you ask him for that? Damn, you are dirty girl, Dahlia!”

“No! He just started… like, talking to me the other day. He started, you know… talking about doing it. What it would be like. It was so amazing. I just couldn’t even stand it. He said he wanted to lay me down and spread my legs and…”

“Stop!” Bunny commands me.

“Oh, I'm sorry! Is this totally gross or something —”

“— no, it's totally hot! I just want to see it in person. Pick me up in thirty minutes.”

I giggle, glad to know that it's not just me.

“I think I could do that. There's still half a day left almost.”

I hear Bunny sucking her teeth. “Yeah, well, now you got me all hot and bothered. Let's go walk it off at the mall or something. I want to see those texts!”

“Yeah, okay. All right. I'll be there in half an hour. The board meeting is happening this afternoon, and I wouldn't mind not being here when that happens anyway. Since I made absolutely zero progress on the whole Kirkman front, I guess I can go ahead and be absent. They are probably going to start picking names out of a hat to fire.”

“That's the spirit,” she says, distracted again. “I'll be out front. Just swing by quick so they can't stop me.”

I disconnect the call, slipping the phone back into my pocket and trying to stand up straight. My knees are still wobbly and I feel like I've been tossed around by a roller coaster. Carefully opening the door, I peek out into the hallway to make sure I’m alone before I stroll nonchalantly back to my desk.

After about ten minutes of typing like a good, industrious employee, I stand up and take my purse from my bottom desk drawer, hoping nobody's going to ask me anything on the way out. I'm totally entitled to lunch anyway. It shouldn't raise too many suspicions. But as I duck past Lori's office, I see her glaring at her PC screen and typing like a mad woman. I feel a pang of remorse, knowing that I let her down.

Somehow, Bunny looks adorable in her waitress outfit. It's the old-fashioned kind with the wide collar. Her pink dress buttons up the front, complete with plackets and a floral hanky peeking out of her breast pocket. She's got a nameplate too that says Belinda on it, although I don't think anybody has ever called her Belinda in real life. She's always been Bunny. Her mom says she's been Bunny since the day she was born and instantly nestled right up to her like a tiny mammal.

But she doesn't seem to feel self-conscious in her uniform as we stroll around the mall. After stopping immediately for a chocolate chip cookie, she holds out her hand, demanding my phone. She scrolls through the texts between me and August, moaning and giggling to herself, then scrolling back up to the top and beginning all over again.

“Goddamnit, you are one lucky slut!”

“I am not a slut,” I remind her. “I only play one on Instagram.”

“Well, keep this up, and you will achieve your life’s dream,” she nods. “This is some seriously hot stuff, Dahlia! Where did you learn how to do this?”

“I have no idea,” I shrug. “I mean, the other day, he just seemed to go off like a rocket. I just sort of follow along and try to keep up, I guess.”

She casts me a sidelong look, arching her eyebrow. “So are you ready to admit that you love it? That this has been in you all along, and you are now finally appreciating the finer things in life?”

I reach out, snatching the phone back from her.

“I don't know… okay. Yeah. It's pretty good. I mean, is this what everybody's doing all the time? I've been missing this all along?”

She pops another cookie piece into her mouth and smacks her lips lustily.

“Hell yeah, if you're lucky. The whole world is just filled with people getting it on, talking about getting it on, thinking about getting it on… it makes the world go round. People shouldn't pretend otherwise!”

“Wow… I really had no idea.”

“Shit, girl, I've been trying to tell you! Like, for our whole — wait.”

She puts her hand on my arm, stopping us in the middle of the mall walkway. The designer boutiques on either side of us smell like perfume and incense.

“What? You need to get back already?”

“No, look…” she gestures with her chin, jerking forward. I squint down the hall. Trying to figure out what she's looking at. “Isn’t that your new boyfriend over there?”

I scan back and forth, then finally see him. He is standing outside the Gucci store with his arms crossed over his chest, his head swiveling back and forth as he checks out every employee and shopper that passes by him. With his sunglasses on, he looks almost comically perfect as the security detail/intelligence operative.

Bunny grabs at my elbow and starts dragging me forward. “Come on.”

I try to jerk back, but she's surprisingly strong for a petite person. “No, Bunny!” I hiss. I have to get back to work!”

“So do I!” she hisses back. “But this is fate, Dahlia! Let's go!”

I still try to twist out of her arm, but as we approach, I know he sees us. Continuing to attempt the retreat would only make me look ridiculous, so I try to appear casual and nonchalant and let Bunny drag me along. My heart thuds so loud in my chest that I can barely hear her cackling with glee.

“What a coincidence!” she singsongs as we approach him. “Dahlia here was just saying that I need a new pair of Gucci boots to go with these jeans I picked up. What are you doing here, August?”

He looks us each up and down, and I can see myself reflected in his dark sunglasses. The corners of his mouth turn down into a serious frown.

“I would have thought you would be at work,” he mutters. His tone is abrupt and clipped. He clearly doesn't want us here.

“Yeah, well, so… Dahlia and I just decided to go for quick little shopping spree at lunch. It's not weird, is it?”

He looks at her directly, ignoring me entirely. I feel strangely cold. After this morning, I guess I was expecting a warmer greeting somehow. I know how absurd that is, but still this feels all kinds of terrible.

I know Bunny can tell, and she grips my elbow tighter.

“Okay, well, nice seeing you, August!”

She starts to drag me toward the store entrance, but August sidesteps, placing himself right in front of us again.

“Not now, ladies,” he says gruffly.

He's not even looking at me, I don't think. There's nothing there at all.

“This is the public mall, August,” Bunny reminds him pointedly. “We'll just be a minute. I don't know why you're being so —”

“Is Kirkman inside?” I ask him.

He looks toward me, as though surprised I figured it out. He seems startled to see me somehow. I have to fight the sudden urge to reach out and snatch those glasses off of his face.

“The store will be open again in just a moment, ladies,” he huffs coldly.

“You really think I'm a security risk?” I ask him defiantly. “You really think that there is some reason I can't just duck in here on my lunch hour and check out a new pair of boots? August?”

He shifts uneasily from foot to foot. I know he is not accustomed to my tone of voice, but I feel a sudden equality with him, since I've seen his ejaculating cock not thirty minutes ago.

His jaw clenches and unclenches, the muscle jumping there over and over again. Finally, he shifts subtly to one side so that Bunny and I can walk around him. I stick my nose in the air and stride toward the door with Bunny jogging right next to me.

“Oh my God, girl,” she whispers dramatically. “You are a changed woman I tell you! That was dark!”

Once inside, I scan the overly bright interior. House music thuds over the PA as we swiftly circle the perimeter of the room. It only takes about forty seconds to find him. Kirkman East is standing right there, holding up two nearly identical pairs of snakeskin loafers in front of a smug, nonchalant saleswoman.

As soon as he sees us, he dips his head to smirk at me over the top of his mirrored sunglasses.

“And how did you ladies get in here? Hm?” he says slowly, his tongue wetting his lower lip. “Did Melanie send you?”

“Nobody sent us,” Bunny huffs. “Just doing a bit of shopping.”

He looks her up and down, his eyes lingering over the edges of her waitress uniform.

“I love your costume,” he says, grinning.

Bunny shoots me a look, twisting the corner of her mouth sarcastically like who does this guy think he is?

I put my hands on my hips and look at the shoes in his hands. “The silver ones,” I tell him pointedly.

He shifts his attention to me, and I do my best not to react to it in any way. I get the feeling that Kirkman is used to having women crumple in front of him, and I'm determined not to do that.

“No, but seriously,” he continues, “I was supposed to have security out there, and he’s kind of a hard ass. I do not think you guys are supposed to be in here.”

I sigh, tipping my head in a gesture that I've seen Bunny do. It seems to make people like her quite a bit. He narrows his eyes at me.

“Well, I guess we will have to be going then,” I announce. “Mind if we take a quick selfie?”

He stands up straight again, rolling his eyes dramatically. Poor thing. He probably gets asked this question all the time.

“Sure, sure,” he sighs. He holds his arms out, making a space for Bunny and I to tuck under as though draping his wings over us. It's kind of slimy, but ten seconds later I've got five selfies with Kirkman, and Bunny and I are headed back out the door.

“Hey, I thought you were shopping?” August says as we exit the store and rush past him.

“I guess she found what she wanted,” Bunny calls out over her shoulder as we hurry away. “Right? Did you get what you wanted?”

“More or less,” I say stubbornly.

I know that August didn't realize he was rejecting me, but I still feel rejected. And yet, knowing that these pictures might just save my job takes a little bit of the edge off of that.