“Good afternoon, Mr. Masters,” Stacy said, hoping he would run with the greeting this time.
“Working hard, Stacy?” Roger dismissed as he headed for the elevator.
Stacy uncrossed her legs and let her foot drop with a bitter thud. Perhaps it was about time to throw in the towel. It was a pleasant pipe dream while it lasted, and at the very least, she still had the memories. That said, she only ever let her mind travel back to that fateful job interview. Roger was a powerful force behind closed doors but he was never able to recreate the sense of mystery and wanton sexual abandon that so memorably marked their first time.
What Stacy really wanted was a man who understood her needs quite fully. Beyond the orgasm, what was there to keep her coming back for more? At the rate she was going, she was perfectly willing to take a chance on the first gentleman who treated her like a real woman.
It was time for lunch. Stacy figured she’d treat herself once again. She didn’t give the matter too much thought until she stepped out into the gaze of the noontime sun. As she never truly thought about her meals, the results were often a mixed bag — it was New York, after all. But then she spotted that halal cart with the charming man watching over it dutifully. It might be nice to get into something with a little routine, she thought to herself as she crossed the street.
Rael turned and saw Stacy bounce toward the cart. He had just made his vow and it would appear that Stacy, that delightful young lady from the other day, would be the chance that he was yearning for.
“Hi there!” Stacy chirped.
“Now, don’t tell me, I remember this… Falafel, extra pita and lots of hummus. Is that it?”
“My my, I’m impressed!”
“What can I say? Photographic memory. That is what you wanted, right?”
“I wasn’t sure but, hey, why not? Make it easier for you.”
Rael could’ve prepared the lunch blindfolded if he’d had no choice. He made sure to sculpt it just as he had done with her first Falafel. A queue was building person by person but neither minded too much.
“What’s your name if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I’m Stacy,” she sounded surprised but flattered.
“Rael. Pleasure to serve. Do you mind if I ask you something?”
“Of course.” She turned her head to the antsy customers. “Will they mind?”
“I’ll be quick. Would you like to have a drink with me tonight?”
Stacy blushed. At first, she didn’t know what to make of being propositioned by the man with the halal cart. On the other hand, the Roger ship had long since sailed. Rael seemed nice. Maybe that was all that was required.
“Sure. Here’s my card. I get off at six.”
They traded Falafel for business card.
“This one’s on me, all right?” Rael raised his eyebrows.
“Such a gentleman,” Stacy giggled as she turned back to her Madison Avenue chamber. Rael immediately flashed the next patron — an icy bank manager — a winning smile as he took the man’s order. It would seem that their prayers had been answered. Rael didn’t need to daydream any longer about his dream girl, although his thoughts would often drift to the possibility of a physical engagement with Stacy.
As the sunlight began to dim, Rael would step over to the corporate fortress under instructions that he was to meet Stacy at the top floor overlooking Fifth Avenue and beyond. A kindly concierge would motion Rael to the one gold-encrusted elevator that wasn’t out of service, and he’d be right at the top in two blinks of the eyes.
The floor would show only the minimal signs of life as everyone else grabbed their jackets and iPads en route to their dreary domestic lives. All the way down the corridor was Stacy. She is arched over the desk, her heels dangling from her toes. She rotated her head and exhaled a wistful sigh.
“I’ve been waiting for you…”
Rael slams the door behind him. He reaches out and draws the blinds, so the windows into the main office are completely curtained. After wiping his brow, Rael paces to Stacy and pets along her legs until his hand is directly between her thighs. As he reaches further towards the fire that lies between, Rael gently swoops toward her lips and implants a tender kiss. Stacy returns in kind with a deep penetration of her tongue. Her shoes drop. Rael mounts the mahogany desk and forcefully brushes the phone and assorted papers asunder.
She runs her fingers up his deep muscles that are pinning her down. He grunts ever so slightly as he ramps up the electricity of his kisses. Like a feline clawing low to the ground for a meal, he makes his way down her body and loosens the buttons of her thin white blouse. A shiver bursts throughout her bones, joints, and nerves.
He lowers the skirt as well as himself into her sex. While sucking the sweet nectar from within, his hands reach up and twist the nipples of her pear-shaped breasts. Her fluids seep all over his scruff and puddle the recently polished desk. As there are still drones buzzing about the workplace in its last waking hours, Stacy must stifle her pleasure-soaked cries by biting down on her index finger. She simmers for him.
“Take me… I’m yours….”
So Rael removes his staff and slips inside the home. He clutches onto the sides of the desk as he penetrates slowly and deeply. The temptation for Stacy to cry out grows as hard as Rael’s thrusting. She turns on her side and flips Rael over. Stacy reaches around to his inner thigh and allows her pelvis to snake up and down him.
She collapses into his face and sucks down on his lips. She is hopping on top of him. He can feel the presence of disgruntled, undersexed workers hovering outside the concealed windows wondering if their hunch about what goes on behind the closed doors of offices is actually true.
These disgruntled, undersexed workers were not in the Madison Avenue office building but in a line that wrapped around the curb as they waited for their exotic fast food. Rael had caught himself daydreaming for the hundredth time. But he was a professional and it only ever took him a second or two to get back into the swing of things. The queue had dissipated just a few passing bursts of Midtown traffic. As his business boomed momentarily, Rael felt a firm pat on his back.
“Cleaning up, Rael?” Carmine joked.
“I do all I can. How’s the coffee racket?” Rael shot back.
“Take it easy, brother.” Carmine chortled under his breath as he swaggered toward his shop.
***
HIS invitation from Julia still felt as hot as the Middle-Eastern delicacies that Rael was whipping up for his customers. He intended to ride this high as long as he could, or at least until he was linking arms with her in the hopes of joining her for a night of indiscretion. When he reached the coffee shop, he noticed a similarly unruly line throbbing from the counter to the front door. Jane was the only one on staff. Carmine watched from a distance and noticed that her pace was lagging. “That’s not like her,” he thought.
“What’s going on, Jane? It’s lunch hour. Let’s get these people back to work.”
“I’m sorry, Carmine,” Jane replied.
In truth, Jane’s glow from her rendezvous with Jarvis had yet to wear off. The gears working inside her locked down by the memories of everything that happened against that tree. She respected Carmine too much to indulge in her thought process anymore. A quick stamp of her foot got her working at the typical Jane pace again. The customers dwindled. Carmine leaned into the counter.