Polished

From the first when Charlie of Sex Blog (Of Sorts) fame suggested this meme, I loved it because it was girly and clever (like she always is). Sadl, there were stipulations that would have made it difficult for me to participate. I was over the moon when she revised the rules and I could be a part, but apparently it is now a contest! Gosh, if I do not win, I just hope she tells me what her favorite anthology is and…OMG Kristina Lloyd has sweetened the deal with a copy of Undone?! Okay, here is my “entry!”

Shirley swore as she pointed her leg to apply nail polish to the run that had started high up on her thigh. She was pissed about the run, but swore because the only bottle of polish she had that could be used was cherry blossom…with her black from head-to-toe outfit. Even her bra and thong were midnight-colored. But she had no choice they were going out for her boss’s birthday, and she had to look perfect.

She had never fucked her boss, but her close rapport with Arthur made the entire company think they had and she did not correct them. In lieu of an actual love life, it was nice that people thought she was fucking him. And it meant no one asked her any questions, so she did not have to answer anything.

Especially to her boss’ smug boss Oliver, who insinuated out loud about their relationship. For him, she had to look especially good.

Everything went as planned, even her run cooperated. Gins and tonics flowing like a river, who would have noticed anything awry anyway?

Shirley was back at her desk, even though everyone else had left for the day. Her close rapport with Arthur was because she worked like a fiend.

“No wonder Art is so in love with you, your blood is the color of cotton candy!”

A quick glance over her shoulder, and she saw him. Instead of being mortified that Oliver saw her cherry blossom nail polish fix, she turned around and fished through her drawer for the dried out bottle of cotton candy polish she had.

“This,” she stood up full of indignation and thrust in his face “is cotton candy!”

With that, she pulled down her black dress and grabbed her bag.

Oliver did not move.

“So what color is smeared on your ass then?”

He startled her, but she hid it.

“Cherry blossom.”

“You are tough as nails for someone who is nailing her boss.”

“I am not fucking Art!”

“Really?” he scoffed.

“No, I’m not, but if all of you want to believe it I could care less!”

“Then why,” He looked at her with amazement and confusion. “do you make it seem like you are?”

Looking in Oliver’s eyes was something she had always avoided. Their intensity quieted her bravado.

This was a question she didn’t want to answer.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks about me!”

Oliver would not move, and she wanted to get past him. Shirley felt sweat bead on her temples, she wanted to go before she started sweating profusely. A drop of sweat started its trickle down her face, Oliver wiped it away…

“You’re hot…”

She could have gotten him out of her way, but her two gin and tonics gave her a lazy buzz. But she knew what she was doing, and she was damn hot.

For him.

She knew that was why she really hid behind Art, so she could keep herself af arm’s length. Her smart mouth had got the better of her, admitting she had been misleading trying to spite Oliver.

Now what was she going to do?

He followed another bead of sweat down her cheek with his finger, used the dampness to ease his way down her cheek and into the hollow of her neck. Moisture beaded along another part of her body with his touch.

“Yeah,” she answered as if there had not been an involved delay in the conversation. “I’ve been running around all day…”

He didn’t answer. She recognized the fixed look in his eyes, the tightness of his lips and the way his cheeks sucked in as he looked at her…Only she believed it was an illusion, her emotions playing a Harry Houdini on her. Shirley moved as if she was shackled in chains and breaking free.

“Shirley.”

She turned right around, and dropped her bag but did not try to pick it up.

Looked at him.

“I know I never gave you much of a reason to like me, but I have behaved badly with you…” His shoulders were squared, his head bowed.

She rushed to him to let him know it was okay. When he looked up, his face was a breath away from hers. His kiss was expected and not. She proceeded to comfort him as she had intended within it, her hands caressing his face and hair. But his mouth quickly made her caresses rougher, transformed by her previously latent desire. He grabbed her ass where the nail polish was. Afraid he would get it all over his fingers, she tensed biting his lip before remembering the polish was not wet anymore.

But she was.

photo by f dot leonora