They were like figure skaters out on a wintry lake, swirling around, sometimes touching, sometimes apart, but always a pair gradually moving farther and farther from the shore, onto thinner and thinner ice. For more than half a decade, when the ice creaked under them, one or the other would scurry back to thicker, safer ground. Until, on a chilly Friday night, when they plunged into water that was simultaneously frigid and boiling hot.
Scott first saw Vanessa from across the office suite. She was somewhere in her mid-twenties, with long light brown hair pulled into a French braid. From the distance of fifty feet, and through the glass of a conference room, what caught his eye most were her long, toned legs. She was on the funky, sexy edge of both the company dress code and the fashion of the time. She wore gray suede pumps with a fluted heel, a pleated black skirt that terminated at mid-thigh, and a bright red belt that contrasted with a simple white blouse. She was carrying a cardboard banker’s box apparently filled with something heavy. With a look of disgust she tossed it on the small round table next to her workstation.
“Fuck!” she loudly groaned, apparently not caring a bit that she could be heard across much of the office.
Damn, Scott thought to himself, Who the hell is that? He made sure that one of his new co-workers introduced them later in the day. Vanessa shook Scott’s hand firmly and met his gaze with a dimpled smile that was simultaneously incredibly warm and just a tad smirky. He struggled to maintain contact exclusively with her warm, light brown eyes, but found himself slipping briefly to take in a glance at those amazing legs. She didn’t seem to notice, though she told him years later that she totally had. She made him laugh hard twice in as many minutes and then they were done. But he could not get her out of his mind.
Scott was married, and generally neither a douche nor a philanderer, but as he drove home that evening all he could think about was Vanessa. And her smile. And those legs. His commute passed quickly as he imagined taking Vanessa right there in her cube. Kissing her long neck, making his way down the V of her blouse, freeing her nipples from their small lace bra. He imagined backing her against her desk as they kissed, then dropping to his knees, feeling her smooth firm thighs with his lips, nuzzling her mound through what he imagined to be a lacy white thong, savoring the first smell of her, then pushing the thong aside and tasting her. The fantasy circled around in his semi-conscious mind, landing slightly differently in each version. As he pulled into his driveway, he was fucking Vanessa from behind as she braced herself against her desk, groaning “Fuck!” over and over. Scott didn’t even fully realize how immersed in his thoughts of Vanessa he had become until he went to get out of the car, and had to adjust the boner in his pants to do it.
Vanessa’s attraction for Scott came more slowly. She was a newlywed. She was being well fucked at home. She wasn’t above admiring handsome men, but at work that was kind of icky, and she had better things to do with her mental energy. Scott was handsome enough. Tall. Brown on brown like her. A couple of years older than she. Good hair. Hands that were large and yet delicate somehow. She liked hands. But mostly, he was funny. And smart. And good at his job. She liked working with him. That was really it. Until it wasn’t.
What’s the old axiom? Women find sex through intimacy, men find intimacy through sex … ? Something like that. Unlike Scott, she wasn’t rubbing one out in the bathroom thinking about her co-worker. Until she was.
They had worked together for two years before Vanessa realized that she might have “other” feelings for Scott. Most people in the office knew it before she did. They had lunch together, a lot. They finished each other’s sentences, all the time. They laughed at jokes that no one else got. They were “work spouses.” You know the type. And if you check the data, work husbands and wives end up fucking at least half the time.
Vanessa finally figured out what was going on in her own subconscious based on a dream. A sex dream. She had them now and then, like anyone else. But this time instead of her husband, or a famous actor, or some guy from her past, it was Scott. And it was good. And it was one of those dreams that you wake up from, smile to yourself, and then re-enter when you fall back asleep.
They were in an office, not their office, a much bigger, fancier office. The dream started as a classic “underwear in public” dream, with Vanessa realizing upon exiting the elevator that she had forgotten to put on a dress and was suddenly in the middle of the office in lavender lingerie. She alternately tried to explain herself to others, or hide behind potted plants, and as the dream progressed she wore less and less, until she was walking between desks in nothing but kitten-heeled pumps and her grandmother’s pearl necklace. Eventually Scott showed up in the dream. Unlike others, he was not at all surprised or taken aback at her naked state. He talked about work. The dream version of Vanessa became frustrated at the Dream Scott’s lack of attention, and so she crawled atop his desk and posed with an exaggerated arched back.
“Do you want to fuck me or not?” Dream Vanessa asked with irritation, looking back at him over her shoulder from her all-fours position.
Dream Scott responded as she intended, fondling, kissing and licking her ass. The dream suddenly jumped to a generic hotel room. Vanessa was pressed against the large plate glass window, peering down at lights of other buildings, while Scott fucked her from behind.
“Is this what you were looking for?” Dream Scott asked as he held onto Vanessa’s waist and thrust into her with long, steady strokes. “All you had to do was ask.”
That’s when she woke the first time, as her conscious mind realized she was lightly moaning and undulating her pelvis in her sleep. Vanessa – the actual Vanessa – found herself happy, and wet, at the thought of it all.
When she drifted back to sleep and the dream relapsed, the two were in a car. A really big car that neither one of them actually owned. It was like a Rolls Royce or a limo or something. She had Scott in her mouth, and she was sucking him slowly and lovingly. His cock was big. Not really a kink of hers but for whatever reason in this dream he was big. Bigger than her husband, at least. Scott rocked gently, and moaned in pleasure, and Vanessa was enjoying the feel of his cock in her throat, and she was excited that Scott was enjoying her performance.
At some point they were on a sofa, no longer in a car, and they were in a sixty-nine. Vanessa felt her own orgasm coming on at the same time that Scott was on the verge of shooting into her mouth. She woke as she had the first time, realizing she was rubbing her tongue against the roof of her mouth and that her hand was between her legs.
The next day, and for a week or two after, Vanessa avoided Scott as much as she could. And then one morning, after an especially patchy fight with her husband the night before, Vanessa stood at her closet, uncharacteristically hesitating at what to put on. Slowly at first, and then with speedy inspiration, she picked out clothes specifically for Scott. She chose a bright sleeveless dress, not really a cocktail dress, but not really fit for work either, more “afternoon garden party.” It showed her tanned arms, and a bit of cleavage, and most importantly, her legs, which she knew Scott coveted.
Vanessa was distracted the whole day, first as she waited for Scott to notice, and then as she fantasized Scott taking her in various spots around the office. Stealing a kiss in the storeroom. Eating her pussy and ass in a conference room. Fucking her to oblivion bent over the lounge chair in the CEO’s office. It was all she could do to keep from wriggling in her task chair. From that point on she dressed for Scott on most days and he clearly loved it.
And so it went for another few years. When one was ready for the other, the other had pulled back into their home life. And when they were both ready, the circumstances were never right. The longer it went on, the more the stakes were raised. The family chips piled higher and higher with kids, and dogs, and mortgages. And the more they fell for one another, the less chance there was that they could vent their frustration with a hard, stringless fuck. There were strings everywhere.
Scott found his fantasies of Vanessa, while still consisting of a good fuck, now included just being with her. Stroking her well satisfied naked form spread out on a hotel bed after sex, or, hell, having room service with her before sex. Who fantasizes about that? A friend who had met Vanessa once said to him, “Man, you must think about fucking that chick all day long.”
And when Scott answered, “Mostly, I think about kissing her,” his friend had said, “Damn, boy, you got it bad.” And he did.
And so they engaged in on-again, off-again flirting, feeling the ice crack underneath them, and then scuttling back to safety. This went on and on. They both were now managers with large teams underneath them. They both moved from condos into houses. Their firm grew fourfold. Their office dress code evolved from business, to business casual, to t-shirts and jeans. The only constant during that whole time was that Scott and Vanessa were hot for each other.
Their romantic perfect storm finally arrived on one of the “dress-up” Fridays the company did once a month. Scott had a fresh haircut, a new Italian blazer, and a pair of crisp jeans. All for Vanessa of course. He felt as good as he looked. But he was nothing compared to Vanessa. She was in a cashmere little black dress and thigh-high patterned gray socks. It was a little sexy for work, so she calmed it down and funked it up with a motorcycle jacket. Sexy, stylish, elegant and yet playful. Vanessa in a nutshell.
As was the habit on dress-up Fridays, a whole gang of people went out after work. Scott and Vanessa hung out for an hour or so, but at some point Vanessa rolled her eyes and gave him a look that said, “Let’s get out of here.”
“Hey, I’m a bachelor this weekend. Jane and the boy are going to her Mom’s. You O.K. to catch dinner?” Scott asked. Vanessa smiled.
“Well, me too. David is taking the kid up to ski. Which, as you know, I hate. So I’m alone until Sunday afternoon.” Vanessa felt a tickle in her stomach, and maybe a tingle in her clit, when she said it.
“Tapas it is!” Scott announced enthusiastically, masking his own nervousness.
When they walked into the restaurant, Vanessa pulled off the motorcycle jacket, revealing that her LBD plunged to the depths of her lower back. Her obviously braless nipples strained against the thin fabric. Scott gulped. They sat at a high-top table. Vanessa’s dress crept up, showing a healthy swath of smooth thigh, as she scooted up on the stool. Scott felt himself getting hard. But he didn’t look away, and it seemed as if Vanessa did not want him to.
They sampled one tiny, tasty thing after the other, as each had another couple of cocktails. They laughed hard. They had wine. They both made fun of their spouses – something that they rarely did in all their years of flirtation. That was a dangerous road and they both knew it. They had some meaningful silences. They shared a dessert. And had port. And coffee. Neither wanted it to end. When the staff started folding napkins, Scott and Vanessa finally walked out onto the chilly sidewalk.
“You wanna share an Uber back to the office?” Scott lamely asked after an awkward silence.
“Nah, I need to clear my head,” Vanessa said, “Let’s walk.” Scott was pleased.
They’d had enough booze and coffee and soaked up enough heat from the restaurant that, despite the fact that they could see their breath, the cold air felt good.
“You hear that Dan and Kathy are fucking?” Vanessa said, out of the blue.
“Um. Yeah. None of my business. But I don’t get it.”
“Because he’s a douche?” Vanessa asked with a laugh.
“Yep. But I guess that shit works with some people.”
“Not with me. I like guys like you.”
They walked in silence for half a block.
“Do you think it’s possible to love two people at once?” Scott asked, escalating the conversation from awkward to dangerous. Oh shit, I just blew it all up, he thought to himself.
“Fuck yes,” Vanessa answered quickly, to Scott’s delight, and horror. The ice was straining under his feet.
Scott put an arm around Vanessa’s leather jacket. She returned the favor. They pulled one another hip to hip, and Vanessa put her head on Scott’s shoulder as they walked along. They sighed in unison. They were two friends, lamenting that for other circumstances, they could have been more.
Scott’s mind left his body and hovered above the couple. The stars were finally aligned; it was now or never. In a surreal state he stopped walking and pulled Vanessa to him. She looked up at him, and did not pull away. Scott snaked his arms under her leather jacket, working his hands firmly along her hip, the indentation of her waist, then along her rib cage and around to the flesh of her back. She was both firmer and smaller than he had imagined for all these years.
He leaned down, moving in slow motion toward Vanessa’s full lips. She did not move toward him. He would be taking all the risk. His head was exploding with sensory overload. The ultra-soft feel of the cashmere dress, the illicit excitement of her naked back against his hand, the smell of leather, her perfume, the coffee and port lingering on their breath. At last there was an electric burst as he reached her pillowed lips. He felt an impassioned moan escape from her throat. Or was it his own?
Vanessa opened her mouth willingly and wantonly, accepting his tongue and returning his enthusiasm. She wrapped her arms around him tightly. He felt strong. Stronger and more muscular than she would have thought. She felt his cock, hard against her belly. In any other place, at any other time, with any other guy, it would be the creepiest thing ever. But at this moment, with this guy, she wished they could fast-forward to a place where she could release that thing from its skinny-jean jail.
After half a minute they broke their kiss and twirled on the sidewalk with a laugh of joy and anticipation. And with that, they crashed through the ice.
