It was another long day just beginning. She turned on her computer and stirred her first cup of coffee.
She opened the files, Sandy made the sales, and Ben did the follow-up. All day, everyday. It was not exciting work but it was a job and in general, she was glad to have it. It paid for lots weekends at the spa and an annual two-week cruise. Alone. No one ever expected anything new in this job, and today was likely no exception.
So when the door opened and she heard the office manager's voice she did not see any reason to look away from her screen.
"And this is the sales department. Ben, Bridget and Sandy."
The office manager went on about computer needs but her attention was fixed on the other voice. The other familiar voice. Even after five years, she knew that voice. She listened to him describe the possible solutions to their system design problems as she slowly turned around. The first thing she noticed was what she always noticed first — red hair. It was what caught her attention when they met as kids and again in college and over and over.
She stood up and waited behind him. When he turned around, he stopped cold.
"Bridget?" He was shocked. Then he smiled, "Bridget. Hi."
She grinned. She could not stop. "Are you free for lunch?"
The office manager started to answer but Wilson talked over her, "Yeah. What time?"
"12:30?" She was still grinning, remembering how much fun he was, how good she felt just being around him.
"I'll be here."
He let the office manager led him to the next department. She watched them go, waving as he glanced back before the door closed.
"Who was that?" Sandy virtually demanded.
"A very old friend." She sat down again, coffee forgotten. She stared at the screen not seeing anything but the past and him and summer camp where she first got kissed by a red-headed boy with freckles. She had hit him with her shoe back then.
In college, he had been the unexpected friend from home to laugh with, cry with, and lament every damn test, paper and group project with.
Five years ago, he was nearly The One. They had run into each other at a Starbucks downtown. They did dinner. And again the next night. And every night that week. Then came the night she knew she was going to sleep with him. She canceled dinner, afraid of ruining a lifetime friendship over one night of passion. And as happened so often, they lost touch with each other. Until today.
The morning crawled by and Bridget got nothing done. At 12:30, Wilson stepped into the door. She found herself grinning at him for a minute before she remembered to grab her purse and to clock out. In the lobby of her office building, he kissed her. She felt a thrill course through her body. He pulled back and looked at her feet.
"Just checking." He smiled.
"You remember that?"
"I'll never forget it."
She found herself blushing.
They walked down the block together. She could not resist taking his hand.
"How have you been?"
They walked a little further.
"What do you want for lunch?" he asked.
He paused. Then he smiled. Then he lead the way to the nearest hotel.
At the desk, she got cold feet. She paused as she reached for the room key, "Tell me ... tell me that this won't change us."
He stopped smiling, "I wouldn't promise you that even if I could."
From him, it was the right answer. She took the key, still not sure but knowing she wanted to be with him.
In the elevator, he ran his fingers through her locs and down her neck. She shivered. He stroked her neck as they walked down the hall to the room and she groaned softly. He kissed her neck as she unlocked the door.
Inside the room, she admired the beautiful oak furnishings for a moment. The 4-poster bed had a quilt that looked handmade. He came up behind her and stroked her arms, "Do you want to order room service?" he kissed the back of her neck.
"No. Do that again."
"What, this?" kissing, nibbling, "You like that?"
"I'd rather do this." He whispered between kisses and pulled the zipper on the back of her dress. She shivered and groaned, enraptured by the simple pleasure of his lips and fingers on her semi-exposed skin. Without removing her dress, he unhooked her bra and slipped his hands around her breasts. Another moan escaped her as his fingers teased her nipples taut.
She reached back and pulled his hips tight against herself, rubbing her ass against his growing erection, "Oooh," she cooed, "What do we have here?"
"A gift for later." He squeezed her nipples hard and she gasped as she felt the corresponding shock in her pussy. She pulled off her dress, bra, stockings and undies.
She stepped back from him and stroked her bare body, "Well? What do you think?"
He pursed his lips, "It will do in a pinch, I guess." He pulled her close again, covering her breasts with his lips and tongue. She had not actually expected a complement from him; his tongue and the steel pipe between his legs said far more about his opinion that his words. She unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. His pants slid down easily, his briefs did not.
She closed her eyes and let an orgasm flow over her. It was gentle and wonderful and promised to be the first of many. She grabbed his cock through the briefs and squeezed firmly. Stepping backward toward the bed. She giggled and he tried not to trip on his pants; he had to stop and strip. "Well?" he asked.
She studied him for a moment — really thinking about how good his tongue felt, "I don't see any obvious manufacturing defects," she paused, "of course, I haven't tested all the equipment yet."
He swept her up with a laugh and kissed her softly. She slid her fingers in his hair. Soft. Silky. His mouth tasted like coffee. His fingers stroked her back. His weight pushed her onto the bed. Then he began working moving down but she stopped him, "Ladies first."
He arched and eyebrow, half smiled and lay down, putting his hands behind his head, "Lay on McDuff."
She blushed at that; the line was a very old joke between them.