Deborah was sitting at her desk intently looking at her
screen as she always did. I approached from behind. She
was always so close to her computer monitor that if you
didn’t approach from behind her monitor you were
approaching from behind her.
She was a very tall girl, all legs and attitude, a very
strong, assertive attitude.
I like to think I have the same attitude, but she had
never seen it, because in her presence, I felt
intimidated. I wanted to tell her how I felt about her,
and how I could never act out my desires on her because
I would betray my own promise to be a loyal husband.
But she looked and behaved in a way to make me forget
I said, “Hi.”
She continued to look at her screen.
I waited patiently for a reply. Perhaps I had spoken
too softly for her to hear, but that’s the way she
normally was, completely wrapped up in the information
on the screen.
I repeated my request for attention. This time I got
it. She turned to see me and as soon as she recognised
me her ignorance changed into friendship.
Obviously it was a ploy she used to be left to her own
devices by the constantly begging sales people who were
probably were incapable of even feeding themselves. But
I’m not one of them, so she shows a little more
interest in me. Not enough for my liking, except for
that one glance she gave me the other week, the one
over her shoulder, with her short red hair covering one
cheek and her head tilted like a cat looking at a
mouse, with hunger.
That excited me. I could feel the feeling in my gut,
tingling with naughty desire. I enjoy being naughty,
but not downright evil, that’s the way it made me feel,
downright evil and oh so longing to indulge.
She spoke her usual greeting talk to me, what else did
we have in common. I love the sound of her voice, deep,
confident, young yet experienced. I will never forget
the day I sat next to her all alone in the alleyway at
her office, where all the sales people go out for a
cigarette. The smell of freshly burnt tobacco on her
breath was also tantalising, bad of course, but what’s
fun that’s not bad?
I would love to taste the cigarette on her breath first
hand. The taste of the tobacco telling me this was
definitely not my wife who did not smoke as I don’t.
“Would you like to join me outside for a cigarette?” I
asked her in my most polite voice.
“Um, Ok.” She said just a touch confused. When her
colleague gave her a curious glance she replied to it
with: “He doesn’t smoke.”
Her colleague had better things to do anyway. What do I
care, as long as we can get her out of the picture
sooner than later!
She followed me out the side door. A couple of greedy,
stupid sales people were still having a cigarette and
swearing about how they enjoyed their intoxicated
weekends. I sat down and she sat beside me on the
wooden bench. All she was wearing on her legs was a
pair of high heeled sandals and a very short white
skirt I couldn’t make a tea towel out of.
All I could do was attempt to keep my eyes focused on
her cheeky face. Every time my eyes fell to close to
her legs, I got more nervous. I should by now not need
to be nervous around women, I seldom was anyway. But
now, she had told me about her boyfriend and her son, I
had confessed my marriage and my daughter, now only
three. Yet all I wanted to do was ask her to come with
to somewhere where I could privately enjoy a week or
two in her presence.
So the nerves were from my own battle with myself for
control of my desires. Then I remembered the advice I
had gotten, from one of those Internet books about how
to get into any girl’s, well… bedroom. I brushed her
knee with my hand in a well disguised gesture that fit
in with my rambling conversation about something or
other. She didn’t mind, the fact that she was outside
with me told me that she didn’t really mind. Not
forgetting the look she gave me, always in the back of
my mind around her, or not around her, for the last few
days, all I could think about was her.
I am normally very comedic around people I get along
with, but I had yet to get this side of my character
out around Deb. It must have been the fear of mortal
sin blocking my normally calm character. It was too
early to bring up any sexual subject, and I had never
spoken to her about anything like this before.
I brushed her knee again, very gently, very casually
accidental and on purpose. She uncrossed her legs and
crossed her right over her left. I was on her left.
This is good, and bad. My experiment had yielded the
right response; however, I need to know when to stop
before this gets beyond my control.
Time for a joke, but don’t hash it up. Perhaps I should
save the jokes for another time.
Women love a man who can make them laugh, so far I’d
not been able to do this with her, so it was a bit
risky, because if she fails to laugh, then I’ll be left
out to sea without wind in my sails. I left the jokes
Instead I told her about work, nothing exciting, even
to me. But talking about helping out the help desk
women and irate customers and stupid sales people gave
me a chance to move my hands, and brush her knee,
again. If only I could find a way to accidentally touch
her chest on the side, innocently. Now the realisation
starts to take a grip, I am actively involved in trying
to sabotage my marriage for a quick thrill with this
girl. What a girl.
Her cigarette was almost finished, this is a bad sign,
because I know she doesn’t like to spend too long away
from her desk, and as soon as it’s out, she’s as good
as back to work. Quick, think of some gossip you can
whisper into her ear, put my hand on her knee and lean
in close to her to tell her. By now the alley was
empty. So I grabbed the first piece of information from
my recent memories.
Slowly but purposefully I leaned into her ear, when I
was sufficiently close enough I reached out and grabbed
the cold flesh on her knee, it was a cool day, and I
whispered into her ear: “John’s full of shit.”
John was our mutual friend.
She chuckled. Good, at least I got her to laugh, even
at my own expense for telling her such an obviously
useless gem of information.
“Why do you say that?” she asked of me.
I could so get into the, “He said you didn’t like me,”
pushing for a response of willingness routine, but that
would be brash, blatant and disastrous.
I could try and tell her about the girl in the next
building who likes me. Try to arouse some jealousy.
Perhaps not, the girl in the other building liked
I had to think fast. “He said you didn’t like talking
to other people in this company.” I said, about to put
her in a corner to reveal a feeling for me.
“But you don’t work for this company,” she replied.
“Not this one, but we all fall under the same
“Do you feel like I wouldn’t want to talk to you?”
“No, after all you are here, outside, with me.”
I turned to look at her; her face was so close to mine.
I looked into her eyes, dark turquoise with a hint of
hazel and just a small outline of mascara. She was
beautiful. I moved as slow as cancer towards her face
waiting for her to retract. She didn’t, she too was
moving with agonising caution toward me.
Ah, tobacco. Sin never tasted so good.
I moved my other hand around to hold her supermodel
legs tightly. My right hand moved on to her fine figure
around her waist.
By this time her hands were either around me or on my
shoulders. I felt bad, and good for it. It felt like
I’d been plugged into a power station and was enjoying
sucking in all the energy I ever needed.
The door opened. Luckily it was around the corner,
giving us almost two whole seconds to compose ourselves
to the image of innocence. Just more lazy sales people,
but the fun was over, only the chemicals in our bodies
continuing the euphoria.
“I must get back to my desk.” She said quickly before
shooting me a quick cheeky grin and going back inside.
I skipped back to my office, dreaming of future