This is Part 3 in a series. Click here for Part 1.
She managed to make it to work without any further close encounters. Sofie sat waiting for her computer to boot up trying to decide whether to have a cup of coffee or not. Her nerves were already jangling and caffeine might not be the best idea.
The need for a distraction from her thoughts of the man on the train finally drove her from her desk to the break room. The room was deserted. Good, she had no desire to engage in morning office talk today. Instead, she busied herself with the ritual of making her morning cup of joe. Two packets of Equal, half a mug of milk, the other half coffee.
Sofie stood in front of the microwave waiting for the coffee to heat up. She liked it hot. The sound of the break room door opening turned her attention away from the mug that spun around on the microwave’s turntable.
“Good morning, Sofie. Getting some coffee?”
Sofie groaned inwardly. Gregg from the IT department stood smiling his goofy grin at her.
“Morning, Gregg. Yup, just a cup of coffee.”
Sofie turned back to the microwave, pretending to study her coffee cup. One minute left on the timer. She watched the numbers on the microwave, using the appearance of being fascinated with the countdown to ignore Gregg.
He was a strange one, a contrast in extremes and a total geek. His face was cute but his hair had gone too long without seeing a qualified barber. Today he wore a well-fitting, expensive shirt that displayed what appeared to be a very nice body underneath. The expensive materials sat in sharp contrast to his ugly mismatched tie and his cheap scuffed shoes. Sofie had no doubt that if Gregg could somehow manage to pull everything together, hair, clothes, tie, and shoes, that he would be sexy hot. The way he currently presented himself, however, left a little something to be desired.
Five, four, three, two, one…beeeep.
The sound of the microwave finishing its cycle pulled Sofie out of her thoughts. She yanked the door open and hooked her fingers into the handle of her mug. When it was clear of the microwave door, Sofie slammed the microwave shut and spun around to make for the door.
Absorbed in her musings about Gregg’s potential sexiness she’d tuned out his actual presence in the break room. As she spun around, she realized too late that Gregg was right in her path. They collided before either of them had time to react. Sofie’s coffee mug made contact with Gregg’s arm spilling hot coffee over the rim and all down his pale silk shirt and tie. His breath hissed at the burning liquid soaking through his shirt.
“Oh shit! Gregg, are you okay? I’m so sorry! Here, let me help you clean up. Are you okay? Did I burn you?” Sofie set her mug on the countertop and grabbed a couple of napkins to sop up the spilled coffee.
“It’s a little hot but I think I’ll live.” Gregg held his coffee-stained shirt away from his skin with the fingers of one hand.
Sofie rubbed the napkins against the front of his shirt. Gregg looked down at her hands moving across his chest. The napkins turned into small sodden balls of brown paper in her hands.
She marveled at the way the wet silk slid under her fingers over the smooth hard curves of his chest. He really did have a nice body under those clothes. The wet crumpled napkins fell unnoticed from Sofie’s grip but her hands continued to push the material of his shirt against his skin. The hard points of his nipples dragged across her palms. His body mesmerized her and the urge to rip the two halves of his dress shirt apart so she could feel his bare skin almost overwhelmed her.
“Sofie? Are you feeling okay? You look…pale.”
“Uhm…yeah. I’m okay.” Sofie’s face burned and her stomach did a nauseous flip. She took her hands off him. “I’m so sorry. Are you sure you’re okay?”
She wasn’t all together sure what she was apologizing for, the spilled coffee or the blatant grope she’d just given him. Sofie willed herself to meet his gaze and was sorry she did. The lust in his eyes was unmistakable.
Irrational with need, Sofie grabbed his damp tie and pulled hard, bringing his face close to hers. Gregg grunted. His body went rigid with surprise. Sofie didn’t care. She pulled on his tie again. He resisted for a moment then gave in with a groan when she forced her mouth against his.
Gregg pulled away, his hands clamping over her wrists. “Sofie?”
The spell broke leaving her panting and mortified.
“I don’t feel very good.” She croaked, then ripped her wrists from his grasp and pushed past him out of the break room.
“Sofie? Hey, Sofie you forgot your—” His voice cut off when the heavy break room door closed behind her.
Sofie ran back to her desk. She sat feeling dizzy and sick to her stomach.
What the hell was happening? She’d let a stranger on the BART finger her pussy and then she’d come to work and molested her coworker. Not good, not good at all. Sofie reached out a trembling hand for the phone on her desk.
When it picked up on the other end, she said, “Hi, Nancy, it’s Sofie. I was calling to say that I’m feeling really terrible. I think it’s that flu that’s been going around the office. If you don’t really need me today, I’d like to go home.”
“Hi, Sofie. You don’t sound so good. Let me think…no, I don’t have anything I absolutely need you to do today. Go ahead and go home and we’ll see how you’re feeling tomorrow. Okay?”
Sofie let out a breath. “Thanks, Nancy. I appreciate it. I’m sure I’ll be better tomorrow. I’ll see you then.”
“Hey, take care of yourself. Remember to turn off your Blackberry so you can get some real rest. Promise?”
“I promise. Thanks again.”
“No problem. Feel better. Bye.”
“Bye.” Sofie rang off.
Morning rush hour had ended and the train home was much less crowded. Sofie found two empty seats by the exit doors and sat in one. Although she sat alone her arousal spiked with every start and stop of the train between stations. Thoughts of the man’s fingers moving against her pussy and the warm softness of Gregg’s mouth chased her through the BART tunnel.
At home, Sofie tossed her purse on the coffee table and began to undress. She needed dry panties and comfortable lounging clothes. Despite her claim to herself the night before about things not being bad enough to see a sex therapist, the morning’s events screamed that she needed to do something drastic.
That something drastic did turn out to be a phone call but it wasn’t to a sex therapist. It was to an 800-number.
Part 4 - Coming Soon
