Thursday, 1 November 2012

Writing challenge - A question.

I have another writing challenge. I do so love writing challenges but this one I have found particularly difficult.  "A question - you start to work with a man you come to want, to need. He seems distant - how do you seduce him?"
Crap! The coffee machine was temperamental at the best of times but today it had excelled itself. The milk compartment had become blocked and when she opened the casing the fucking thing had spewed coffee all over her favourite black skirt. She was bent over, her skirt lifted, cussing and rubbing when a voice behind her made her jump. 

"Need any help with that?" 

She turned. She had no idea who the man was but she was not amused by his suggestive tone. "Thanks, the less hands the better I think."

Walking out of the room she headed to the ladies bathroom to attempt to clean up with some hot water and the hand dryer. Later she was introduced to the new Chief Exec.. He smiled: "No stains then." Her colleagues looked at her quizzically. She met his smile with a barely polite return. "None. You'll learn that once you settle in."

Not the most auspicious start. This new man was supposed to be a clean broom. Changes were likely. No doubt some would be painful. There was an air of anxiety around the office, a great deal of competitive noise making. She could not be arsed. She worked damned hard, she delivered results. This new man could work that out for himself. 

As it turned out he did work things out for himself. His presence around the office was constant. He wasn't one to hide away in a fancy office. He seemed to always be involved, interested. Always charming. But the broom was fast and thorough; the dead wood was swept away within a few short weeks leaving the rest of the team to breathe a sigh of relief and focus on the future. 

She watched how he handled people. How he was quick to offer praise, constructive in the way he dealt with poor results. He nurtured his team and people wanted to do their best for him. In a short time he had become a respected leader and she admired how easily he carried himself; no arrogance, no conspicuous ego.

Their working relationship had settled down. After her terseness at the beginning he had dealt with her in a clear and professional way. No joking. No familiarity. She did her work as she always had and he praised her when appropriate as he did the whole team. But there was something more. He was more distant with her. She watched him with her colleagues; easy banter, drinks at lunchtime, an encouraging arm on a shoulder, flowers for the women, beers for the men. With her he was different. He kept his distance, only ever spoke of work; the task, the required outcome. She became amused at this. She became aware that something in her manner, something in her brusqueness had unsettled his confidence and she started to play.  

It wasn't difficult, she found, to knock him off his guard. He would come to her desk and, as always, keep a clear invisible boundary between her personal space and his own. She started to challenge that, to lean across occasionally, cross her legs in such a way that she invaded his space to see what reaction she got. She knew that he noticed. He stiffened, never moving away but clearly conscious that a line had been crossed. She resisted the urge to look down to his trousers and assess her impact.

She had a penchant for tight skirts. Nothing tarty, but her office wardrobe was tailored, feminine in cut. If she crossed her legs a certain way she watched his eyes travel to the outline of her suspenders. When they were reviewing reports she knew that if she just leaned over to reach a pen he would let his eyes slip to her neckline; if she turned at the right moment he would catch a glimpse of lace. On one memorable occasion she had spun her desk chair so that her skirt had lifted to mid thigh, her stockinged knee touching against his leg. He had not moved away, they had continued to look at the computer screen, discussing forecasts and contingencies. When the subject was eventually exhausted the heat that slight touch had generated had made her knickers so wet she had to take herself to the ladies room to cool off. 

She found herself conscious of where he was in the room. No matter what the situation they seemed to gravitate towards each other. Nothing was spoken. Nothing was overt. The team were oblivious. He continued to be distant in his discussions of her work but between them there was an electricity. It sparked the moment he walked into the office and she knew, at some point, two or three times in a day, he would find a reason to move to her desk and consult her over some detail or other. Depending upon the position he chose she would always find a way to adjust her position to test his composure. Leaning back with her hands behind the chair, seemingly deep in thought, knowing her blouse had pulled tight across her breasts. Dropping a pen so that they both leaned at the same moment and his face would be level with her cleavage. Crossing her legs and slipping off one shoe before allowing her toes to just brush against his shins. 

She met his eyes whilst this dance played out. Always he was inscrutable. He held her gaze without giving away his thoughts. But he held her gaze, and she knew she had a poker face to rival any player. 

She had come to fantasising about him so much now that it was proving a distraction to her work. She only had to see him; the turn of his head, his forearms when he rolled up his shirt sleeves, the day he had removed his tie and unbuttoned his collar. She was so fucking wet the whole time; the ache in her groin made concentrating on work an act of sheer will.

Thankfully, out of adversity, came opportunity. Late in the day a major client account hit troubled waters, her task was to produce the report to turn it around. It would mean staying late and it was not unusual that he was also around after everyone had left. Within a couple of hours she had the data together to resolve the questions that had been raised. As she shut down her desk for the night and stood to leave she glanced over into his glass office. He was sitting back in his chair, his feet up on his desk, his arms behind his head just watching her.

She walked over to his office and as she did so he sat up in his chair, not abashed but she could see he was unsure what her next move might be. Walking around his office she planted her arse on the desk in front of him, hitched her skirt up above her stocking tops, placed one heel on each side of his chair and reached over for his tie, pulling him towards her. The next move was his.


  1. Hmm - what a wonderful mixture of tease and resistance. This slow temptation, the forbidden nature of it would seduce me every time. Forcing me to wonder if it was real or imagined, a projection of my desires or actual delicate flirtation would have my mind spinning. And the coup de grâce, the bold final move to devastate and win. Wonderful.

  2. I have tried to limit the blogs I follow to those who would be interested in reading my blog as well, because my blog is kind of "outside the box", but as a writer myself, I HAD to follow your blog after reading a couple of your posts. HAD here I am!

    Thanks for posting! I look forward to reading much more!


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