Jane O'Reilly - Indecent...Nights

‘I need to see Mr Hunt,’ I say for the second time, adjusting the strap of my bag, which I’ve loaded up with my camera and iPad. ‘It’s an emergency.’

‘What sort of emergency?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘What sort of emergency?’ she asks again. She’s managed to fix her smile in place, though her eyes are hard. There’s a slight gap between her front teeth, and she’s wearing a very pretty necklace, a slender gold chain with a twisted knot that sits against her throat. Her back is poker straight, a dancer’s posture.

She’s a guard dog in heels, and I’m tired of being barked at. I’m tired of running away, of being afraid. I came here to see Tom, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. ‘I need to see Mr Hunt,’ I say slowly. ‘It’s important’ My gaze travels over the front of her blouse, which is cream and covered with tiny black hearts.

‘I’m really sorry,’ she says, setting down her pen and not sounding sorry at all. ‘But it’s company policy. All visitors must have an appointment. I can make one for you, if you like.’

I feel suddenly very hot. My spine is tingling. I need to see Tom and I need to see him now . I adjust the position of my bag, then I lean in. ‘I don’t want an appointment.’ I say quietly. ‘I pay a lot of money for the services this company provides.’ That’s not quite true. One of the reasons I chose this firm was because my brother works here and he got me a discount. But she doesn’t need to know that. ‘I have a problem, and I need to see Mr Hunt, and I need to see him now.’ My voice gets louder with every word. I’m almost shouting. I’m definitely being difficult.

Her long, dark eyelashes flutter, and she drops her pen. ‘I’ll let Mr Hunt know you’re here,’ she mutters. ‘You can go through. He’s not with anyone at the moment.’

I straighten up, nod my thanks. ‘Thank you.’

‘Let me know if there is anything else I can help you with,’ she says, as I turn to walk away.

‘I will,’ I say. The rush of power is overwhelming. What is it they say? With great power comes great responsibility? I’ve felt the responsibility before, but I’ve never felt the power. As I move away from the desk and make my way down the corridor towards Tom’s office, that rush stays with me, and I like it.

I knock on his door, wait for a response. The air in the corridor is perfectly chilled, but it’s stifling. I knock again, harder, wanting to be on the other side of that door.

My heart is beating faster now, too fast. All I can think about is Tom. I have only been standing here for a few seconds, but it seems like hours, and I suddenly realise that I’m not here for Amber.

I’m here for me.

To hell with it all. I grab the door handle, twist it and push the door open, putting myself on the other side of it as quickly as I can. I kick it shut behind me, then lean back against it, breathing hard. I close my eyes. The room smells like him. It makes my knees buckle.

‘Ellie.’ His voice wanders over me, slow and sensual.

‘Tom,’ I say quickly, breathlessly. ‘I…’

‘I didn’t know you had an appointment today.’ A second voice interrupts me before I can finish. I jerk up, away from the door, open my eyes and want to throw up. ‘Scott!’ My twin brother. Born five minutes before me, born perfect. Letters don’t spin and flip when he looks at them.

‘And do you always walk into an office without waiting to be invited in?’ he asks, getting out of his chair and moving towards the door. His face is red, and he’s got his hands tucked in his trouser pockets, a sure sign that an explosion is imminent.

I should be afraid, but instead, I’m defiant. I’m tired of being ashamed, of being scared. ‘No,’ I say. ‘I don’t. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got private business to discuss with Mr Hunt.’

Scott stares at me. This is new territory for him, I know. It’s new territory for me, too. I wait for him to argue, to make a scene. ‘Fine,’ he says. He walks to the door and I step neatly to one side. The door closes with an audible click.

I put my bag on the floor and then I put my gaze on Tom. He is sat behind his desk, looking exactly as he always does. Beige suit, neatly combed hair, perfectly knotted tie. Except that his eyes are hot, and the hands he puts on top of the desk aren’t quite steady. ‘Scott’s having a hard time at the moment,’ he says. ‘He massively underestimated a tax bill. The client isn’t happy. Neither is the boss.’

‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Scott? Really?’ I can’t imagine my perfect brother doing anything so messy, so wrong.

‘Things are difficult for him right now,’ Tom adds. He leans back in his chair and unfastens his jacket. ‘So what can I do for you, Ellie?’

I stare at him and fidget. Then I go ahead and blurt it out. ‘Have you ever had sex in your office?’

He makes me wait for his answer, my imagination running riot. And then it’s not even an answer. ‘Lock the door,’ he says, ‘and I’ll tell you.’

Chapter Six

The weird awkwardness is right there between us, only this time it’s tempered with an almost instant arousal. I want you , I think as I look at him. You’re weird and strange and you dress like a pervert and god, I want you . But I don’t say it out loud. ‘So have you?’

‘Not yet,’ he says, as he shrugs out of his jacket. ‘The opportunity has never presented itself.’

‘It hasn’t?’

‘No,’ he says. ‘I’ve wanked myself off in here a few times though.’

Oh, god. I walk quickly towards the chair nearest to me and collapse into it, setting my bag down on the floor by my feet. Mutually assured destruction, I remind myself, as I glance around his office. It looks exactly the same as it always has, and yet something is different. ‘I want to have sex with you in your office,’ I say, rushing the words out. ‘I want to have lots of sex with you. I want to do all the things that everyone else is doing.’

He gets out of his seat and walks around to my side of the desk. ‘You’ll have to be more specific,’ he says. ‘What sort of sex are you talking about?’

‘The indecent kind.’ I’m so hot now even my hair is sweating. ‘Please, just…I want to have sex with you.’ It takes everything I have to get those words out, and my heart races. I bite into my lip. What if he asks for those other words, like he did yesterday? I don’t know if I can say them.

But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out and grabs my right breast. He doesn’t stroke, or fondle. He grabs, his big hand covering that curve of flesh. My nipple pushes itself against his palm, like a hard little nut, straining to get into his fingers. He moves his hand away, but he does it slowly, his fingers pressing together to form a tight pinch that holds my nipple in that place between pleasure and pain for a second that’s not nearly long enough.

‘Show me your tits,’ he says then, his voice rough. ‘I didn’t see them yesterday. I want to see them.’

I’m wearing a white cotton vest today, with a pale blue sweater over the top. It’s hardly easy access. And then there’s my bra. Not to mention my nerves, which are horrific. ‘I’m not Amber,’ I say, as I set shaking hands to the hem of my sweater.

‘Like I told you yesterday,’ he says, ‘Amber doesn’t make me hard.’ And then his hands are under my clothes. He touches my stomach, touches my breast through my bra and then works his hand underneath it until his hand is covering my soft, sensitive flesh.

‘Tell me what you want,’ he says, searching my face as he plays with my breast. He isn’t gentle, he’s rough, and I like it. I like it so much.

‘I can’t,’ I say, closing my eyes as he locks his thumb and forefinger around my nipple and tortures it. ‘Please, Tom. Don’t make me say it.’ I open my eyes and glance down at my bag.