A Hard Day's Work Read online

  “Thanks,” I mumble and make my way out. After I gently close the door, I take a deep breath before returning to my colleagues and the questions they will surely bombard me with. This morning, when I dressed for work, pondering if I should really go for that sleeveless blouse, I had no way of knowing I’d end up on a date with my boss.

  * * *

  The rest of the day goes by slowly and it doesn’t help that Ann eyes me suspiciously every time I get up to go to the bathroom or take a break. Amanda failed to discuss any details with me for tonight and I have no idea how this is going to play out. I can’t focus on the figures I’m supposed to analyse. They dance in front of my eyes, always mysteriously shaping themselves into the form of Amanda’s smile. I can’t stop thinking about how she chewed her bottom lip, how she cocked her head and drew me in, making me believe I was in charge, but actually manipulating me—while taking advantage of the crush I so obviously have on her—into making a move.

  “What on earth did she say to you, Jo?” Kenneth can’t help himself. “You’ve been spaced out all day.”

  If Amanda was aware of my crush on her, it wouldn’t be too far a stretch of the imagination for the two people I spend all my working hours with to know.

  “Pff,” Ann bristles. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but obviously Amanda is not threatened by lesbians as much as she is by her own kind.”

  Her own kind? If only Ann knew. I check the clock on my computer screen. It’s ten to five. Ann and Kenneth are just killing time before they head home for the weekend.

  “Dear Ann, I wish you and your kind a lovely weekend.” I shoot her a small smile because she doesn’t deserve more. Then I fix my gaze on Kenneth.

  “It was just an uneventful performance review. I was barely in there ten minutes.” Ten minutes of which I’ll remember every second for the rest of my life.

  Kenneth shrugs and Ann starts packing up her stuff. She screws the cap onto her bottle of water before placing it into her bag, arranges her pens just so in their basket and switches off her computer. I conclude that they don’t have a clue.

  A few minutes later they’re both out of the door, but instead of relaxing into my seat while enjoying the first real silence of the day, my nerves are rattled and I can almost feel my blood pump its way through my veins.

  Apart from the physical discomfort and the stress Amanda’s words are causing me, my imagination isn’t exactly playing nice either. I keep wondering about the length of her running shorts and the delicate tracks the sweat dripping from her hair will leave on her face. I’m also fairly worried about not being able to keep up with her. Despite being in good shape, I’m not a runner. In the dojo, I train barefoot and the only gym shoes I own are the cheap pair of tennis shoes I bought last month.

  “Hey.” Amanda startles me when she appears in the door frame. “Are we still on for tonight?” She’s not exceptionally tall, but when she stands in front of me like that, her shoulder leaning against the door frame, her face relaxed but her upper body always held up straight, there’s something so regal about her.

  “Sure.” I let her take the lead, not by choice but because I feel as if I have no other option.

  “I’m knocking off early today. Shall we meet at the south entrance of Hampstead Heath at…” She pauses to check her wristwatch. “…seven?”

  I should have had the audacity to ask her out for a drink instead. What else are Friday nights for if not for downing the pint or two I don’t allow myself on weekdays? Do people who run half-marathons even drink alcohol?

  “I’ll be there.” I’ve never seen Amanda in anything else but a dark pencil skirt and a tight blouse in either baby-blue, light pink, black, or white. Her work uniform doesn’t vary and I hardly mind it—she pulls it off so well—but it will be strange to see her outside of work and in a sports outfit.

  “Can’t wait.” She winks at me before turning on her heels and leaving me in a puddle of my own desire.

  “It’s a running date,” I tell myself. “You’ll both be sweaty and wet and highly unattractive.” I have trouble believing myself.

  I scramble for my stuff, save the document I was working on and rush out of the office. I have time to stop at a shop to buy a decent pair of running shoes.

  * * *

  When I arrive at the park entrance five minutes early—already exhausted by the slightly uphill trek from the tube station and the stress of not knowing where to put my keys, money, and Oyster card—Amanda’s already there, stretching her calves in a highly intimidating manner.

  She’s wearing a pair of tight, knee-length running pants and a matching black top. My new shoes are making my right little toe itch—the first sign of a burgeoning blister. As I approach I count all the ways in which this was the worst idea ever.

  “Hey.” Her eyes instantly wander to my bare arms. She really can’t seem to get enough of them. “Did you find it easily?” Her demeanour seems different. There’s less of an edge to her voice and her spine doesn’t appear to be stretched so tautly.

  “Yeah. No problem.” I fumble with the small pouch holding my stuff. “I love it here. It’s beautiful at this time of the day.”

  “My car’s right over there.” She points at a golden SUV parked a few feet away by the curb. I had pictured her driving a less practical car—something a bit more show-offy. “If you want to get rid of that.” She opens a small pocket on the side of her running pants in which a car key is velcroed to the fabric. So that’s how it’s done.

  “Thanks.” I quickly head to the car, all the while feeling Amanda’s gaze burn my backside. While dropping my pouch on the passenger seat of her car I do a quick scan for signs of Doug, but I only see a bottle of water, a few towels and backpack tucked away on the back seat.

  “How often do you run?” Amanda’s already moving in place when I get back.

  It’s a question I should have anticipated, but somehow—because my brain was too busy focusing on less practical issues—I haven’t. “Not very often.” I smile sheepishly.

  “You’re clearly in good shape and you have quite a few years on me.” She taps my shoulder lightly with her fingertips. “You’ll be fine. How does five miles sound?”

  “Like a piece of cake,” I lie and follow her into the park to a small path curving around the trees.

  The first ten minutes are surprisingly easy. I realise I must be high on adrenalin. I let Amanda lead the way as the sun dips lower in the sky. The rain has stopped and it’s an acceptable summer evening. Amanda is quiet when she runs, her face focused, her bent arms swinging by her side in fluent motions. The pace she sets is one I can keep up with—not effortlessly, but I do a lot of boxing training and, although very different from running, I am quite quick on my feet.

  After fifteen minutes the first beads of sweat start making their way down her arms. That’s when it gets difficult. I haven’t forgotten what I’m here for, but I do wonder if I’ll have energy left later to take this where I want it to go.

  The Heath is quite deserted because it’s a Friday evening and most people have better things to do than work on their fitness levels. Ordinarily, I’d be in the pub, contemplating a big night out but deciding on going home at a decent time because I always train with Stan on Saturday morning.

  Maybe Amanda and I have more in common than I first thought. She also has a husband, though. In that respect, we couldn’t be more different.

  After what feels like three hours of running, but must, in reality, not be more than a good thirty minutes, I’ve fallen behind a little. It gives me a good view of Amanda’s flexing calves and sculpted shoulder line. Her right arm is a bit wider than her left, indicating hours of tennis practice.

  Then, all of a sudden, she stops. I breathe heavily when I reach the secluded spot she chose to halt our run at. My white tank top is completely soaked through and the muscles in my legs tremble.

  “Are you all right?” she inquires. Her brow is coated in sweat, but there’s no sign of
a blush on her face. “I didn’t mean to go so fast, but sometimes I stop thinking when I run and I just go for it.”

  I take a few deep breaths. “That wasn’t five miles, was it?”

  “No.” She plants her palms against a tree and starts stretching her legs. “I made an executive decision to cut our run short.”

  I arch up my eyebrows. “Oh really? Why’s that?”

  “Come on, stretch,” is her only answer.

  I take position at the other side of the tree. It’s thin enough to not obstruct too much of my view. Amanda’s top is sufficiently drenched for me to see how hard her nipples are. I mimic her stretching movements, which gives me a good excuse to keep my eyes on her.

  “Turn around,” she says. With one step she’s by my side. “With your back against the tree.”

  Heat radiates off her body. My skin crackles when her palms connect with my shoulders. Her fingertips dig into my flesh and I instantly know this is not some special sort of stretch. This is foreplay.

  “Quick question,” she breathes into my ear. “Can I kiss you now?”

  In a flash, my hands move to her neck and I pull her close. A storm brews in her eyes in the instant before she closes them, the moment before our lips touch and everything changes.

  Desire rips through me as her stiff nipples crash against my chest. We’re about the same height and the pressure of her breasts against mine while she lets her tongue slip inside my mouth for the first time, is enough to make my knees buckle.

  The air around us is suddenly heavy with moist heat. The sun disappears behind a building in the distance, casting a sudden shadow over us. I want all of her at once. I want to tear off her wet clothes and fuck her right on this spot. But what about Doug? And maybe all she wants to do is kiss. Exactly how straight is she, anyway?

  A million questions race through my mind and, despite the buzzing sensation creeping along my skin and the fire exploding in my belly as she kisses me over and over again, I can’t make them stop.

  Gently, I push her away. “I know you know that I want nothing more than what is happening right now.”

  “But…” She swallows before speaking. “You want to know what on earth I’m playing at.”

  I let my hands drop to her side and curl my fingers around hers to bridge the sudden distance.

  “I’m all for a quick romp in the bushes, Amanda, but on Monday you’ll be my boss again and what will happen then?” After dreaming of a moment like this for months, I could slap myself for saying this.

  Her lips quirk into an almost shy smile that melts every bit of me that hasn’t surrendered yet. She squeezes my fingers in hers and I know I still have a chance.

  “I do apologise for my very un-boss-like behaviour.” She presses her body against mine. “Will you go home with me so we can talk about it?”

  Home? Talk? What about Doug? “You want to take me home?”

  “I do.” She nods as if it’s the most logical question in the world. “Will you come?”

  “Yes.” If she’s going to be all casual about it, so will I. I’m also dying to see her house… and to see if there’s any sign of her husband. Speaking of which. Surely, this could not be some lame set-up for a threesome with him? What if he’s waiting for his wife to bring home a young piece of meat. I realise I haven’t thought this through. “What about your husband?”

  She pulls back, letting my hand dangle in the air. “There’s no need to worry about Doug.” She sighs before straightening her spine, as if drawing strength from the action of lifting her shoulders and standing tall. “He’s not in town and we’re only a few signatures away from being divorced.”

  We start walking down the path. I have no idea where we are, if the car is far away, and what sort of walk this will turn out to be. Is Amanda on the rebound? It would explain her sudden interest. Maybe my crush on her, which I thought I was hiding so capably under my cool veneer, flattered her and she wondered why the hell not.

  Dusk is falling as we silently head to the exit of the park. Does this change anything? It’s not as if I didn’t know about Doug before I came here tonight. If anything, at least I know now that he’s as good as out of the picture.

  This isn’t just about Doug and Amanda and whatever’s going on with them. This is about me being on my way to my boss’s house after she kissed me against a tree. She kissed me. She invited me here. She wants this just as much as I do.

  * * *

  Amanda’s house is much warmer than I had expected. I’d always envisioned her in a factory-conversion loft with sleek white designs and not a thing out of place. To my surprise, she has two cats who mewl excitedly as she enters. She scratches them behind the ears and the sight of it transforms my crush into something a lot deeper.

  “Sorry about the mess,” she says as we venture from the hallway into the lounge. “I wasn’t expecting company.” She smiles apologetically. I spot an empty mug on the table and a few pairs of discarded shoes on the rug. It’s hardly my idea of a mess. “Do you want to take a shower? I can fix us something to eat. Spaghetti maybe?” She babbles.

  I want to take a shower all right. It’s my turn to make a move now, anyway. Amanda looks as if she’s about to shatter with nerves. Something furry drags against my legs as I position myself right in front of her.

  “Yes, please.” I peck her on the cheek. “I’ll take a shower…” I plant a soft kiss against the delicate skin of her neck. “…but only if you join me.”

  “But—” I can feel her body relax in my grasp. “Don’t you want to talk?”

  “You’ve told me all I needed to know,” I breathe into her ear. “I didn’t want a quick shag against a tree on the Heath and then have you drive home to your husband.”

  “And have me call you into my office on Monday claiming it was a big mistake and threatening to fire you if you ever told anyone.”

  There goes my false sense of security again. Every time I think I have the situation in hand—which I clearly never have but my acute lust would like me to believe otherwise—she slaps me in the face with a truth so obvious, it makes me feel like a hormonal teenager.

  My muscles tense and a deflated sigh escapes me.

  “Hey.” She draws me back in, her fingers on the back of my neck zapping electricity through my body. “I was just kidding. I won’t claim I know exactly what I’m doing here, Jo. Far from it. But you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

  Amanda wanted this?

  “How about that shower?” I ask.

  Her hands trail down the sides of my body. “I’ll have to get you out of these dirty clothes first.” She hoists up my tank top and I instinctively raise my arms over my head. With the back of her hand, she caresses my stomach. “Jesus…” she hisses while she discovers my abs.

  I hook my fingers under the tight fabric of her top and roll it upwards.

  “There are two things you should know,” she whispers after I’ve removed her top off her body. Her green eyes shine as they bore into mine. “One.” She brings her hands behind her back and unclasps her bra. “I’ve never been with a woman before, but I’ve always wanted to.” Her bra falls to the floor with a soft thud as she releases it. “And two.” She heels off her running shoes. “I haven’t had sex in a very…” She pauses to remove the headband keeping her hair in place. “…very long time.”

  I don’t know what to think of her impromptu confessions. Frankly, the time for thinking has passed. Amanda stands in front of me half-naked, as good as throwing herself at me. I’m more than willing to receive, and be her first of everything she wants me to be—her first woman, her first lover in ages.

  I crash my body in to hers, my hands in her loose hair and my lips on her mouth, and I’m not sure we’ll have time to shower. I inhale her scent. The musky sweat clinging to her skin and the remnants of the day’s perfume—I remember how it hit my nostrils this morning, instantly making my clit ache for her. I shove her against the nearest wall and catch a nipple between
my fingers.

  She moans, her breath hot against my neck, and I’m torn between ravaging her right there and then, or allowing us both to slow down. I remember my first time—with a woman—and the slowness of it, the deliberate hesitation of fingers on skin, the heat mounting in my blood with every tender caress of my girlfriend, and I want this for Amanda as well. I want her to feel this is not a quick rumble for me. I want her to feel my intentions behind it. Not because this is—suddenly—love, but it’s not just sex either. Moreover, I don’t want her jammed against a wall when I first slip my fingers inside of her. I want it to be more than that.

  I release the pressure on her nipple and trail my lips down her neck to her breast. She tastes salty and her scent sets off something in my blood. A chemical reaction freeing me of inhibitions. The sudden certainty of knowing exactly what to do.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” I ask as I stare up into her eyes. This is going to be a slow one—one we’ll both never want to forget.

  She takes my hand and leads me through the hallway, up the stairs into the master bedroom. I let her take off my bra, but I have other things in mind than slowly peeling off our sweaty clothes. I get out of my shorts and underwear quickly and wait until we’re both completely naked.

  “Come on.” To my relief the en-suite boasts a large walk-in shower. Definitely something I can work with. I turn on the tap and wait for the water to turn warm before pulling her in with me. Instantly, her skin is on mine—hot and wet and sticky.

  I kiss her under the relentless stream of water, drops leaking into our mouths while our tongues meet over and over again. Her fingernails scrape along my back and my skin breaks out in goosebumps.

  I locate the soap behind her in a small alcove in the tiled wall. Reaching for it, I push her closer to the wall until I’m able to squirt a good amount into the palm of my hand.

  “Time to wash.” I rub the flower-scented soap all over her back, creating large bubbles of foam. Slowly, my hands travel to the front and my slippery fingers massage her breasts. I find her eyes and see nothing but desire. The woman who’s melting under my hands has nothing in common with the woman who presides staff meetings and tells my colleagues and me what to do. Stripped of her office uniform—and running clothes—Amanda is a woman with god knows how many months of pent up lust coursing through her veins.