Page 11 of Seven Year Itch

They hopped on and took it to the fifth floor.

"I think it's this way." Mia pointed down the hall to the right once the elevator doors parted and they stepped out.

The smell hit Ali as soon as they opened the door. Cloying perfume. Looked as though they were in the right place. "We'll check out the secretary, then leave," Ali whispered as they snaked through the door

"Ten-four."

Ali snorted, shaking her head.

The office was nice if a bit outdated. Plush carpeting. Dark walls. Decorative prints. And a massive oaken desk, looking even larger compared to the little old lady sitting behind it. A plaque on her desk announced her name as Mrs. Dickerson.

Ali had never felt such relief. At least Garrett had been telling the truth about something.

"Can I help you, ladies?" Mr. Johnson's secretary's ruby-red lips turned up into a denture revealing smile.

Enacting the plan, Ali answered, "We're looking for Mr. Butterman's office."

"Oh, dear. I'm afraid you have the wrong floor. He's up on seven."

Ali grabbed Mia's hand. "I'm terribly sorry. We must've read the directory wrong. Please excuse us." She backed them to the door.

"No problem, dear. I get confused all the time. Why, just this morning, I couldn't find my glasses. Searched for over an hour and they were around my neck the whole time."

Ali opened the door and ushered Mia out before they both exploded into giggles.

≈≈≈≈

Ali poked her head out of the bathroom door to check the time on the digital clock at the side of the bed. She was running late. Garrett would be home any minute, and she wasn't even dressed yet.

She'd been so relieved after leaving Johnson's office—discovering Garrett hadn't lied about his secretary—she'd called her husband the minute she'd gotten home and told him not to be late coming home because she had something special planned for him.

Dinner for two at their favorite French restaurant.

She'd tried to stay on schedule, but her mother-in-law had talked her ear off when she'd dropped off the kids, and short of being rude, she couldn't stop her mid-sentence and rush out the door. Not when she'd been so nice, agreeing to babysit the kids last minute on a Monday night. Especially knowing she'd have them again that weekend for their monthly sleepover.

And, of course, she'd had to pop into her favorite boutique and buy a new dress. In the mood to look sexy and flirty, she wanted something that would drive Garrett wild.

That left her rushing through her hair and makeup and at the rate her hands flew, she'd be fortunate if she didn't take out an eye with the mascara wand or burn her forehead with the curling rod.

Lotioned, powdered, and spritzed, she hurried from the bathroom and crashed into a solid chest. Garrett's hands came out, snagging her waist as hers came up, grasping the lapels of his jacket.

"Please tell me this is my surprise." He was looking down at her, but his gaze wasn't lingering on her face, his attention was snagged on her breasts overflowing the cups of her new red, lace demi bra."

"Sorry, but no, I..." Her words faltered as a single finger came up to trace the swells of her breasts.

"New bra?" he asked, seemingly fixated on the delicate, lace edging.

"I, um, bought it today, along with a new dress."

"I like it."

His finger slowly circled her nipple through the satin fabric, and she felt it pucker under his touch. Need hit her hard and strong, and she wondered how she could become so turned on by a single digit and a heated stare.

"I wonder if I can make you come with just one finger." The previously mentioned finger moved down the plane of her stomach, stopping to dip suggestively into her navel.

Her fingers tightened on his lapels. "I wouldn't be opposed to finding out."

His chuckle rumbled like a caress over her skin, creating goose bumps down her arms. His finger trailed lower, stopping at the elastic of her panties to play along its edge. "These are new, too."

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