Page 6 of Tell Me What You Want

“Eric. My name is Eric.”

Confused and nervous, I swallow the knot of emotions that are making me tingle all over.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t think this is right.”

Then, without asking my permission, he takes the pin out of my bun, and my straight dark hair falls around my shoulders. I look at him. He looks at me too, and there is a more-than-significant silence in which we both breathe irregularly.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“No, sir,” I respond.

“Then where is the sparkling girl from the elevator?”

As I’m about to respond, I hear my supervisor and Miguel enter her office. Mr.Zimmerman presses his body closer to mine and tells me to be quiet.

“Where’s Judith?” my supervisor asks.

“I’m pretty sure she’s in the cafeteria. She must have gone up for a Coke. It’ll be a while before she comes back,” says Miguel as he closes the door to her office.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Miguel insists. “Now come here and show me what you’ve got under your skirt today.”

Oh my God, this can’t be happening.

Mr.Zimmerman should not see what I believe those two are about to do. I try to think of a way to distract him. This man is practically on top of me, and he won’t take his eyes off me.

“Relax, Miss Flores. Let’s let them have their fun,” he whispers.

I’m mortified.

An instant later, the only sounds are coming from mouths and tongues colliding in the next room. Frightened by the awkward silence, I look through the opening of the archive-room door and gasp when I see my supervisor sitting on her desk while Miguel licks her. I start to pant, and Zimmerman smiles from above me. He slides his hand around my waist and brings me closer to him.

“Excited?” he asks me.

I stare at him, but I don’t speak. I have no intention of answering that question. But his inquisitive eyes are on me, and he brings his mouth even closer to mine.

“What excites you more, soccer or this?” he asks.

Oh my God! How could I not be excited with a man like him practically on top of me in a situation like this? To hell with soccer! I’m shameless.

I’m so agitated, but then Zimmerman moves his head. He looks through the crack in the door and drags me over so we can both see. And what I see absolutely floors me. My supervisor is spread-eagle on the desk as Miguel avidly runs his tongue along her inner thigh. I close my eyes. Moments later, the German, who is still holding me very tightly, pushes me against the file cabinet again and whispers in my ear.

“Does watching them scare you?”

“No ...” He looks pleased. “But I don’t think it’s right that we’re watching them, Mr.Zimmerman. I think ...”

“It’s not hurting anyone, and anyway, it’s quite provocative.”

“She’s my supervisor.”

He makes an affirming gesture as he touches his mouth to my ear. “I’d give anything so that it was you on that desk,” he whispers. “I would put my mouth on your thighs and then stick my tongue in you and make you mine.”

I’m dumbstruck.

Bewildered.

Amazed.

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