Page 25 of Festive Flings

“I want you, too, Owen. I want to give us a shot. But first, I have to puke up.” Way to go me on ruining our first romantic interlude.

Owen laughs at me as I hurl every drop of liquor that I have ever drank. But he is so sweet, too. He holds my hair away from my face, rubs my back, and gives me damp face cloths and sips of cool water in between retches so I feel more comfortable.

When I stop heaving, he picks me up and carries me to his bed. Even though I have spewed up all the alcohol, I am still drunk. “Will you stay with me? Please?” I ask him, and Owen laughs at me again.

“It's my bloody room, woman!” Oh yeah! I forgot about that. “But I will stay in case you’re sick again.” I bite my lip in anticipation, I wish I had a toothbrush. I don’t want our first kiss to taste sick. But that’s a minute detail. I am in Owen’s bed, still horny as hell, and he has no top on.

I pull him into the bed with me, but he laughs and shakes his head. “Oh, no, you don’t. This is how this is going to go, Jamie. Once you have sobered up, we’ll have this conversation again. I want us to be straight about what we want. I want us to be completely open and honest with each other. In the morning, tell me you still want this, and I am all yours. Tell me when you're sober, when you can’t hide behind your drunkenness, and I’ll believe this is what you truly want.”

The pig, he just wants to see me blush. Looks like I’m going to spend another day yearning for Owen to be in my heart and between my legs.

~ Owen ~

My meeting with Mr. Hansen lasts for about two hours. It is boring and tedious, made even more so by the fact that I can’t stop thinking about Jamie the whole time. Once the meeting is over, Mr. Hansen calls Saffi back in. She brings dinner for us all on a silver trolley. Twice she bends down suggestively. She is not subtle, and when Mr. Hansen leaves to use the restroom, she tries to climb onto my lap.

“I have been dreaming of your tongue action, Owen. It’s still one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had. Come to my room later. You can show me what your tongue can do again, and I’ll show you what mine is capable of, too.” I have to admit, I had been on fire that night. But I don’t want this. Not with Saffi.

“Get off me. This isn’t going to happen, Saffi. You’re great and all that, but I’m in love with someone.”

I gently push her away from me, but she acts like I have burnt her. “You are in love with the skinny woman, your PA? But I am much sexier, no?” She runs her hands down her figure, and yes, I’ll be honest she is a knockout, but she doesn’t even compare to Jamie; she doesn’t even make the race against Jamie.

“We had a great time, Saffi, but that was then, and this is now. I don’t want this now. I just want her.” Rage bubbles inside her; I can tell from her expression and by the way she turns a dark purple from the chest up.

“You have a pin dick anyway!” she shouts out at me as she runs from the room. Charming.

Leaving the conference room, I head over to the hotel bar to see if I can find Jamie so I can explain what is going on, or more to the point; what isn't going on between Saffi and I. She isn't in the restaurant either. I look out at the hotel’s gardens but I still can’t find Jamie, I am stumped. I even knock on her door, but I can’t find her anywhere. The look on her face when Saffi was being suggestive both intrigues me and makes me feel ashamed. She looked hurt and annoyed, and I have already begun to read far too much into her reactions. Especially seeing as at the first opportunity she had, Jamie is out having fun with God knows who.

Giving up, I go back to my own room and shower, ready for my morning meeting. I help myself to a miniature from the minibar and try to read the documents I will need for my meeting. As I analyse the information, a post-it note from Jamie falls out, and I sit and stare at her neat curly writing. Smash it!

And as if on cue, a loud crash sounds outside my room, as if someone is trying to break down the wall. I open the door to find Jamie splayed on the floor in the corridor, arguing with the wall.

“Who the fuck put that wall there? Stupid place to put a wall; it could kill someone.” She looks at me, squints and then groans about it not being fair that I look fit.

Oh, how I love drunk Jamie! Drunk Jamie is the funniest thing I have ever seen. We have had a lot of office parties and Christmas do’s and have attended many colleagues' birthdays, weddings, divorces and engagement parties over the few years we have worked together. We would all drink, but I have only ever seen Jamie drunk on two occasions, apart from tonight.

The first time, she decided she wanted to play Scrabble when we were at a house party. There were other games going on; someone was playing blackjack; there was a game of strip poker taking place. To be honest, it was meant to be a tame night that started to go a bit haywire. She ended up with about twenty letter tiles and kept misspelling words or spelling out rude words. She howled, laughing at herself. It's one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen. I promised myself if I ever did get a chance with her, I was going to get her drunk and make her play monopoly with me just so I could see what she would do.

The other time was at a retirement party. To be fair, everyone was drunk, but Jamie just stood out to me because… well, because it's Jamie. She and a couple of other girls had been singing and dancing when Jamie climbed up onto the tabletop. I felt like time stood still as she danced like no one else was in the room. In moments like that, as she laughed and giggled with her friends, I was completely spellbound by her, by her freedom and self-assurance, by her easy-going and happy nature and her lack of care for what others thought or said about her. But then as soon as Carl would show up, she would turn into a timid wallflower.

True to form, drunk Jamie didn’t disappoint. Right before tossing her cookies — and by the sheer volume you would think she hurled somebody else’s cookies as well —she finally told me what I’ve been waiting years to hear: she wants me.

I don’t care about anything else now, from the things she’s said and asked tonight it's clear that she feels something, too. Tomorrow morning I have a meeting, and then I am free for almost two days. I have two days with Jamie in Copenhagen. Two days to shower her in all the love and affection I have been holding inside. Two days to really break down her walls, and show her what is lurking behind mine. Two days to win her heart and make her mine.

I go to her room while she sleeps in my bed and move all her stuff to my room. I know she is going to feel like shit in the morning and having all her stuff close by, so she can shower, change and brush her teeth, will make her feel better.

As I make myself comfortable on the sofa that’s ten feet from the king size bed Jamie is sleeping in, I laugh at myself. So many times I have dreamed of having this beautiful woman in my bed; I never once contemplated it being like this. I hope this is the last time she sleeps in my bed without me. I am just drifting off to sleep when I hear her voice. At first, I think she is calling out to me, but after sitting up and rubbing my eyes I notice she is still asleep.

The blanket has fallen off her, exposing her bare creamy skin. And that’s when I see it:Jamie has her hand between her legs, rubbing herself while whispering my name in her sleep. My breath catches in my throat, and my dick is instantly stiff in response. God she is exquisite. I am terrified to move, or even breathe, in case I wake her. As she reaches her climax, she cries out my name. I can do nothing but watch and listen, completely enraptured with my sleeping beauty.

All this time I have been dreaming of her and dreaming of us… has she been doing the same? Something tells me this is a new development. A happy one.

I can’t wait to be the one who fulfils her wildest dreams. Aching with longing, I lie awake for at least another hour thinking of the beautiful woman in my bed, the scent of her orgasm, another presence in the room. I can’t get the sound of her sweet moans as she came out of my head.

That is the single hottest experience of my life and it's simply because it’s her.

When my alarm sounds in the morning, she jumps up, her hair sticks up at odd angles and she looks about my room confused and disorientated.

“Good morning, babe. How’s the head?” Her eyes go wide in realisation when she spots me. Once again, she doesn't challenge my endearment, something about it just feels so right. The first time I called her babe was a slip of the tongue. Now, it feels so natural, like that is what I should’ve always been calling her.

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