Let's Waste Time

Chapter Twelve

The next day I ran into Chris when I was coming back from the coffee shop.

“Hey,” I said, lugging my computer bag up the steps. He had a laundry basket under his arms and his keys out.

“What’s up?” he asked with a nod.

“On my break.” He got the door open and sent me a smirk.

“How much time do you have left?” I looked at my phone and then back at him.

“Not enough.”

“So be late.”

“I can’t be late.” He tossed the laundry basket into his apartment onto the floor and then leaned against the space between our doors.

“Why not?”

“It’s my job.”

“Then what are you still standing here for?” I sighed and looked at my phone again. Then I pulled the strap of my computer bag over my head.

“Alright, but make it quick.”

“You got it.”

I headed into his open apartment, and he followed after me. I put my bag down on the couch as he closed and locked the door. Then we went for each other like rabid wolves. He moved me toward the bedroom, but I tripped over his long leg and fell to the floor halfway to the kitchen. We both decided there wasn’t enough time to recover from it. He dropped to the floor with me and shimmied my jeans down over my hips. We didn’t even get our clothes off all the way before we went for it.

When we finished, I was lying on the hard floor with my leg over his shoulder. My jeans were still attached to my ankle, and his pants had only made it to his knees before we’d given up on them. But then he dropped to the floor at my side and put his hand over his heart as I got up to yank my jeans back up and find my glasses.

“I gotta work,” I told him.

“Alright,” he said. So I grabbed my bag and let myself out.

Basically, Chris and I had a schedule. Tuesdays were our movie days, and since we usually tended to skip the movie, Tuesdays sort of became our s*x days. But we saw each other more often than just every Tuesday. In fact, the very next day he knocked on my door while I was working. I’d given him a key because I claimed it was one of those neighborly things you’re supposed to do. But actually I just gave it to him so he could come and go as he pleased. HOWEVER, he had been strictly forbidden from using the key when Trent was in town. But I hadn’t seen him at all since this whole deal with Chris.

Either way, I turned to wave Chris away because I was busy. I was on my last call of the night, and I was desperate to make it end as quickly as possible. He was early, though, and he headed over to me to kiss my cheek from behind my chair. Then my neck. I smacked him away, but he gripped my shoulders and nibbled on my skin. I felt my breath catch, but I was in the middle of a call, so I ignored it.

Chris decided that he was too eager to wait for me to finish the call. He dropped to the floor and moved around to my front, squeezing his large body under my desk. I felt his fingers unhook my jeans. I slapped his hand away, but he succeeded in getting them undone. Then he pulled the zipper down. I gave him a look, warning that I was going to hit him in the face if he didn’t stop, but he just grinned back at me and began to pull my jeans down.

I tried to hold my form and not let him win, but then my body sort of betrayed me, and I lifted my butt just a little so he could get them off. He pulled them down off of my feet, and I kicked him away with my bare foot. I heard him chuckle under the desk and then his fingers laced in my underwear. Since I didn’t want to get fired, I held my ground, but the fear of getting caught was making my skin burn and my heart race. You know—in that good way. So when he tried to pry my knees apart, I caved and let him open them. Then he slid his hand up between my thighs and into my underwear. I didn’t slap him away again. I just clutched at the desk and tried to keep my breathing level.

I was still in the middle of a call that didn’t seem likely to end anytime soon, but I didn’t want him to stop either. He began to kiss my thigh, working his way up to his busy fingers. I quickly scribbled, “Wait!” on a Post-It and held it out for him to see. He just laughed quietly and continued on.

Once he was comfortable between my legs, he removed his hand from my underwear and gave me a brief moment of relief so I could focus on the call. But then he gripped my hips and pulled me toward him so that I was leaning back in my chair.

“Scissors?” he whispered.

I looked at him in confusion. I had no idea what he would want scissors for. But I wanted to buy myself time to get the damn call over with, so I handed them over before his reason for them dawned on me. Snip, a moment later my underwear were off. I gasped and gave him a startled look, but he just smiled, and then pulled me closer.

“Oh—Lord,” I said. I listened to my customer rant for a moment before I finally spoke up. “Um—Mrs. Peterson?—I’m going to have to transfer you—um—there seems to be a problem with your account that’s out of my jurisdiction.” I jolted and gripped at Chris’s hair.

“What? I don’t understand,” Mrs. Peterson retorted on the phone.

“There’s a problem—with my server—I need to transfer you to a—representative that can handle your case.” I pinched my lips and gripped his hair in my fist. “Sorry—have a nice day.” Then I hung up the call and quickly rushed to log out. I tossed my headset away from me and gripped the chair as he lifted my legs up onto the desk. “Oh god,” I said. “You’re such an asshole.” He didn’t reply. “If I get fired because of you—I’ll kill you.”

He just gave me a thumbs up to show that he didn’t care. I let him continue for a moment as I dropped my head back onto my chair. Finally, I couldn’t handle it anymore. I pushed him away from me. He whacked his head on the keyboard dock and then dropped backward onto the floor beneath the desk. I climbed off of my chair and settled myself on top of him. I unbuttoned his jeans as he tried to yank my shirt in the opposite direction. Eventually, we managed to get everything situated, and I gripped the desk above me before giving him my all. He wanted to tease me and drive me crazy. Well, he got what he wanted.

The next day he showed up at my door when I was on my lunch break. There wasn’t even a “hello” spoken between us. As soon as he came through the door, he scooped me up by the waist, dropped me onto the couch, and ripped my clothes off.

We did it everywhere at least once. And at least once a day. Sometimes more than that when we were feeling up to it. We did it in every room of my apartment, every surface, and also every room and surface of his apartment. Even his car once when he’d caught me taking out the trash when he was coming home from a game. He’d stepped out, said hi, and dragged me into the backseat. We didn’t climb back out until the windows were fogged up, and we were too sweaty to step outside into the cold sea air.

I was hooked. And I was going to be in a hell of a lot of trouble.