Since Jenny had won the argument about the BlueCoast Daubert, Michael had given her a wider berth. She hated him a little less, because she felt free. She had decided to leave her job and was thinking about becoming an economist. An economic expert, in fact. She could design the analyses that she cobbled together for litigation. She would actually write the reports and defend them during depositions and at trial. Grad school brochures were strewn across her kitchen table. It would be a long road—GRE, master’s, doctorate. More school, yes. But it finally felt right. And she figured law school hadn’t been a total waste, since she first had to get her law degree to know the field existed.
Thinking about the next phase of her career was also meant to take her mind off Blake. Since they had last spoken, Blake sent occasional text messages. Just Thinking of you, and more photographs. A Manhattan street with the sun setting just at the end of it, over the Hudson, between the buildings, a glowing orb shooting shards of light across the buildings. A broken traffic light with both the red and green blazing at the same time. The texts only came once every few days and Blake said nothing else, nothing more about visiting, or how things were at home, or wanting anything from Jenny other than what she’d already had.
But that phone call in Lydia’s office was different than any text. It was awkward, and halting, but had a certain fire to it. That phone call was Blake’s voice, with its low tone, its slow pace, the pauses between words that Jenny had found so erotic. Blake said they’d talk and figure it out. Whatever “it” was. But Blake didn’t call. Not for two whole weeks. Until she did.
Jenny watched her phone light up on her desk, the name “Blake Harrison” blinking across the screen. Her finger hovered over the answer icon. Then, as if she were jumping into the cold rough ocean, she picked it up quickly.
“Hi, I—”
“Hey, so—”
“It’s been a while.” Jenny’s voice broke through the overlap. It had been two weeks and one day since they had spoken in Lydia’s office. Yes, she’d been counting.
Blake’s silence filled her ears.
“I’m coming to Boston,” she said, after a few breaths. Jenny couldn’t tell if she had more to say. They had become so awkward with one another.
“Why?”
“To see you!” she said. Jenny smiled into the phone, wanting to relive their night together, became giddy that she’d get the chance.
“I’m so glad,” she said to Blake, but just as she did, Blake said, “So also, actually—” and stopped.
“What?” They started talking over one another again. Finally, Jenny said in a firmer voice, “‘Actually’ what?”
She heard Blake breathe in. “I’m going to see Amy, too, about a show.”
Jenny blushed, embarrassed that she hadn’t realized Blake was kidding when she said she’d be coming to see Jenny. Why had she jumped to that conclusion? She was both feet in again, with no assurances from Blake. She had to be cautious.
“Okay. Well, have a good time,” Jenny said.
“Back up,” Blake said, with a trace of smile in her voice. “I want to see you. Amy was going to come here, but I suggested Boston because of you. Got it?”
“Yes.” Relief flooded Jenny’s chest. Maybe she wasn’t swimming alone.
“So can I?”
“What?”
“See you? Take you out to dinner? A proper date.” Jenny closed her eyes and could see Blake’s lips as she formed the words. Her nervous smile around each sound.
“I accept.” She hoped Blake could hear her smile, too. “When?”
“This Friday.”
“Can I pick you up?” Jenny asked quickly. “Where are you staying?”
Now it was Blake’s turn to stumble a bit. “I thought—”
“With me!” Jenny’s foot was shaking nervously, like it was trying to fly off her leg. She blushed furiously, embarrassed again. They were one stroke together and one stroke apart.
“I didn’t want to presume,” came Blake’s voice, a little quiet, chastised, too.
“Presume away. Okay. Yes. Fine. Okay.” Jenny was sputtering now, amazed, Blake just announced she’d be there. With no pretense, dinner and a fuck.
Blake laughed. “We’re better in person I think.”
Jenny just nodded, and Blake somehow was able to take the silence as goodbye, and hung up. She held on to the phone in her palm, even after it had gone silent and Blake’s name was no longer on the screen.
Three days. She’d be seeing Blake in three days. She sat back in her desk chair and swiveled to look out the window. Spring was inching along. There were a few green dots in the landscape. Jenny wondered again if Blake had ever seen Boston like this. Not half-dead. She smiled at her translucent reflection in the window, not quite sure she recognized who it was, but liking what she saw. Just letting this be what it was going to be. Welcoming Blake to town, to her bed, gleeful at the thought.
Jenny stayed at work late on Thursday, wanting to finish all her work for the weekend so she’d be able to leave early on Friday and spend the weekend with Blake. It was late, around eleven, and the office was empty. Her eyes were starting to protest about still being open, but she still had a few more lines of the spreadsheet to optimize.
Her phone beeped. A text from Blake.
Hi. Can’t wait to see you.
Jenny wrote back immediately, too tired and too excited to start worrying about the composition or editing her thoughts.
Me too.
Where are you now?
Office.
You work so hard.
You sound like my parents.
I certainly don’t want to sound like them.
Jenny waited a few moments, and Blake wrote again. You need to relax.
Jenny waited another beat and Blake wrote again, I’d like to relax you.
Well, that was a little flirtatious. Jenny smiled, getting excited for the next day, for Blake’s presence, for their magnetism to be in person again.
You excite me, you don’t relax me, Jenny wrote, feeling bold.
Can’t I do both? came Blake’s reply, immediately. Jenny’s face felt flushed. She wanted to look around the office, make sure no one else was there. She was feeling turned on. She couldn’t believe that Blake’s power over her was so intense that she could be sitting on her desk chair, in front of a green spreadsheet, feeling turned on from a few text messages, which were pretty innocent, but she was.
What are you wearing? Blake wrote.
Seriously? Jenny replied. Then, quickly, Navy suit. I was wearing it the second time we met.
Good
So Blake had dispensed with any punctuation. That was interesting.
How about you? Jenny wrote, trying to keep it light.
Nothing
Really?
No. Black leggings and a red T-shirt
Jenny smiled, picturing Blake perched on a stool in her studio, surrounded by pads of paper and buckets of pencils. She had sent a picture of the studio once, and Jenny enlarged it on her tiny phone screen so she could see every pixel of Blake’s world.
Jenny was about to write back some piece of that thought, but Blake wrote again before she typed it out.
I wish I could kiss your neck
Jenny flushed again, suddenly cognizant of a nearly overwhelming need to touch herself. This was too much. She had to get home, relieve the tension there, in bed, with or without Blake texting her, and get ready for tomorrow. This was getting absurd. She was in her office, for God’s sakes.
You can kiss my neck tomorrow. Jenny texted, with the proper punctuation. She couldn’t be feeling turned on in her office. She needed to let Blake off gently and go home.
But I want to now, was Blake’s immediate reply. Jenny couldn’t deny she wanted to know where this would lead. How far was Blake going to take this? She banished rational thought and decided on a different approach. Playing along. Her breath was coming up shallow.
I want that too, she wrote, leaving the ball in Blake’s court. She squirmed in her seat, waiting for her to reply. It seemed to take a long time.
I want to do so many things, was all she wrote.
She decided to ask, to take it to the next level. Fuck it. She was turned on, it was late at night, she would play this game if Blake wanted to play.
Oh yeah? Like what? Jenny wrote.
I want to suck on your nipples, Blake replied, quickly.
Jenny’s breathing became heavier. She got up quickly, opened her door, and looked down the hallway.
No one. Not a light to be seen. She was alone. When she turned back to her phone, Blake had already sent a few more messages.
I want to take off your skirt
I want to climb underneath your desk
I want to lick you, taste you
I want you to hold my head
I want to make you moan
Jenny couldn’t hold back. She slid her right hand inside the waistband of her skirt and her underwear and started rubbing her clit, her mouth going dry with Blake’s texts.
Jenny fumbled as she texted back with her left hand, I’m so wet. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, but she couldn’t stop. She needed Blake. And if she couldn’t be there with her, this would have to suffice.
I am licking you & taste so good, Blake responded. When Jenny didn’t respond right away, too busy panting, Blake wrote,
Take off your underwear. Jenny noticed the punctuation.
Ok, Jenny wrote.
Put two fingers inside of you. Blake’s next instruction.
Jenny complied, rubbing her clit with her other hand. She couldn’t text back that way, with both her hands occupied, so she waited for Blake’s next message.
Now suck on your fingers.
Jenny did so, feeling her body nearing orgasm, not caring that she was splayed open in the middle of her office, her work timer still clicking by.
Taste good?
Yes, Jenny managed to type back.
I want a taste, Blake wrote.
I wish, typed Jenny.
Blake’s next message was a picture. Jenny opened it up and couldn’t figure out what she was seeing at first. A door, a glass wall…then she realized. It was the elevator bank on her floor.
Jenny sat up in her chair, yanking her fingers out of her body. What did this mean? Her top button had come undone. She buttoned it, smoothed her skirt, and gingerly approached her door, opening it softly, knowing that anyone within a few feet of her would be able to smell sex. She looked down the hallway. Still dark. No one there. She walked past the coffee station to the elevator bank. And there, behind the glass wall, behind the door was Blake. She was pressing her breasts up against the glass, and her eyes were hooded with heavy lids, lust jumping through them. It seemed almost cruel, the glass, and then funny, and then, in Jenny’s state, urgent beyond all measure that she pull Blake through. Touch her. She pulled her I.D. from her belt clip and waved it at the scanner. The door didn’t open. Blake started laughing a little bit, Jenny could see her chuckle but couldn’t hear her. Finally, the door beeped open, and Blake almost fell through.
They kissed before they said anything, tongues moving so aggressively Jenny thought they were trying to mold their mouths together. She had been so close to orgasm, and now, with Blake here, it was like she was in a state beyond orgasm, on some other planet where nothing mattered but her body’s pleasure. She was barely human anymore; she was just desire. She didn’t care that she was right outside the elevator bank in the hallway, without underwear, wetness dripping down her legs. She didn’t care that she had just been masturbating on her leather office chair, and now Blake was here.
“I need you,” she finally said, in the middle of their kissing, and it felt so true and raw she was overwhelmed by it. She pulled back, panting, to look at Blake.
“Can I take you home?” Blake asked, almost demurely. Jenny took her hand, and they walked down the darkened hallway, into her office, their fingers interlaced. Jenny resolved, as she walked, that for the weekend—for however long they would be together—if she could see Blake, she’d be touching her. Blake’s skin felt like it gave her energy. Completed some endless cycle of need.
She pulled her into her office and kicked the door closed. “Take me here,” she said, “and then you can take me home.”
Blake didn’t hesitate. She pinned Jenny against her desk, wrenching her starched shirt out of her waistband, yanking down the cups of her bra and undoing the back strap in almost one motion. She sucked on Jenny’s nipple and put two fingers inside Jenny as she leaned on the desk, and then three, pumping in and out with a primal kind of force.
“Please taste me,” Jenny said, almost wanting to cry, she was so happy and so needy all at once. Blake pushed Jenny’s ass up onto the desk, and Jenny scooted herself back, toppling a few binders in the process. Blake laughed, and became serious again, kneeling down and attaching her mouth to Jenny and licking, slowly at first, and then faster, as Jenny circled her hands around Blake’s neck and thrust her body forward into Blake’s face.
“Oh God, oh God,” was all she could say. Blake seemed to be agreeing, moaning herself, with her hand down her own pants. Jenny looked down at her beautiful face, but all she could see were flashes of light, shards and shadows. Sparks. Then, through the cacophony of colors, Blake’s eyes, fixed on her, watching her writhe in pleasure, with an expression so pure Jenny recognized it as adoration.
Blake was looking at her adoringly.
She came without embarrassment, without holding back. Her body exploded in pleasure, the orgasm rolling through her and warming her to the tips of her fingers and toes. She pulled Blake’s face away, and grabbed her shoulders, hugging her close. Blake rested her head on her chest, and Jenny stroked her cheek.
“I missed you,” she said, and Blake squeezed her tighter and said, “I just couldn’t wait.” She looked up at her with a serious expression, but then let her face smile. “I wanted to surprise you in your actual office,” she said, “but I couldn’t get past the damn glass door.”
Jenny laughed. “How did you even get onto the elevator at all?”
She fished a card from the pocket of her shift and showed it to Jenny. “My old pass from the meeting about Ned—I just changed the date.”
“You could get in trouble for that,” Jenny said.
“Well, we could get in trouble for a lot of things,” Blake said, tracing along Jenny’s cleavage with her damp finger.
Jenny looked at her, feeling like her whole life had changed, and she had changed along with it. “When I’m with you,” she said, “I don’t seem to care.”