Hello, you all. Before any of you get to the "WHAT? YOU QUIT PRIVATEER!" panic, I'm going to say it again:
I am NOT quitting Privateer. I repeat. I am NOT quitting the writing of Privateer!
I just have a frightening case of how-do-I-get-from-point-A-to-point-B-without-making-it-stand-out-weird-itis making me pause in the chapter. It's two thirds complete, but I also have family issues, college applications and many, many social events that require my attention. In other words, I'm getting to it, but slower than usual.
Never you mind. You'll have the third chapter soon enough. I hope.
As for this, well... Just some sexy Linkie fun.
Warning: Oh gawd. Some tiny little necking. Let's just say this piece is to help us all live sw33t things vicariously.
In other news, having fantasies about a copier repair guy is so very much something I'd be prone to do, which I fearfully realized after writing this. Oh well. What can I say? Few people know that 50 per centof techie guys are hot, but then, I guess that just makes more for us educated 'uns. Heh. ;)
Well. Enjoy the show, and keep sticking around for more!
I'm a freak.
"You're a freak," Malon says to me as she lounges in one of my office chairs. I note a tiny trace of envy in her voice, but otherwise she covers it in a mocking smirk. That's one thing. I'm not the only one conscious of my state.
I groan, and avert my eyes from the window that gives out into the hall. They flick back up, like they're being pulled magnetically.
Malon shifts in her seat and turns to gaze at where my eyes are constantly drawn. She puts her chin in her hand and sighs longingly.
"Or maybe," she mumbles, "you're the smartest and luckiest bitch on the floor."
I try not to laugh. In fact, I force myself back to work. "Can't say I am, but if you insist..."
"Freak," Malon repeats, adding a sharp reprimand to the insult. "You freak!"
"I'll confess," I sigh. "I'm a freak, fine."
Malon opens and closes her mouth, looking as though she can't find a word strong enough to express how much of a freak I am.
Then, on a common accord, our eyes go back to the window, or rather, what is beyond the window. I've pulled the slats down, but they're not turned, so you can still see and not be seen. At least, I hope.
My office is just like all the others. I'm a pretty strong and loyal employee, so they gave me this new office roughly a month ago, complete with comfy leather chair and large official desk. I was also blessed with a wonderful fourth wall, something I can not be grateful enough for, and this wall, incidentally, also has a window that gives me a good view on the hallway. Oh, no view on the street, but this is just as good.
The wonders of technology.
Beyond my office is a rather large hall in which they've placed coffee machine, vending machine, water dispenser and photocopier.
Ah. Yes. The photocopier. There it is, large and bulky and as hellish to work with as ever. It's right across from my window, and so, it's right in my line of sight.
I love that photocopier. It has an uncanny ability to jam and eat up paper and splatter ink and mess up commands. An employee's nightmare.
I adore it.
My writing hand pauses, just long enough for me to raise a brow at Malon. "Shouldn't you be working?"
Malon smirks, eyes staring at me, as though to ask what screw I've lost this time around.
"And miss the show?" She asks. "No way."
My phone rings. Unnerved at the interruption, I pick it up.
"Harkinian," I say, waiting for the caller to identify themselves.
"Zellie! It's Anju." I instantly relax. "The flier's ready for copy. I repeat, the flier's ready for copy."
"Is it the right one?" I ask, feeling myself tense. Anju giggles on the line.
"It certainly is. The receptionists are saying thank you for the little distraction, and I think the marketing department plans on worshiping you and your brilliant ideas."
Yep. I'm a freak.
"Uh, is he coming straight here?" I ask, eyes darting back to the window and the photocopier.
"Yes. He passed right by us in the reception area, and the marketing department quieted down a lot when he went for the elevators.You know, I never thought the people from Human Resources would hire someone like—oh, gotta go, but we'll discuss this later, alright?"
"Obviously," I hear myself say, though at the moment I'm far more focused on the empty hall outside.
Anju giggles a goodbye and hangs up. I place the phone back on its cradle absently. Malon has turned the chair sideways in order not to crane her neck.
"I think I know what you are," she says. "You're not quite a freak. You're more of a conniving little bitch."
"Don't say it too loud," I laugh, "I can hear your jealousy."
We fall silent. So silent that we hear the elevator doors slide open. Malon stifles a squeal, and waves her fists in tiny giddy motions. Her enthusiasm matches mine.
And into sight steps the hunkiest male the building has to offer.
Yep. That's right.
He's got that ruffled, not-quite-fixed-but-not-quite-messy hair thing going on. Malon and I gave up figuring its magic a long time ago. In the end, we're just left to admire the very dark blonde strands that sometimes fall over his dark blue eyes.
He's got a nice, square set of shoulders, an even nicer set of hands —the large, sinewy type that you'd want running all over your skin—and he's tall and thin. He's not a fashion victim, but he does wear pants tight enough that they just outline his fine posterior like they would a model's.
And, miracles of miracles, they don't slip past his butt crack when he crouches, a common and distasteful problem often found in his line of work.
Malon and I watch him as he looks down at the copier suspiciously, his dark brow furrowing just a little. He looks like a model straight out of a magazine, we've established from his past visitations, and Malon's sigh reminds me of that fact.
Oh, bloody hell. Now he's running one of those hands through his ruffled hair and pressing his thin but attractive lips together thoughtfully.
I can practically see his clothes coming off at the end of a long day. Hmm…
"Who'd have thought," Malon whispers dreamily, voicing my thoughts, "that a hired repairer would look so…"
"Fine?" I offer when she fades into another sigh.
"Or bed-raggedly sexy," she says. "But fine works too."
We smile and watch some more. He bends over the copier to check if any jobs have been left to finish. I smile a secret smile. Malon frowns and looks back at me.
"Zelda," she asks, her tone snapping from dreamy to severe in a millisecond, "have you—?"
Malon's eyes widen and she turns to look back out the window.
"You conniving bitch," I hear her whisper in awe, but she doesn't add anything. Outside, the handsome repairer is looking at the header of one of my documents. And now, at any minute…
He looks up from the document and at the office plaques thatare nailed to each door in the hall. In a second, he looks across the hallway and straight at my door. Malon turns back to glare at me.
"I hate you," she says, "and I will keep a grudge if you don't tell me how good of a kisser he is, got me?"
I stare up at her in shock. "Malon! You give me such wicked intentions."
And I hadn't intended to win a kiss, much less a date or a romp from the repair guy in the first place. I just wanted to see if his voice fit his throat, and this through innocent talk.
She rolls her eyes and smiles, then, even as the handsome repairer is about to knock on my door, she pulls the door open without looking, and says, to me, in a sickly sweet voice, "Well, then, Zelda, I'll be looking forward to that report!"
Then, she turns her head and accidentally-on-purpose slams straight into the technician. I can't help but roll my eyes as she apologizes profusely, not making any particular effort to move apart from him. I can see the guy raising a suspicious brow and smiling faintly, although he doesn't look fazed by the blatant excuse Malon is using to touch him.
Hm. He looks pretty confident there. Like he's got more in store than just repairman talents.
I decide that it's time for the freak to make her move.
"Good afternoon, then, Malon," I say, and she looks back at me. Then, she glares a bit, moves away from the repair guy, and steps down the hallway. I can see her shooting me an evil but very amused glare through the window.
"You're Miss Zelda Harkinian?" Model-boy asks. I'm delighted to find out that his voice borders on the hoarse, barely woken-up type. It's not very deep, actually, but not high-pitched either. Very smooth tone, sexy looks… this man has it all.
I love it.
"I am," I say, and I stand from behind my desk, ready to put those designer clothes to use. I step forward. "How may I help you?"
He licks his lips. He doesn't look younger than me. He probably isn't. From closer up I can notice a tiny blonde stubble that was shaved off this morning but is starting to darken his skin again, giving his face a ragged but very sexy look.
"I found this in the copier," he says, handing me the document. "I take it you were trying to photocopy this document before the copier broke."
"I was," I say, and take the sheet back from him. Hm. Slightly tanned hands. I could picture them running on my skin. I wondered how much of a contrast they'd make.
He pauses, maybe a hesitation, I could see, then asks, "I have the impression the copier on this floor gets broken very often."
"Yes, it does," I acquiesce.
He looks at me. I notice a tiny smile on his lips. Hm. Unexpected.
"You wouldn't happen to know why it does?"
I raise a brow. His smile grows faintly larger. I notice a tiny dimple in his left cheek. His eyes shine a bit too.
Oh boy. Maybe…
"You see," he says, "I was hired to repair the office machinery, but I'm actually aiming at becoming an accountant. They're waiting for Rauru Luz in Accounting to retire next month before putting me there."
I stare. "Oh."
I clear my throat. "Um, you're familiar with Mr. Luz?" Huh. Mr. Luz is like, the best known and most recognized senior in the whole building.
He smiles. "I'm his grandson."
The freak ought to leave the building. The minor issue is, she's glued to the ground.
"Ah," I say, forcing a smile. In truth, I'm freaking out.
"I've noticed that your copier gets jammed on average once a week," he continues. "I don't mind so much, but… Would you like me to put a word in to the boss about it?"
He's leaned forward, making me back up against my desk, and his smile has turned to a smirk.
Not just that. He also has the power to do something about it.
Damn. So much for the sexy, innocent fun.
I'm half sitting on my desk, leaning against it. He glances around my office, then reaches out to close the door behind him.
I've never noticed how small my office is, especially when he's in it.
Feeling uncharacteristically warm, I reach for my cup of cold coffee. My fingers seek my mug blindly, and I'm hoping that the awful drink will snap me back to reality.
Before I can find my mug, he turns back to me and steps forward, destroying that safety space that had kept us apart. I can feel his knee brush mine and his breath on my face as he leans over my searching arm and pushes the mug of cold coffee into my fingers.
But now I think if I drink anything at all I'll faint.
My mouth feels dry now. He's smirking. He knows what he does to me.
Well, it's not like Malon and I hadn't hinted at his sexy looks before. I mean, how often can a copier break by accident? There's a point where coincidences disappear, and he knows we've crossed it.
"I'm Link Forester," he breathes. His breath smells like mint and coffee, and it's warm and it fans over my cheek as he pulls away.
Introductions shouldn't make a girl feel so hot, but his does. Dammit.
I clear my throat to regain my senses and a semblance of control. "So… Luz must be your grandfather on your mother's side."
He nods, and still that sexy smirk won't leave him. "Nicely thought out," he says.
Maybe it was a sarcastic comment, but I'm impressed that I can still process and phrase a thought in the first place, so I ignore his words.
His hand is still at my side. He's leaning over me, watching me. We're practically chest to chest, but I'm clearly in the weak spot, considering I have no escape route. He's backed me up and I could let go and fall backwards on my desk, ready for his touch.
This could be considered harassment. Does he know that?
Although… Is it still harassment if I've been fantasying about a romp for the past month? God, I'm such a freak!
"You know," he says, voice lower than before, almost threatening, "Using up precious technical time for petty issues isn't exactly distinguished."
I have a mind of telling him a thing or two about being distinguished, but then he lowers his face to mine, and I feel his other arm moving to my other side. I know I'm trapped for good now. He's close. Very close. I can almost imagine what a night with him must be like.
The air sizzles with near tangible sexual tension. Can't say I'm displeased.
I force myself to reply for once. "Well, if you had had the courtesy of being hideously disfigured and awfully rough, then maybe the copier would think twice before breaking down."
He chuckles, and the hot breath he exhales fans over my throat. He's doing it on purpose! I shouldn't be enjoying this.
I tell him. "Is this proper behaviour for the successor of Rauru Luz?"
He smirks more, and shrugs. "No. Then again, I'm just a lowly repairman." He shoots me a daring look. "Why? Think you can teach me how to behave, princess?"
"Don't make me," I scoff, but he knows I'm spurring him on.
"What if I intend to?" He asks, low, hot, leaning even more. We're just a few inches away from each other. Hm, a sudden move and I could be kissing him and then maybe I could run my hands through his hair and maybe he could have me.
He seems to be thinking along the same lines. Ours noses brush. My breath is shallow, but he looks like he's in complete control of himself.
Hm, I'm going to get that kiss after all!
"You're Zelda Harkinian," he says, even though he's supposed to be kissing me now, and I practically lose it. What about our passionate kisses? What about our clandestine office sex? What this thing about small talk when he's so close to me and emanating such raw hotness?
Karma must hate me. Must be because I'm such a lecherous freak.
"I am," I mumble, and he must sense my disappointment because he smirks even more, and moves even closer. His chest is warm against mine, and he's breathing hotly in my ear. Now there's no more brushing uncertainly. This is all-out contact, no mistaking it.
Damn, he feels good, this Link Forester.
"I've heard that you're among the youngest in your department," he says, breath hot in my ear. He's pushing so that I can guess a roll of his pelvis."Got promoted after you obtained a major agreement with a long-term client, huh?"
"You know your stuff," I smirk, uneasy and way too warm. I want to just make him shut up.
"I've been curious about the woman who keeps breaking my precious copiers is all," he says with a chuckle into my ear.
"Oh?" I ask, and I gasp when his warm hand un-tucks and makes its way under my blouse and rubs the small of my back, causing shivers to go up my spine and bubble at the base of my skull.
His lips brush against my collarbone. I can feel and hear him smiling. "It's a bit your fault. Those suits of yours make you look entirely too good to be worn in public."
"Well, I can't go around naked," I say, and this makes him chuckle into my neck. I practically swoon.
"That's a shame," he says. The hand in my back is trailing hot paths on my skin as it gradually pulls my blouse out of my skirt waistband. I let out a sharp breath when his fingers graze a ticklish spot, and I can feel his eyes on my face. He smiles. "Really a shame."
"Keep on like that and you'll make yourself look like a lecher," I breathe.
"Do forgive me," he says, but he doesn't look apologetic. "You just smell good. A careless man might find himself falling for you."
He's so transparent. I take up the invitation and ask him the obvious question. "Are you, by any chance, a careless man?"
"I may be." His lips brush my collarbone. He's teasing me like a pro. It's maddening.
"Ah, I never liked evasive answers," I breathed.
"In that case," he says, looking up to stare with darkened eyes into my face, "I think we've found common ground."
"I'll ask again," I say pointedly. "Are you a careless man?"
He pauses a long, long time, looking at me. I see his gaze move to my hair, my eyes, my lips. Then, his eyes focus on my lips alone, and his mouth stretches into a smirk.
"You tell me," he says, and dips in to kiss me.
The kiss lasts, in my opinion, far too short a time. I stare back at him dazedly. He's smirking still. I pout.
"Unfortunately, you're very thorough."
"You think so?" He asks. "I was sure I kissed you rather sloppily there."
"Oh?" I ask. "Well, maybe I missed the sloppy part."
He frowns, as though he's contemplating the option. Then, he says, "Well, let me demonstrate again."
I love his kisses, I decide. He says they're sloppy, but in that case I'd faint if he got serious.
This one lasts a bit longer than the first, but he still pulls away before I can fully return the favour. Damn the man!
He licks his lips and looks out my office window. The hallway is still deserted, but for his tools by the photocopier.
"I should get around to fixing your copier."
"It can wait," I breathe in near desperation, but he pulls away from me slightly with a chuckle, leaving me panting for more.
"Now, now," he teases me by trailing his mouth down my throat. "Good girls don't suggest this sort of thing." I love this thing he does with his mouth, but I groan in disappointment and annoyance when he steps away for good to observe the wreck he's made of me in the matter of a few minutes. He looks far too satisfied.
"What do good girls do, then?" I ask, put out. "In case you hadn't noticed, you're the one who assaulted me."
"Assaulted?" He laughs, and brushes a strand of my hair out of my face gently, all the while teasing me. "I thought I heard you moan… I could swear…" His face scrunches up in mystified wonder.
I cross my arms and ignore the fact that in all likelihood my make-up is a mess and my hair is mussed. I won't mention the state of my clothing either.
I also push far from my mind that he looks even more attractive that ever before.
"Good girls," he suddenly said, "tell me what their favourite type of food is, and hint at what time they're free tonight."
I roll my eyes, smiling. "Hm. Well, that's interesting. I know you probably haven't even thought about it, but did you know I love Zoran delicacies or take-out? And, by the by, I know this is out of the blue and completely unrelated, but I found out I was free tonight from six thirty to midnight."
"Oh? Midnight? You've got a curfew?" He teases.
"No, but my employer makes me work crazy hours." I shoot him a teasing glare. "I need a minimum of five hours of sleep, you see?"
"I see," he says, gravely, nodding. "I suppose I'll have to get you home by then. Oh well. No elopement for today!" He looks resigned but amused.
"I see you've got plans that span over quite some time."
"What can I say? You inspire me."
I gaze at him, and feel something warm wrap itself around me. He makes for the door, then turns back to me with a severe look.
"Just so we're clear on this matter, Miss Harkinian," he says, "These little… moments. They're exclusive, aren't they?"
I cock an eyebrow at him. "Obviously," I say and as I speak he starts beaming, "I do not throw myself at nor allow contact from men I have no intention of getting to know better."
"Are they many?" He asks as he pulls the door open. I shrug.
"Just the odd one," I say, looking him up and down. "And you? Date many women?"
He turns back and shoots me a handsome smile that I know is mine alone. "Just the freaky but sexy one I kissed today."
Review buddies, if you so please, and if you think that was good fun.
You know you liked it. A few seconds of your time and I'll know it for sure.
Ah, now. See you around, y'all.