Hi; a bit of an explanation is needed at this point. This isn't anything to do with Say Hello, Wave Goodbye. It is a one-shot inspired by two real-life events.
Twitter fiend SunnySnark introduced me and several other twitterers to the Well Read Bus Guy, AKA Geekward, who shares her bus into work, reading a different classic work every day. He, of course, is blissfully ignorant of the international interest in his comings and goings.
We have set up our own group, the International Association of Middle Aged Slavering Women, (aka IAMASLW, pronounced I am a sloor), which you are all welcome to join for the nominal fee of one review. This is also her prize for winning the World Cup twisweepstake. If Spain had lost, I don't know what Irishtwisisters would have received...
Many thanks to my megabeta EMCxo and bug hugs and a glass of chilled white to once-in-a-lifetime lemon beta Snowqueens Icedragon who gave it *ahem*the once over despite being on holiday. Kudos to JAustenlover for pre-reading too. Have fun with those financial forecasts...
The Boy on the Bus
(or How I learned not let a coffee disaster ruin an otherwise perfect day)
Fucking Mondays. Not even 8am and it's all gone wrong already. I swiped the pooling coffee off my lap and dabbed at my sodden blouse with the dry but strangely fluffy tissue I had in my pocket, wishing I could start the whole day again.
No such luck. The bus lurched off to the left and simultaneously hit a pothole in the road, dumping the remainder of my grande vanilla latte (Fairtrade, skim milk, extra shot, no sugar) into my almost new, almost Louis Vuitton purse.
I upturned it onto the seat next to me, shuddering at the sloppy mess that the coffee had made of the bundle of receipts and the outside of my coin purse.
God, I hoped I wasn't going to need to return anything I had bought, no shop would accept these as proof of purchase.
My dented and folded, much-loved copy of Don Quixote was swollen and ridged around the edges but seemed to have escaped the worst of the caffeine deluge.
My iPod was mercifully untouched, although the wires had a strange beige tinge. My phone had been safely stowed in my pocket anyway, avoiding the coff-ocalypse afforded to my bag.
This bus would be the death of me. This was one of the joys of working for a company with an eco-ethic; no gas allowance and no parking spaces at work for cars. They gave us season tickets for the out of town bus service instead, making us park and fucking ride into the city.
At least I had increased my carbon footprint beforehand, waiting with the engine running at the Starbucks' drive-thru next to the car park. Shame the product didn't make it to my mouth.
The bus lurched again, to the right this time, as it pulled into the second car park area to pick up the next lot of commuters. I shoved my iPod earbuds in, and shuffled closer to the window, clutching my purse onto my lap.
I was not in the mood for small talk. I scrolled through the iPod until I found my Be Aggressive playlist; Faith No More, perfect to match my mood. From Out of Nowhere started up:
Tossed into my mind, stirring the calm You splash me with beauty and pull me down You come from out of nowhere My glance turns to a stare
You splash me with beauty and pull me down
You come from out of nowhere
My glance turns to a stare
Suddenly the most glorious scent of sandalwood, earth, mint and fresh ground coffee wafted past me, as a figure in a dark-coloured suit settled down into the seat next to me.
Obsession rules me - I'm yours from the start I know you see me - Our eyes interlock You come from out of nowhere My glance turns to a stare
I know you see me - Our eyes interlock
You come from out of nowhere
My glance turns to a stare
I peered sideways and raked up and down with my eyes, taking in the charcoal and white pinstriped suit (hand-made, if I was not very much mistaken), a pristine white shirt, a navy blue tie with a silver thread through it and up to a fantastically long neck to a jaw so sharp I swear it would have cut diamonds.
My eyes wandered further up, to spy a profile usually only seen on a Greek statue or in one of those outdoorsy advertorials you see in glossy magazines, and to eyes... oh holy God, he was turning around and looking at me!
His eyes were an intense, Spanish gordal olive green, darkening to brown around the edges, his lips were simply divine, and his hair, his hair was an artfully mussed natural-looking mix of colours ranging from dark brown, through the reds, to blond at the tips, cropped short at the sides but falling over his eyes at the front. He was, in short, exquisite. His perfect lips turned up into a smile and his eyes twinkled and creased at the edges.
He had a bent, battered and folded paperback copy of Don Quixote in his hand.
Sifting to the bottom, every day for two All energy funnels, all becomes you You come from out of nowhere My glance turns to a stare
All energy funnels, all becomes you
You come from out of nowhere
My glance turns to a stare
My breath hitched and I tried, subtly, to tear my eyes away from him without him noticing that I had noticed him noticing me. Or something. My brain had lost most of its ability to function above basic level - breathing was rapidly becoming something it was forgetting to make me do.
Then the bus god spoke. "Hi," he said. "I'm Edward."
Go on, voice, my brain said, you can do it... and while you're at it, hand, extend for a shake, stat!I pulled the plugs from my ears. "Hi," I squeaked, coughed lightly and tried again. "Hi, I'm Bella." I extended my hand and he took it in his, resulting in a delicious pulse of delight, which spread from my arm straight to my nipples and down to my groin, where it started moving round in little circles, waving tomahawks in the air and performing some kind of ceremonial sex-making dance.
He held on to my hand for a second longer than he really should have and I saw his eyes darken. "A lovely name, Bella," he said, and tribal drums were added to my groinal dance as he spoke my name.
The bus started off again, lurching me into his side. It was my turn to loiter longer than I should have done, and take in a whiff of Essence of Edward - nothing synthetic there beyond the chalky smell of antiperspirant. He didn't need to soak himself in cologne, his natural smell was too good to mask.
I looked back up at his face to see an amused expression coupled with an increasing intensity as he stared straight into my eyes. He smiled broadly.
"I don't usually do this on the bus, But is there any chance I might see you again? Somewhere less, erm, public?" he asked.
A pink blush crept over his cheekbones and he looked at me through his eyelashes as he waited for my answer.
I was dumbstruck. What would this Adonis, this titan, an angel like him possibly see in me, especially when I was half coated in coffee? I wanted to say no; to retreat before he realised his mistake. But my brain, mouth and groin-dancers were conspiring against my shy self.
"Yes, I'd love to," my newly-discovered wild side said, without letting shy me start to speak. In fact, I think the dancers had gagged and hog-tied my shy self, and were in the process of dragging her into the basement to keep her out of the negotiations.
He felt around inside his jacket and pulled out his cell. "May I please have your number?" he said, his cheeks turning a delicious pink, which made me want to lick them.
Before shy self could get an answer out, I carped the diem and told him the number. He punched it in, dialled it and Roxanne by The Police, burst into life in my pocket.
"There, now you've got mine too," he said and smiled again; a lopsided grin that made the groin-dancers pause, re-evaluate and begin again, with the addition of a massed marching band. And a gong. And Marvin Gaye.
I tore myself away from his gaze to glance at the outside world for a second and realised, to my horror, that I was about 100 yards from my stop.
Returning to my more usual harassed state, I scrambled to my feet and pressed the buzzer to stop the bus.
Of course, the driver didn't glide serenely to a halt, he jammed his foot down and again I lurched towards Edward, who caught me and held on to me around the waist.
"Easy, tiger," he whispered as I fell back onto his lap, shooting up again like a scalded cat when I realised exactly what part of his anatomy my bottom had come into contact with.
I slid sideways into the aisle and grabbed the overhead straps, pulling myself forward without time to glance back. I hauled myself onto the pavement and started my short hike to the office, merging with the morning commuters as they thronged the sidewalk.
I picked my way across the flow to get into the lobby of my building, pausing briefly to say good morning to Demitri, the security guy, and Gianna, the receptionist, and made my way to the bank of elevators.
As I arrived, one of the doors opened and a dozen people disembarked. I, along with three or four other people, got in. The door was three quarters closed when an ambrosial voice called out, "Hold the elevator!" before Edward appeared, shoulders first, and got in.
Again our eyes met and the rest of the world seemed to blur away at the edges as he stood closer to me than could be thought appropriate for a work time elevator situation.
My brain, voice and groin-dancers body-slammed my shy self, did a pile-driver on her, then hit her with a metal chair before tossing her out of the the ring.
People got out as the elevator made stops at each floor. By the time we got to the twelfth, my floor, we were alone. "My stop," I said as the door opened, and began to walk out onto my floor.
He followed me out and leaned closer to me. "Mine, too" he whispered, his warm breath tickling my ear and making the groin-dancers begin what could best be described as the party, which becomes an orgy scene, in the second Matrix movie.
I couldn't stand it for another second. I grabbed his wrist and dragged him along the corridor to my office, pulling him inside and slamming and locking the door behind us, then twisting the blinds shut so no casual observer would see what was going on.
He spun me around, pushing me against the door, crashing his lips against mine. I pulled softly on his bottom lip with my teeth and he groaned, pushing his tongue into my mouth, weaving one hand into my hair and the other around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I could feel his washboard abs and his own groinal dance starting.
A while later (How long? No idea. My body clock had obviously diverted all her attention to my ovaries), he pulled back far enough to look me in the eyes. "I've never done this in an office before," he said, panting slightly. "You have bewitched me."
Well, words like that weren't likely to make me want to stop in a hurry. I found my hands inside his jacket, pushing back so it fell to the floor, as mine met a similar fate.
He turned me around so I had my back to the desk and slowly walked me towards it, stopping when my backside hit the edge. He leaned down to begin kissing me again, peppering my lips and jaw with soft kisses and moving down to my neck and collarbone.
"You smell delicious, of strawberries and coffee," he said in a tone that made my knees go weak. "I want to do this so much, do you?"
I was beyond words, all I could do was nod. Again he brought his lips to mine, again I let our tongues mingle and enjoyed the sensations it created all over my body from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes.
I shifted back on to my desk and hooked my feet together behind his knees, forcing him to me, while I braced myself with my arms, pushing my coffee-stained chest forward. Again, he groaned, a sound completely wonderful to my ears.
He began to unbutton my shirt and within seconds it was hanging open at my sides, with my scarlet bra on display and my chest heaving.
He ran his tongue along my collarbone and brought one hand to palm my breast through my bra, causing my nipples to harden and my lungs to just give up completely.
He looked up at me."Breathe, Bella," he whispered, which just made me pant louder. I pulled him closer with my heels and grabbed his tie, pulling the knot down, and attacked the buttons on his shirt.
As I saw his chest properly for the first time, two things happened. The phone on my desk rang and someone knocked on the door. Edward and I shot apart like yard dogs when you turn the hose on them.
"Shitfuckwankbollocks," I muttered, as Edward scanned the room looking for his jacket and, I suspected, escape.
"Just a sec," I shouted out to whoever was at the door, and I grabbed the phone. It was Jessica, my executive assistant, wondering when I was able to go over my diary for the day.
"Give me a couple of minutes," I said. "I had a coffee accident this morning and I need to freshen up."
Luckily for me I was so accident-prone that I kept a spare set of clothes in the office. I turned to look at Edward, who had rearranged his shirt and tie, and put his jacket back on, returning to his Adonis state without as much as a hair out of place.
I was willing to bet I looked like someone had dragged me, kicking and screaming, through a hedge backwards, and then forwards, just to make sure.
I grabbed the garment bag with my spare clothes from the hanging cupboard at the back of the room. Edward still didn't move, standing, legs slightly apart, facing me. His eyes challenged me to strip then and there.
My brain and groinal dancers rose to the challenge, bitch-slapping my shy self before she could get a word out.
I peeled off my blouse and stepped out of my skirt, without unlocking our mutual gaze. It was his turn to pant. "God, you're sexy," he said.
Much as I didn't want this moment to end, I knew that it had to. I unzipped the bag and pulled out a clean white shirt and short grey pencil skirt and matching jacket.
Getting dressed in front of him would have been easier if my knees weren't still wobbling and the groin dancers weren't linking arms and shouting for more.
I dragged my fingers through my hair, checking for tangles, and walked over to the door, opening it to find Jessica with her BlackBerry and diary, and Lauren Mallory, my deputy, who was tapping her foot with frustration at being left so long.
Lauren peered over my shoulder and gasped at the sight behind me. "Mr. Cullen, is that you?" she asked, her eyes narrowing and sliding from him to me. "I didn't realise you had already arrived. I was going to get Bella here and take her to meet you."
Jessica, bless her and give her a pay rise, stepped in. "Sorry, Ms. Mallory," she said, eyes downcast. "I was about to collect Ms. Swan and Mr. Cullen and bring them to the conference room. Would you like me to arrange some coffee for you all?"
I looked back at Edward and then at Lauren. "Lauren, Mr. Cullen and I will meet you in the conference room in five minutes," I said, hoping there was a tone of finality in her voice.
She took the hint and scuttled off down the corridor. I turned to Edward. "Well, Mr. 'Hi-I'm-Edward' Cullen," I said. "I hope you enjoy tough negotiations-" I gasped as he cut me off, grabbing me by the wrist, pulling me back inside the office and pushing the door closed.
Dropping a gentle kiss onto my lips, he smiled a genuine and happy smile at me.
"Oh I am an excellent negotiator," he said, laughing. "You should see what I talked someone into doing when I met her on the bus this morning."
He followed me out of the office and past Jessica's desk, where she joined us as we walked to the conference room, which was all laid out for our pitch for Masen-Cullen's business.
Two of Edward's co-workers were shown in and it was time for Lauren and me to show them why they should take us on as their press spokespeople.
We launched into our spiel, and, though I say it myself, it went remarkably well. After about an hour, during which time I had only thought about riding Edward Cullen on the boardroom table seven or eight times, we were finished.
Jessica came in with a tray of coffee for Edward and his associates and the five of us sat and chatted briefly while we tidied up and answered a couple of technical questions.
When it was time for them to go, I steered the trio down the hallway to the elevators, pausing to ensure they were all safely inside before bidding them farewell.
I walked back to my office, kicked off my heels, and sat in my chair, as a text alert sounded on my BlackBerry. It was from Edward. "You had me at Hi, I'm Bella."
I smiled a secret smile. Today was improving as it went on. I texted back, "Thanks, it was lovely to meet you - all of you!"
Another couple of minutes passed and my phone chirruped again. "May I take you to lunch?"
I smirked to myself as I replied, "Yes, please take me"
It took thirty seconds before I had a reply. "Easy tiger! How about my place at 1?"
I agreed and he sent me directions to his offices downtown.
At 12.30pm I was in a taxi heading for the Masen-Cullen building and at 12.58pm I was in the building's cool ultra-modern marble lobby, looking once more at Edward Cullen, who was lounging on a sofa, obviously waiting for me.
As soon as we were in the street, he took my hand, starting those damn groinal dancers once again, and led me up a side street to a trattoria I'd never noticed before.
Judging by the enthusiastic response to his arrival, it was not the first time Edward had eaten there. We were steered to a little booth at the back, with a semi-circular love-seat behind a table covered in a deep red and white checked tablecloth.
We looked at the menu and I ordered a bottle of sparking San Pellegrino. Edward talked me into having a glass of red wine and we ordered the antipasto misto to share.
While we waited for our food we chatted idly about ourselves. I told him about my childhood in England, how I moved to Phoenix when my mother met her baseball-playing second husband, Phil; how I went to college in Chicago and joined Den Ali Communications on their management scheme, working my way up to account director at 29.
He told me about how his parents turned Masen-Cullen Designers into the multinational it had become, diversifying into residential building, architecture, a planning and conveyance law department that he headed - all of which I knew thanks to Google.
But he also told me about his family; how he'd loved his time at Princeton, his involvement in athletics there, and how he found himself on the bus - his car was in the shop and his sister had driven him to the park and ride.
By the time we finished talking, the food had arrived - and what a meal it was: Salami, Parma ham and thin slices of salty hard pecorino cheese; insalata caprese with tomatoes, basil, olive oil and milky soft mozzarella, sprinkled with black shards of pepper; bowls of black and green olives and crisp fresh caperberries; sliced artichokes in oil and little warm meatballs with shaved Parmesan and marinara sauce. There were tiny crostini with tomato, pepper and olive toppings. I took one look and my stomach started rumbling.
Edward stopped talking and looked in awe at the spread in front of us, scooting closer to me and giving me a wicked look and matching grin as he picked up one of the crostini and held it up to my mouth. It was crunchy, oily, garlicky and utterly delicious.
"I can't be the only one with garlic breath," I said after I'd finished it in two bites, and picked up another to feed it to him.
Edward was next. He scooped up a shiny black olive with his long, beautiful fingers and rubbed it on my bottom lip, making me whimper, and slipped his fingers into my mouth as he dropped the olive on to my tongue. I looked him straight in the eye and closed my lips around his fingers, sucking gently around them. It was his turn to gasp.
The meal went on in a similar vein, with us taking it in turns to feed each other tidbits or spooning meatballs into each others' mouths. It was beyond a doubt the most erotic and anticipatory meal I had ever had. It came as no surprise when I felt Edward's hand rub my knee beneath the tablecloth and slowly inch his fingers up my thigh.
I decided to tease him some more, putting a piece of artichoke between my lips and passing it to his mouth, finishing the move with a kiss. His hand stilled under my skirt, and I felt his thumb begin to circle the soft skin.
He leaned in so his lips were right beside my ear and whispered, "You are driving me fucking crazy. I wish I didn't have appointments this afternoon, or I'd take you to a hotel right now..." I silenced him with another kiss, deepening it and holding on to the back of his neck, where his short hair felt like velvet.
My BlackBerry chirped in my purse. Cockblocked by the phone again! I sighed, disengaged myself and retrieved it. Edward looked at it as if he wanted to throw it out of the window. Sure enough it was a meeting alert. I had half an hour to get back to the office. I took my wallet out and began to count out some cash, but Edward put his hand on mine. "My treat," he said.
"As long as I get the next one," I stated, firmly.
Edward's eyes lit up at the idea. "Tomorrow?" He said, bouncing in his seat slightly.
I looked at the BlackBerry again. "Sadly, no, I've got meetings all day. Wednesday?"
It was his turn to think, and judging by his smile it looked like it was going to be a date.
I walked with Edward back to his building and hailed a cab from there. Edward groaned as he leaned down to kiss me goodbye. "I wish you didn't have to go so soon," he said, smiling sadly. "It's been an astonishing day so far, and I don't want it to end. Please come back to me."
I swear there were tears brewing as the taxi pulled away - if the worst happened, it would be two days until I saw him again. My phone hummed in my pocket, with a picture message; it was a bathroom mirror photo of Edward looking forlorn, entitled "miss you."
My afternoon of meetings plodded on, and my mind wandered more than once to Edward. I snuck a look at my BlackBerry between interviews, but there was no sign of life. Eventually it was time to get home. I grabbed my purse, bid a fond farewell to Jessica, and reached the lobby just as Gianna was packing up.
"You have a visitor," she stage whispered to me, nodding towards Demitri's security station, where I could see a reddish-brown mop of hair. My heart stopped briefly, then beat like it was in the grand finale of Stomp.
He looked up and I was lost in his eyes once again. "May I walk you to your bus?" he said, offering me his arm.
"Why, certainly, Sir," I said, folding my arm into the crook of his elbow and smiling from ear to ear.
"Night Gianna," I called over my shoulder as I left. I heard her laughter fade as the door swooshed closed behind us.
We made it to the bus stop, arm in arm and when the bus arrived we headed for the back seat together, and I snuggled into his side.
It was cute and fun just to be silly and act like teenagers smooching in the back of the bus on the way home. The heavier evening traffic meant we had a longer journey than this morning. I had to admit I was comfortable curled up into his chest as he occasionally dropped a kiss onto my head or I felt his fingers stroking my side. The groinal dancers were limbering up for another tribal meeting.
My fingers, of their own volition, found their way around his shirt buttons and made their way across his chest, moving in circles and swirls, finding ticklish spots and areas where he obviously appreciated being touched.
By the time we reached his car park I expected him to get up, so it was a surprise when he didn't. "Isn't this your stop? I asked.
"I called Alice and said I might be getting a ride home," he said. "If you don't want to, she can collect me from the other car park."
"Wow!" I said in a pretend-surprised tone. "You are presumptive, Mr. Call-me-Edward Cullen. What makes you think I am the type of girl who'd give someone she met on the bus a trip home?"
"Because you know you are."
"Well, when you put it like that, how can I resist?" I said, knowing that resistance of Edward was becoming very futile indeed.
He pulled me in closer to him and kissed me with renewed passion, then whispered "thank you" so quietly I was not sure I was meant to hear it.
My body shuddered involuntarily at the thought of the things this man could do to me.
I felt his lips move up into a smile. "We're nearly at the car park. Perhaps we should make ourselves presentable..."
I looked down. My skirt was riding up my thighs and my shirt was half untucked, with two of the six pearl buttons undone. My jacket was hanging off my shoulders, with one sleeve up and one down. It would have been pretty obvious what I'd been up to.
I stood up, with one leg between Edwards knees, and began to straighten my clothes, while waggling my bottom provocatively in his direction and looking at him over my shoulder through my rat's nest of hair.
He, of course, looked impeccable, not like someone who's just been mauled by a cavewoman all the way home on a public bus. His hair was perfect, his suit unwrinkled and his lips just swollen enough to remind me of their effect on me, making my skin prickle and darken into a blush.
The very thought of being alone with him without fear of interruption was making me slowly come to the boil inside. Once we were off the bus and standing next to my car, I smiled at him and asked, in as cliched as voice as I could muster, "Your place or mine?"
He stopped, to think, a little longer than I would have expected. "Yours," he said finally, quirking an eyebrow at me. "My place is a total mess."
I reminded myself to stop over-thinking about this whole wonderful, mad, erotic day and to go with the flow. Rosalie would be at home by now; she would be around to make sure Edward didn't turn out to be some kind of psychotic axe murderer.
I led him by the hand to my car and fumbled in my purse for the keys, reluctant to break the connection to actually get into the vehicle. It was only about a 10 minutes drive to my house and I made it there with just one eye on the road the whole time.
By the time we pulled up in front of my apartment block the air was thick with tension, and my stomach was tied in knots of anticipation. I fumbled my keys again - really I was being more clumsy that day than I had ever been as a teenager - and eventually managed to get the door open.
Rosalie was sitting on the couch with her back to us, facing the TV, and looked over her shoulder to say hi, her eyebrows rising in surprise when she saw I was not alone. "Edward Cullen, is that you?" she said, her voice rising in pitch as the sentence went on.
"Rosalie Hale? I didn't know you knew Bella -" Edward said, smiling and gripping my hand with his. "Rosalie works with my little brother, Emmett. We've met a few times. Small world, isn't it?"
Rosalie waved at Edward and winked at me; I knew full well how close a pair of co-workers they were, I had made him breakfast twice that week.
I pulled Edward by the hand into the kitchen and shut the door. I was really not in the mood for catching up with Rosalie; eight hours of foreplay will do that to a girl.
He took his jacket off and put it on the back of one of the stools at the breakfast bar.
I pulled myself up on to the countertop and hooked him in with my legs, twisting my feet together at the ankles and pulling him towards me. I was at a much more agreeable height for kissing, without having to crane my neck up and without him having to bend down too far.
We stayed that way for a few minutes, casually claiming each others' mouths, sucking and pushing in a comfortable silence punctuated by the occasional pop of disconnection as one or the other of us came up for air.
There was no rush to break our connection, no phone calls, no secretaries knocking on the door, and Rosalie knew much better than to get in my way.
Eventually the kissing grew more heated and our hands began to roam more freely. I found myself pulling Edward forward by his tie so I could begin to unbutton his shirt and get a better look at those abs. He stopped kissing me and looked me in the eyes.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he said, heatedly.
"Fuck yes" was all my brain would allow me to reply. Shy Me was nowhere to be seen, my inner minx had obviously sent her out shopping or something.
I disentangled myself from Edward and hopped down from the countertop to the floor, walking back into the now-deserted sitting room. Rosalie, ever the perfect roommate, had either retreated to her bedroom, or gone out entirely.
I grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses from the sideboard and headed towards my bedroom, listening to Edward following me.
I had the cork out of the bottle and was pouring the wine as he shut and locked the door behind him. I handed him the glass, and just a simple touch flooded me with that erotic wave once again. He clinked his glass against mine.
"To new friends," he said in a tone of voice which made my groin dancers rejoice and my legs turn to jelly. Possibly sensing I was about to lose what little natural balance I had, Edward took the wine glass from me, put both of them on the nightstand and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me in for a hug, which rapidly turned into a makeout session, leaving both of us breathless.
"Now, what am I going to do with you?" Edward asked slyly, looking down at me. "I can think of a hundred things... but what first?" My mind whirled at those words, the groinal dancers began a conga line - even shy self joined in the dance.
He gently walked me backwards stopping me when I felt the backs of my legs against the bed.
"First, I am going to get rid of these clothes," he said. "You've been wearing them far too long for my liking..."
He moved his hands to the front of my shirt, popping open the little pearl buttons slowly, one after the other. I shivered with anticipation as well as delight, as those beautiful fingers moved to my sides to push my shirt off my back and throw it on to the floor.
He reached down to the side of my skirt, and pulled down the zip, wriggling it past my hips and added it to the pile of clothes on the floor. Now I was just in my scarlet bra and panties, and my work shoes. He had his shirt open but his tie still on, and his charcoal-grey suit pants, which sported a considerable bulge at the front.
Emboldened by lust, as well as a big swig of Merlot, I reached forward and unbuckled his belt and fiddled with the little silver clip at the top of his pants, pulled down the zipper and pushed them down to where they fell, pooling around his ankles. Man he had good legs - runner's legs, not too hairy and well-toned without being all muscle.
He was wearing those Calvin Kleins boxer briefs that the models wore, which come to the top of the leg and cup the ass so beautifully, except Marky Mark and David Beckham had nothing on the bulge which filled the front of this pair.
I pulled my eyes away from Edward's groin long enough to marvel at the definition of his chest muscles and abs, and couldn't resist running my nails up from his belly button to his nipples, which made him hiss and moan simultaneously.
I slowly untied and removed his tie, and pulled off his shirt. I stood up so my breasts rubbed against his chest, making him suck in a breath. He put his arms around my back, before leaning down to kiss my lips and pepper my jaw and neck with soft pecks.
His hands snaked up my back to my bra strap and he paused, looking into my eyes for affirmation. I nodded. He deftly unhooked it, and pulled it forward over my shoulders until my boobs were exposed, my nipples as hard as nails from the eroticism of the moment and the sudden exposure to the air.
He pulled back for a second to look, sighed out the word "perfect" and moved his head down to my chest to pull and suck on them with both his hands and his lips.
The groinal dancers were by this time putting on the party hats and starting the can-can, and all I could do was hum and moan and make little noises as he swapped sides.
Eventually we ended up lying on our sides facing each other on the bed. Both of us were just in our underwear, but I still had my shoes on. Edward stopped playing with my breasts and shifted down the bed, where he grabbed my hips and pushed me gently over on to my back. He moved my leg so that he was kneeling between my thighs, looking up at me with a fantastically wolfish look on his face.
He reached backwards to grab one of my feet, still in its shoe, and moved down to kiss the inside of my ankle bone, a move which made me arch my back in delight - who knew that ankleplay was so good!
He slipped his finger along the side of my shoe, between the leather and my instep, firmly enough not to tickle, which made me gasp with delighted surprise. He then moved his mouth and hands up my leg to the top of my thigh, where he'd touched me so memorably at lunch, pausing to inhale the aroma of my arousal like it was a fine wine.
As I was debating internally about whether to just rip off my panties and throw myself onto his face, like the alien in Alien, he stopped and moved back down to the other foot, hooking off my shoe and rubbing the sole of my foot, then kissing his way back up to where my panties barely concealed how much I was turned on.
Avoiding the apex of my legs, he moved his head up to my belly button, kissing around it and pausing to put his warm wet tongue into the dip in the centre, making me squirm. With my head propped up on pillows at the top of the bed I had a wonderful view as he stopped and looked up at me through his eyelashes, his face lightly shining from a thin layer of sweat. His eyes still on mine, he began to kiss his way down my belly to the top of my panties.
As his mouth headed down, his hands moved up from my thighs to ghost their way over the soaking crotch of my panties and he hooked his thumbs under to massage the skin beneath.
Somehow, with some kind of sex-god ninja move I couldn't quite make out (probably because my eyes were squeezed closed in delight at the time) he pulled my panties down and shimmied them down my legs, without his hands or mouth losing contact with my skin.
He stopped briefly and inhaled deeply, a smile spreading across his mouth and his eyes danced as he looked up to me. "Strawberries," he murmured. "Just like strawberries..." and with that he dipped his head to run his deliciously cool tongue against the heat of my naked flesh.
I bucked. I really bucked off the bed like a wild horse on one of those Discovery Channel documentaries. From one touch of his tongue.
He gently but firmly pressed his arm down on the inside of my thigh, pushing my legs apart, and began gliding his tongue around and up towards my clit, which was so ready for his touch that if it had legs, it would have detached itself and run to his mouth.
Once he was settled down there he introduced his fingers to the mix. Soon the pressure of them all working together became too much to bear. I came quickly and with intensity I couldn't remember ever having before. Edward lifted his head up to look at me but kept his fingers moving until the final spasms of my orgasm faded.
I laid back, utterly spent for the moment. He made his way up the bed so he was lying beside me, smelling of musk and fresh sweat and, frankly, of me. "You OK?" he asked as his mouth turned up into a smile. All I could do in reply was hum and giggle.
He leaned in further and asked again if I was okay with what was happening. I pulled his head in for a passionate kiss, which, I assumed, answered his question.
He cocked an eyebrow and looked at me. "Are you-" "Do you need-" we simultaneously began the awkward contraception question. I smiled and told him he was good to go with one word: "Pill."
He lay on his side, still in his underwear, and put his hand on the side of my face. "I want you to know I don't usually do this kind of thing," he said, carefully. "I saw you today, covered in coffee, with your earbuds in and such a pissed look on your face, and I wanted you right then. I have been ready for you ever since you shook my hand..."
I didn't let him finish, moving my head around to kiss the palm of his hand, which still smelled of me. I snaked my arm downwards and flattened my hand against the front of his shorts, feeling his dick twitch and hearing him hiss, which in turn made my pelvic muscles clench and the groinal dancers get up from their dogpile on the floor and begin their routine again. With added vuvuzuelas.
I let my fingers wander into the gap at the front of his shorts, feeling for the warmth of the naked skin inside, and gently gripped the shaft, my grip only going about three-quarters of the way around.
I carefully moved my hand up and down, enjoying the feeling of his skin moving against the rock-hard flesh below, while enjoying the little inarticulate noises coming from above me.
I slid down the bed until my face was level with his hip bone, then untangled my hand from his underwear, pulling down on the elastic until he lifted his ass and I was able to shimmy them down to his knees. Then he took over, pulling them off one leg then the other and throwing them on to the floor.
Now I was eye to eye with his cock, and I took a second or two to appreciate it. My previous experience told me they were strangely bumpy, veiny creatures, and in the case of one ex, that they could bend off to one side and make even the most stoical of lovers giggle.
But not this one. This one was long and thick and had a big pulsing vein running along the length just begging to be licked. So I licked it. He groaned and I hummed as I took the tip into my mouth, effectively ending any coherent conversation for either of us.
He was far to big for me to get all the way into my mouth, so I put my hands on the shaft and created a sort of tunnel, moving up and down to a rhythm dictated both by my groinal dancers and the increasingly loud noises coming from above my head.
I glanced up to see Edward had his head back and his hands at his sides grabbing handfuls of the sheet.
As if summoned, he opened his eyes and looked down at me. His face tensed then relaxed as his dick twitched in my hands and I knew he was getting close. He regained enough of his faculties to reach down and stroke my cheek.
"Stop," he said. I obeyed, letting him put his arms around my waist and pull me up so we were head to head again. Again he asked if I was okay with this; again I nodded.
He laid me down on my back and put his chest against mine. He moved his hand down between us, his thumb grazing and circling, as he eased himself into me.
The groinal dancers stopped. Time stopped. My breathing stopped. There was nothing except that moment.
Then he began to move, slowly at first, but picking up pace as his breathing quickened. My hips began to move, slowly at first but as his pace picked up, so did mine.
His voice re-appeared but seemed incapable of much more than the odd expletive and an adjective or two.
I remember hearing "good" a few times, and the odd "great", and one which could well have been a "fantastic", but, since I had stopped being interested in anything more than 12 inches from my hips, it was hard to make out.
At some point he took hold of me and flipped us over so I was riding him, just like I'd imagined doing on the conference room table.
I used my own secret ninja sex move on him, flicking my hips back and forward, which put pressure on all sorts of interesting places and finally sent me - then him - spiralling into orgasm.
Careful not to completely squash him, I rolled over onto my side, missing the warmth of his skin immediately. I shivered, and he reached down to pull the duvet up over both of us.
I pulled him in for a kiss. "This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship," I said looking straight into his eyes.
He reached out to the nightstand and grabbed the wine glasses, passing mine over to me. He held his up and I clinked mine against it.
"To public transportation," he said. "To Well-read Bus Gods," I answered.
A/N Stephenie Meyer wrote Twilight. Faith No More wrote From Out of Nowhere (and a damn fine song it is too).