“Do you remember that photo?”
Of course she did. She remembered it the very second the question started to fall from his mouth, just as she did every time he mentioned it.
Itβs the photo they don’t show anyone. The one they both love, but canβt post on social media.
Itβs a really insignificant photo when you just glance at it, a couple of friends at a table in a club, casually enjoying a drink. And it is just that: a casual, insignificant photo of two friends and work colleagues β¦ but itβs also not.
If you take a closer look at that girl in the black and white dress youβll see a look on her face that pretty much tells you how the rest of the night is going to go. Itβs an undeniable look that requires no explanation: a look of hunger and playful impatience.
Sheβs biting the side of her bottom lip, big eyes staring right into the camera, the expression of almost-guilt unmistakable. Her face is slightly squashed against the face of the male friend sat next to her on the couch, their cheeks mashed together in the best pose they could manage before the bright flash of the camera captured it forever.
If you were to hazard a guess, youβd probably say that the cameraman had interrupted a private little moment β and he had. Rewind back just a few seconds and youβd see that girl shouting something fairly obscene in her friendβs ear, trying to make herself heard over the loud music and chants of drunken people all around them, but still be discreet, all at the same time.
Her friend and co-workerβs face is just as expressive. Letβs call him Travis. Sheβd just told Travis what she was going to do to him when she took him back to her house, and a bold, beaming smile crept across his face. Itβs what the cameraman caught in that image β the face of a man whoβd just learned he was finally getting to fuck the girl heβd reluctantly lusted after for three years.
The chemistry between the two had been there all along, right from day one, even though heβd tried his hardest to hate her as much as he said he did. As soon as she awkwardly introduced herself to him on the first day of work, she knew there was something there. They both did. A little sizzle, of sorts, and it just got hotter when she learned that he was above her in the chain of command. She always did have a little thing about men in authority.
Ironically, it had been the man above both of them in the chain of command that sheβd originally lusted after that night, on that work night out. Travis and The Big Boss. Sheβd twirled in her black and white, well-fitted dress in the bedroom mirror before leaving the house, imagining the Big Boss grazing his hand under the hem of the floaty fabric and over the skin of her bare leg. She shuddered at the very thought of it.
After a few drinks and a few more dances, however, things changed. The Big Boss wasnβt on her mind at all. It was him β Travis β that grabbed her attention and then didnβt let go.
ThatβsΒ justΒ what she was like when she started drinking: a silly idea would pop into her head and then sheβd stop at nothing to make it real life. And on that night, in that club, her bright idea was to fuck him.
So, she stopped at nothing to make it happen.
That photo is a visual representation of two friends realising theyβre about to cross a line. What you donβt see, what you canβt see, is that the arm heβs got behind her back is grabbing the top of her ass cheek through the layers of the skirtβs material. What you also canβt see is her hand under the table, gliding up and down his leg, scratching the denim with the tip of her pointed, black nails hard occasionally to make sure he knows FOR SURE what heβs about to get.
Her other arm, the one you can see, is grabbing a beer. She’s going to finish her drink off, down whatever was left in the bottle, not just because she hated to waste beer (although, definitely that), but also as a last-minute effort to top up the Dutch courage tank. As much as she was drunk enough to bravely make a dumb decision, the thought of actually doing what she wanted to do to him made her a little nervous. Not that sheβd let him know that, obviously.
They both knew how it would go. It would go how it always went, how it would always go: it would be in her hands. She decided everything β when heβd get to fuck her for the first time, how long theyβd wait before they left the club, what theyβd do when they were in her bed β¦
He was her boss at work, and also sometimes in their friendship β but in her bed, she was the one in charge.
She wasnβt usually that dominant with other men, classing herself well and truly as submissive, but she knew sheβd need to take control of the situation with him. Heβd made no attempt to mask how sexually inexperienced he felt he was throughout their friendship, even jokingly asking her if she would teach him a thing or two. Everyone knew it wasnβt really a joke, though. She knew it was a real request. He knew that she it. Everyone they worked with and socialised with knew it, too. Even her now ex-boyfriend knew it β and that now ex-boyfriend was the reason she was there at the club, getting drunk and taking her frustrations out on a poor, unsuspecting friend and work colleague.
She needed to fuck the hurt of yet another breakup away with someone she trusted and cared for, but who wouldn’t want more. That made Travis perfect. Theyβd managed to keep a lid on their sexual chemistry for almost three years, plus they worked together and he was almost always totally professional. She was sure he wouldn’t pose a problem afterwards.
She also chose him because heβd mentioned once or twice, during other drunken nights, that he wanted nothing more than to experience a little bit of what heβd overheard her talking about with female coworkers. She knew it would work wonders for her confidence, and thatβs just what she needed during her breakup time of need.
She needed someone to tell her that she was the best theyβd ever had, and that they couldn’t get enough of her, and that they wanted more and more.
So, in that club, on that couch, just a little more than drunk, she half-whispered, half-shouted something into his ear:
βI would like to take you home and fuck you now, please.β
*FLASH*
They were interrupted by the flash of a camera, one of their other work colleagues drunkenly lurching towards the table and slightly bumping the glasses on top.
βSorry, guys. Private moment?β he laughed, and they laughed right back with him. He soon moved on and continued enjoying the night, and thatβs when she took Travisβ hand and, without a word, led him to the exit of the club.
[*****]
This is a previously unseen prequel post to Number 46.
