Wednesday started much the same as Tuesday. We said good morning in passing. Awkwardly waiting each other out filling water bottles. Again, he could have been a perfect stranger. It was as if I could have just imagined his scent. I didn’t even get caught up on anything like his jacket, just wearing something navy blue, or his wedding ring. He didn’t roll up his sleeves. After having given my hand a gentle cleaning yesterday it didn’t even require any bandaging. I went back to normal. I wore my usual lipstick instead of a more neutral pink from Tuesday, I wore one of my bright colors, I wore black stilettos instead of tamer pumps. I wasn’t going to dress up or down. I settled once again. I will admit I would look at him to gauge if he was going to interact (more like ambush) but once again, it was just a series of emails, customers at his desk, discussions with workers near him. I watched him drink his usual pot of coffee. I made sure he didn’t follow me if I went to the break room, and I glanced over my shoulder if I had to go downstairs, into the safe or the supply closet, sure he would pounce, but he was always busy, or did not seem to notice or mark my movements. I did definitely watch his face (as best I could) from a distance, trying to reconcile the calm, collected and frequently bored looking face with him thinking about me, touching himself and planning. I couldn’t. He had seemed so disinterested and perfunctory, even with my body writhing on his lap. Like his list of to-dos included: sales calls 9-10, 10-11 empty inbox, 11-11.15 spank the hell out of the new teller, 11.15-1 meeting with Laurie, reconcile cash drawers… I never once saw him notice me looking at him, or see him flush like I did or start nervously.
The supply closet was my undoing. I felt I had well escaped again – it was almost 3 PM, not much longer to exist at work. I heard his step behind me on the second stairwell and had begun a heel turn in an attempt to get back up the stairs, towards the people and public when he locked one elbow under my armpit and drove my face hard into the corner of the turn of the second stair landing. I gasped as my teeth crunched hard against the inside of my upper lip and my nose crushed against the cement bricks. As I gasped and worried that my face was bleeding he caught me up in a full nelson. It was the first time the length of his body was against mine. He felt hot and heavy and wiry-strong. My eyes teared up, “my nose is bleeding” I whined. Still locked in the nelson he wrapped his hands around my ears and tipped my head back hard, my neck bent back uncomfortably. I whined again and attempted to slide my arms out from the lock. “No, it’s not” he said, his eyes quickly studying nostrils and lips. “Stop wiggling, I just want to talk to you”. My breathing was getting jagged and I was perilously close to tears, which I didn’t want to give into. I took a deep watery breath, “you didn’t have to slam me or trap me.” “You were trying to run away”. He loosened his arms a little and while I relaxed into what I thought would be a more comfortable hold, he kicked my ankles apart, my legs now spread wide and then snaked his hips hard against my backside. While the trembly feeling in my limbs didn’t subside, my face felt hot and dry instead of drippy and weepy then. “You’re right, we were both wrong, I won’t ‘slam’ you or ‘trap’ you again, but you like this, right?” I couldn’t help it, I arched my back and slid my hips up against his thighs so that if clothing hadn’t separated us he could have slid right in. The way I was feeling it could have been easy. He chuckled, but in a thick, humorless way. His hands still pressed against my ears and he tipped my head towards my chest. He kissed his way down the back of my neck and then bit hard, where his hand had been on Monday, the scruff. It should have been tender or hurtful but instead I pressed harder against him, unable to think in words just the overwhelming feeling of want and now. I was right, he smelled like white soap, ice water, black coffee, and some neutral oil. I felt calluses pressed up against the soft whirls of my ears. He was definitely real and present, and my shoulders were starting to ache fiercely. His bottom lip pressed almost at the back curve of my ear he said, “don’t wear anything complicated tomorrow. Don’t wear pants again, for god’s sake, don’t wear your sexy stockings or anything”. I felt like my whole body bloomed outward, thinking only yes and want and now. Not tomorrow, now. He released me and continued down the stairs. I considered following him, feeling hot and stupid and shocked. Laurie poked her head out into the stairwell then, to ask me if I had got the tape yet, it’d been awhile.