Tiny Bubbles
by sylvia_mickey©
Lilah was the last person Adam expected to see on a Waikiki beach and wrapped in a sarong.
When last he'd seen her she was in office casual and joking that it would probably look suspicious that they both had the same vacation time.
"Oh, Lovah," she'd whispered, "it would be fun to really give them something to talk about. Still, you'd better take lots of pictures with SSS to prove it wasn't a little getaway for us instead."
***
SSS. Silly, Silly Stacy. Adam's wife. The nickname bestowed upon her by Lilah when he'd mentioned over lunch that Stacy wasn't the most passionate woman alive. The lunch took place a few weeks after Lilah had started at the company and, while he found her very attractive, he was a very loyal husband. Nobody was more surprised than Adam when the conversation took several left turns and he shared his disappointment with his sex life with the attractive brunette across the table from him.
"That's silly. If you were mine I don't think I could ever get enough," Lilah said, running her finger along the edge of the salad plate, and then licking the ranch dressing off the tip. There was something about the way she did it... "You should tell Silly, Silly Stacy that if she doesn't appreciate what she has at home, others will."
"Are you flirting with me?" he said, with a wink. Better to confront it head on, and flirt back a little. She was pretty hot, and as long as they were solid that they'd never act on it, why not?
Suddenly Lilah looked confused and more innocent than her twenty-six years should allow. "No, of course not!"
Adam smelled trouble until he saw the laughter lurking behind her mischievous blue-green eyes. "Good...my marriage might not be able to withstand the temptation."
That first lunch set the pattern. The casual flirtation became more intense, and it was hard to say when it became something more. They fell into a masochistic game of tempting one another. Masochistic because it was actually a form of self-torture to almost continually be that aroused and not act on it. They shared suggestive email exchanges daily-- at least as suggestive as the office spy-software would safely allow. The game was to say something outrageously hot, couched in euphemism, and surreptitiously watch across the office as the other person opened and read the message. Adam began to factor into his day the time he spent in the restroom relieving tension after a particularly good email exchange. Once in a while he would meet Lilah along the way, clearly with the same idea in mind, and she would say in a poorly-executed British accent, "Good show, Adam! Good show, indeed."
Adam soon realized he had a problem. He was quite possibly in love with Lilah. They'd never kissed, rarely got to spend time together, he still loved his wife... and yet he couldn't get enough of the sexually-charged brunette woman. Public sympathies would surely not have been with him if he told anyone that he would have only flirted with her so much, or not at all, had he known the consequences.
Or would they? Lilah quite early on made it clear she liked the girls as much as the boys. He'd never known a lady who could get as aroused by an attractive woman as he could. Not outside of Penthouse letters, and certainly not someone as sexy as Lilah. She was so casual about (and unashamed of) her proclivities that it was like girl-watching with a best friend-- a best friend that you desperately wanted to lean over the nearest desk and bang. It was impossible to imagine that people wouldn't see the draw. "Yes, Adam, we can't blame you... The woman was unconscionably hot. You're forgiven your adulterous thoughts!" Surely not.
Then there were the stockings. Oh, God, the stockings! It wasn't long into their friendship before he mentioned his love of attractive women in what he considered to be appropriate legwear. She asked him to elaborate and he did, while she listened on with a Mona Lisa smile. The next week she began to wear them, often needing to straighten a seam while in his immediate vicinity. The first time she executed this little maneuver, by the time she got back to her desk she had an email waiting that contained nothing but an ASCII approximation of a growl. He saw her grin and quickly start typing, and he waited for a response.
