The Insider

Chapter 6

"I think I'm old enough to decide that, Sir," Miranda said, after letting out a laugh which had her throwing back her head. She already tied her hair back in a knot due to the very humid trip back to the office.

Lawrence just remarked that Miranda's not old enough to decide which is better, red or white wine.

"I don't think so, Miranda. You look barely legal," Lawrence remarked. "For all I know, I might be committing a crime for allowing under age drinking here," he said, smiling at her then drinking wine from his office mug. He kept eye contact as he drinks, never letting go of Miranda's eyes.

"Well thank you for your low-key insult, Sir. But I'll take it as a compliment for my youth-like glow. And I'll gladly say 'Cheers to that'," Miranda said with a smile, slightly raising her own mug of wine.

She slowly drank her fill, lifting her head up as she does.

Lawrence stared at her long creamy neck, with a smile on his eyes. He never had this much fun in a long while. Dining with Miranda has been such a reprieve from his stressful first day back at the office.

She placed her mug back at the table and started eating her steak again. Lawrence poured her another round and jokingly said, "Well you do seem thirsty, don't you."

"No. I'm OK, Sir," she said, waving off his offer.

"I insist," he said, looking at her eyes and her gently flushed cheeks and hoping that he can bottle this moment of bliss.

A few moments later, Miranda jumped in shock as a mouse ran through the middle of the table.

Lawrence watched as she failingly tried to salvage her plate and her drink from the offending vermin. In her effort though, the freshly poured wine was thrown into her white shirt and drenched her chest in the strawberry flavored drink.

"Oh, shit!" She cursed, looking down at her dripping clothes.

Lawrence stood up quickly and walked to grab some paper towels by the sink. "Are you OK?" He asked as he stared at her wet clothes.

"Yeah, but my shirt is totally ruined," she replied as she tried to dry said shirt.

Lawrence tried his best but couldn't help but notice that Miranda's shirt has pretty much turned transparent. He noticed her black bra cupping her breasts in a half-moon shape.

What is it about girls and white shirt and black bra? He thought as he used all his will-power to peel his eyes away from the lovely sight.

Miranda pulled her shirt up and untucked it from her skirt. She put her hand in as she tried to wipe the wetness off of her breasts.

Lawrence swallowed hard as he stole a glance at what she's doing. Oh how he wished it was his hands inside her shirt right now. He let out a sigh and felt something stir inside him.

Miranda walked over to the sink and wet some more paper towels. Her face was full of concentration and her brows were deeply furrowed as she tried to wipe off the red liquid from her white shirt, making it wetter.

Lawrence interrupts her mission,"Where do you live, Miranda?" He asked, crossing his arms before his chest.

She looked at him with confusion, but replied, "Around thirty minutes away from here, Sir. At Ridgemont Suites. Why, Sir?

"Come on. I'll bring you home," he said. He then took the plates out and threw them in the nearby bins.

* * *

She felt cold as the wetness of her shirt was pressed further to her skin by the air from the car's airconditioner. She let out a sound along with a shiver as she shook the coldness off of her body.

"Is it too cold?" Lawrence asked beside her.

"A little bit, Sir," Miranda replied seeking his eyes.

"Please turn down the aircon, Joe," Lawrence instructed his driver.

"Sorry for the trouble, Sir," Miranda said. "You really needn't bother. I could've just called a taxi."

"A taxi? Not with you looking like that, no," Lawrence replied, looking at Miranda and pointing at her shirt.

She never realized, until now, that she looks pretty much naked from the waist up. All this time, she was so stressed about losing her white shirt that she didn't think about how she looked.

Has he been seeing me like this since earlier? Have I been flashing him my tits for minutes now?

Miranda closed her eyes hardly shut, and chastised herself inwardly.

"Shit!" She muttered under her breath as she hugged her torso and turned her body slightly away from Lawrence.

"Don't worry," Lawrence stated with a smile.

She looked at him shamefully. "I'm so sorry, Sir. This is so unprofessional of me," she began. "What was I thinking, drinking at work?"

"Miranda, stop," Lawrence said, tapping her knee. "I said don't worry. I wouldn't take this incident against you.

"And besides, I enjoyed having a drink with you. I've been so stressed lately. I really needed that.

"And as for your shirt, trust me, I haven't looked at it...or I haven't looked at it enough, may be more proper," he said jokingly.

"Sir," she said, pouting at him.

"I was just joking," he said.

"Are you still cold?" He asked as he noticed the goosebumps in her arms when he brushed against them.

"A little bit, Sir," she answered, lying to her boss. Miranda was not that cold as it is. For her goosebumps are attributable not to the car's temperature anymore but to the giddy feeling inside her, thanks to the man seated beside her.

"Wait," he said as he turned over and reached for something at the back of the car. "I have a jacket over here somewhere."

Lawrence felt around for the wanted garment behind their car seat. In doing so, his side touched on Miranda's arms and allowing her to feel his muscular torso.

"There it is," he said.

He turned around, exhaling and as he does. The air hit Miranda's exposed nape. Her senses felt heightened and she closed her eyes and unconsciously let out a tiny moan.

Lawrence raised an eyebrow at her as he handed her his jacket. "Here."

"Thank you, Sir," she said, clearing her throat. She shimmied into the jacket, thanking it for the warmth.

The rest of the ride was quiet as Miranda and Lawrence both stared at the cars passing through the windows beside them. In Miranda's case, however, she had to make it through an unignorable feeling of wetness not only in her upper body, but also in a portion somewhere much lower than her wet and dripping shirt.