Dancing With Fire

- Wandering Eyes -

Right in the other room, the party was raging. But it seemed so far away. The excited chatter of voices muted to a murmur and the loud music on the other side of the wall reduced to the thud of the bass. On this side of the wall, there was the thud of the dresser as we fucked against it - my dress hiked up over my hips and my bare ass propped up against a shelf, his face buried into my neck, exhaling hard into my hair with every thrust. I dug my nails into his back, holding on, trying to muffle the sound of my moans. For a wild moment the thought crossed my mind - "Maya, this isn't what you came here for."

How did I get here?

---

I pried open a jar of honey and stuck my spoon in. It was cold in the office break room and a loud conversation was breaking out between my co-workers about some crass topic they loved to debate to take the edge off the late afternoon. I half listened, half spaced out, lazily making a cup of tea with a generous helping of honey. I slid the excess honey off my spoon with my finger and licked it off. That very moment, I looked up and locked eyes for a split second with Imran. Or at least I thought I did. He looked away so quick mid-laugh at a joke someone had made. So quick I could've sworn I didn't just catch the smile slide off his face for a second as he watched my tongue envelope my fingertip and suck the honey off.

I tried to tell myself that my nipples were hardening because of the air conditioning being on full blast in the break room.

It always took extra effort to keep a respectful, professional distance from him. It was all I could do to not imagine what his hands could do to me, or if he would get hard from moments like that. The day I met him, he made an unremarkable first impression. Only above average height, slim build, simple professional attire, regular haircut. Just another colleague I was introduced to on my first day.

"Imran." He smiled an easy smile and stuck out his hand. I shook it absently, trying to keep all the names I was learning straight in my head. Just like that, a quick interaction and I was shown to my desk and introduced to my manager. I barely had time to give the man a second thought.

But as I got to know him in the day to day, he exuded an easy, laid back energy that was inexplicably sexy. We got comfortable around each other as I did with all my colleagues, enough to joke, talk, and enjoy the office banter, but there was never any flirting, crossing of any boundaries, or suggestiveness. Imran was just a colleague who I had a convenient crush on, but would never pursue. I had never been a fan of mixing business with personal. Besides, I had bigger fish to fry than Imran and his perfectly round ass.

When I got hired at Nova Design Agency, I knew I could finally put my skills to proper use. So many digital artists didn't want to be a cog in the corporate machine - but I didn't want to be a starving freelancer anymore, begging for scraps. After years of living project to project, delayed paycheck to paycheck, my portfolio seemed to land in the right hands, and I bagged a full-time, honest-to-God-with-the-contract-signed, job. Benefits and everything. My career goals didn't stop at being an artist forever, either. I wanted to lead my own projects, do some creative directing, and get that fat paycheck. So I wasn't here to get distracted, no matter how nice the eye candy was. The line was very clear. I didn't want to ever push it, so I kept it at a safe distance. If it was ever crossed, it would be trouble. Nothing should get in the way of my work.

Yet, these moments would happen. Our conversations were easy, the humour was quick, but the seriousness was there. He had these beautifully thick eyebrows that would gather in a knot whenever he was concentrating, and the smoothest brown skin no man should justly have without a dedicated routine. At times I would catch his eye for a split second and my imagination would run wild. Moments where I imagined getting close to that forbidden line that it sent a shot of electricity through me. Like the feeling that without a doubt the chemistry would be nuclear. Wildly wondering if he noticed these instants when I did, or if I only just made them up in my head.

One night, we were both working late. The spotlights over everyone's cubicles turned off except for mine and his in our section. I'd taken some time to finish a concept design but quickly grew frustrated with it. It was taking too long. I stretched and yawned, poked my head over my screen and saw him buried deep into his Wacom. Deciding to take a break, I got up and walked over to his desk.

**Soundtrack: Ravyn Lenae - Spice (EP Version)**

I sat by his computer to check out what he was working on and he began explaining it to me. Imran had an amazing wealth of experience, having worked different agencies for over a decade. His style was versatile, neat, but still very fresh. I loved walking over and peeking over his shoulder and admiring his work. Sometimes I would sit down and ask him a million questions, learning quick tips whenever I could. He never seemed to mind, humouring my many musings and answering anything I wanted to know. He had experiences in the design industry that I ached to have, and picking his brain made me feel like I was getting close to the things I was aiming for. We were in different departments with different problems, but there was always something to talk about on the long, exhaustive project we were working on.

I plopped myself down into the chair next to him, rubbing my eyes wearily, letting out a frustrated groan.

"It's been a long one, eh Maya?" he grinned without looking up from his tablet.

"Oh, you have no idea. I don't know if I'm getting closer with this concept or the whole night's work is a waste." I sighed, staring at the design coming together on his screen, "You know what is a waste, though. That mess that you call line-work over there. What is happening in that section?"

Imran chuckled, "Big words for a little one. I could still show you a thing or two."

We both laughed, continuing to pick apart the design on his screen, throwing sarcasm at each other. Me, teasing him about the quality of his work. Him, quipping smartly about my lack of experience in what he was doing. The easy stuff. I leaned across to point something out, inching closer to him. My senses were suddenly heightened to my proximity to him and it felt like heat was coming off his chest where my arm was outstretched. I could feel him looking sideways at me but chose to ignore it. Trying to compose myself, I made a joke taking another jab at his work, trying to laugh it off as I turned to look at him. Still leaning halfway across him, we made eye contact, and there it was. That moment where our smiles froze as our eyes locked and we looked deeper into one another. As if in our minds we were already tearing each others clothes off.

Before I knew it, Imran's hand reached out to the back of my head, curled his fingers over my neck and pulled me into him. His lips slammed against mine and my lips parted easily for him, his tongue playing with mine. It felt so natural I abandoned all thought as I slid off my chair and into his lap, feeling his dick hardening against my inner thigh. I was beyond hot and bothered as his fingers grip on my neck tightened their hold and pulled my head back, exposing my neck to his hot mouth as his other hand wrapped itself around my ass and slid me closer still, so that my pussy was now rubbing against the length of his hardness, aching through the thick linen fabric of my trousers...

And I snapped out of it. It only took a few seconds of catching his eye and laughing off my joke for my mind to leap into an entire scenario where I was about sit on his dick. Imran had already turned back to his screen, talking about something else. Leaving me to wonder if it was just my libido that conjured up that split second that his eyes dropped to my lips before he looked away. Making a quick excuse that I needed to get back to work, I walked back to my desk and shook it off.