Breaking Silence (Except it's What the People Want)

2. Please Don't Stop Sir!

Make of the title what you will... but I promised smut. So smut there is. Enjoy.

~~~

After meeting Mr. Ambrose that morning, I ran into him more often than I thought I would've. In the weeks that followed I found him on my platform waiting for the BART every day. The first time it happened, I let my eyes roam over his figure.

He was dressed in a maroon suit, a faint grey and creme white patterned dress shirt, a coffee brown tie and matching leather derby shoes. I licked my lips and tilted my coffee back against my mouth deeply. God I was thirsty.

Thirsty for coffee, sickos!

His eyes met mine from where he stood, a couple yards away. And he slipped out the smallest of smiles. I nodded at him in acknowledgment from behind my cup. When I brought the cup down I gulped. His eyes darted to my throat and then they darkened.

I gulped, again,  for a whole different reason.

We entered into different cars but still, he waited for me at the top of the station at street level and silently walked beside me as we crossed the street and entered Headquarters. Pearson gave me a knowing look, grinning like the Cheshire cat as Mr. Ambrose stalked to the elevators and I scuttled to the back double doors, preparing myself for another day of numbers.

The second time it happened, he was behind me, and I had felt his stare on my back as we waited for the line to arrive. Then, as if he knew exactly what I wanted, he followed me to a bench in the corner of the car, and silently took his place beside me. I felt warm all over.

And now, it was a habit. We found each other in the mornings, and mostly we were quiet. Except it wasn't an unbearable or awkward silence. It was warm and pleasant.

Which was weird, considering I was starting to realize what a big block of ice he was.

My first impression of him had been correct. He was a statue. A marble statue. Firm, unmoving and stubborn as all get out.

Don't tell anyone, but that made me even more attracted to him.

Ugh, I know! I'm such a sadist. But, I mean, a girl's gotta get her juice somehow... y'know?

The eighth time we sat with each other, I brought him a coffee. He whispered a thank you, took the cup from my hands and sipped it. If he didn't like it, I couldn't tell. Then as we sat with each other, his thigh pressed into mine. I looked up at him, and he was looking down at me. "Tired?"

"Yeah. My boss is killing me with all the tax records this year." We shared a secret smile.

He offered me the coffee I bought him. "You might need this more than me then."

I took it eagerly, having already finished my own. "Probably." I agreed cheekily.

Then, the thirty-second time we rode together his hand rested on my thigh, sending warm tingles up and down my leg. He whispered his opinions of the latest movies in my ear as I listened and shot back defenses. We exchanged numbers that morning and that's when things began to shift.

No longer did Pearson shoot me looks. Now he was calling me out to happy hour, demanding me to explain what was going on. Apparently, the Big Man had changed. Nobody had been fired in the past month-a rare occurrence.

So I told Pearson a watered down version of the truth. "We see each other on the train sometimes." I told him... which was true. We did see each other. "Now that I know what he looks like, I know that we get on BART at the same station. Sometimes he waits for me at the exit... but I think that's just because he's chivalrous like that."