Don't Look Down

chapter twenty: don't make me horny

I'm sexually frustrated.

Consider me a shaken bottle of Coca-Damn-Cola. A few more jiggles of the wrist and my cap is going to blow. I'm talking Mentos addition blow.

I'm sitting at my cubicle, and since Calvin and Lindsay have both-thankfully-failed to make an appearance at my apartment or Seth's life and I've yet to receive a single reply to my job inquiries, this is the trivial issue I've been given to focus on.

It's been a week and a half since Seth took it upon himself to kiss me in our apartment. It's also been a week and a half of him acting like it never happened. While this may be normal behavior for some people, it's not for me. I'm more the kiss-and-talk-about-why-it-happened kind of girl. I like answers. I like explanations. And despite Seth finally offering me some leading up to the kiss, he's back to his old ways of refusing those things.

Then again, I haven't asked him about it either. It's an embarrassing question. 'Hey, despite everything you've insisted, do you have feelings developing for me like I do for you'. Not exactly tactful. Plus, there's the persistent dread I won't like his answer. He hasn't been discreet about his perception of love nor his desire to remain strictly friends.

I finally understand the reasons behind the latter. Doesn't mean I'm not still experiencing aftershocks from that blistering kiss.

Damn him and his remarkably talented lips.

On top of this, Clive has been assigning me an endless amount of new material-all in the Adult Contemporary Romance genre. This normally isn't a problem, but it is when I have a living, breathing male protagonist sitting a foot away from me on the couch every night. While all the females in these potential books are getting their needs satisfied, I'm doing my best to replicate that ultimate high with my trusty vibrator. It does the trick, but a girl needs human contact once in a while. And I'm not talking about the platonic touching I'm getting with Seth. I'm talking about the blending of sweat drenched bodies, trembling thighs, and...

I need to get laid. Tonight.

With ten minutes remaining in my work day, Clive buzzes my phone, requesting my presence in his office. Releasing a frustrated sigh, I head over, taking hasty steps. It's Friday and I'm ready for freedom.

"Ellie," -Clive beams as I appear in his doorway- "please take a seat."

I sit, crossing my legs. His chipper attitude already has my warning signs glaring and I know I'm seconds away from being asked to do him a favor.

"I hope you don't have significant plans this weekend."

The man is nothing but consistent. And although I have plans of cleaning my apartment and somehow getting laid tonight, he's not actually asking the question.

"No, sir."

"Splendid." His grin exposes his set of pearly white veneers. Everything about this man screams money. "I just emailed you two manuscripts I need you to look over this weekend, but the one by Nia Bradley needs your utmost attention. It's required on my desk first thing Monday morning."