"Gretchen, your two o'clock interview is out front."
Gretchen Vergas hung up the phone, grabbed her notepad and headed to the reception desk of the newspaper where she worked as a reporter. She didn't remember having an interview scheduled, but it wouldn't surprise her if she'd made one and then forgotten. Since learning Phillip, the man who introduced her to cybersex, was coming to visit, Gretchen's mind had been otherwise occupied.
Two days, she thought wistfully, passing through the advertising offices. Two days and we'll finally be together. No more imagination, no more words, just sex. Real, live sex.
She paused at the water cooler to compose herself. Her nipples were taut and clearly visible through her pale pink button up, and her crotch was warm and wet - just the way she liked it but probably not the best condition to be in for an interview.
God, she hoped it wasn't another one of those old theatre ladies. They smelled. And why did they all have to be such list-makers?
Rounding the half-wall to the reception desk, Gretchen looked up. And nearly fell down.
It was Phillip. Or at least she thought it was Phillip.
The man at the reception desk was holding a multicolored bouquet of Gerber daisies - her favorites. Check. His hair was military short. Check. His eyes were blue. Check. And he was smiling. Double check.
Barb, the receptionist coughed discreetly. "Gretchen, this is your two o'clock appointment, Phillip."
Still dazed, Gretchen smiled and thanked Barb.
"Hi, Phillip," she said as calmly as possible. "If you'll follow me."
Gretchen could feel Phillip's eyes on her. Knew he was checking out her ass. Damn, she should have worn a skirt today, instead of boring black slacks. Was she wearing granny underwear?
Gretchen held the conference room door open as Phillip passed through, then shut it firmly, making sure it was locked. She took a deep breath, turned, a nervous smile on her face.
"You're early," she blurted out. Damn, she thought, that didn't sound good. "What I mean is, I wasn't expecting you."
"Is it a problem?" His voice was Texas smooth, his eyes concerned. "I know it's unexpected, but," he paused then gently lay the daisies on the table and slowly walked toward her, "I just couldn't wait."
His lips were soft, wet, and ready, and his kiss was all Gretchen had imagined it would be.
She groaned, sliding her hands up the side of his face.
"I'm glad," she managed between kisses. "I'm glad you couldn't wait."
He laughed then. "Present tense, Gretchen," said Phillip seductively. "I can't wait."
Gretchen felt the edge of the table on the back of her legs. She surrendered against it, drawing Phillip near.
"Me either," she whispered.
Her hands found his zipper. He was hard, smooth, long. Ready. Slowly she released him and his hands worked the buttons of her shirt.
Gretchen stood and Phillip stripped off her slacks and satin panties in one smooth motion, and then took off his own pants and boxers. He gently repositioned her on the table, and, as his mouth captured hers, pushed into her. Gretchen moaned. Phillip plunged deeper.
The kiss intensified, a mirror image of the passion exploding at the table's edge, as Phillip and Gretchen finally made real every touch and every stroke.
Later exhausted, satisfied and painstakingly fully clothed, Gretchen buried her face in Phillip's chest with a deep sigh.
"That was indescribable," she whispered.
"It was," he replied.
There was a pause as Gretchen struggled for the right words - not too hopeful or needy, not too cool.
"Mind if I ask, why you're here today?"
Phillip laughed, and Gretchen felt it reverberate through her very soul.
"Just like the lady out front said," he whispered. His hand gently moved her face to eye level. "I'm here for an interview."
Gretchen searched his eyes. "An interview?"
"Well," Phillip started, kissing her nose sweetly, "seems I'm in the market for a wife and I wanted to make sure I did it right this time."
He paused again, brushing the new tear from Gretchen's cheek.
"You interested in the job?"
If there'd been any doubts in the minds of her co-workers as to what was going on behind the locked doors of the conference room, they were removed when Gretchen let out a heartfelt shriek.
"Yes!" she cried, not caring if the whole world heard her happiness. "Yes!"
About the Author: After nearly three decades as a professional writer and published author, Loring Parks gave into her passion for romance and started penning love stories. "People always tell writers to write what they know," laughs Parks, "and thanks to my amazing husband, I know romance!" Parks and her husband are currently loving it up Down Under. (And you can take that any way you please!) -- http://loringparks.blogspot.com