Elevator Love_Closure part 3a
By Tralla
Contains: 1+4x1
I'm in the kitchen, raiding the place, seeking a quick source of sustenance before returning to my desk. But I'm not going about it fast enough. My thoughts are roaming, going in reverse, back to the conversation that happened just after Jiro left two days ago. I came in to the find the blonde looking somewhat agitated. He informed me that his father wanted him to return and that Jiro had appeared to deliver the message. He had nothing more to say. Those were his words. As I relive his utterance, I can see what it was and what it means. It was a reaction of dismissive irritation on his part. And now my concerns, the issue of his returning memories, are over.
I reinitiate my food search. I've found what fits the bill. I head to the sink and run water over it.
As I turn off the faucet, my mind wanders yet again, reiterating and then adding onto a previous thought. It's been two days since Jiro's departure and everything is back as it was. Mostly. There's a sudden odd occurrence and it just walked in, put down its briefcase, placed its phone on the table, and shrugged off its jacket. I watch the blonde as he places it on the back of a chair. It's 1 p.m. He's not supposed to be here.
I track his movements. He's going to be directly in front of me in 5 seconds. I look at what's in my hand, a freshly washed apple. Initially, it was meant for my stomach, but now it's a bargaining tool. I hold it up as he passes by. He reaches for it. I inch it away. I want information. He supplies it.
"Two consecutive appointments were canceled. I'm finished for the day."
He isn't playing hooky. He makes a second attempt at the apple. I relinquish it. Before I make a full turn, I hear him bite into it. It's a crisp wet noise that helps me picture his teeth sliding into the apple's skin. My mind goes farther. He has fangs and the apple was an unwitting victim. It never stood a chance. I'm about to reach out for a replacement apple. I'm thwarted.
The blonde just stepped in front of me. There's a distance of two feet between us. I watch as he takes another bite of the apple. He chews and then swallows. He's looking over my shoulder as he asks, "Did you make the deadline?" He's asking about work. His question is tentative. And he's using the apple as cover. He's just striking up a nonchalant conversation while munching. He just took another bite.
I watch him chew as I answer, "No."
He swallows and passes me the apple. It's in my possession as he comments, "You've never missed a deadline."
Knowing that, he still asked. We both know why I missed it. I take a bite of the apple. I chew and swallow. I was dealing with mental distraction, caused by android interference. But I lie anyway. "The source code was sloppy. In any scenario, an extension would have been necessary."
He's not talking. I'm eating the apple and my actions are saying more than I'd like. I look down at what's in my hand. I'd attacked the apple to the core. The blonde reaches out, takes the nub that's left, and drops it into the garbage disposal.
"Is your hand sticky?"
It's an odd question coming from him. He'd asked it without looking at me. I look away as well as I answer, "Yes."
"I'll take care of it."
But he doesn't. I'd faced the faucet and turned it on. He'd crept up behind me and I'd just watched his hand move past my own to turn the faucet off. The side of his face is not far from mine as he says, "About the appointments…I was the one who canceled them."
I was right. He was playing hooky, but of the professional variety. He doesn't run from interference, he eliminates it. But he's not finished scheming. He'd edged up closer after his admission. From behind, he's against me. Briefly, his nose is in my hair, just behind my ear. His hand is on my forearm, gripping me. He's nuzzling my neck, inhaling, and then whispering against my skin. He's noting the fact that I'd started sweating when he came in close. He's wrong. I'd started sweating when he'd first removed his jacket. But I let him think he's accurate.
He's moving behind me, repositioning his hips, using them to make his arousal nudge me with light thrusts. I've had enough of his toying. I turn around to face him and I like what I see. He looks stirred to the point of intoxication. Warm eyes, wet lips, and flushed as far as I can see.
He'd pulled my shirt out of my pants. I hadn't noticed until I felt his hands on my abdomen. And his mouth is still moving. He's telling me how hard my body is, how hot my skin is, how supple my lips look. He's willfully casting all attention my way and letting me bask. He's making me vain. And it's clear to us both that I'll believe anything he says, as long as he keeps his hands moving, as long as his mouth looks ready to suckle my own. There's a smile on him. Something about my expression pleased him and now he's leaning forward to reward me with his lips and then, hopefully, his tongue.
There's a sudden jingle, a series of sprightly notes. It's get-up-and-go music and it was loud enough to break through our mutual daze. It only takes a second for recognition to sweep in. The intrusive noise is his phone and I recognize that particular ring tone. It's work. His forehead is against mine. Second series of notes, third, fourth, and voicemail picks up. I know what he's going to do before he says it.
"I'll see if it's a true emergency."
He'd walked over to the table and retrieved his phone. I'm watching him, cautiously. He'd just smoothed back his bangs, but he didn't let go of them. His hand is still on top of his head, holding his hair back, leaving his forehead exposed. It's a bad sign that is soon confirmed. He's finished listening to the message and apparently finished with me. He's undoing everything he just did upon his arrival. The phone has been pocketed, his jacket and briefcase are in hand, and he's out of sight with an apology.
I'm staring at the path of his retreat. Someone…will pay for this.
An hour after the blonde departed, I'd also received a phone call. It was notification of an impromptu meeting. Today was one of the rare instances where I had to be in the office, sit with my coworkers, and appear somewhat obedient. I had a chip on one shoulder getting there and now there's balance. Leaving, I took with me a second reason for rank irritation. I'll block it out.
I was beaten home. The blonde's car is already in the driveway. And now, as I open the front door and enter the house, I realize something else. He heard me coming. I know this because he's standing just a few feet from me holding a carton of food in each hand. I recognize the decal on the containers. He bought takeout, the good stuff, from the restaurant that you have order at least two hours in advance to get anything. I understand the situation. He's trying to make up for earlier. He's trying to bribe me with food into forgetting his earlier failed seduction. And it's more than a suspicion that he's going make up for it by servicing me later. Fine. I'll let him relax for an hour and then I'll strip him. Tonight, I won't abstain from ripping fabric.
With washed hands, I head to the dining room and I get another surprise. He bought enough food to feed a group of six. I was right. It is bribery. I park myself across from him. I'm already securing what will end up in my stomach, but I'm prevented from completing my task. There's a strange, prickling sensation roaming over my skin. I'm being watched and I stop what I'm doing.
I return the blonde's gaze. It takes only a second to know what's coming next.
With just one searching look, he knows where I came from.
As with earlier, he's using food to make his inquiry seem nonchalant. He's opening a carton as he says, "You look particularly disgruntled. It's about more than having to go into the office today."
"There was a visiting VP." My attention is back to the food. I'm dishing more out as I continue, "They---"
"Had you and your coworkers corralled like animals."
I look back at him. The phrasing was accurate, but it wasn't what I wanted to hear. He's still talking, but he looks too contemplative to actually be in the process of baiting me.
"And the VP, during the course of the meeting, singled you out."
He's good. I let him keep guessing.
"You believe it was because of the deadline you missed. You believe your supervisor--"
"Ratted on me--"
"Because he needed to explain why--"
"There was no---"
"Improved application to tout."
I'm impressed. Our skill at completing one another's sentences has gone up in the past week.
But he's reached his limit. He'd managed to serve himself while talking. He starts attacking his food. He's got a bundle of noodles held by chopsticks, but he doesn't bring it to his mouth. He's waiting for me to continue; it's a mini hunger strike to get me to talk rather than drop the topic in favor of eating my dinner. I let him win and continue on.
"Having been warned of my treachery, the VP came prepared." A noodle slips from his chopsticks as I say, "There was a PowerPoint presentation and a statement that was supposed to be inspirational."
He looks suspicious and he's still not eating. "Inspirational...what was it?"
Another noodle slips loose as I say, " 'How can anyone reach the top of a ladder if the bottom rungs aren't there?' "
We both know who the bottom rung is.
He actually brings the food to his mouth. I watch him. He's eating but, between mouthfuls, I can see that the corners of his lips are lifted. He finds my suffering amusing. I shouldn't be surprised. In fact, I'm not.
I go back to my food. Soon it will be his turn to complain. But his words hardly ever come off as gripes. They sound like observations, but I know better. Behind the words is a testy individual who makes a habit of hiding his true nature. That's fine. I do enough manifest grousing for the two of us.