Office Relations

Shortlisted (in top 7 of 32 entries) in Inkspiration's September Flash Fiction Contest... Theme: bad day at the office told in 750 words...

"Hard at work or hardly working?" Dylan knocked on Sylvia's desk as he passed by.

Sylvie glanced up from her computer screen just in time to catch his blue-eyed wink. His toothy smile caused his eyes to squint and her heart to beat in double time. She giggled, but before she could think of a witty reply he'd already passed, and she watched him saunter into the break room.

Sigh.

If Dylan walked by Sylvie's desk once a day, he passed by a hundred times and, each time, he had some silly remark and, each time, she admired him, his perfect architecture.

All these years on this planet and she never saw a better built man - broad shouldered, muscled arms, and, oh, those chiseled pecs that the buttons of his crisply ironed dress shirts always slightly strained to hold back. What she wouldn't do to relieve them of their stress, pluck each one free of their effort, preferably with her teeth. Of course, having lunch with Dylan, or at least sharing a laugh or two over a triple chocolate mocha latte, should probably come before the ravaging of his clothes.

Hmm…lunch…not a bad idea.

Sylvie smiled, took a deep breath, pushed her rolly chair away from the desk and let out a lip vibrating exhale as she stood. She smoothed the creases from her dress, fluffed her hair and started for the break room.

***

"Hey, where'd they move the styrofoam cups?" She closed the door to the cabinet that used to house them.

"Oh, hey, Sylvie." Dylan pulled a cup from a stack beside the coffee maker and handed it to her, his eyes shifted, tracing her form. "You look pretty today." His heart-racing smile returned and butterflies did aerobatics in her stomach.

"What? In this old thing." She tugged on the flowy skirt of her dress. "I only wear it when I don't care how I look." She giggled. Her cheeks felt as warm as the coffee she poured.

Dylan laughed and bit into a chocolate glazed donut. "Boy, tell me that meeting this morning couldn't have just been an email?"

"Oh, I know! Tell me about it." Sylvie took a sip of her coffee and noticed the icing that lingered on Dylan's lip. As if his kiss wasn't sweet enough. Or, so she imagined.

"Well, back to the salt mines." He tossed his cup and napkin into the trash and moved toward the door.

Oh, it's now or never…ask him!

"Dylan! Wait!"

He turned toward her, his eyes were wide and caught hers. An electric shock ran through her being, goose pimpling her skin and, as they lingered in each other's gaze, his eyes softened into a come-hither stare, and she knew he felt it, too.

The chocolate icing still glazed his lips and working as a team they all - his beckoning eyes, his sweet lips and the cloying frosting - taunted and tempted her and were much too strong for her weak-as-it-was willpower to resist.

No sooner did her lips find his that his hands found her hips, pulling her tight against him, and she was right - he tasted so good.

"So, this is what I pay you for?"

Sylvie pulled away from Dylan. "Mr. Cavanaugh!" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "This isn–"

"Please, Ms. Dietz, don't insult me by telling me this isn't what it looks like." He shook his head. "I might expect this from some of the younger employees, but you two ought to be ashamed of yourselves."

Mr. Cavanaugh heaved a sigh. "I hate to do this, but you leave me no choice. Mr. Bledsoe…Ms. Dietz… you're fired."

Sylvie gasped and the butterflies in her stomach fell into the pit that opened in the bottom of it.

"Wait, I've been an exemplary employee here for eighteen years–"

"And we have rules, Mr. Bledsoe, and as the director of HR, you should realize that this violates several." Mr. Cavanaugh shrugged. "I'm sorry, you leave me no choice."

***

"You were leaving without a goodbye?" Dylan caught the elevator doors before they closed and stepped in.

Sylvie wiped her eyes, stifled a sniffle. "I'm sorry…about everything. It's all my fault."

"Ah!" Dylan shrugged. "So, it was a bad day at the office. But the day isn't over yet." He slipped his arm around her waist. "How about lunch? My treat."

She nodded, noticed his struggling buttons, and giggled. She could already feel their hardness between her teeth, their smoothness against her tongue.