Working Girl

Helmut Newton

September 29, 2010

Iron Man was back in New York, The Firefighter was emailing me out of the blue and The Director was sending scandalous texts. All the while I fantasized about my next meeting with The Business Man. What next, The Editor was going to crawl out of rehab? Ahh-hem, I mean, the woodwork?

My phone was blowing up, handsome, sexy, stylish men all eager to please. Even with all my options, The Business Man was the only one I cared to hear from. It’s rare to find a man that ‘gets’ you and still fully wants you; I had found one and now he was all I could think about.

My fantasies were running wild and my real life was eager to catch up. I’d imagine us lying in bed facing each other with our bodies pressed together. He would have his hands on my hips, moving them over my ass, pulling me closer so I could feel how hard he was. Our lips would touch and we’d kiss slowly, savoring every second until we couldn’t take another minute.

The Business Man would push me onto my back and force my legs apart pushing himself inside me. Moaning uncontrollably, I would dig my nails into his shoulders, begging him to take me harder. We’d tease each other until we both let go and devoured one another. Breathless and exhausted we’d lay in bed until we couldn’t stand the thought of not fucking again.

The vibration from my phone snapped me back to reality. In bed alone, I read his message. A smile crossed my lips. The Business Man was scoring points as my leading fantasy man and his dirty messages made me want him even more.

Putting my phone down I let out a sigh, exhausted from allowing my mind to run wild. With seconds before my morning conference call was set to begin there was just enough time to catch my breath and dial in. The dial tone clicked in and it was hard not to laugh to myself; if only the people on the other line knew what I had been up to in preparation for the call.

Not exactly the due diligence they probably had in mind.