This is work, butt seriously

My job involves meeting a lot of people, from almost all walks of life. I am the liaising point between my colleagues and those who might be interested in working with us. From important phone calls, to material that comes in through post, to who's using the office phone to do personal talk and who's sleeping with whom, I know it all.

The first day I was not sure what to wear, so I wore the safest option when in doubt: tight, blue, faded jeans and a collared, white, fitted shirt. I prefer button-down shirts to tee shirts when coming to work. You can look professional and yet sexy at the same time. So the first day I had men coming down from various floors in the building just to check me out. It is quite obvious when men do that: they have a habit of checking out women in groups. Then when I walked into the canteen for my first meal, everyone just stopped ordering food and gaped at me. Where there are men giving attention to one woman, there are going to be women who are jealous of that woman. That's what happened at office too. Even without doing a thing myself, the women at work were giving me strange vibes. I can't help if I am sexy and they are not, ya?

And the most interesting thing happened: someone kept calling from different extension numbers. He had a very nice voice. He first asked my name, then welcomed me on joining, then said that if I had any problems at work, I should ask him and he would sort it out for me. But he did not leave his name. However, I have an inkling as to who it might be. Either the much-married, but definitely cute, HR manager or it's one of the technical support boys I was introduced too. Somehow the tech boys always get this very glazed look in their eyes whenever they are introduced to a girl.. or maybe it's too much programming.

As I was attending to another call and sipping water from a paper cup… the cup tipped and all the water spilled on my shirt.
"Your shirt is transparent," announced a voice and as I looked up, I was staring into the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen on a man. "I am sorry, I was not staring at you… but you are the first person one sees on entering office," with that he walked away leaving me staring at his rather shapely butt.
To be continued…

Time for some kissy-pressy...

For the next two days, I did not see Motorcycle Man. I wondered if something bad had happened to him...
As I walked towards college, I noticed a man standing near the gate, next to a black, jeep. He was wearing all denim, had short-cropped black hair and he stood there looking at me. As I neared the gate, he began approaching me and stopped at just about an arm's length.
"Tum bahut sundar ho, Suparna," he said (You are very pretty) and gave me an envelope. There was something dangerously thrilling about this unsmiling stranger who knew my name. I did not say a word and took the envelope. He walked back to the jeep and drove off. On his passenger seat was a black Thunderbird helmet. The Motorcycle Man! Where had he been?
The envelope had a neatly folded letter, written in red ink. It was more of a note:
Suparna, as promised, 9 pm show, Raja Hindustani, will pick you up from your colony gate. Wear a skirt.
PS: Last two days, my bike was right behind your rickshaw.
We had the corner two seats in the corner box on the balcony. We called those the Sex Seats in college. There were goose-bumps on my naked legs, I could feel the shivers rising up my sandaled toes, tickling behind the back of my knees, going straight up to the centre of my groin. The AC was fully on though. There was no one in the box yet. He came back with the popcorn and juice. Thank god, I did not like colas. It's the bubbles... No girl wants to be burping on a date, ya?
He sat on my right. As the trailers began, he put his arms around my shoulder and pulled me close. He didn't even pretend to put it on the backrest first! As the first song started, he began playing with my left ear, pulling at the lobe, pinching it, his fingers stroking my neck. I crossed my legs tightly, the heat slowly began stirring inside me. As the first song started, he turned and ran a warm tongue, from my neck up to my jaw, nibbling at my jaw. I was alarmed, what if the ticket-checker came?
I realised his hand was right under my... left armpit. His fingers dug into my flesh, I gasped out loud, he bit my neck. "Don't leave a mark," I said, mortified.
"I want to," he replied, his voice thick with lust, his lips moving from my neck, seeking my mouth.
"But you can't," I tried to turn my face away, "I have to go back home."
He laughed loudly, caught my chin, turned my face and kissed me hard.