I admit it. For what seemed like an eternity, I just went with it. My whole being was focused on her lips, pressed to mine, then her tongue thrusting into my mouth. I made a tentative move with my own tongue, and she vacuumed it into her warm mouth. I groaned in pleasure and that seemed to ramp it up even more. Now her hips were thrusting against me, and I could feel myself responding. It took every ounce of decency in me not to throw her onto the reception desk and start pulling off clothes.
Finally we both needed to breath and our mouths separated, just for a moment. And in that few seconds, the sheer lust which had overwhelmed me was beaten back just enough for me to act.
“Hang on, hang on. I mean-”
She was on me again, lips on mine, tongue exploring. And she smelled so good. Florals, vanilla, and a primal musk. Despite myself, I pushed her shoulders back, leaving her latched onto my hips and trying to pull herself forward with her arms. Her hair was feral, blond strands curling down to her lips.
“Kara?”
Her eyes were glowing embers.
“Babe?”
I looked around us, desperate to find a way out of this paradox of pleasure and pain.
“Jamar!”
“Dude.” He was halfway out the door, having concluded that spectators were not welcome.
“Get her off of me.”
“What?” He looked at me as though I had grown a third eye.
“I know, I know.” I swear I sobbed. “Please.”
He didn’t say anything, but I think he knew. Something was wrong about this. So very, very right. And yet wrong.
“Kara? Girl?” When she ignored him, he locked his arms around her waist from behind and pulled, with me pushing on her shoulders. I had a very bad feeling someone was going to walk in on us and conclude that the premises were being used for a low budget porn flick. It took a fair amount of work, but he pried her off of me and got her seated in one of the reception chairs.
“Kara? Babe, what are you doing?” Jamar held her down in the chair, trying to make eye contact with her. Her hair had a wild, post-coital look that won hands-down over any sleek sophisticated hairdo I’ve ever seen. I remained at the reception desk, tucking in my shirt and trying to rearrange the lap of my slacks.
“Jamar.”
“Kara. You OK, girl?”
“Let go of me.”
He glanced back at me and I shrugged. What the hell was going on?
“I’ll let go of you if you promise to be a good girl.”
“I don’t want to be a good girl.”
Oh my God.
“Babe?”
“Please, Jamar. I need him.”
The way she said that, I almost shoved Jamar out of the way and jumped her.
“What are you talking about, girl?”
“Why don’t I just get a few things done in the backroom?” I turned to go, and the screaming began.
“No! Donnie, I need you. I NEED YOU!”
“Run!” I swear, that’s what he said. It was like Jamar was the guy in the horror movie that decided to sacrifice himself to save his friends. Only this monster was five three, blond, and in heat.
I ran.
She had been talking dirty to me for fifteen minutes before Jamar was able to get through to Professor Irving.
I was trapped, sitting with my back against the inside of the door to the Lost and Found Room, listening to a smoking hot woman tell me what she was going to do to me if I would just open that door. It was like she had snuck into every private fantasy I had ever had, and was now offering to make them real, describing every act in explicit, excruciating detail. I was shaking like a heroin addict watching his last fix go down the toilet.
“Jamar!”
“I got it!”
“- and then I’m going to pour butterscotch syrup all over your-.”
“Got what? What?”
“He says there’s an incense stick in there with you. Third shelf from the floor, left side.”
I stood, and the door shook as Kara threw her shoulder into it.
“Which one?”
“Blue, with a white wax tip.”
OK. Got it.
“Slip it under the door to me.”
“- I can wear a uniform, anything you want. I can put on a nurse’s outfit, with the-.”
I was feeling lightheaded. I swear I thought I would pass out. It was as though my primitive brain was scrabbling to override the slim thread of decency that was holding me together. I dropped to my knees and slid the candle under the door to Jamar.
“Hang on, big guy.”
“- just want to run my tongue all over-.”
I heard a match strike, and Jamar’s calm voice.
“Breath this, babe. Take a deep breath.”
“I don’t want to breathe your stupid-.” Kara’s voice petered out.
“Jamar?”
I listened for a sound, anything that might indicate what was going on.
“Kara?”
I could hear her voice. A whisper. “What — ? What was — ? Oh.”
I opened the door and peered around the corner just in time to see her turn and sprint to the front of the shop, hands to her face and tears streaming down her cheeks.
If it wasn’t clear to me earlier, it was clear to me at that moment. God has every intention of ensuring that the Elder family name comes to an end with Ted and me. No wonder my mother always seems so unhappy.
I suppose I could at least be thankful that it was Maggie’s day in the office. In her fifties, Maggie had a son who was nearly as old as Kara, and a daughter just a few years younger. She also had a kind face and a soothing voice.
Jamar was kind enough to bring her up to speed, so a few minutes later she was able to talk Kara out of the washroom and calm her down. I figured staying out of the way was a priority, so I used the time to stock the van, all the while mulling over what had just happened.
“You OK?”
I turned, and Jamar had a strange look on his face. Half smile, half concern.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like I could complain, is it?”
We both chuckled softly, trying to avoid Kara hearing anything.
“Is she OK?”
“She’s embarrassed. I think she’s scared you’re going to fire her.”
“What? I’ll go talk to her. It wasn’t her fault. It was the potion.” That was one thing we had figured out. The liquid I had spilled by the racks was some sort of a “love potion”. At least that’s what Professor Irving told Jamar. When things quieted down and I had a chance to check the package it would all start to make sense. Destination: Hidden Pleasures.
“Yeah, well-,” he looked away, and I sensed he wasn’t telling me something.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Jamar — I am going to go talk to her now. If there is something you know that will assist me in not digging myself deeper into this mound of steaming shit, I would appreciate it if you told me now.”
He looked at me as though weighing my intentions.
“The fact is, I think she likes you. But she’s got a boyfriend. Which just makes all of this even worse.”
Shit.
I was elated. Deflated. Frustrated. I had a chance, and I may have just blown it. Because I was a clumsy oaf.
“Shit.”
“Yeah. No kidding. So she’s mortified by what happened. Plus it was all a bit, you know, a bit raunchy. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
“Shit.”
It was all I had to say.
I went out front a few minutes later, intending to tell her everything was OK. But she couldn’t look me in the eye. And to be honest, my hormones started raging the second I got a whiff of her perfume. I swear my mouth started watering.
So I kept it simple. Told her I was sorry about screwing up. Didn’t intend to spill the stuff. Never imagined something might have that effect on a woman. I respected her as a person, and as a colleague. Try to put it behind us. She kept quiet the whole time, though I sensed she wanted to say something.