Thread: Mortar and Pestle (Decadence & Rawr Kitten)

That unease began to return again. Darren could feel his heart spiking in his chest as her hands casually came in contact with him. The soft touch, light touch, from someone so...powerful, infallible, magnificent. A goddess. His eyes blinked, struggling to remain in control of these unexpected emotions rising like a sudden tsunami, sweeping him away in the riptide of her words. Her voice. I...didn't quite say that, he said, letting her fix his tie as his eyes followed her fingers, wandering over the dark line of her cleavage. The fiery demeanor in his voice seemed to disappear. I said that it would be beneficial for you to listen more instead... He could already see strings rising from the top of his hands, and he could feel her manipulating that large cross around, creating a marionette out of him. This woman was dangerous, and Darren was suddenly beginning to feel some real doubt over his abilities to sway her down a notch. But there was more to why he was feeling like such a pushover, and he was refusing to acknowledge it. He watched her, concentrating all of his resolve towards appearing like everything was under control. It wasn't! It sure damn as hell wasn't. He straightened himself up, sliding his hands into his pockets, feeling the sweat in his palms, slick and overwhelming. Her perfume was...intoxicating, and its sweet scent ingrained the image of her cleavage in his mind. Usually, Darren was relaxed around women in direct proportion to how submissive and nice they were, but Carol was something else. It was like being in a cage with a Bengal tiger. He nodded to her while he noticed her chest lift from the corner of his dark eyes. He remained still, stiff almost while she rose from her seat, leaving him with her cold shoulder, teasing him with a twist of her hip, as she declared his sentence. Then she said, 'blow', and judging from the way she said it, Darren wasn't thinking about blunt objects and bruising. Then he saw the smirk, and it nearly made him want to back out of there, confused, angry...with an erection. He continued to listen, allowing her to spell out his fate while he noticed her nearing him again, staring eye to eye. Those high cheekbones those crystal, Japanese features. Her steps were deliberate, and he could almost imagine her hands all over him, twisting and subduing him like that girl in the High School wrestling team. He swallowed, feeling the spit crawling down his throat, straining to make its way down its esophageal lining. And then it was time to leave. Darren blinked, noticing his fifteen minutes were up. He had no idea that his time was gone. He swept his bangs from his face, sighing. Some of his stubble scratched against his skin. No, there's nothing else, he said, disappointed that none of this fell into his favor, but instead, backfired. Enjoy your lunch, he finished, gazing at her with his dark eyes. It really was futile to win, wasn't it. Then again, did he really have a goal here besides visiting her to be put in his place? Somehow he realized that he didn't, and that tomorrow would be another day...and another visit. He turned around, stepping out of her office to continue working.