*Office Torture

I can go for days and you barely cross my mind. Then there are times when the thought of you takes my breath away. Why is that, I wonder? How is it possible that I can know so little of you, while those tiny glimpses you’ve granted create a hunger that threatens to undo me?

I wish I could write it off to the forbidden factor, the idea that you’re otherwise engaged and unavailable, but I don’t believe that’s the case. For there are others, also unavailable, who do not draw me so strongly. There are sparkling facets of your personality that have a magnetic pull on my spirit. Your unattainability coupled with your penchant for seeking me out, indulging my attentiveness on occasion, creates a maelstrom within me that occasionally sweeps away so much of my inherent restraint I begin to feel as if all my armor is dropping away, leaving me as naked as a nightmare.

f you had any idea how difficult it is for me at those times, I wonder... Would you avoid me altogether? Would you make some effort to prevent what I fear is inevitable? Would you thrust me away if I threw myself at you? Or would you take perverse delight in the torture you induce? Would you come to me more often, just to watch me squirm?

My mind wars with my libido, the erotic witch inside me searching your gaze as you stand inches from me on a quiet afternoon, minutes before quitting time, the office practically empty. I see the telltale flickers of lust cross your face, and I clench my hand behind my back to prevent myself from grabbing your collar. The witch is pulling your face toward mine to press hungry lips against your own, remembering a kiss too long ago to matter to anyone but me, and aching to taste it again. I fight that urge and conquer it, and you drag yourself away, apologizing.

The small tell-tale signs that you want more make me lie awake at night wondering just what the fuck is running through your head. Why do you come to my office so late, checking first to make sure I’m alone before skulking in, claiming the premise of hoping to startle me? You know better. You KNOW that I’ll always be ready to go one step further than you will.

Is that what you want?

Do you somehow hope against hope that I’ll take that step,

force my lust on you,

give you an excuse in your twisted mind?

Is that what you want?

I believe subconsciously you do. In your mind, if I force myself on you, you then remain blameless while reaping the benefits of an illicit grope, backed up against these new walls. Does the furtive ‘click’ of a door locked behind you send a surge of flaming blood below your waist, the way it does for me?

If you knew what held back the witch inside, preventing her from forcing her way to the surface, what would you do to lure her out?

Should I be glad you don’t know your own strength?

Should I be grateful you have no idea how little it would take from you to convince me you still want me?

Or should I just assume that you know, and you’re simply not willing to make that effort?