"We have to do something about this sexual tension," I said, stretching my back.
"What?" His eyes snapped guiltily to my face. He'd been staring at my chest. "Sorry, what?"
"Our presentation is tomorrow, and I can't think straight around you right now."
"Oh?" He regarded me curiously. I suspected this was the first time he'd ever been propositioned by a woman. He was attractive enough, and good at his job, but clearly uncomfortable spending so much time alone with me.
The company had flown us out a few days before the big client meeting so we could meet our contacts face-to-face and build rapport. We had separate hotel rooms, but my seniority meant I got a larger suite, which we'd set up as our base of operations. He slept in his room, but otherwise, for three straight days, we'd spent every hour together refining our pitch deck. We really only left the room for dinner and drinks with the clients.
I'm not sure what started the tension growing. Perhaps it was a subliminal thing. The entire time we were working from the sofa, my bed was in sight. Or maybe it was our physical proximity. Sitting so close together, it was impossible to avoid little moments of contact. My hand would brush against his, reaching for a pen. His leg would press against mine as he showed me something on his screen. I even became familiar with his scent...
Don't get me wrong. He was perfectly respectful, aside from some difficulty keeping his eyes out of my cleavage. But after three days, I found myself wishing he'd be
less
respectful. My career has always been my priority, which doesn't leave much room for chasing physical attraction. But the smoldering heat between us was difficult to ignore.
I knew he desired me. At one point, I had to plug my phone in, and unintentionally gave him a view down my shirt. When I looked up, he quickly turned away, and his face turned bright red.
Of course, I had to be certain, so this morning, I'd answered the door in my workout gear.
"Come on in and get started. I just need a quick rinse."
He did his best not to stare at my nipples poking through my sports bra, or ogle the way my tights hugged my ass. Even so, I swayed my hips as I disappeared into the bathroom, confident he was watching.
After my shower, I casually walked out wrapped in a towel. He looked up from his laptop, wide-eyed and flustered.
"Sorry, I forgot these," I said, grabbing the lacy panties and bra I'd left on the bed. By the time I reappeared fully dressed (with my blouse unbuttoned a bit lower than I would at the office), he seemed quite distracted.
Now, here we were, the evening before our big presentation, and the tension was palpable. We'd had drinks with the client and came back to my room to make some last-minute changes to the pitch deck. But he could barely keep his eyes off me, and I was having trouble not losing myself in fantasies of pushing him down on the bed.
"You can't think straight around me?" His expression said he wasn't quite allowing himself to believe me. "Because of sexual tension?"
"That's right. And I think you feel the same way." I scooted closer to him, until our thighs were touching, and draped my arm over the back of the sofa.
"Um," he swallowed. "I suppose that's true."
"If we don't do something," I said, tracing my finger down the buttons on his shirt, "we'll be distracted tomorrow. We'll mess up the pitch, and lose out on the deal. I don't want that. Do you?"
"No. No, but, uh, what do you have in mind?" He shifted nervously, his erection starting to swell to life.
"I think," I whispered, "we should get undressed..."
