We had been working together for weeks, tucked away in the 34th floor conference room. Each day longer than the last, as the calendar inched closer to our client's trial date. And tonight, despite being a Friday night, was no exception. Absorbed in our work, we barely noticed that the other attorneys and support staff had long ago left the building, hustling home to their weekend plans. Our plans, however, were here: seated at a large glass conference table, surrounded by pile after pile of our client's case file, the room littered with empty coffee cups, Diet Coke cans and half-eaten take out boxes. As we worked past dinner and late into the night, the building gradually darkened until only the lights of our conference room reflected upon the now deserted downtown streets.
As we plodded through another stack of potential trial exhibits, the lights suddenly flickered. Once. Twice. And then, without warning, the lights went off completely. Power outage. An auxiliary light from down the hall gradually came to life, bathing our room with a faint glow. But it certainly was not enough light to work by. Our long day was unexpectedly over. Or was it? Our excitement at the prospect of going home an hour or two early faded as quickly as it arose: the power outage meant that our cars were being held hostage in the building's garage, caught behind an electronic gate. We realized we were not going anywhere, at least not any time soon.
Unable to work, unable to leave, we deciding to the make the best of it. I raided the firm's kitchen, finding several bottles of wine in the 'fridge, left over from the last firm reception. Upon my return, I saw you had arranged a couple chairs to face outwards, allowing us to look out on the dark expanse of the city. We settled in to wait for the power to return.
Sipping cabernet sauvignon from the bottle, the stress of the impending trial slowly washed away. Our exhaustion was replaced with content relaxation. As the wine warmed us, our conversation jumped from legal matters to inane chit-chat to the latest office gossip. By the time we were working on the second bottle, our talk had turned to topics of a more personal nature. As we laughed over the shared frustrations of our so-called love lifes, my mind reeled. I thought back over the past few weeks, reexamining some fleeting moments I had struggled, unsuccessfully, to put out of my mind. Your hand reaching out to touch my arm, your fingers lingering before retreating. Sitting closely at times, perhaps too closely, for professional colleagues. After hours, an extra button on your blouse undone. My glances at you, my admiration of your body, returned not with a glare, but with a nod and a smile.
As we finished the wine, the room became quiet. We sat together in comfortable silence. Our chairs side-by-side, you leaned against me, your head resting upon my shoulder. Minutes passed without a word. My mind raced, as I wondered if this renewed physical closeness was merely an innocent snuggle or, perhaps, an invitation for more. I looked down at you, searching for some further clue, only to have our eyes meet. And with that one intimate look, our feelings became clear. Closing your eyes, you reached up to kiss me. We embraced, your hands placed behind my neck, kissing a kiss that had been waiting too long to occur. My tongue tentatively parted your lips. The softness of your tongue, swirling around mine, welcomed my presence. Our passions rising, our lips parted only to let a whisper of pleasure escape. These low murmurs of contentment further encouraged our connection. Emboldened, we smothered each other, sharing our tongues eagerly and probing each other's mouth. My lips left your mouth, kissing trails across your cheekbone, your eyes, covering your face. Brushing your hair aside, my lips upon your earlobe brought goose bumps across your skin. With a gentle tug on your hair, you leaned your head back, allowing me to kiss the nape of your neck, your exposed shoulder. Tracing my way around your neck from one side to another, the breath from my mouth and nostrils spilling down onto the tops of your breasts. As I pulled back to admire your beauty, I could see through your blouse that your nipples shared my state of arousal. Your eyes were smoldering with a passion that had been pent up for longer than necessary. I shared that feeling.
Leaving our chairs, I nudged you towards the conference table. We quickly pushed aside our files, and I gently laid you back onto the table. With your legs held high in the air, I pulled off your high heels. And then, after allowing my hands to slowly run the length of your smooth legs, I grabbed the waistband of your fitted skirt. It was sufficiently tight that you had to wiggle your ass and legs as I pulled it off — a situation you seemingly relished, as you seductively swayed your body, your eyes locked on mine. Your teasing caused my obvious excitement to grow further.