Things That Change

A few weeks passed without any real interactions with Wilson. We spoke regularly and worked around each other just fine. A few times, I thought I had caught him staring too long, but my perception wasn't his fault, so I never brought it up. All that seemed to be left of our two day fling was some lingering looks and a tad bit of tension. I can handle that.

Friday evening came as it always does, the champion of the week. Zoey, my giddy gossiping girlfriend, convinced me that not only did we need a girls' night, but that I should host. Some easy fun sounded, well, fun; so I agreed. We rode the subway together until we were a stop away from my block.

"What's on the agenda?" Zoey bounced next to me, her heels clicking with each step.

"I got the snacks and wine," I made a list on my fingers. "I don't have dinner unless we wanna cook."

Zoey thought for a moment, "Let's pick something up." We agreed on an Indian takeout spot not far from my house. It set us back half an hour -- and forty-five dollars from my pocket -- but it would be worth it.

"So, are you seeing anyone?" Zoey asked coyly, prompting me to choke on my samosa. I wondered if she knew anything as I wiped spinach off of my lip.

"No," I answered quickly. Zoey just raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, no one really catches my eye. What about you or anyone at the office?" Zoey perked up, and in no time, I was able to hear juicy details about our coworkers' love lives.

"Apparently, Wilson has a girlfriend downtown," she tacked on as if it meant nothing. Of course, to her and the rest of the world, it did mean nothing. It should have meant nothing to me, but it didn't.

I took a bite of lentils, "So, how long has he had a girlfriend?" I pushed the legumes around to try and look disinterested.

Zoey shrugged, "Dunno, but I've seen him meeting with this redhead by the bus stop. They always walk toward downtown." She bobbled her head, proud of her insider knowledge.

"Really, a red head?" I took a sip of wine to wash down the knowledge that Wilson liked redheads.

"Yeah," she leaned in like she had a big secret. "But it was obviously box dye, not natural like you." I just nodded, faking a smile like it was funny to me too.

I decided not to let any of this ruin my night. For all I knew, Zoey was wrong. And even if she wasn't, Wilson and I had no plans of a relationship, so he could see whoever he wanted. Instead of dwelling, I turned on some miniseries for us to watch.

By the eighth episode, Zoey was fast asleep under the blanket I gave her. I wasn't ever paying attention to the show, so I don't know what was happening in the conclusion. I think the main character was from a cult, but I don't really know. I looked at my phone: one-forty-five already.

I opened my messages, pulled up my thread with Wilson, and started typing.

"Hey, sorry to bother you so late. I think we need to sit down and have lunch. Regular lunch, nothing more. Thanks."

I looked the message over a few times, and then I hit send. The tone matched our other messages, and all of those were about work. Part of me hoped he would be too busy or out of town. Maybe it would weird him and his girlfriend out that I was messaging him at two a.m. on a Saturday. Either way, I couldn't get it out of my head.

Once I fell asleep, I slept hard. Last I remember, Zoey was on one side of the couch, and I was on the other. I stretched my leg out, all of a sudden aware of the extra room.

I opened my eyes, but Zoey wasn't there. I stretched again and inhaled through my nose. Bacon? The next thing I knew, Zoey came around the couch with two plates. Both plates were loaded with scrambled egg whites and bacon.

"Morning sleepy head!" She chimed as she set the food in front of me.

"Zoe," I stuttered, speechless. "How early were you up?"

She giggled, "Not that early. It just took a second, really." She plopped her skinny ass down and started eating. I'll always be jealous of her ability to put it away while staying under one-twenty.

"So," she said between bites. "Your phone was blowing up this morning. Gonna tell me who he is?" She wiggled her eyebrows, accusing. I didn't process a word after "phone."

I dug in the cushions until my phone was in my hand. Luckily, it wasn't dead yet. The screen came to life. A few emails, some social media buzz, and four new texts. One was from a model's agent. One was some automated spam text. Just when I was thinking that was it, Wilson's name was on the last two.

The first text agreed to meet me for lunch. The second was just to correct a spelling mistake. I made the mistake of smiling down at my phone, something Zoey couldn't ignore.

"Oh gosh," she jumped up. "Who is it?"

I wiped the smile off of my face and threw my phone down, like it was no big deal. "Just work stuff," I lied. I could tell she wasn't buying it. "A really big deal might be going through," then it all came together for me. "But, I have to meet with Wilson to discuss it." Yes, that makes sense.

Zoey nodded, obviously deflated without the juicy gossip that keeps her young.

We kept eating, occasionally laughing. Eventually, both of our plates were empty, and our time was up. Zoey helped me clean up, we hugged, and she left. I checked the clock: ten-twelve. I typed a quick text to Wilson.

*Does noon work for you?*

I hit send and threw my phone onto the couch, expecting nothing back. Then, it buzzed.

Time went by as I showered and got ready. Eventually, it was time to get off of the subway. To say I was nervous was an understatement. My palms were sweating, and I could feel my hair standing on end. What if Wilson held all of this against me? What if he went as far as to fire me? Maybe this was a bad idea...

There wasn't any more time to think it over as I let myself into a small Italian restaurant. The hostess sat me at a table for two in the middle of the restaurant. Just as my cocktail came, so did the man of the hour. I knew better than to hug him hello; as little contact as possible would be best.

Once he sat down, I decided it wouldn't help anyone wasting time.

"Listen," I stared at the table. "I heard you have a girlfriend." Just saying the words felt wrong, like I was making a huge mistake. And Wilson laughing just sealed the deal.

"Hold on," he gasped between laughs. "You're suddenly invested in my love life?" He crossed his arms, seemingly admitting I was right. But, I didn't like his cocky attitude.

"I'm not invested in you at all," I felt myself getting prickly. "What interests me is how you used me for your little fantasy." I held back from raising my voice, even though I'm not sure there would be a reason to.

Wilson sat up, "Ginger, what the fuck are you talking about?" He leaned forward, "How did I use you?"

"Are you kidding?" I worked to keep my breathing slow, still not sure why exactly I was so mad. "I know all about your little redheaded girlfriend."

He raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off.

"Were you just trying us all out until you got just the right one?" I flipped my hair dramatically. Wilson just looked at me, a strange look on his face.

"She's not my girlfriend," he said calmly. He rubbed his mouth slowly, "She's a prostitute." He smacked his lips and sat back like nothing.

My jaw was on the floor. In every imaginable way this could have gone, hearing him claim to have a sex worker was not on my bingo card. We sat there for so long, the server asked if we needed help.

After some uncertain amount of time -- enough time to watch a few tables who'd walked in with me leave -- I cleared my throat. "Why would you even tell me that?"

Wilson laughed again, "You asked, didn't you?" He cocked his head, mocking a curious expression. But he was right.

"Yeah, I did ask," I agreed. "And that was my bad." There was no way I could get out of this with my career still intact. Tears threatened to roll down my cheek.

Wilson shook his head, "Listen, there's something I should tell you." He thought for a moment, "I only got that prostitute because of you."

"Excuse me?" Again, I was shocked. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I didn't know if he was saying I was akin to a prostitute, or if I was so bad he needed a professional.

"It means," he put both hands on the table. "It was pretty obvious you didn't want to continue with me. So, I had to find a way to get over it. To get over you," he shrugged.

"Wilson, we were together one and a half times," I faked a laugh.

"Yeah, and I've thought about being inside you every night since," he copied my laugh. My head swung left and right to make sure no one heard him. I needed a break from what was starting to feel like madness.

"I have to use the restroom," I excused myself and walked away. As soon as I was in the single person bathroom, a wave of dizziness hit me. I held onto the sink to stop myself from toppling over. Just as I looked into the mirror at myself, the door opened; I forgot to lock it.

"Excuse me!" I turned fast, and it was Wilson standing there. "What the fuck are you doing?" His back was to the door.

"I will leave if you want," He took a deep breath. "But given our history, you usually want me to stay." There was a small smirk on his face, and I hated it.

"Get out," I ordered, but he didn't move. I stepped closer, finger pointed at him until the tip of my index finger hit his chest. Any strong words I had faded away as soon as we made contact.

I leaned closer until my lips pressed against his. I was needy, moaning into his mouth as if I was the other woman on his payroll. But, I didn't care at that moment. I just enjoyed how he pulled me closer, so we had just clothes between us. I heard a noise and opened my eyes just in time to see him drop his jacket and start taking off his shirt.

"What if someone comes in?" I nodded to the door of this very public bathroom that, at any moment, someone else may actually need. As an answer, he casually locked the deadbolt. He gave me a moment as I thought it over. Was this at all appropriate? No, but we've already crossed that line. All it took was one look, and he was pulling his shirt over his head.

I mirrored him, pulling my basic sports bra off with my top. His eyes went wide as if it was the first time seeing me topless. He almost instantly put one hand firmly on each breast, cupping them like a bra. His hands were soft from his cushy office job. He was firm, but not rough, squeezing and pulling on my soft heavy breasts. We kissed again, his chest hair rubbing against my nipples just right.

Wilson pulled away, disappointing me until his hands reached for his belt. Once it was loose, he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them off. He didn't waste any time, pulling his boxers off right away. I gasped. He was already so hard, just from seeing my tits. His hand wrapped around the shaft, and he started stroking slowly.

"I got hard as soon as I saw you," he whispered, low and husky.

I just watched his hand stroking back and forth. "Do you mean, when you saw me at the table or with my shirt off?" I reached up and pinched my nipples. Wilson squeezed his cock, and then let go. He was panting.

"No," he breathed out. "The very first time I saw you walking across the plaza to the door. When I held it open, and you walked past me." He closed his eyes and turned his head, "I was so hard, so fast, that's why I ran up the stairs. There was no way I could be alone in an elevator with you."

"All because of my hair," I suddenly felt self-conscious, my arms moved to cover my chest.

"What, no!" Wilson looked at me like I gave the most foolish answer possible. He stepped closer and cupped my face. "It's you, all of you," he gently slid his hand down my left breast. "The hair will always get me though," he laughed.

He leaned down and kissed me slowly, softly. My lips parted, so his tongue slipped into my mouth. He brushed his tongue over my teeth and my lips. I sucked his tongue softly, earning a quiet moan. I felt something on my knee and remembered, he was naked.

I broke us apart, and before he could argue, I pulled down my pants along with my panties. Wilson looked like a teenager, seeing a naked woman for the first time. His eyes were wide, his cheeks were flushed, and his cock was still hard. Before I could move again, he was on his knees right in front of me. He started kissing my thighs, trailing up, but skipping my pussy. He kissed my flat belly, licked over my bellybutton, and kissed my left hip.

His hands reached behind me, and firmly grabbed my ass. He massaged my tight, round butt, pulling my cheeks apart and pushing them together again. I was biting my lip, so I wouldn't moan aloud and alert the entire restaurant of our tryst. I couldn't take the teasing anymore, I pulled him up. He knew I was ready.

I looked around for how we were going to do this, but Wilson grabbed my hand. Silently, he guided me to the sink. He bent me at the waist, my head was by the faucet. His hands held my ass and he asked, "Can we do it like this?"

I was going to turn and look at him, but instead, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I stood straight again, Wilson moved back a few steps.

"I..., I don't want to do it like that," I couldn't look up. I felt embarrassed, like it was my first time. But even then, I never stopped cold like this.

Wilson looked disappointed, but he nodded. "I understand," he smiled kindly as if feeling me up was enough for him. He started gathering his clothes quietly. I turned to do the same when I saw a sofa against the wall. Apparently, in this restaurants attempt at seeming upscale, they decided to put full-size couches in their bathrooms. I would have opted for a chic dressing chair, but that's just me.

I dropped my clothes again and pushed Wilson's clothes out of his hands. I didn't give him time to speak, I just kissed him. No tongue, nothing special, just a kiss. He looked dazed when I pulled away.

"Lay down," I pointed to the couch. He looked at me, then back at the furniture. With just a shrug, he walked over and laid down. His legs were slightly too long, but it would work.

I walked over, sure of myself. I threw one leg over so that my knee fell against the couch. But before I could straddle him like a sexy vixen, there was a sharp pain up my leg to my hip. Exactly where six pins held my body together like a doll.

I collapse on top like a horse walking for the first time. Again, I was embarrassing myself, and it was all because of that damn accident. I wanted to run and hide and maybe quit my job while I was at it.

Instead of laughing at me or making fun of my noodle legs, Wilson's eyes went wide, suddenly aware of his position. There was a silly smile on his face, so I jokingly asked, "Can we try it like this instead?"

He nodded, probably, a million times.

I moved my outside leg, so it rested against his hip. My right hip was tight, I could feel it arguing against my movements. But I could feel his body heat radiating as well. My hand journeyed between us and I took hold of his cock. He was hard, so hard the skin was stretched tight. I stroked him slowly, and he shivered every time my hand moved up or down.

When I took my hand away, he frowned and thrusted his hips involuntarily. I giggled, and he blushed. Being stretched like this, it stopped hurting as badly. I lowered my hips just enough that it wouldn't hurt, but also so I could feel my lips part around him. I pulled back, then slid forward so that his shaft sat nestled between my lips. I could feel my wetness coating him.

I moved again, and the tip of his cock bumped my clit. Wilson was moaning, his hands squeezing my hips. I wasn't registering my pain anymore, just the feeling of his cock.

"Please," he gasped. I leaned down and kissed him softly again. Our lips came apart, but I kept my face an inch away from his. I lifted my hips, adjusting until I was just right. Then, in one slow, sure movement, I impaled myself.

One hand was on Wilson's chest to prop myself up, and my other hand covered my mouth so I wouldn't scream. There was a deep pain from being stretched by his thick cock, but I stayed still until it passed.

Under me, Wilson was a mess. He was panting, reaching up to squeeze my breasts. After an eternity, I started moving again. I moved back and forth, feeling his cock rub my inner walls. He started thrusting up into me, bumping a new spot that almost made me cry out.

I tried to go slow, but every sensation sped me up. I felt his hair tickling my lips, his cock filling me like a cork in a wine bottle. In no time, I was humping him madly. And then, there was a knock at the door. We both stopped suddenly. Our heads turned to the door. This was it, the police were here to take us to perv jail.

"Anyone in there," a man's voice called. "I've tried a couple of times, but this door's been locked for a while." The door shook as the man tried to open it.

I started to panic, but Wilson held my hips firmly.

"Use the other one," he called to the mystery man.

"I tried," he sounded annoyed now. "People keep beating me to it." Again, the door wiggled, but stayed put thanks to the lock.

Suddenly, Wilson lifted his hips and trusted deeper into me. I gasped, covering my mouth in fear.

"Sorry, pal," He grunted, still thrusting up in me. "This bathroom is out of order today." He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me down so we were face to face. I moaned softly at this angles new sensation.

"Why? There's no sign," the man complained again.

I mouthed, "We need to leave," but Wilson just winked.

"I'm laying pipe today," he said proudly. We both held back our laughs until we were sure the man would be gone. Then, he started a rhythm. We were matching our movements. He would pull back, so I would pull up. I would push down so he would push up. It was perfect.

One of his hands reached down and grabbed my ass. I moaned in his ear. I was getting close.

With my position on top, my ass cheeks were spread. I could feel that between the constant filling thrusts, Wilson started to rub between my cheeks. His fingers suddenly rubbed over my asshole.

I jumped and gasped, breaking our perfect rhythm. "What the fuck?" I gasped.

"Please," Wilson begged. "You'll love it, I promise." We stayed still, his cock still filling me. Maybe that fullness is why I nodded my head.

Excitedly, he picked up his pace, fucking me harder now. His finger easily found my asshole again, and he continued rubbing the sensitive hole.

I started moaning louder, forgetting that at any moment someone could demand we exit.

My breasts were smashed against Wilson's chest, his cock was pistoning in and out of me. I was on fire, inside and out.

"Just breathe," he whispered. I was about to ask what he meant when I felt his finger start to push in. He was shushing me, slowly entering my virgin ass with one finger.

His thrusts slowed down to a steady pattern. His fingertip did small circles in my ass. It was all coming together, I was on the edge.

I leaned up suddenly, "Suck my nipple," I gasped, knowing time was of the essence. Wilson happily obliged and took one nipple between his lips and sucked like I owed him milk.

There it was. Every feeling piled on top of each other. The thick cock moving in my pussy, the finger exploring my asshole, and his wet mouth around my nipple. I gave no warning. There wasn't time. I gritted my teeth and pushed down hard.

My entire body shook as my pussy clamped down on the intruding cock. There it was. Wilson sounded possessed, gasping and moaning over and over again.

My pussy, hypersensitive and on fire, could feel his cock swelling. Then, all at once, he erupted. My spine tingled, my nails dug into his chest, and my hair fell forward around us like a curtain. We were both gasping for air as his cock loaded me full of cum, my greedy pussy drinking it up.