Bubble Bath

“Good afternoon, McNally & Florentine.”

“Hello, may I speak to Kevin?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“Rodney Casella.”

“Well hello there Mr. Casella.  What a nice surprise.  Let me check if he’s in.”

The line clicked.  He knew Kevin wasn’t in the office.  They were supposed to meet for lunch in half an hour.  It would take Kevin at least that long to get downtown.

“I’m sorry but he’s stepped out.  Would you like to leave a message?  I can have him call you back.” 

“No, that’s alright.  He’s supposed to meet me for lunch.  I’m making sure he hadn’t forgotten.”

“Mr. Casella your lunches are the highlight of his week.  It gives him a legitimate excuse to come back,” she paused, contemplating her word choice, “shall we say less than sober.”

“Plastered, you mean.  Glad to know I’m good for something.” 

He heard a choked gasp of surprise; she’d swallowed a laugh.  It was well worth the discomfort to break her composure. 

“I would hope… I have a call on the other line.”

“Put me on hold.  It’s your job to keep me company until he gets here.”

She laughed out loud then, a throaty rumble that had him grateful for the low lighting in the bar.  “I guess I skipped that section in the employee manual.  I will be right back.”

He checked his watch.  Kevin would be here soon.  He hated whoever was on the other line.  They could talk to her all day; he only had the next twenty minutes.

“Hello?”

“Did you miss me?”

“Of course.  I sit up here all day waiting for your calls.”  He would have killed to know if she was even the slightest bit serious.  “I’d assumed you’d moved on to a prettier receptionist.”

It was her crisp diction, he decided, all precise vowels and hard consonants.  Two, three times a week he called, the most he could get away with.  He told himself there were weirder things to be turned on by than the sound of a stranger’s voice.  Discreetly, he adjusted his trousers.  He’d been rock-hard from the minute she answered the phone.

“You’re my one and only.”  There it was again, that laugh.  He shifted in his stool, finding it impossible to get comfortable. 

“I’m not sure I believe that.  But it’s lovely to hear.  Don’t worry; I'll let you make it up to me.”

Their flirtation was completely inappropriate.  Kevin would fire her in a heartbeat if he knew.

The last time he called she had a cold.  Her voice, already seductive, took on a new, raspy quality.  He kept her on the phone for more than an hour. 

The conversation had veered dangerously towards the sexual.  He’d resisted the impulse to lock his office door and force the issue, but it had been close.  The way she asked him if he was feeling “quite the thing” before hanging up told him she knew. 

He hadn’t called in over week.  It was time to re-establish boundaries.

“How are you today?”

“Hungry as all get out.  Yourself?” 

Pathetic, he knew, to not even have a visual to masturbate to.  Still, his hand lingered over his erection as he adjusted his trousers yet again.  He couldn’t help wondering what else he could make her hungry for. 

“Sitting here waiting for Kevin.  I am bored beyond belief.  What are you doing tonight?”

He’d never seen her.  The two times he’d come by the office, needing to put a face to the voice, she’d been out.  Unfortunate timing or deliberate, he didn’t know.  He hadn’t the nerve to ask her about it.

“A bubble bath and a good book, maybe.  Now that I have the new tub, it seems a shame not to use it.  You?”

His cock jumped as if it had a mind of its own.  That glorious voice in a bubble bath, reading something erotic, hands wandering over sleek, slippery skin… he bit back the groan that image conjured.

“Mr. Casella?  Are you still there?”

“Rodney.  Please call me Rodney.”  He could hear the strain in his voice.

“Rodney.  You know, I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced.”  Her tone was wry.  “I’m –”

“Sarai.  I know.”

“You’ve asked about me?”  He was blushing.  A grown man, a titan of industry, and he was blushing like a choirboy.  “Why Rodney, I didn’t know you cared.”  She sounded giddy, practically cooing.  “How very sweet.”  The emphasis she placed on very was more than he could bear.

In that moment he made a decision.  With a quick glance at his watch, he got up from the stool and walked towards the men’s room.  Thankfully it was one of those single occupancy bathrooms.  He would have done it regardless. 

“Tell me about your bubble bath.”

He felt more than heard the change in her silence.  They were on the verge of something.  At least, he was.  So he was banking on what could very well have been one-sided.

“I’m at work.”

“And I’m hiding in the bathroom with my dick in my hands.”  There it was, the tiniest hitch in her breathing.  He had her.  “Tell me about your bubble bath.”

“Do you want me alone, or do you want to watch?”   

“You don’t expect me home for at least twenty more minutes.”

“But I knew you were coming home soon?”

“Yes.”

“I’d read one of my books beforehand,” the erotic romances she'd told him last week she devoured by the poundful, “for inspiration.” 

He heard the phone ring on her end.  "Hold on."

The line clicked.  He sat on the toilet, phone pressed to his ear, trousers around his ankles, sporting a monstrous erection.  She might not come back.  Not that he could blame her.  But sexual frustration had overcome his common sense.  If she hung up, he would simply keep calling her.

“Rodney?”

“You’re in the bathtub.”

“I’m sitting in the warm water, a glass of champagne in my hand taking small sips.”  Her breathing quickened to little gasps and shallow inhalations.  She had so much to lose by talking to him; yet here they were.  He felt triumphant, and aroused as hell. 

“Just sitting there?  I bet you look beautiful, but that sounds boring.”  If she was sensible, she would hang up right now, no questions asked. 

“Well,” she said in a softer, deeper voice than he had ever heard her use, “it’s only boring if you don’t ask what I’m doing with the other hand.”

“In the bubble bath or now?”  The pressure in his balls quickening his stroke, he was too far gone to regret asking the question.  Before she could answer the phone rang.  One more interruption, and he was going to go mad.

There was shuffling on her end, but she didn’t hang up.  “Both.  I turned off the ringer,” she answered, excitement deepening her voice.  “And locked the door.”  He closed his eyes in thanks. 

“What are you doing with the other hand?”  He heard the squeak of the poorly oiled chair wheels.  Could he be so lucky?  Her next words proved he was.

“I hold my nether lips open with the index and ring fingers, and softly rub myself with the middle finger.”  How old-fashioned, nether lips, but the way she said it, much sexier than pussy or cunt. 

“The champagne bubbles, the bath bubbles, are making me dizzy with want.  I play with myself lightly.  I am waiting for you to get home, because you would be disappointed, wouldn’t you, if I climaxed by myself?”

Dear god, though he slowed his stroke, he knew he had five minutes at most before coming all over the place.  And he wanted her with him.

“You hear the door.  I’m home earlier than you expected.  I call out your name.  Then what?”

“I tell you, ‘I am in the bath,’ and put the champagne glass down.  I want to have the hand free.  I stay in the bath while you drop off your work things, one hand massaging my pierced nub.”

Pierced?  “Fuck me.”  He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until she moaned “yes” into the phone.  “I walk into the bathroom and sit on the toilet.  I’m going to fuck you, but first I want you to finish what you’ve started.  Make yourself come for me.” 

The thing was, he could picture it.  The coming home after a long day, a steamy bathroom, a tub full of bubbles, and her, waiting to please.  Someone rattled the doorknob.  “It’s occupied,” he managed.  It was a good reminder.  Lowering his voice, he demanded, “Are you doing what I asked?”

“I climb out of the bathtub and sit on the edge, propped up against the wall.  With all the bubbles in the bath, you wouldn’t be able to see me otherwise.  I open my legs wide so you can see how ready I am for you.  Pink and glistening.” 

She was in Kevin’s office, sitting in the receptionist’s chair touching herself.  He hadn’t been this excited since he first saw Mary Stewart naked, more than two decades ago.  His hands were shaking.  Shaking, for a woman he’d never met in person.

“Finger yourself.”

“With which one?” she asked.  “Or can I pick?”  He would bet his salary she was smiling.

“Lady’s choice.”  She managed a ragged laugh; she wanted as badly if not more than he did. 

“I think,” she mused softly, “one finger will not do the trick.  So, with your permission, I’ll use two, pushing my index and middle fingers into my wetness, using my thumb to keep rubbing myself.”  There was a stifled moan and then silence on her end.  “I-”

“You are so beautiful like that.”  She cried out in earnest then.  “Go faster.”  Head thrown back, legs wide open, the skirt she went to work with raised just enough for her fingers to work at her pussy, lips bitten in concentration, he wanted to fuck her so badly it hurt.  “Come for me.  Will you do that Sarai, will you come for me?”

As if her name were the trigger, she moaned “Rodney” and went quiet for a long while.  He could swear he felt her go limp over the phone.  It pushed him over.  With a muffled shout, he came in a spurting gushing mess.  If he hadn’t had the earpiece, he would have dropped the phone.

Some of it had gotten on his pants.  The low-lighting and his suit jacket should cover the damage.  “Rodney?”

“Yes?”

“Come by tonight.” 

“Be a good girl then, and send me your address.  I’ll let you know when I get off work.  Wait for me in the bathtub.”

“Of course.”  Oh the things he could teach her, things her books never dreamt about.  “But you should go.”

His erection, which had been dying down, came roaring back.  She had, bar none, the sexiest voice on the planet.  He was about to propose they go another round when whoever was waiting on the side of the door knocked again.  Damn.  He didn’t have the time – Kevin was likely already here.  He mumbled agreement.

“It was lovely talking to you, Rodney.  I hope you enjoy your lunch,” she hummed.  “I enjoyed mine.”

He sat there for another minute, willing his cock under control, before putting himself to rights. 

While he was leaving the bathroom, apologizing to the elderly gentleman waiting outside, his phone buzzed.  She’d sent him her address, all right, and a picture besides.  And he’d be damned if she didn’t look almost exactly like he imagined, head thrown back, legs wide open, the skirt she went to work with raised up just enough for him to glimpse the glint of a ring piercing her clit. 

“Fuck,” he whispered softly to himself, not sure how he was going to make it through the rest of the day.  Kevin waved at him from the bar.