Otherworldly
Otherworldly
Marcel’s fingers tapped across the keyboard as he edited one of the works of his senior analysts. There were a few design errors along with a few typos. Some aspects could use a little more tweaking as well. For instance: instead of using the classic red and blue, Wade should’ve tried pink and green. Those go well together and it’s got a nice soft touch. Let’s a zap right there. Yes, that’ll do. You see, here in the marketing department of Stein Inc. today, they had created a new poster design for some British poppy band. What was the name again? Right Direction? Marcel digressed as his thought train stopped short. Day to day, he worked in his office in the marketing department under Mr. Weinstein. He was the…manager or executive overseer if you will. His job was to create marketing slogans and ideas that pulled in crowds in social media, preferably teenage girls. His day job is actually quite easy and filled to the brim with benefits…and yet it’s quite lonely, as well. He’s the head manager. He should have a strong sense of leadership and hold some form of authority over those with a lower pay grade. His coworkers should be coming to him to ask for questions or asking him out to lunch or a coffee break. Instead, they talk to him through Mr. Weinstein’s assistant, Veronica. No one ever bother to get to know the real Marcel Markets. The real Marcel was something—no, someone otherworldly.
Marcel stopped his editing and glanced at himself in his office’s full-length mirror. He raised himself from his chair to close his office door and locked it, so that he could continue his self reflect in private. He stood in front of the mirror and took in the guise that all the office saw on a daily basis. His thick chestnut hair had been slicked back with a fair amount of oil to tame his luscious curls. With a quick ruffle of his hands, the locks were released from their entrapment and were free bounce about his face. He tousled his hair once more and took in the sight of the chunky glasses resting upon his nose. They took up his entire face and hid the strikingly jade eyes behind them. He placed those on his mahogany desk and returned back to the mirror. Marcel always wore a too big button-down shirt and a khaki brown pinstripe vest. It helped to camouflage what lay underneath his clothes. His six foot five stature never intimidated anyone because he’d always looked so scrawny underneath his clothing. No one knew he was well toned and muscled, nor would they ever get the chance to. He placed his hand right hand on his muscular chest and steadiest himself against the wall with his left. He felt the embroidered emblem underneath his clothing and stared back at his reflection, abhorring the unhappiness he saw in his eyes. I hate this. A growl began deep within his chest with a rumble. Before him the mirror, began to melt as the center of it began to heat up. The tall man, closed his eyes, forcing the heat rays to diminish back into the deep of his green irises.
Marcel Markets was not like other folks around here in Holmeschapel. Marcel may seem like your average working male trying to leave his mark on the world…and he is, and just by his day job. He wasn’t from around here, or this planet. His name is Hal-el and he’s from the planet Krypton, which was destroyed ages ago. The core of his home planet imploded on itself a few hours after his parents cast him away for safety—for him to live. Nineteen years ago, he crashed in this small town, where he was given the name Marcel Markets. His Earth mother, Anne, helped him keep his secret from others and even helped him hone his senses. She was the only one who knew of is godlike abilities and that was what he hated the most. Growing up, he’d try to help others without using much of his powers and people began to collect suspicions. He wanted to do good for others and until he was on his own, he would never be able to achieve that goal. Marcel also wanted to be himself around people and not hold back. He couldn’t for the fear of rejection and being ostracized. So he created another persona for his regular life for when he wasn’t out being and inhuman Good Samaritan. He created the nerdy Marcel, that way no one could ever suspect there is a link between Marcel Markets from Stein Inc. and Superman.
Marcel huffed at the destroyed mirror. “Damn it. That’ll come right out my pay check.” As the marketing manager began to pick up the ruined furniture the distinct sound of a police siren blared through his ears. Sounds like it’s a few blocks away… His clothes were barely on the carpeted floor before he bolted out his open window and into the air. The red cape billowed swiftly in the wind as he listened to the screams of horror and gunfire. His body easily weaved in between buildings as he made his flight to the OTP bank. A dozen police vehicles surrounded the private clients bank and the officers had their pistols drawn. One had a megaphone in his hand. He was trying to get the bank robbers to release the money and the hostages. From my floating position, he peered through the structure of the building. Eighteen hostages. Two armed men. One has the safety on and the other does not. The one without his safety on has a woman in his arms. I could easily get her first and rescued the rest of the hostages afterwards. No causalities.
“Officer, I’ll take it from here if that’s okay with you.”
The chunky white officer seemed startled to see me. “Yes, please Superman. We’re at a stalemate right about now. Those thugs want five million dollars each. They say they’ll kill a hostage every few minutes they don’t get their demands.” A sheen of sweat and the rapid heartbeat of the man told me that he was nervous and under a lot of pressure. He was obviously the acting captain by his stripes on his shoulder and knew if this got out of hand, he’d get the brute backlash of it.
“How many have been killed?”
“None so far.” Marcel pondered this and gave a curt nod.
The superhero effortlessly made his way into the high alert bank. The people crouched on the floor glanced up in hopefulness as their savoir Marcel, or as known to them, Superman, stood before them. The riflemen aimed their guns, yelling profanities at the humanlike alien man in front of them. The man with the hostage struggling in his arm aimed his gun at Marcel, while his partner struggled with his own firearm. As long as it takes one to blink, the nineteen year old had disarmed both men, subdued them, and rescued the woman from her captor. He carried out and led the rest of the civilians to safety as the cops rushed in to arrest the bank raiders. The news reporters and paparazzi were already outside.
The woman Marcel had rescued had draped her arms around his shoulders around his neck and was looking up at him in awe. Marcel never did understand why whenever he saved females, they always looked as if they were experiencing something astounding or magical. There wasn’t anything magical about this. She’d almost gotten killed at a bank and she looks like she’s in la la land. Women. “Miss?” He glanced down at the pale complexioned female in his toned arms.
“Hmmm?” She smiled at the man giddily.
“Miss,” he glanced down at the purse and he saw her name on her drivers license. “Miss Cait, are you alright?”
He took in her appearance. The woman, Cait was a rather attractive woman. She had dark brunette hair, almost as dark as Marcel’s. It cascaded over her shoulder, some stuck between him and her. He could tell she had a nice womanly figure, not just by the way the she felt against him but by her outfit of choice. Cait was a busty and curvy woman used her clothing well to accentuate her figure. Her soft azure sundress with the sweetheart neckline gave her an air of femininity; all the while her ample cleavage gave her a sense of sultriness and sexiness. Scarlet rose to the cheek of the hero as he realized he had been checking her out and she’d blatantly let him. “See something you like?”
There was a silky purr to her voice the way her words rolled off her tongue. Marcel had the decency to stammer and cough awkwardly as she giggled at his beet red face. Her delightful laugh triggered his own embarrassed one. “I like a lot about you actually. You’re cute as a button.” Marcel told the damsel earnestly as placed her gently on her feet.
Her brow quirked at him, surprised at his flirty comeback. “Well then, I’d love to here more about that sometime. Maybe over coffee at my place this evening?” She’s asking me out? She is asking me out! Play it cool, Marcel my boy. All he could do was nod at her. He wasn’t about to mess this up. It would be his first date ever, after all.
“Alright then. I suggest you use your super hearing to find me. Later, Superman,” she tittered, and rose on her tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek and sauntered over to her car.
“Well, hot doggie. I’ve got a date!”
…
After Marcel had returned to his job to throw out his damaged mirror, he’d gone home to shower and change clothes. He’d settled for a regular white shirt and some dark jeans. Nothing too showy. He wanted to make a good impression. Marcel, all throughout his high school, had never actually had any relations with females. They, along with every other person in the world, tended to shy away from him. What made Cait not shy away? Before Marcel could answer such a question, he found himself at her door with it swinging open.
“Hi.” A small simper had graced Cait’s feature and he found himself smiling back.
“Come in, please.”
Cait gave Marcel a brief tour of her home before making their way to her living room where she’d set out coffee, cookies, and a few action movies. The two of them talked for a few hours, not caring about time flying by as the chemistry between the two flared all around the room. They discussed Cait’s life growing up in New Zealand and how she then moved to the UK after she turned eighteen. Marcel even shared his life story. However, he didn’t tell her his secret identity and she let that pass. Within a few hours, a trust had been built between the two, and neither of them knew what to make of it. The more they talked about intimate topics, the closer physically they seemed to get. The topic at hand was that Marcel, or Superman in her eyes, had never kissed a girl. Marcel could see the appalled expression as clear as day on the girls face and he couldn’t understand it. It wasn’t appalling to him so why was it to her?
“Would you like to?” The shock had worn off and had been replaced with anxious and underlying sultriness. Marcel barely got out a full nod before her full pink lips were on his. They kissed; tongues tangoing saucily with each other. The only sound in the room was the smacking of their lips.
Something had awakened in Marcel. Something he’d never felt for any girl and certainly not to this magnitude. A raw and burning desire the roam his hands all over heard coursed monotonously through his mind. His large hand found its way to her legs to graze them, just to get a feel of them. With a gentle tug, she complied, moving to straddle him and deepening the heated kiss. Fire surged through his veins as felt his groin stir to life, fueling his hormones and the surfacing horniness. She ground her jean-covered crotch against his as if to gain some friction from the building libido. Cait emerged from the passionate make out session to pull her shirt over her head. Before she could go back in for another kiss, Marcel attacked her neck with peppered kisses and bites. He easily and startlingly picked her up by her bum and began to carry her around her apartment. He maneuvered around to her bedroom and bumped the door open. He gently laid her down on her bed before he stopped. “Ah, I don’t know what in the hell I’m doing.”
Cait stared up at Marcel, disbelief clear as day on her lovely face and just snorted. She forced him to sit down on the bed and undid his jean’s buttons. “Time to teach someone the ropes.”
“The ropes? What—” Marcel cut his sentence short when a guttural moan emitted from deep within as his cock became engulfed by the talented mouth of Cait.
…
Marcel Markets opened his eyes to a room that was undoubtedly not his. It had pictures of some band all over the walls and had the faint scent of perfume. A movement of limbs on his person caused him to remember the night before. The talking with Cait, the steamy kiss, and the wild sex all bombarded his mind. A familiar feeling of something stirring in his groin region brought him fully awake. He glanced at the purple clock on the bedside table next to him. It’s 6:45 am. I need to get to work in fifteen minutes. The daytime marketing manager gazed at the naked beauty resting on his chest and surveyed the damage. She’s got a few bruises and minor dent in her hip from my hands. Damn. Marcel, my boy, you need to control yourself.
Marcel lightly jostled the sleeping woman awake and explained to her his situation. Reluctantly, she let him go, but not without her phone number and his in return and a smooch goodbye. She, of course had her own job as well. She vowed that this wasn’t a one-time thing and for that the Superman was ultimately glad. Apart from loving the rough sex, she was a genuinely good person with a bubbly personality. Marcel definitely looked forward to seeing her the next time.
The man of steel quickly made it to his own fortress solitude, changed back into his old Marcel self and headed off to his job at Stein Inc. By the time he got to his office, the workplace was a buzz. No one had suspected of anything that happened yesterday involving the mirror and there was even some new news going around. Apparently, Mr. Weinstein had decided to hire an assistant for Marcel. He’d finally realized his own coworkers didn’t talk to me. Marcel could only assume that was the reason behind. Anyhow, it would help take the load off the marketing guy so it was an improvement.
Marcel was working in his office when a sharp rasp knocked on his door. He beckoned them to come in as he took off his glasses to ‘clean’. The superhero stopped in the middle of his cleaning as he looked at the people in front of him. The first was his boss, who was obviously introducing the new assistant. That wasn’t what captured his alarm. The new assistant happened be…
“Miss. Cait, this is our chief executive of the marketing division, Mr. Marcel Markets.” The chubby man pushed the girl Marcel had seen not only a few hours ago forward. She squinted at him suspiciously at him before her eyes widened with recognition. Marcel quickly put his glasses back on. “Miss. Cait will handle all your calls and assignments being handed to you and being given by you. Today, you will be showing her the ropes around here. Get to it!” Mr. Weinstein left before the marketing guy could get a word in and closed the door behind him.
Isn’t that ironic. Marcel could almost snort. And here he was trying to keep an identity. “Marcel? And what’s with the point Dexter getup?”
“How’d you know?” He just had to ask. He’s at least come face to face with half of the people in the office, as Superman and they never even made a connection.
“You only put on a pair of glasses. The rest of you haven’t changed. How come the rest of your office hasn’t figured out who you are yet?”
“I’m a nobody to them. They don’t pay me any attention because of my appearance, which is a good thing. I don’t need other people finding out who I am like you did. That’s why it’s called a secret identity, Cait.”
The brunette rolled her eyes and brought herself closer to the towering male. “If they don’t pay you any attention, does that mean we get free time too ourselves in this office?” Marcel had to stop himself from pinned that girl right there on the desk. If she kept at it with the purring and the sexual body language , Marcel might not be able to control himself. Hormones aside, they needed to take it slow for now. They literally just met and only know a condescend version of their life stories. Sex and pleasure can wait.
“Let’s hold off on the sex for a few days. I only met and screwed you yesterday. We need to get to know each other more before I fuck you on my desk. What about a movie and a dinner a few days from now?” The sound of Cait’s snort and a small grin gracing her face was all the answer he needed.
Marcel stopped his editing and glanced at himself in his office’s full-length mirror. He raised himself from his chair to close his office door and locked it, so that he could continue his self reflect in private. He stood in front of the mirror and took in the guise that all the office saw on a daily basis. His thick chestnut hair had been slicked back with a fair amount of oil to tame his luscious curls. With a quick ruffle of his hands, the locks were released from their entrapment and were free bounce about his face. He tousled his hair once more and took in the sight of the chunky glasses resting upon his nose. They took up his entire face and hid the strikingly jade eyes behind them. He placed those on his mahogany desk and returned back to the mirror. Marcel always wore a too big button-down shirt and a khaki brown pinstripe vest. It helped to camouflage what lay underneath his clothes. His six foot five stature never intimidated anyone because he’d always looked so scrawny underneath his clothing. No one knew he was well toned and muscled, nor would they ever get the chance to. He placed his hand right hand on his muscular chest and steadiest himself against the wall with his left. He felt the embroidered emblem underneath his clothing and stared back at his reflection, abhorring the unhappiness he saw in his eyes. I hate this. A growl began deep within his chest with a rumble. Before him the mirror, began to melt as the center of it began to heat up. The tall man, closed his eyes, forcing the heat rays to diminish back into the deep of his green irises.
Marcel Markets was not like other folks around here in Holmeschapel. Marcel may seem like your average working male trying to leave his mark on the world…and he is, and just by his day job. He wasn’t from around here, or this planet. His name is Hal-el and he’s from the planet Krypton, which was destroyed ages ago. The core of his home planet imploded on itself a few hours after his parents cast him away for safety—for him to live. Nineteen years ago, he crashed in this small town, where he was given the name Marcel Markets. His Earth mother, Anne, helped him keep his secret from others and even helped him hone his senses. She was the only one who knew of is godlike abilities and that was what he hated the most. Growing up, he’d try to help others without using much of his powers and people began to collect suspicions. He wanted to do good for others and until he was on his own, he would never be able to achieve that goal. Marcel also wanted to be himself around people and not hold back. He couldn’t for the fear of rejection and being ostracized. So he created another persona for his regular life for when he wasn’t out being and inhuman Good Samaritan. He created the nerdy Marcel, that way no one could ever suspect there is a link between Marcel Markets from Stein Inc. and Superman.
Marcel huffed at the destroyed mirror. “Damn it. That’ll come right out my pay check.” As the marketing manager began to pick up the ruined furniture the distinct sound of a police siren blared through his ears. Sounds like it’s a few blocks away… His clothes were barely on the carpeted floor before he bolted out his open window and into the air. The red cape billowed swiftly in the wind as he listened to the screams of horror and gunfire. His body easily weaved in between buildings as he made his flight to the OTP bank. A dozen police vehicles surrounded the private clients bank and the officers had their pistols drawn. One had a megaphone in his hand. He was trying to get the bank robbers to release the money and the hostages. From my floating position, he peered through the structure of the building. Eighteen hostages. Two armed men. One has the safety on and the other does not. The one without his safety on has a woman in his arms. I could easily get her first and rescued the rest of the hostages afterwards. No causalities.
“Officer, I’ll take it from here if that’s okay with you.”
The chunky white officer seemed startled to see me. “Yes, please Superman. We’re at a stalemate right about now. Those thugs want five million dollars each. They say they’ll kill a hostage every few minutes they don’t get their demands.” A sheen of sweat and the rapid heartbeat of the man told me that he was nervous and under a lot of pressure. He was obviously the acting captain by his stripes on his shoulder and knew if this got out of hand, he’d get the brute backlash of it.
“How many have been killed?”
“None so far.” Marcel pondered this and gave a curt nod.
The superhero effortlessly made his way into the high alert bank. The people crouched on the floor glanced up in hopefulness as their savoir Marcel, or as known to them, Superman, stood before them. The riflemen aimed their guns, yelling profanities at the humanlike alien man in front of them. The man with the hostage struggling in his arm aimed his gun at Marcel, while his partner struggled with his own firearm. As long as it takes one to blink, the nineteen year old had disarmed both men, subdued them, and rescued the woman from her captor. He carried out and led the rest of the civilians to safety as the cops rushed in to arrest the bank raiders. The news reporters and paparazzi were already outside.
The woman Marcel had rescued had draped her arms around his shoulders around his neck and was looking up at him in awe. Marcel never did understand why whenever he saved females, they always looked as if they were experiencing something astounding or magical. There wasn’t anything magical about this. She’d almost gotten killed at a bank and she looks like she’s in la la land. Women. “Miss?” He glanced down at the pale complexioned female in his toned arms.
“Hmmm?” She smiled at the man giddily.
“Miss,” he glanced down at the purse and he saw her name on her drivers license. “Miss Cait, are you alright?”
He took in her appearance. The woman, Cait was a rather attractive woman. She had dark brunette hair, almost as dark as Marcel’s. It cascaded over her shoulder, some stuck between him and her. He could tell she had a nice womanly figure, not just by the way the she felt against him but by her outfit of choice. Cait was a busty and curvy woman used her clothing well to accentuate her figure. Her soft azure sundress with the sweetheart neckline gave her an air of femininity; all the while her ample cleavage gave her a sense of sultriness and sexiness. Scarlet rose to the cheek of the hero as he realized he had been checking her out and she’d blatantly let him. “See something you like?”
There was a silky purr to her voice the way her words rolled off her tongue. Marcel had the decency to stammer and cough awkwardly as she giggled at his beet red face. Her delightful laugh triggered his own embarrassed one. “I like a lot about you actually. You’re cute as a button.” Marcel told the damsel earnestly as placed her gently on her feet.
Her brow quirked at him, surprised at his flirty comeback. “Well then, I’d love to here more about that sometime. Maybe over coffee at my place this evening?” She’s asking me out? She is asking me out! Play it cool, Marcel my boy. All he could do was nod at her. He wasn’t about to mess this up. It would be his first date ever, after all.
“Alright then. I suggest you use your super hearing to find me. Later, Superman,” she tittered, and rose on her tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek and sauntered over to her car.
“Well, hot doggie. I’ve got a date!”
…
After Marcel had returned to his job to throw out his damaged mirror, he’d gone home to shower and change clothes. He’d settled for a regular white shirt and some dark jeans. Nothing too showy. He wanted to make a good impression. Marcel, all throughout his high school, had never actually had any relations with females. They, along with every other person in the world, tended to shy away from him. What made Cait not shy away? Before Marcel could answer such a question, he found himself at her door with it swinging open.
“Hi.” A small simper had graced Cait’s feature and he found himself smiling back.
“Come in, please.”
Cait gave Marcel a brief tour of her home before making their way to her living room where she’d set out coffee, cookies, and a few action movies. The two of them talked for a few hours, not caring about time flying by as the chemistry between the two flared all around the room. They discussed Cait’s life growing up in New Zealand and how she then moved to the UK after she turned eighteen. Marcel even shared his life story. However, he didn’t tell her his secret identity and she let that pass. Within a few hours, a trust had been built between the two, and neither of them knew what to make of it. The more they talked about intimate topics, the closer physically they seemed to get. The topic at hand was that Marcel, or Superman in her eyes, had never kissed a girl. Marcel could see the appalled expression as clear as day on the girls face and he couldn’t understand it. It wasn’t appalling to him so why was it to her?
“Would you like to?” The shock had worn off and had been replaced with anxious and underlying sultriness. Marcel barely got out a full nod before her full pink lips were on his. They kissed; tongues tangoing saucily with each other. The only sound in the room was the smacking of their lips.
Something had awakened in Marcel. Something he’d never felt for any girl and certainly not to this magnitude. A raw and burning desire the roam his hands all over heard coursed monotonously through his mind. His large hand found its way to her legs to graze them, just to get a feel of them. With a gentle tug, she complied, moving to straddle him and deepening the heated kiss. Fire surged through his veins as felt his groin stir to life, fueling his hormones and the surfacing horniness. She ground her jean-covered crotch against his as if to gain some friction from the building libido. Cait emerged from the passionate make out session to pull her shirt over her head. Before she could go back in for another kiss, Marcel attacked her neck with peppered kisses and bites. He easily and startlingly picked her up by her bum and began to carry her around her apartment. He maneuvered around to her bedroom and bumped the door open. He gently laid her down on her bed before he stopped. “Ah, I don’t know what in the hell I’m doing.”
Cait stared up at Marcel, disbelief clear as day on her lovely face and just snorted. She forced him to sit down on the bed and undid his jean’s buttons. “Time to teach someone the ropes.”
“The ropes? What—” Marcel cut his sentence short when a guttural moan emitted from deep within as his cock became engulfed by the talented mouth of Cait.
…
Marcel Markets opened his eyes to a room that was undoubtedly not his. It had pictures of some band all over the walls and had the faint scent of perfume. A movement of limbs on his person caused him to remember the night before. The talking with Cait, the steamy kiss, and the wild sex all bombarded his mind. A familiar feeling of something stirring in his groin region brought him fully awake. He glanced at the purple clock on the bedside table next to him. It’s 6:45 am. I need to get to work in fifteen minutes. The daytime marketing manager gazed at the naked beauty resting on his chest and surveyed the damage. She’s got a few bruises and minor dent in her hip from my hands. Damn. Marcel, my boy, you need to control yourself.
Marcel lightly jostled the sleeping woman awake and explained to her his situation. Reluctantly, she let him go, but not without her phone number and his in return and a smooch goodbye. She, of course had her own job as well. She vowed that this wasn’t a one-time thing and for that the Superman was ultimately glad. Apart from loving the rough sex, she was a genuinely good person with a bubbly personality. Marcel definitely looked forward to seeing her the next time.
The man of steel quickly made it to his own fortress solitude, changed back into his old Marcel self and headed off to his job at Stein Inc. By the time he got to his office, the workplace was a buzz. No one had suspected of anything that happened yesterday involving the mirror and there was even some new news going around. Apparently, Mr. Weinstein had decided to hire an assistant for Marcel. He’d finally realized his own coworkers didn’t talk to me. Marcel could only assume that was the reason behind. Anyhow, it would help take the load off the marketing guy so it was an improvement.
Marcel was working in his office when a sharp rasp knocked on his door. He beckoned them to come in as he took off his glasses to ‘clean’. The superhero stopped in the middle of his cleaning as he looked at the people in front of him. The first was his boss, who was obviously introducing the new assistant. That wasn’t what captured his alarm. The new assistant happened be…
“Miss. Cait, this is our chief executive of the marketing division, Mr. Marcel Markets.” The chubby man pushed the girl Marcel had seen not only a few hours ago forward. She squinted at him suspiciously at him before her eyes widened with recognition. Marcel quickly put his glasses back on. “Miss. Cait will handle all your calls and assignments being handed to you and being given by you. Today, you will be showing her the ropes around here. Get to it!” Mr. Weinstein left before the marketing guy could get a word in and closed the door behind him.
Isn’t that ironic. Marcel could almost snort. And here he was trying to keep an identity. “Marcel? And what’s with the point Dexter getup?”
“How’d you know?” He just had to ask. He’s at least come face to face with half of the people in the office, as Superman and they never even made a connection.
“You only put on a pair of glasses. The rest of you haven’t changed. How come the rest of your office hasn’t figured out who you are yet?”
“I’m a nobody to them. They don’t pay me any attention because of my appearance, which is a good thing. I don’t need other people finding out who I am like you did. That’s why it’s called a secret identity, Cait.”
The brunette rolled her eyes and brought herself closer to the towering male. “If they don’t pay you any attention, does that mean we get free time too ourselves in this office?” Marcel had to stop himself from pinned that girl right there on the desk. If she kept at it with the purring and the sexual body language , Marcel might not be able to control himself. Hormones aside, they needed to take it slow for now. They literally just met and only know a condescend version of their life stories. Sex and pleasure can wait.
“Let’s hold off on the sex for a few days. I only met and screwed you yesterday. We need to get to know each other more before I fuck you on my desk. What about a movie and a dinner a few days from now?” The sound of Cait’s snort and a small grin gracing her face was all the answer he needed.
8/12/13