Home > Surprise Delivery(13)

Surprise Delivery(13)
Author: R.R. Banks

As the water rains down over me, flashes of Alexis start firing through my head again. I try to banish them, but they persist and force me to see her in painstaking detail. I can remember how her smooth, supple skin felt beneath my fingertips. I can remember the way her body felt pressed up against mine. The way her lips tasted, and her hands felt on me.

As these memories rock my senses, I feel myself growing stiffer. I try to will it all away, to not think about it, but know that it's no use. Masturbating to images and memories of Alexis has become a daily thing for me. I've tried to shut it down and block her out of my head, but it does me no good. She's like a splinter just beneath the surface of my skin – a constant sensation in my brain.

Reaching down, I grip my hard cock and close my eyes. I conjure up images of fucking Alexis in the conference room that night. In my mind's eye, I find myself staring into her eyes, that Mardi Gras mask still on her face. We're kissing, our tongues probing each other's mouth. My cock is buried inside of her to the hilt and I'm thrusting my hips hard, driving myself into her with a frantic energy.

I stroke my cock with that same vigor, remembering how it felt to actually be inside of her, thrusting myself wildly into the warm, wet center of her. I groan, my voice echoing off the tiles as I jerk myself off, picturing that perfect night of passion spent with Alexis.

I moan her name as I recall having her bent over the table and see her looking back at me, her eyes glittering from behind that mask she was wearing. I feel myself thrusting deep into her, hearing her groan and gasp as I fuck her. In my fantasy, she's begging me for more and calling out my name.

My breathing is growing ragged as images of Alexis' perfect, beautiful body flash through my mind's eye. All of the sensations I felt that night come flooding back and my body crackles with intense electricity.

As I feel her pushing herself back against me, taking my cock even deeper into her, I throw my head back and cry out as I erupt.

Leaning forward, I press my head to the tile again, letting the waves of sensation wash over me. I long to have her body again, but more than that, I long to have that connection we shared – that's what made the sex between us so intense.

She's like a drug and like a good junkie, I'm in dire need of another fix.



I lean against the photocopier, fighting off another wave of nausea. I have no idea what I ate that isn't agreeing with me, but I feel like I want to die. It's been like this for a couple of days now, and no amount of Pepto seems to be helping. It's always worst when I first wake up and tapers off by around lunchtime – or at least, becomes a little more tolerable. Overall, the last couple of days have been an exercise in misery.

I take the copies out of the tray, stack them neatly, then carry them back to my desk. I drop heavily into my seat and grab the edges of my desk, take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Suddenly I’m gripped by a fist of nausea that very nearly makes me throw up in my trash can. I manage to fight it off again – though just barely.

“Well, you certainly look like hell,” I hear.

I look up from my trash can to find Tyler standing before my desk, a malevolent look in his eye, which only churns my stomach even more violently. I cut my eyes around the office, but don't see anybody coming to my rescue. Preston and most of the other attorneys are either in court or meeting with clients off-site – not that anybody but Preston would come to my aid anyway.

“Just not feeling very well,” I say weakly.

He laughs. “If I didn't know you to be such a frigid little thing, I'd ask if you were pregnant,” he says, amusement coloring his voice. “But, I'm pretty sure nothing that runs on batteries can actually get you pregnant.”

I don't know why he takes such a special delight in tormenting me. Is it because I tell him no? Because I won't give in to his advances and blow him in the file room like half the other women in this office have? Each and every day becomes more grueling and more of an endurance test – how much shit can I put up with before I snap and decide that living on the streets is preferable to this kind of garbage?

The truth of the matter is that until I can find a logical move – one that will allow me to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly – I can't do anything. I make more here than I would slinging coffee down at Starbucks or mixing drinks in some sleazy sports bar. Probably more than both of those jobs combined.

For now, I'm trapped in this circle of hell and have to deal with the devil standing before me.

“Is there something I can do for you?” I ask.

The salacious smirk that slides across his face makes me want to throw up all over his thousand-dollar suit. Knowing him, he'd make me replace it and I don't have that kind of money.

“No, not at the moment,” he says.

He leers at me for a moment longer before sauntering away from my desk to go harass Emily. Unlike me, Emily seems to think he's charming and is more than happy to give him what he wants whenever he wants it. At least he's leaving me alone. I'm thankful for that, at least.

As another wave of nausea rolls over me, this one more intense than the last, I grab my phone, check the time, and shoot Preston a quick text message.

Feeling terrible. Is it okay for me to go home?

He's not due in court until ten-thirty, so I'm hoping I catch him before he goes in. Tyler is still huddled over Emily's desk, no doubt pouring honey into her ear in an effort to get her to drop her panties. Emily's high-pitched – and obviously fake – laughter rings out, making me wonder if she's that enthusiastically fake during sex with him. My phone chimes a moment later and I look down at Preston's message.

No problem. I'll be out of the office all day anyway. Feel better.

I key in a quick word of thanks, send it off, then start quickly packing my bag. I want to get out of there as fast I can – and not just because I'm feeling sick. I just want to get away from Tyler and the rest of them. My plan is to go home, get online, and start searching for new jobs. I want to get my resume out there in circulation. Hopefully, I'll get some bites. The situation here is getting worse by the day and I desperately need to get out.

Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I stand and head for the door when Tyler's voice stops me.

“Where do you think you're going?” he asks.

“I checked with Preston and he said it's okay for me to go home.”

“Checked with Preston, huh?”

“That's what I said,” I reply. “If you don't believe me, talk to him.”

Without waiting for a reply, I turn and head out of the office. The moment I step outside, I breathe deeply, savoring the cool morning air as it hits my lungs – savoring the taste of freedom. No job should feel this way. I'm not naïve enough to think every day is going to be sunshine and roses at your job – not even if you're passionate about what you're doing. But it shouldn't be a constant battle, either. The workplace shouldn't be a warzone.

And you shouldn't have to feel like you're getting out of prison after a lifetime behind bars every time you leave your place of work.

I'm standing in the aisle at the drug store, my stomach still roiling – though, this time it's from worry, not nausea. I hate to admit it, but Tyler's flippant remark really got under my skin – what if I've been feeling so under the weather lately because I'm pregnant? Could it be possible? Duncan and I had been safe and used protection, so I want to believe it couldn't be that. I want to believe it's something like food poisoning.

But Tyler's comment is sticking with me.

“Better to rule it out, right?” I mutter to myself as I grab the pregnancy test off the shelf.

I pick up a couple of other small things – mostly because I'm hoping the test kit will just blend in with everything else – and head for the register. I set everything down and as the cashier starts ringing me up, I see her hesitate for a moment with the test kit in her hand before she scans the box. She drops it into the bag and gives me a smile – and I don't know if I'm imagining it or not, but I see judgment in her eyes.

My hands are shaking so hard, I fumble with my debit card for a moment, but finally get it into the machine and manage to process my payment. Grabbing the bag, I hustle out of the store, anxious to be away from the woman with her judgmental eyes. I take another deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm myself down.

I'm stressed out and maybe feeling paranoid because of it. Maybe the woman wasn't judging me. Maybe I imagined it. I'm sure I'm not the first woman she's seen coming in to pick up a pregnancy test. At the moment, I'm just feeling a little raw. The situation at work is really beating me down and now I've got Tyler's stupid fucking comment bouncing around inside my head, only adding to my stress and worry.

It can't be. It just can't be. There is no way I can be pregnant. We used a condom. We were safe. It just can't possibly be true.

But – the voice in my head giggles with some sort of diabolical glee – what if I am?

“Shut the hell up,” I mutter to myself, drawing a curious look from a guy walking past me.

Taking my bag, I walk the few blocks back to our apartment, doing my best to not just avoid eye contact, but avoid talking to myself as well.

Half an hour after I get home, I'm sitting on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the box that's in my hand. My mind is spinning about as fast as my stomach. Thankfully, the nausea is loosening its grip on me. I can be grateful for that much, at least.

I turn the box over and read the instructions for the hundredth time. Nothing's changed since I last read it two minutes ago. I know I'm just putting it off – mainly because I don't know that I want to know the answer. What if I am pregnant? What am I going to do? If I am, Duncan is absolutely the father and he's currently half a world away – and for all I know, is never coming back.

Yeah, he said he'd be back in eight months or so – and that he wants to see me when he gets back – but who knows if that's even true. It's an easy thing to say when you're caught up in the heat of the moment, flush with the rush of endorphins really great sex gives you, but when that afterglow fades and things get real, things tend to change.

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