The assistant walked out of the room, smiling at Sanders as she passed him.
". . . and that if we have problems with the drive later on that we have to get management involved with, we'll face that later. I've given her your thoughts, and she's talking to Bob now, so presumably we'll go into the meeting tomorrow taking that position . . ."
The assistant came to the door to the office. She paused briefly to twist the lock in the doorknob, then left, closing the door behind her.
Sanders frowned. She had locked the door on her way out. It wasn't so much the fact that she had done it, but the fact that he seemed to be in the middle of an arrangement, a planned event in which everyone else understood what was going on and he did not.
" . . Well, anyway, Mark, if there is a significant change in all this, I'll contact you before the meeting tomorrow, and-"
"Forget that phone," Meredith said coming up suddenly, very close to him, pushing his hand down, and pressing her body against his. Her lips mashed against his mouth. He was vaguely aware of dropping the phone on the windowsill as they kissed and she twisted, turning away, and they tumbled over onto the couch.
"Meredith, wait-"
"Oh God, I've wanted you all day," she said intensely. She kissed him again, rolling on top of him, lifting one leg to hold him down. His position was awkward but he felt himself responding to her. His immediate thought was that someone might come in. He had a vision of himself, lying on his back on the couch with his boss half-straddling him in her businesslike navy suit, and he was anxious about what the person seeing them would think, and then he was truly responding.
She felt it too, and it aroused her more. She pulled back for a breath. "Oh God, you feel so good, I can't stand the bastard touching me. Those stupid glasses. Oh! I'm so hot, I haven't had a decent fuck-" and then she threw herself back on him, kissing him again, her mouth mashed on him. Her tongue was in his mouth and he thought, Jesus, she's pushing it. He smelled her perfume, and it immediately brought back memories.
She shifted her body so she could reach down and touch him, and she moaned when she felt him through his trousers. She fumbled at the zipper. He had suddenly conflicting images, his desire for her, his wife and his kids, memories of the past, of being with her in the apartment in Sunnyvale, of breaking the bed. Images of his wife.
"Meredith"
"Oooh. Don't talk. No! No . . ." She was gasping in little breaths, her mouth puckering rhythmically like a goldfish. He remembered that she got that way. He had forgotten until now. He felt her hot panting breath on his face, saw her flushed cheeks. She got his trousers open. Her hot hand on him.
"Oh, Jesus," she said, squeezing him, and she slid down his body, running her hands over his shirt.
"Listen, Meredith."
`Just let me," she said hoarsely. `Just for a minute." And then her mouth was on him. She was always good at this. Images flooding back to him. The way she liked to do it in dangerous places. While he was driving on the freeway. In the men's room at a sales conference. On the beach at Napili at night. The secret impulsive nature, the secret heat. When he was first introduced to her, the exec at ConTech had said, She one of the great cocksuckers.
Feeling her mouth on him, feeling his back arch as the tension ran through his body, he had the uneasy sense of pleasure and danger at once. So much had happened during the day, so many changes, everything was so sudden. He felt dominated, controlled, and at risk. He had the feeling as he lay on his back that he was somehow agreeing to a situation that he did not understand fully, that was not fully recognized. There would be trouble later. He did not want to go to Malaysia with her. He did not want an affair with his boss. He did not even want a one-night stand. Because what always happened was that people found out, gossip at the water cooler, meaningful looks in the hallway. And sooner or later the spouses found out. It always happened. Slammed doors, divorce lawyers, child custody.
And he didn't want any of that. His life was arranged now, he had things in place. He had commitments. This woman from his past understood none of that. She was free. He was not. He shifted his body.
"Meredith-"
"God, you taste good."
"Meredith"
She reached up, and pressed her fingers over his lips. "Ssshhh. I know you like it."
"I do like it," he said, "but I-"
"Then let me."
As she sucked him, she was unbuttoning his shirt, pinching his nipples. He looked down and saw her straddling his legs, her head bent over him. Her blouse was open. Her breasts swung free. She reached up, took his hands, and pulled them down, placing them on her breasts.
She still had perfect breasts, the nipples hard under his touch. She moaned. Her body squirming as she straddled him. He felt her warmth. He began to hear a buzzing in his ears, a suffusing intoxicated flush in his face as sounds went dull, the room seemed distant, and there was nothing but this woman and her body and his desire for her.
In that moment he felt a burst of anger, a kind of male fury that he was pinned down, that she was dominating him, and he wanted to be in control, to take her. He sat up and grabbed her hair roughly, lifting her head and twisting his body. She looked in his eyes and saw instantly.
"Yes!" she said, and she moved sideways, so he could sit up beside her. He slipped his hand between her legs. He felt warmth, and lacy underpants. He tugged at them. She wriggled, helping him, and he slid them down to her knees; then she kicked them away. Her hands were caressing his hair, her lips at his ear. "Yes," she whispered fiercely. "Yes!"