The Snow Storm

"Nope," she said, still not moving.

I moved my hips into the mattress and pushed upward, but she pretended not to notice. Was she playing with me? I used a kiss to distract her, while flipping her onto her back.

She giggled when my cock became dislodged, but seconds later, when I found her entrance, she pushed back with the same enthusiasm that I was showing.

"I love a man who takes charge. This is fun," she said, as I pushed hard with each thrust.

It took much longer this time for me to deposit my semen into her waiting tunnel. She kissed me when I pulled out, and told me that it had been fun.

I awoke to the smell of coffee being brewed. Connie greeted me with a smile and a new toothbrush. She was dressed in a sweater and jeans, looking fresher than I felt. After I finished in the bathroom, I found my clothes and accepted a kiss with a cup of coffee.

We talked while I was sipping my coffee. I hadn't heard the snowplows, but I accepted her word that they had been working all night and the streets were clear. Would Harold be home soon?

"Is that one of our titanium knives?" I asked.

She finished cutting two pieces of toast before turning to me with the knife held high in the air. "It's one of my knives. My husband invented Bubba and Betty Jo to belittle my products because he's envious of my success," she said, placing the knife on the counter to show that I was in no danger of being attacked.

"Your products; are they the hearing aid that only works when birds are chirping, and the clock that runs backwards during daylight saving time?" I asked, recalling two of Howard's other stories.

She approached me with a wry grin on her lips. "My knives only contain a trace of titanium, but I assure you that they won't melt in a toaster. He's tried it. I have many satisfied users of my hearing aid, and my clocks keep perfect time."

I put my arms around her, and was guiding her toward the bedroom, when we were interrupted by the telephone ringing.

"Yes, he's still here," I heard her say. She hung up and returned to me, but before I could resume our kiss, she told me that Ms Hobart needed me to go to the office right away.

Duty called and I needed the job too much to risk being late. I glanced at the couch, thinking that I should fold the blanket and remove the sheet and pillowcase when Connie said she would do it later. She sent me away with a kiss and a piece of toast. The same doorman was on duty as I went outside to hail a cab.

I worked twenty-four hours straight because some partygoers had not made it back to the city, and others could not make it to work because they had been snowed in at home.

I was looking forward to sleep for a long time, but even after a shave and a shower, I couldn't relax. I analyzed what had taken place:

* Connie didn't have a good word to say about her husband.

* She criticized and berated him, from the time I met her, until we parted.

* She got under the covers with me, and didn't mention the need to take precautions.

* She made sure I was single, but she didn't seem to mind cheating on her husband.

* Did her comment about needing a quick orgasm mean that she hadn't had recent sex with Harold?

* Even though she knew the streets had been cleared, she was willing to be caught in the act by her husband if we had not been stopped by a phone call.

* Did she know the same doorman would be on duty when I left? Did she care if he saw me leave the building?

I didn't have to report back to work for two days, and it was good thing, because I wasn't looking forward to seeing Howard. Thankfully, we didn't work the same shift for several days. The company was closed for the Christmas holiday, but we worked the same schedule the following day.

Harold showed no indication that he recognized me, let alone knew that I'd taken his place behind the wheel after the party, and had taken his place in his bed. He was entertaining a group with a new Bubba and Betty Jo story. I sat down and listened to him relate how Bubba had slept with his boss.

Bubba was saying that he'd put his face between her double Ds, and wiggled his head. Betty Jo's acceptance that her husband had cheated was surprising. I recalled Connie saying, "Do whatever you want, I don't care. I may do the same." Did their marriage condone permissiveness? She'd also said, "That was fun. I needed a quick orgasm." Did that mean that it had been some time since she and Harold had had sex?

I was somewhat dubious that Harold had actually slept with Ms Hobart. For one thing, his assertion about the size of her breasts didn't ring true. I could almost see Ms Hobart's memo: "Get your face out of my breasts."

We didn't work the same shift again until after the New Year, and I don't know how many employees heard Harold's latest story. I was pleased to walk into the break room and hear that Harold had revised the story until I learned that Betty Jo had slept with one of Bubba's co-workers. While I felt relief that he didn't name the co-worker, I was astounded at Bubba's acceptance that his wife had cheated. I wondered how Howard had found out.

Over the next week, I heard the story twice more, and then one day, it was just Howard and me in the break room. He had fire in his eyes as he came after me. We turned a table over, splashed his coffee on the wall, and were tangled up in almost identical headlocks when a Greek and a Turk tried to separate us.

Before he released me, Howard whispered, "The doorman told me about your bruised lip, and I saw your pecker tracks on the sheets. She even admitted that she fucked you. I've been trying to get out of that marriage for four years. Thanks for buying my ticket."

The reason given for Howard being fired was that he'd attacked another employee, but since there were no witnesses as to how it began, it seemed strange that I got off with a warning. I think the real reason was his story about Bubba sleeping with his boss.

It was not long before Ms Hobart's memos to me became more frequent. Not only did I note that she addressed me as 'Jeff', 'Jane' was followed by a smiley face.

I waited two weeks before contacting Connie. I wanted to see if she was angry at me for my part in her husband losing his job. Okay, I wanted to find out if we could take up where we'd left off. I didn't have her telephone number, but I knew where she lived.

I picked a time when I thought Howard would be looking for work to go to her building. The doorman recognized me, but wouldn't let me go upstairs until he checked with Connie. He wouldn't say if Harold was at home either.

She answered the door but would not let me come inside. She opened the door as far as the security chain would permit and talked to me like I was trying to sell something she didn't have any use for.

"I wanted to make sure that you are okay?" I said, in case Harold was at home and that was the reason she wouldn't let me come in.

"I'm fine, thank you for checking. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a business to run."

Had she forgotten about the night we'd had together. I whispered, "Connie is Harold here? If he is, tell me when to come back."

She laughed. "Don't you get it, Jeff? We split, and it's largely due to you letting me use you. Thank you, but please go. As I was saying, I have two new lines to market."

I was devastated to learn that I'd been used. "You said you needed a quick orgasm and that it was fun."

Her laugh became sinister. "You're like Howard's little car. You're economical, but you skid easily. I prefer all wheel drive."

That was enough for me. I left without finding out why she'd disregarded the possibility of becoming pregnant. It was obvious that she knew she wasn't taking a risk.

It was about a week later, when I was turning my work station over to my replacement, that I didn't see Ms Hobart behind us until she spoke to me.

"Jeff, I bought a package to learn French. Would you like to take it?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I said, thinking that she was offering to lend me the software after she finished learning French.

"You know where my car is parked. Give me five minutes to catch up with you," she said, handing me the keys to her SUV.

"I have training," I said, hating myself for being truthful. What were the consequences for missing a training session?

"Learning French is training," she said, convincing me not to argue with her.

We studied French together three times per week, and 'Jane,' as I was to call her when we were in her apartment, would prepare dinner while we practiced learning the French words for asparagus, steak, bread, and potatoes. Jane was a different person away from the office. She confided some of her scheduling secrets to me. In addition to receiving bulletins from manufacturers about deficiencies in their product, she could predict a high call volume for a particular country based on astrological signs. She followed worldwide weather reports, and the phases of the moon.

Her messages became more frequent, and full of innuendoes which kept me on edge, especially on days when I knew we'd be studying French together later. She laughed when I told her that it was a major disadvantage to me that I couldn't answer her memos.

Our study sessions got longer, until it became inevitable that I should stay over rather going to my apartment at one-thirty on a Saturday morning. I'm happy to report that I was prepared for the occasion.

I'll be the first to admit that I don't know very much about breast sizes, but I can say with certainty, that Bubba was mistaken. No way did his boss have double Ds.

Jane is a different person when we are at home. Yes, I say at home, because I've given up my studio and moved in with her. At home, I'm in charge of the schedule, and Jane adheres to my memos, if you know what I mean.

We're now taking service calls on one of Connie's new products. Jane sent a bulletin saying the factory thermostat setting is set too high. The joke around the office is that it melts titanium.

When I qualify to take calls in French, Jane and I are going to study Spanish, and then German, and then...