Well Played Ch. 01

HARPER

Nathan's voice was breath rushing over my collarbone.

"Eventually, I'm going to have you, whether you like it or not. So... you'd best think aboutlikingit."

He punctuated that last word with a crisp spank on my bottom, and then strode towards the door of my office.Creak.There went the handle in his palm. It opened, he stepped out, and in that last second when he was half in my space and half in limbo, he cracked a grin that made my hands ache with emptiness.

Nathan, Nathan, Nathan. Nathan Ironside. Is it me, or is there poetry to the mere sound of it? The jagged sort that hides a carnival beneath the shapes of the words.

Not that I'd ever tell him that -- he'd struggle to make those suave little exits. His head wouldn't fit through the door.

"Harper? Hello?" Ben poked me in the ribs and I almost dropped the folders Nathan had piled into my hands.

I blinked at him.

"How do you do that? When did you come in?"

"I rode in on a steam punk pixie. Jesus. What does he do, sprinkle you with crack?" Ben scowled. "You've even got those puppy dog eyes, all glass-beady."

"I didn't know you looked so closely," I teased.

"It's hard not to when you're all swoony and doped up." He straightened his every-so-slightly metrosexual tie (Japanese cherry blossom). "Have you got those mock-ups for the Indella campaign?"

I dumped the files on my desk and swung round to my notice board, easing the pin from the cork.

"The nail polish? Right here. They're not finished, though -- I'm waiting for the edited copy."

"They'll do for now." Ben smirked at me. "And tonight -- after dinner -- you can tell me all about your ickle crush on Mr Iron Balls."

I blushed again.

"It's not a crush, Ben --"

"Oh? Is itlurve?" He laughed, and it was filthier than usual. "You'd best get some wine as well, then."

"All you two is drink and eat." Caroline peered around the doorway. "I'm surprised you don't have to roll to work in the morning."

I stuck my tongue out at her.

"You be quiet," said Ben. "You're just jealous of the yuppie pad. We're hardcore." He glanced at me. "Harp...core."

"If tolerating your bad puns is part of the deal, I think I'll stick with my spinster loft," she giggled. Caroline is possibly the only person ever who can get away with wearing pigtails in an office, and when she giggles, I feel like I'm readingLolitaall over again.

Ben's a pervert, so even if he does feel like me, he probably enjoys it.

"Do you have cats?" he said to her.

"Only one."

"That still counts. How about a shotgun?"

"No gun." She twirled a soft bunch around her fingers. "No rocking chair or veranda, either. Sorry to disappoint. What about you two -- have you got a leopard print couch and a quirky Smeg fridge? Andy Warhol prints?"

Ben and I looked at each other; I winced. In the corner, Caroline carried on laughing.

"I sincerely hope it's only the fridge!" she said.

"Fortunately," I replied. We did debate some Warhol-style portraits of ourselves though. Possibly after tequila.

"I'll invite myself for dinner one day and take photos. Everyone thinks that you're shagging anyway -- I should count the bedrooms for research purposes." She wiggled painted nails in a wave. "Catch you later."

"Do people still think that we're sleeping together?" I wrinkled my nose.

"Yep," said Ben, "but that's probably because I don't correct them."

"Arse."

"What? It's funny! And it stops that awful Mimi from asking me back to hers all the time." He made a little claw with his hand. "She's evil, I swear. Somebody told me she's got a cauldron."

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed Ben by the hips and steered him towards the door.

"Go and do some work, Mr Everly. God knows, I've got enough of it."

"Ok, ok! But I mean it -- I want the full story on Nathan later. I am ninety-nine percent sure I heard a spanking noise and if I did -- "

I shoved him through into the hall.

"I said,go! Be gone! Off with you!"

Ben moaned aloud and clutched where I'd pinched him.

"I'm glad we're not really shagging -- you're too bossy."

When I'd wiped the smile off my face, I fell back into my desk chair and pondered Ben's words about Nathan.

Is it love, indeed. Of course not.

It'sbetter.

****

It's been two months since Nathan joined the creative team at Knoll & Co Advertising, and two months since he folded his arms, leant back against the wall of the boardroom and narrowed petroleum eyes at me.Let the games begin,they said. My hands trembled around the dice.

I know that it's bad practise to lust after your colleague. I know it's even worse to sleep with him. So...I haven't. When he waits until everyone has left the office just to catch me in the lift; when he comes to see me with no excuse other than the trivial; when he lingers at the bar on work nights out so he can buy my drink before I get my purse out -- I sayno. Not tonight, it's not a good idea, maybe another time, my cab is already here, somebody's waiting for me.But he keeps asking because he knows that I love it when he asks; he keeps teasing because he knows that I can't resist it when he teases. The breathy words in my ear and the pinches at my waist and his palm flat against my ass when nobody's looking --oh.Well played, sir, well played.

You know the score; every girl has her Mr Right, her Mr Right Now. Mr After Three Vodkas. Nobody told me it was possible to get so drunk on Mr Maybe, though. The sweetness of the edge, when you're not sure what he wants all over again and you don't know when the next tease will pounce on you -- it makes me woozy.

When you think about it like that -- the simplicity versus the complexity of a relationship -- wouldn't it be a shame to spoil it? To let it end...?

"You are going home, right?" Caroline was loitering in the doorway again. "Or has Ben chucked you out?"

"We had a lover's tiff," I said sagely. "I'm sleeping in the toilets."

"Sounds...fragrant. Want to walk down with me?"

I gestured to the heap of fresh copy that had appeared on my desk at 4:59pm.

Caroline cringed.

"Ah. Maybe not, then."

"I'll catch you tomorrow though, right?" I twisted open a bottle of Diet Coke and it fizzed pleasingly against my fingers. "Wherever I end up sleeping."

She laughed as she turned.

"Ok, ok. Don't work too hard!"

It's not as if I couldn't have gone home. When it struck freedom o'clock, most people would have switched off their computers, tucked their phones into their pockets and hurried out into the high street massacre. But the only thing more depressing than going back to work on Monday morning is coming in to a heap of things you should have finished the week before, and who wants that?

Besides, if I waited around for an hour, when I finally did step into the lift --

Nathan caught the closing doors and prized them back open.

"This thing hates me," he said. "Tries to spit me out."

I chewed my lip as I hit the button for ground floor; stopped me pouting.Hello, lift...do you swallow?

"Good day?" I managed.

"Pile of tentacle rape, actually."

"Sounds...tickly."

"You think rape sounds...tickly?"

He was watching me: not casual, pretend-ignorance glances but properly analysing, as if his gaze was pinned to the faint ripple of pulse at my throat. He was looking for something that other people didn't see and getting an uncomfortable amount of pleasure from the way I was blushing.

"I'm going to start asking you out for dinner more forcefully," he laughed. "What's your stance on fake kidnappings? Or Japanese rope bondage?"

"Well." I rubbed one ankle against the other. "I suppose I wouldn't have much choice on the kidnapping, either way. And I prefer, erm...Mongolian squirrel felching."

"I'll have to Google that one." A grin shattered the corners of his eyes to crinkles. "Are you busy now?"

"I've got a date with Ben. I think he's cooking."

"I think you should come to the White Club with me."

"I promised him I'd be back in half an hour." I love the way my pulse dances when he asks me out. Staccato, peaky, pluck pluck pluck. "Maybe another time?"

"I think," he said slowly, "you should come to the White Club with me."

He cocked his head towards me. It was a fluid, tiny gesture, but it was enough to conjure flashes of desire: Nathan throwing me against the lift wall, tugging my skirt up in a bunch round my waist, stubble grazing my neck while his fingers plunged straight through my barely-there tights. God. Maybe I should start wearing stockings...?

"Is it nice in there?" he said.

I blinked furiously.

"What? Where?"

"In there."

Hot fingertips brushed my left temple and I swallowed to stop myself moaning. Then the liftedpinged, the doors roved open and he stood aside;ladies first.

"I guess I'll see you on Monday," I said.

He glanced about the lobby, making sure we were alone; then he patted my ass again in three squeezing strokes. I know what you're thinking -- I should've stepped away. Smacked his hand. Sworn at him. But he was so brazen about it, as if this was how we always said goodbye. Our twisted little kiss on the cheek.

"Have a lovely weekend, Harper," he said.

I nodded.

"You too."

"Send me a message."

The glass doors ahead glowed with raw evening sunshine, and I winced as he strode into the glare.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I want you to," he smirked.

I rolled my eyes; a grin was irrepressible.

"You're such a slut."

"I know," he called. "You love it."

And he wasn't rejected. He knew that. No tail sagged between his legs as he left. No, he was waiting just as I was; tick tock, tick tock. I wondered where the sound was coming from: a clock, or a bomb...?

BEN

Cooking spagheeeeetti. Singing like a diiiiiick. It's the weekend-y...I can't rhyme for shiiiiit...

I am the master of the kitchen. Captain cheese grater. I told Harper when we first got our apartment that my only goal for the next six months was to make her horrendously fat (just 'cause it'd be funny); so far she hasn't succumbed, but there's a whole pound of bacon in this carbonara and a litre of ice cream in the deep freeze, so maybe she'll magically inflate in twelve hours?

My mum taught me to cook. She said it was a good way to impress a woman; I think she was secretly terrified that I'd be single for the rest of my life and would survive on Doritos dipped in boiled eggs (which is the food of Gods, by the way). She's still confused because Harper and I aren't a couple -- "but you livetogetherall on yourown!" she says -- and she doesn't understand why we don't just confess our secret affair and run off into the sunset (wouldn't that burn?).

It'd be like marrying my sister. Well. Harper and Ididkiss one rainy, grim Sunday evening. We were hung-over and dejected from our respective break-ups, and it seemed like it was worth a try. Half way through, I opened my eyes to find that she was watching True Blood over my shoulder; her tongue went limp in my mouth and then we were laughing, the kind that gives you belly cramp and makes your face crease and ache. When all that subsided, we swore to keep it secret -- I've had more fun being single with Harper than I did in my entire last relationship, and that's really not worth trading in.

"Ben?"

The front door groaned on its hinges and I heard Harper curse as she bent to take her heels off. Normally, I'd have hopped through and grabbed her ankles so she fell backwards, but my softly bubbling white sauce was more important. (That's less gay than it sounds).

"I'm in the kitchen!"

She padded through and folded her arms.

"I forgot the wine."

"Well, now you've done it. We'll have to crack open the tequila instead," I sighed. "Let me guess -- Nathan blinked three times in four seconds and you were too busy orgasming to remember?"

"That sounds a bit painful. But no." She went to stir the carbonara and I smacked her hand out of the way.

"Bad Harper! Do you know what happens if a woman touches this pan?"

Her tongue clicked against her teeth.

"It'll taste good for once?"

"Screw you then. You're not having any of it!" Sticky spoon aloft, I chased her through to the bathroom, where she hid behind the door and shrieked with laughter.

Twenty minutes later, we were slobbing out in the lounge with bowls of pasta; me in my sauce-flecked work shirt and Harper in her fuzzy pyjamas (this is how I'm certain the girl doesn't fancy me: nightwear in hedgehog print).

"Tequila does not go with smoky bacon and cheese." She winced.

"We can't drink lemonade on a Friday night, Harpcore. We're already staying in -- that's bad enough."

"But it's part of our code, remember?" She leaned over to prod me with her fork. "We don't feel sad for not going out on the prowl. We're secure in our..."

"...patheticness?" I said.

"That's not even a word!"

"Yeah, well. You've beenon the prowlall day anyway, you whore. I've seen you."

Harper swallowed without chewing properly; she was too busy blushing like a fourteen year-old in a sex ed class.

"Don't feign ignorance -- it won't wash with me, missy. I saw you." It was my turn to prod her. "How long have you been flirting with Sir Alpha of Brooding?"

"It's not flirting." She shrugged.

"Oh? Is there a different word for it in Brooding? Is itbeing a pair of sickening asshats?"

She grinned at me over her bowl.

"Seriously -- it's not flirting. It's...a game."

"Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred spanks?" I teased.

The colour drained from her face.

"Oh god. Did you actually see him spank me?"

"No." I laughed. "But he really did that in the office? Fucking hell, I've got to shake his hand." Pasta coiled on my fork. "After he's washed it, anyway."

"It's all part of it though, Ben. Like unwritten rules. He chases me like that and I keep saying no, but we both know that I like it."

I tapped my plate.

"Let me get this straight. He's sexually harassing you, and youlikeit?"

"When you put it like that, it sounds kind of creepy." She pouted at me. "Trust you to suck all the fun out of everything."

"But what's in it for him?"

She sat back and gazed up at me, twirling blond hair around her finger.

"I don't know, actually. I guess...he likes pretending to coerce me. Likes the thrill of it."

"He thinks you're going to crack. That's why he's pursuing you. In the meantime, he's just getting off on harassing you, which is..." I cleared my throat. "Admirably honest."

"I want to crack. Of course I do. But this isnice, Ben. You know the little thrills you get from having a crush on somebody? I get them all the time, and they're kind of half consummated with the way he plays with me." She smiled, bit her lip; tempted, wistful. "It's a perfect balance."

"Only a woman would refer to a sexless relationship as perfect," I mumbled.

"You don't get it. It's not sexless. It's the sexiest thing I've ever done." Another smile -- triumphant now. "And maybe I will crack, eventually. When the time's right. I mean...otherwise one of us will get bored and it'll all just go to waste, right? But until then, while it's still...swelling...I'm holding on."

"Until he gets blue balls," I grinned. "Evil Harpie."

"Anyway, enough about me. Who have you been lusting over this week?"

"Caroline's tits were exceptionally perky today," I said slowly.

"They're always perky." She rolled her eyes. "Stop avoiding my question."

"Ok, ok. Well. There is one girl."

Actually, there had been "a girl" for several weeks, but you can't mention these things until you've put the feelers out. My feelers went out last Thursday and they haven't come back yet...I'm guessing they found an abandoned KFC bucket and are probably lying face down in their own vomit.

"Who?" Harper squeaked, suddenly alight with intrigue. "Does she work with us?"

"Nope."

"Does she go to our gym?"

"Still no." I grinned. "In truth...there's not a lot to tell yet, ok? Give me a few days and I'll talk."

"You'll get blue balls," she grumbled.

"Will you suck them, if I do?"

Harper launched a cushion at me.

"Bleugh.No!"

****

There's only one reason why I know what seven AM on a Saturday looks like, and that's this one girl. Well. That and Aidan; if I don't join him for a run three times a week then he threatens to turn up at my office and do one of his gay dance routines, and I wouldn't put it past the sly ginger bastard.

"You're late." He snorted at me in disgust.

"I'm not late. I'm...arriving later than normal." I bent to tighten my laces and the whole world whooshed forwards. Ugh. "I'm on hangover time."

"Oh, I see. A few vodkas and you're Doctor fucking Who." He flexed his hands at me. "I can see it now: gracefully bounding towards your foxeh laydeh with your stripy scarf billowing behind you in the breeze --"

"Sod off, will you? It's half seven! What are wedoinghere?" I glanced around at the deserted park.

"I like it," he huffed. "It's all dewy and scenic."

"Are yousureyou're not gay?"

"Whether I like cock or not is none of your business. Now run ahead of me so I can --" He gave my arse a sharp once over, "--make sure you keep up."

I shook a feeble fist in the air.

"If I wasn't so afraid of you, I'd still be in bed," I said weakly.

"We both know you're not here for me, you perv. Quick -- on your left, near the willow."

And there she was. Thereshewas.

We'd named her Nicole. I don't know whether you remember those sad nineties Renault adverts --Nicole? Papa!-- but like her, she's youthful and groomed and shiny, with her hair all streaked with honey and slender little shoulders that lead down to...nnnghh. I can see the sun refracting off her lipgloss from here. I bet she's French, like in the advert. I think about her saying it all the time...Ben-sha-meen...

"Legs like a school girl," Aidan sighed. "The slutty schoolgirl. The one who hikes her skirt right up to flash her history teacher, and gives blowjobs in the alley behind the corner shop."

"What, like your mother?" I elbowed him.

"Technically, we don't know that she'snota schoolgirl," he said dryly.

"Well...I'll find out."

I wished he'd shut up and just let me gawp at her. We'd got a nice spot under some trees where she probably couldn't see us and her tits were doing that lovely judder with every skippy step. Bounce and quiver. Bounce and quiver. I wondered if her nipples were chafing against that tight vest...wonder what shape they are...

"Nicole! Why you dress like a whore for running? Why you not go ze gym like respectable femme?" Aidan's dirty old Frenchman accent wobbled into the squeak of a young girl. "But Papa, the boys, they stare at me in ze gym! Ze park, it is full of the beauty of nature, and I exercise in peace. One time, Rosemary say a weird advertising exec, he stalk me. But she had mouthful of brie, so maybe I mishear her."

"Dude. Shutup."

"I've had enough. Come on."

Aidan tugged me by the arm and I couldn't not run with him -- if I didn't, I'd fall flat on my face.

"What are you doing?" I hissed.

"Exercising...in the beauty of nature..."

He was dragging me towards Nicole. We were gaining on her. Fucking hell!

"No, no, no!" I twisted my elbow but he wouldn't loosen his grip. "You are not going to make her associate me with you --"

That was when she stopped. She must've got cramp in one of her quadriceps because she cocked one ankle a few paces forward and then slowly bent at the knee. Two firm, peachy globes spread before us as she sank to touch her foot. Every fantasy I'd entertained about lapping at her there flashed through my head, and blood licked the base of my cock with a sticky tongue. Please don't let her --