A Spicy Short Story by Emma Lea
Phoebe
‘Wear the leather pants,’ they said. ‘It’ll be great,’ they said—and by they I meant the voices in my head that always gave me bad advice. I don’t know why I listened to them. Maybe it was because I’d always dreamed of re-enacting that scene in Grease when Olivia Newton-John strode up to John Travolta in those skin-tight black pants and gave him chills that were multiplying.
This was supposed to be my Sandy moment, only no one told me just how uncomfortable leather pants were. I knew ONJ (short for Olivia Newton-John, in case you were wondering) had to be sewn into her pants, but that was just Hollywood, right? I had no idea just what would happen when I combined a hot, summer night with skin-tight leather pants, a couple of glasses of wine, and a few energetic songs on the dance floor.
I should have known, I mean, I’d seen that episode of Friends when Ross decided to wear leather pants, but that was just television. It was for laughs, I didn’t think it would actually happen.
So here I was, I was stuck in the bathroom–instead of downstairs at the party–trying to get these stupid pants back up over my hips, so I could go back downstairs and try once again to wow the Danny Zuko of my life.
His name wasn’t Danny—it was Max—and he hadn’t swapped his leather T-Birds jacket for a letterman sweater, but I’d hoped if I wore the sexy Sandy outfit he might actually see me for once. We’d worked together for three years, we were both department heads—even if my department only included me and my bestie, Mel—and despite him knowing my name and even using it occasionally, he never really saw me.
I wasn’t exactly ONJ or even Sandy, for that matter. I was probably more like Frenchie with my pink hair and fondness for strawberry bubblegum, but then again, Frenchie was still cool, despite dropping out of beauty school, so really I was more like Jan. Nobody remembered Jan. And I didn’t mean the Jan from the whole Marcia, Marcia, Marcia episode of The Brady Bunch. I meant the other member of the Pink Ladies, the very uncool one who nobody remembered. And nobody remembered me either, except when their computers went down, and they needed to yell at someone. It was all very I.T. Crowd, and I definitely felt like Jen—not Jan in this case, but Jen from The I.T. Crowd—even though I at least knew what the internet was (and it wasn’t a small black box with a flashing light on top, just FYI, although that episode was definitely hilarious).
God, I watched too much bloody television. My life had become a mashup of all my favourite shows and not even the good bits. Which was how I ended up stuck in the bathroom with my leather pants stuck halfway between my knees and my hips and no help in sight. Meanwhile, the staff partied on at the annual office costume party, blissfully unaware of my predicament. I could be stuck here forever, or at least until the janitors came by after the party was over.
It wouldn’t even be so bad if Max had bothered to spare me a glance when I walked in. He hadn’t even lifted his head from his desk when I sauntered past, swinging my hips the way Marty Maraschino (like the cherry) showed Sandy. I even tried shaking my moneymaker—yeah, my arse had never made me any money, and I didn’t think it ever would—on the dance floor to try and get his attention, but no such luck. Short of sitting on his desk in front of him with my feet up on the arms either side of his chair, I didn’t know how to get him to even look at me, let alone see me.
And he definitely wouldn’t ever see me if I stayed in the bathroom, not that I could leave the bathroom until I found a way to pull my leather pants up.
I just didn’t understand what the problem was—with my pants, that was, not with the whole Max-never-sees-me thing (if I knew the answer to that, then I wouldn’t’ t even be in this particular situation). The leather pants fit me fine earlier when I got dressed at home, so why was I having so much trouble now? The only difference was, I was a tad sweaty from prancing around on the dance floor.
Sweat.
That had to be the problem. So, if my powers of deductive reasoning could be trusted—which was debatable at this point—all I needed to do was get rid of the sweat. Maybe then I would have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting my pants back on.
I eyed the roll of single-ply, environmentally friendly toilet paper and sighed. Yeah, that wouldn’t be much use to me. Maybe there was some of that thick paper towel?
I poked my head out of the stall, but there was no paper towel dispenser in sight. There were, however, air dryers. Yes! Those would work. Thankfully I’d chosen the bathroom a floor above where the party was because the line for the bathroom downstairs had been ridiculous. I had a thing about using public toilets, especially when there were so many people using the toilets at the same time. I had a shy bladder, so sue me.
I took another peek out the stall to make sure I was alone and then waddled across the floor toward the dryer. It was a little high off the ground to make it a seamless solution, but how could I expect anything else? I was the queen of disaster, which I should have remembered before putting the leather pants on. Regardless, with a bit of manoeuvring, I could angle the blower thing down the front of me and dry the sweat keeping my pants from sliding back up over my hips. Thankfully I had underwear on if you could call the g-string I wore underwear. But it had been the g-string or nothing thanks to the very clear and distinct VPL—visible panty line—that would have been as clear as a neon sign had I chosen any of my regular underwear.
I’d just managed to get the angle of the blower just right when the door swung open.
“Phoebe?”
Oh god. The horror.
Max stood gaping at me, and this was definitely not the way I wanted him to finally ‘see’ me.
👖👖👖
Max
Phoebe.
Fuck.
A half-naked Phoebe.
Double fuck.
I didn’t know where to look. I’d been avoiding looking at her all night and now with her right in front of me and those insane leather pants halfway down her legs and all that bare, naked flesh to feast on, my eyes just refused to look away.
I was only human, after all.
No. I was human, which meant I had control over my faculties, even if a half-naked Phoebe was short-circuiting my brain.
I spun around to face the door and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to will my very base reaction back into submission, not that my little head was paying any attention to my big head, he was still trying to get another look at her.
‘Uh, Phoebe, is everything okay?’ I asked, hoping to hell she wouldn’t hear the raw lust in my voice.
‘Just, um, a little wardrobe malfunction,’ she said as I heard a door close. ‘You can turn around now.’
I turned slowly to see she’d disappeared into one of the stalls. I let out the breath I was holding and ran a hand through my hair. I tried to find some shred of professionalism that would get us both out of this predicament without damaging our working relationship.
It was a unisex toilet and the only one in the building. It was on the executive floor, and I’d come up here to get away from the crush downstairs. The last thing I’d expected was to walk in on Phoebe, not that I was sorry about getting a glimpse of her.
I slapped my own forehead in disgust. I should not be objectifying her. She was more than the sum of her body parts, even if I’d been lusting after said body parts for far too long. Usually she wore loose jeans or flowing skirts paired with a t-shirt with a quirky saying on it that went over my head most of the time. I wasn’t exactly up on all the pop-culture references. All that to say, she wasn’t exactly my type, and yet there was something about her that drew my eye every damn time I saw her. And it wasn’t because her hair was a different colour every week, although I found myself waiting for her to walk in to the Monday morning meeting so I could see which colour she’d chosen for the week. I liked the pink, although the pineapple yellow was cute too, and the purple wasn’t bad.
I shook my head to clear it. Thinking about Phoebe and the clothes she wore or wasn’t currently wearing wasn’t helping the matter.
‘Is there, um, something I can do to help?’ I asked.
I heard a small groan and then a thump like she’d hit her head on the door. ‘No,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Not unless you have a spare pair of pants I can borrow?’
‘Uh, no,’ I replied, stepping closer to the stall where she hid. ‘I do have a spare shirt, though, if you think it would help.’
She was quiet for a moment and then, ‘That actually might work.’
‘Give me two seconds, and I’ll be back.’
I didn’t wait for her to reply. I practically sprinted out of the bathroom and down the stairs to my office. I always kept a spare shirt in my office in case of an emergency, although this kind of emergency had never been part of my reasoning.
‘Phoebe?’ I called as I stepped back into the bathroom. ‘You still here?’
‘Yeah,’ she said on a long sigh. ‘I’m still here.’
I crossed the tiled floor and handed my shirt to her over the top of the stall.
‘ Thanks,’ she said.
‘No problem,’ I replied, stepping back until I could lean my hip against the counter.
I should probably just leave her be, but I couldn’t. She couldn’t go back to the party wearing just my shirt, and I knew she took the bus to work, so there was no way I could let her try and get home via public transport in nothing but my shirt.
The door opened, and I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. I had not anticipated just how fucking good she’d look in my shirt. It hung practically to her knees, and the sleeves hung past her fingers, and she looked rumpled and flushed, and I wanted to kiss her more than I wanted my next breath.
‘At least no one can see my bare arse now,’ she said, looking down at herself.
I wanted to say that I quite liked looking at her bare arse, but I cleared my throat instead. My cock may have corrupted most of my brain and turned it into something more resembling that of a caveman, but I still had some modicum of control over my tongue.
‘Can I give you a lift home?’ I asked, instead of saying something else completely inappropriate.
‘I was just going to call an Uber,’ she replied, lifting her phone to show me.
‘My car is just downstairs,’ I said, stepping toward her slowly. ‘I don’t mind taking you home.’
She looked away for a moment and bit the corner of her lip. Her shoulders slumped, and she sighed. ‘Okay,’ she replied and then looked up at me and smiled. ‘That’d be really good, actually.’
👖👖👖
Phoebe
The leather seat was cool on my naked thighs, and I hoped to God I didn’t leave a sweaty arse mark on Max’s car seat.
I shot a quick glance at him as he expertly manoeuvred the car through the traffic that still clogged the streets, despite the late hour. God, he was beautiful. I couldn’t remember ever being this close to him in all the three years we worked together. We hadn’t even shared an elevator, and whenever we were in meetings together, I sat as far from him as I could to preserve my sanity.
When I agreed to let him give me a lift home, I hadn’t expected the inside of his car to feel so…intimate. We were alone, it was dark, and I was wearing his shirt, it couldn’t get more intimate than that.
I didn’t know what even made me agree to his offer. What was a little humiliation in front of the public transport crowd compared to being driven home by the man you had been crushing on for three years? Being half-naked on a bus with a bunch of strangers was almost preferable to being half-naked in front of the man I wanted to be totally naked with but who barely even acknowledged my existence.
I sighed. Here I was, with the perfect opportunity to actually engage in conversation with the man of my dreams, and I had nothing. My mind was…blank.
He looked at me, his eyebrows pulled down in a frown of concern. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah,’ I replied despondently. ‘Just thinking about how my life tends to end up in awkward and weird situations despite my best intentions.’
God, what was I thinking, saying that out loud? I’d just made this very awkward situation more awkward. I hadn’t even known it was possible, but then again, this was me we were talking about.
Max grinned, the corner of his mouth tipping up and displaying a cute little dimple that I wanted to lick. Instead of leaning over the console to do just that, I dipped my head and buried my nose into the collar of his shirt. God, it smelled good. It smelled like him, not that I went around sniffing him…okay, I may have done it once or twice, but I don’t think anyone noticed. His shirt did smell good, though, and it was so soft. Just thinking about the fact that this shirt had been on his body and was now on me was enough to make me squirm in my seat and squeeze my thighs together.
‘You know,’ he said, his voice soft and rough. ‘I don’t think this is awkward or weird.’
‘You don’t think me sitting here in nothing, but your shirt is awkward or weird?’ I replied and then squeezed my eyes shut in mortification. I couldn’t believe I’d actually said that out loud.
He cleared his throat and then said, ‘I actually kind of like it.’
I sucked in a breath. Was he saying what I thought he was saying?
‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’ I asked softly, because, yeah, I often said things as soon as they popped into my brain, especially when I was already feeling awkward. Something was definitely wrong with the filter between my brain and my mouth.
He pulled the car over to the curb and turned to look at me. His gaze was hot, and it stole my breath. I licked my lips, and his eyes dropped to my mouth. Heat exploded in my core and spread rapidly through my body like wildfire. What was I saying earlier about Max never actually seeing me? Well, he was seeing me now, and I didn’t think I would survive the experience intact and with all my faculties in proper working order.
‘I’m saying,’ he rasped softly, ‘that I like seeing in you in nothing but my shirt and, in fact, despite it being the cheesiest line in the history of cheesy lines, I would quite like to see you out of it.’
‘I didn’t even think you knew who I was,’ I blurted. Was this actually happening right now? Was Max actually telling me he wanted me?
‘Oh, I know who you are, and I’ve known for a long time, and I’ve tried not to notice you, but seriously, Phoebe, I can barely concentrate on anything else but you whenever we’re in the same room.’
I twisted in my seat to face him and reached out to grab his tie, pulling him closer. He came willingly.
‘I’m going to kiss you now,’ I said, ‘because I know if I don’t do it right this minute, I might lose my nerve and I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long—’
He didn’t let me finish my rambling commentary—a fact I would forever be grateful for—instead, he slammed his lips down on mine, and I lost my ever-loving mind.
His lips were soft and yet insistent. I opened to him, and his tongue swept in, tangling with mine and eliciting a groan from my very soul. He tasted like hops and salt—beer and peanuts, if my guess was correct—and I pretty much swore fealty to those two flavours for the rest of my life. From this point forward, beer and nuts would forever remind me of this moment.
I tried to get closer, I needed to feel him pressed against me, but the seatbelt hampered my efforts. I fumbled with the clicker-thing to release the belt and then practically climbed into his lap in my efforts to get closer. He broke the kiss, chuckling softly, rubbing his nose along mine, our heavy breaths mingling.
‘Come home with me?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I replied, before kissing him again.
👖👖👖
Max
I didn’t remember how we got home, but as I closed the door to my apartment and pushed Phoebe up against it, I didn’t really care how we got there. The only thing that mattered was having her pressed up against me, her mouth on mine, and her little mewls of desire in my ears.
Why the hell had I waited so long to take a chance with her? All the reasons that stopped me from pursuing her seemed inconsequential and irrelevant now that I had her in my arms.
‘Max,’ she breathed as I trailed kisses down her throat.
‘Hmm,’ I hummed against her skin.
‘I want to see you naked.’
I groaned. ‘Yeah, I want to see you naked too.’
Phoebe tugged at my tie as I pulled at the shirt she wore. My shirt. My fucking shirt that looked like a wet dream on her.
I managed to get the buttons undone and spread the fabric open, stepping back so I could see her. With another groan, I took in the expanse of skin bared before me, and I salivated at the thought of tasting each and every inch of it. I dropped to my knees in front of her, my hands on her waist. I placed a soft kiss on her belly and then looked up at her. Her eyes were glazed, her pupils dilated, her eyelids heavy. Her pink hair was in disarray, thanks to my hands, and her lips were kiss-swollen and wet. She was so fucking perfect I could barely stand it.
I buried my face between her satin-covered breasts and breathed her in. Her fingers threaded through my hair, and she arched into me. I slid my hands up her sides and around her back, under the shirt, to release her bra. Thank God she was wearing a strapless bra, her leather outfit had an off the shoulder top, and God knew, I’d spent more than a few moments at the party wondering if she had been wearing a bra at all under it.
The bra fell away, and her breasts were finally bared to me, their hard tips straining towards me. I leant forward and sucked one delicious point into my mouth, and Phoebe moaned. Yeah, I liked that sound, and I wanted to hear it again.
I switched to the other side, and her fingers tightened in my hair, holding me close. I suckled and licked and nipped, lavishing both breasts with my undivided attention. Phoebe’s gasps of pleasure spurred me on, and her head thunked against the door as she arched against me.
Leaving her breasts in search of more erogenous zones, I kissed my way down over her ribs and the soft swell of her belly until I reached nirvana. The g-string was satin and matched the bra I’d disposed of earlier. Phoebe still wore my shirt, and I wanted it to stay that way, but I needed this swatch of satin gone.
I curled a finger under the string at her hip and dragged it down, slowly revealing her to my hungry eyes. Her hands clung to my shoulders as I helped her step out of her shoes and then her panties. My hands slid up her calves, over her knees, across her thighs, and over her hips to cup her arse. I had fantasised about holding her arse in my hands, and it was even better than I’d imagined. But more than the way her skin felt in my hands was the way she looked in absolutely nothing but my business shirt.
It was my turn to groan.
I leaned forward and ran my nose along the crease of her thigh and then across the line below her belly, and then down the crease of her thigh on the other side. She stood still as if she was afraid to move in case it broke the spell we were under, but I wasn’t under any such illusion. As much as this felt like a dream, I knew it was real and I had no intention of this being a one and done situation. Now that I’d crossed the line, now that I’d touched her, kissed her, tasted her, I knew this was going to be more than a one night stand.
I buried my face against her and ran my tongue through her wet folds, her taste exploding on my tongue and causing my eyes to roll back in my head. Phoebe hissed out a breath and rocked her pelvis into me. I squeezed her arse, pressing her against my mouth as I lapped at her, desperate to taste her again and again. I licked and sucked and lapped, getting lost in her. I wanted to take my time to explore and commit every part of her to memory, but I was also desperate for her. Desperate in a way I’d never experienced before.
Her breathing became ragged, and her thighs trembled against me. I sucked the hard nub of her clit between my lips and slid my fingers through her drenched folds. She rocked into me, and my fingers slipped into her entrance, first one and then another. She cried out and tugged at my hair as her inner muscles clamped down on my fingers. I swirled my tongue around her clit and curled my fingers inside her.
‘Max!’ she cried out as she tightened, her back bowed, and her body strained for release.
‘Come for me, cupcake,’ I whispered against her, and she cried out again as she came.
👖👖👖
Phoebe
I think I might have passed out for a second. I came hard, harder than I thought physically possible, and then my knees went to jelly, and I was sliding down the door, and then I melted into a warm puddle.
When I came to, Max had me in his arms, cradled against his chest, as he walked me somewhere. It wasn’t until I felt the crisp sheets and soft mattress under me that I realised he’d brought me to his bedroom.
I still wore his shirt, but he was still fully dressed, well, apart from his tie. I had managed to remove that before he melted me into a puddle of goo.
‘You were supposed to get naked for me,’ I mumbled, blinking up at him.
‘Like this?’ he asked as he pulled his unbuttoned shirt over his head.
‘Take it all off,’ I said with what I hoped was a seductive smile.
He winked at me and then undid his belt and unzipped his pants. I sucked in a breath as his trousers fell to the ground and I got a good look at his boxer-brief clad body. His chest was broad and hard, and there were many hills and valleys I wanted to explore with my tongue. But the thing that really drew my eye was how his cock strained against the fabric of his boxers. I licked my lips as I stared at it, and he groaned. I shot a quick look to his face and saw the naked desire on his face that I was sure was reflected in my own.
He kicked off his shoes, and then his hands went to the waistband of his boxers, and I held my breath, biting down on my lip as I watched him lower them.
I don’t think I’d ever considered a penis to be beautiful, but his absolutely was. I licked my lips in anticipation, and it bobbed in response, almost like it could read my very dirty thoughts about what I’d like to do with it.
‘Phoebe,’ Max growled, his voice rough and desperate.
‘What?’ I asked innocently.
He groaned again and gripped his erection. ‘If you keep looking at me like that, this isn’t going to last very long, and I want it to last.’
‘There’s always round two,’ I said.
‘Exactly,’ he said, reaching for a condom in his bedside drawer. ‘Next time you can do whatever you want to me, but right now, I need to be inside you, okay?’
‘More than okay,’ I replied, watching as he suited up.
I reached for him, pulling him over me, and he settled between my thighs. God, he felt good. The heat of his body and the slide of his skin against mine had my need for him climbing high once more.
He kissed me hungrily, and I melted against him, letting him devour me. He slid his hard length through my wet seam before notching the head at my entrance and sliding in. He went slow, allowing me to adjust to his size until he was fully seated inside me. He breathed hard against my neck, and my eyes rolled back in my head with the absolute pleasure of being completely full of him.
He pushed up so he could look into my eyes, and I looked back at him, not hiding the depth of everything I was feeling.
‘I’ve wanted to do this for three years,’ he said roughly. ‘And I have no idea why I waited so long.’
‘I’ve wanted you too,’ I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. ‘I’ve dreamed and fantasised about us together like this.’
He grinned crookedly. ‘Please tell me you got off to fantasies of me.’
‘Oh yeah,’ I replied.
‘Fu-uck,’ he breathed as he rocked into me. ‘That is so fucking hot. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about you and all the things I wanted to do with you.’
I groaned as the image of him stroking himself while he thought of me filled my mind. ‘That,’ I breathed. ‘I want to see that.’
‘Next time,’ he said as he began to move with purpose. ‘Or maybe the time after next time.’
‘Shut up and kiss me,’ I whispered, winding my arms around his neck and pulling him down to me.
He kissed me deeply before breaking the kiss so he could pound into me with determination as he chased his climax, taking me along for the ride. I held onto him, my body desperate and hungry for him. The muscles of his back tightened, and he gritted his teeth, the cords on his neck standing out as he neared his orgasm. The sight of him straining above me and the feel of him surrounding me was enough to push me over the edge. I came with a cry, clutching him, my fingers digging into his skin so hard I knew I’d leave marks.
He groaned as he arched and shuddered, his orgasm wracking his body and rocketing through me sending off aftershocks all through my nervous system.
He slumped over me, careful not to squish me, and he panted, his eyes squeezed shut. With a long, low moan, he rolled off me but tugged me against him as if he wasn’t quite ready to let me go just yet. That suited me perfectly because I had no intention of ever letting him go ever again.
‘You know what this means, right?’ he asked, his voice husky and his eyes still closed.
‘That we need to do that again?’
‘Well, yes, but it also means something else.’ He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at me.
‘What?’ I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
‘It means you have to marry me,’ he said with a crooked grin.
‘Marry you? We haven’t even been out on a date yet.’
He nodded, his face turning serious. ‘No, you’re right. I need to wine and dine you and prove to you that we belong together and then I need to propose with a thousand yellow daisies and a horse.’
I laughed. ‘You’ve seen Gilmore Girls?’
‘Just once and just that one episode.’ He dipped his head to kiss me. ‘But I am serious about the wining and dining thing,’ he whispered. ‘If you want to, that is.’
‘Yeah, I want to,” I replied. ‘I definitely want to.’
He kissed me again, and I melted into it. Yeah, wearing those leather pants was definitely the best idea I ever had.
👖👖👖
The End