Remember when I said Bo was slow poison which I didn’t mind dying from? You’ll see why. 

We met once again in his office as scheduled. This time I decided to go along with one of my colleagues who was supposed to be my back-up for the deal in the event of my absence. It was simple company policy to have more than one person work on brokering a deal but I had largely ignored roping in my partner, (let’s call him Mark), on purpose. I’m sure you know why. Plus, Mark would have caught on very quickly and tried to talk sense into my head. Besides being a colleague, he was like a big brother to me; my confidante. I didn’t need any angel on my shoulder when all I wanted to do was entertain the sweet and daring ideas the other voice was whispering. So why did I take Mark along this time then? It was to protect myself from Bo and from my own self. 

Bo was formal, yet not as intimidating as the first time I met him. He was clearly doing his best to make me comfortable. He showed a great sense of humour and interacted with Mark as though he’d known him prior to this meeting. Things went so well that he offered to have his team meet with ours to finalize proceedings much earlier than we’d thought we would. We had nailed it. Mark was ecstatic as this meant that our bonus was without a doubt, assured. We thanked Bo and stood to leave. Before we could however, he asked if we could join him and his fiancée for dinner, on Friday. My heart took a dip but I smiled and said yes quickly; maybe a bit too quickly because I noticed something flash in Bo’s eyes. Mark obliged and we left. 

On my way home, I chided myself for daring to think I could have anything to do with a man like Bo. If I was working with him directly, I’d be one of those employees who would have to go through about four others in terms of rank to get to him. I’d be nothing compared to his status. And here I was daydreaming. He’s clearly out of your league girl so get your head out of the clouds, I mumbled to myself.

Remembering that I had practically nothing to eat, I stopped at the grocery shop to grab a few things for a quick solo dinner – as usual. Upon my return, I noticed a sheet of paper tucked beneath the windscreen wiper at the passenger side. It read: “I know I took you by surprise back there, mentioning my fiancée. But I also know you felt something that day in the hotel with me. I’ll find you tonight. Don’t shut yourself up to me yet. Let’s talk. B.” I don’t know how long I stood there reading the note over and over again, but I suddenly felt thawed ice dripping onto my feet from the frozen chicken I’d bought. He knew where to find me. The thought scared and excited me at the same time. 

I quickly got into the car and sped off, wondering if I was being followed. As it turned out, someone had clearly beaten me to getting home. There was another note sticking out from beneath the front door. I picked it up gingerly and this time caught the whiff of his scent as I opened it: “I’ll see you soon.”

I turned around to see if he was probably standing across the street or watching me from a car. There was no car in sight and neither was he anywhere close by. This time I felt more spooked than excited and fumbled with the key as I tried to get inside. Once in, I let out a breath I didn’t even know I’d held. Whatever games this man was playing sure wasn’t getting funny. Right at that moment I began to wonder if the attraction I’d felt before was just a figment of my imagination because the man I’d first met and connected with in that hotel was certainly not who this one is turning out to be. But he wants to talk so maybe he’s not as bad as I’m beginning to think. 

As I was mulling over these thoughts, I walked into the kitchen to drop the groceries. Headlights from a car suddenly shone through the kitchen window that looked out onto the side lawn and I instantly knew it was him. I waited with bated breath for his knock and rushed to open the door almost as soon as the first one landed. There he was, the intoxicating body signature, casual but sharp-looking chinos, light denim shirt and black loafers making up his outfit for the evening. 

“I’m here to talk, not stand at your door and engage in a staring competition”, he said with a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his full lips. Slightly embarrassed, I stepped aside and let him in, pointing towards my couch for him to sit. Instead, he waited for me to lock the door, put out his hand for mine and walked us to the same couch I’d indicated. He made me sit and opted to squat in front of me, giving him room to look right into my eyes. I swear to God that it took all of me to put up a bold and unflinching façade but inside, I was all sorts of flustered. I held my breath as he reached out and gently brushed his right thumb across my left cheekbone, traced it down towards my lips and lingered on my bottom lip. His eyes followed the movements of his thumb and their gaze stayed a few seconds longer on my bottom lip. 

He dropped his hand abruptly and in one swift motion, moved from the squat to a kneel. He was so close that just as it had happened in the hotel room, I could feel the heat of his breath on my face and that sexy cologne attack my olfactory senses. But unlike the interruption of the proximity in the hotel, he leaned in and kissed me; so gentle at first that it felt like a feather-light touch and then full-on and hard. As our kiss deepened every question I’d had in mind to ask about his supposed fiancée vanished. We drew deeper and deeper into and hungrily drank off each other. He slipped a hand to the small of my back and shoved me into his chest. I settled just above his hips and wrapped my legs around him. He leaned me back into the couch, slightly easing up the hold my legs had on him, pushed himself back into a squat and with very able hands grabbing my ass cheeks, he lifted me back to his frame. 

I was so lost in the heat of his kiss and fingers now brushing so close to my lady parts from where his hands caressed my ass that I missed how quickly he moved into a stance. Next thing I knew I was shoved into my wall, skirt riding high above my waist and fingers expertly stroking and teasing my inner lips. He moaned against my lips when he felt how much I’d started dripping for more. He broke the kiss, lifted those same fingers to his lips and tasted, eyes never leaving mine.

“Are you ready to talk?” he asked, low and deep. I was confused for a moment. Talk at this time? Was he nuts? My brain was nowhere near its optimum functionality at that moment. But before I could verbalize my thoughts, he moved me to my tiny dining area, made me sit at the edge of the table and pulled a chair. Facing me directly once again, he pushed me gently so I’d lie back and slowly parted my legs. He sat, slowly pulled my underwear off and proceeded to allow his tongue acquaint itself with my pussy. It swirled and slurped, sucked and flicked, dived deep and drank whole. I shivered and felt my knees go weak from want and desire. I needed him deeper and more intense so I held on to his head and pushed him in. He responded in kind and allowed his tongue to move expertly over my clit. As I felt myself building up to explode, he pulled back, stood up and thrust two fingers inside of me, pushing them against my spot. As I started exploding he leaned in and kissed me hard, making me taste my juices on his lips, till I stopped shivering beneath him. 

He sat back in the chair and just stared at me with more desire in his eyes. But he never moved to make me his in every other way possible. As soon as I managed to catch my breath, I asked, “why did you come, really?”

“To talk”, he said with a seductive smile. He stood up at that moment and wiped his mouth with a napkin from my table, as though he’d just had a meal. He carried me off the table and into his arms again. He held me so close I could hear how fast his heart was beating. Then he whispered, “I love how you taste. I hope you do too.” I felt myself getting wet all over again.

He led us to the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned around and said he’ll see me again; we were just getting started. Then he left. 

Our business deal pushed through as he’d promised. The relationship between our companies progressed and so did our fixation with each other. The first time we fucked was in his office one Saturday. About three of his staff mulled around right outside his door but we got butt naked, rough, sweaty and passionate right on his office rug. Then there was that week that I had to work consistently late; he became my stress relief every single night. He either found me in the office and fucked my brains out or at home, in the shower, kitchen, or living room. 

I can feel myself slowly putting to death all reason not to be with and around him despite my better judgment. He is my slow poison, and I love every sip of it.

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