His Work Alibi

"Hold on. Let me check." The one-sided conversation paused and a swivel chair creaked. "Hey, Marty! How late are you working tonight?"

With a sigh, Marty turned to see the expectant face of Eddie, peering around the cubicle divider, "Carpe Diem" coffee mug in hand. "I'll probably be here till ten at least, wrapping up this report for Simon."

"If Melanie asks..."

"... you were here with me all the time," Marty recited.

They went through the same drill at least once a week. Marty didn't know what Eddie was up to that he didn't want his girlfriend to know about. Seeing another woman? Gambling his money away at poker? Marty didn't really care, and thought it vaguely rude to ask.

It all seemed kind of silly. Marty hadn't spoken to Melanie since the company picnic over a year ago. He wasn't part of their social circle, of any social circle, really—not since he and Beth graduated from college and got married five years ago. He had too much work to do. Just when did Eddie think that Melanie would ask him about anything?

"Thanks, pal," Eddie replied with a quick grin. Then his face disappeared behind the divider and Marty heard him resume his conversation.

"OK. We're clear. Want me to bring anything?"

There was a brief pause, then a chuckle from Eddie.

"I mean, besides that."

Another pause.

"How about Chinese food?"

Another, shorter pause.

"Ok, I'll think of something. See you in about an hour."

Eddie hung up the phone, yelled "Good Night, Marty!" through the divider, and left.

Marty shook his head. Eddie was a fool. Maybe their boss was right and he did have "soft skills," but he certainly didn't have much of a work ethic. He almost never stayed late or worked weekends at the office. He spent his lunch hour at the gym rather than at his desk. He never volunteered for the out-of-town assignments. He even took all of his vacation days.

Marty thought back to the last vacation he himself had planned to take. It was aborted at the last minute when upper management needed someone to handle a crisis on the Macmillan account and he had volunteered. That was quite a coup.

The all-inclusive Romantic Getaway resort package was nonrefundable, unfortunately. But the kudos he got were worth every penny.

Beth had been really upset when he called to break the news. She had been planning their trip to Cancun for three months. But to his surprise and relief, his wife had calmed down by the time he got home, and instead of having a big fight, she simply announced a change of plans: she would go visit her great-aunt in Sarasota instead. She even seemed happy about the prospect of spending the week with the old biddy and her geriatric friends.

That same day, true to form, Eddie announced that he was dropping everything to go to Mexico with a friend, leaving his accounts for Marty to handle in his absence -- which turned out to be not a big deal, because Eddie's clients were used to his unreliability and were willing to wait till he returned to have their issues resolved.

Though that had been eight months ago, Eddie still had pictures from his trip on his laptop screensaver, with his arm around some woman he met down there. You couldn't see anything of her face, really, because in every shot, she was wearing big sunglasses and a floppy hat -- but she had a killer body that looked great in a bikini. It was a good thing Eddie never took his work home with him, Marty thought with a snort. Otherwise, Melanie might see the pictures.

* * *

"Eddie, my man!" said the doorman with a smile. "What's up?"

"Just delivering some Chinese food, Dewayne," Eddie replied with a grin, slipping a five-dollar bill into the black man's palm.

"Smells good," replied the doorman, smoothly pocketing the bill. Then he grinned, too, knowing full well that Eddie would be doing more than just delivering food to the female tenant of apartment 1127.

Upstairs, Eddie rang the buzzer. She opened the door almost immediately.

"I decided to get Chinese food after all," he announced, holding up two plastic bags filled with small cardboard containers.

"I hope you brought me something else, too," she replied, reaching between his legs and caressing his bulge.

He answered her overture with a kiss, a long, involved kiss that led to the apartment's little kitchen, where he dropped the bags on the table and pinned her against the counter.

His hands, now free, quickly slipped under her top and found their place around her warm, soft globes. His thumbs softly rubbed her hardening nipples.

She arched her arms and drew her top up over her head, then let it drop to the floor. Her beautiful long hair cascaded over her bare shoulders. His lips left hers and moved to a spot where he knew she liked some attention: the underside of her neck.

She responded by bending her head to the side, and sighing.

He was careful, of course, to leave no mark. His little kisses, licks, sucks, and nibbles were precisely calibrated to get just the right effect. Her murmurs and the heaving of her chest told him he was doing it right.

He went lower, being equally delicate with each sensitive nipple. He knew she hated it when they were treated roughly.

She reached under her skirt and yanked her panties off, her eagerness clear. Then she hopped on the counter and spread her legs, silently inviting him to continue.

He dropped a knee and buried his face in the crotch that she kept neatly shaved for him, with only a small patch of fur to affirm that she was a grown woman. The crinkly folds of her flesh got the same gentle treatment from his lips and tongue that her other parts had, and her murmurs grew louder. Her fingers alternately caressed his hair and gripped his skull.

When the time was right, he knew just how to tweak her clit to send her right over the edge.

"Oh, God!" she cried, as her hips bucked and her hands held his head like a vise.

His first mission accomplished, he stood and unzipped his pants, and dropped them and his boxers to his ankles. Her legs were still open, still inviting. He stepped between them and slid himself easily inside her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder while he stroked in and out. It was all about his pleasure now and she was willing to let him take her any way that he wanted.

This time, he wanted it quick. He picked up the pace, pounding his hips against hers, focusing on the delightful friction of her moist flesh around his dick.

"Ah!" he cried as he let loose inside her at last.

Spent, they relaxed awhile in each other's arms, giggled for a moment at their own impulsiveness, and then sat down at the table as they were, half-naked and sticky with cum. They were by now too hungry to care.

"So what did you get?" she asked as she started opening the white cardboard cartons with red Oriental lettering on the sides.

He didn't answer, just waited for the smile he knew would come when she realized that he had remembered to get her favorite dish -- and the laugh, when she saw whose favorite he also brought.

Together, they picked at the Szechwan chicken, neither wanting to touch the greasy General Tso's, and talked about their respective days. Eddie listened with keen interest as she spoke of her interactions with the various quirky personalities at her office, even though he knew none of the people she was talking about.

She paused to take a bite, then asked, "Have you heard from Melanie lately?"

"Not really. We exchanged some emails right after she moved to Portland, but I haven't heard from her in months."

"I bet she misses you, or at least one part of you." She reached down to stroke his cock, which quivered at her touch.

Eddie grinned. He dropped his chopsticks and stood, drawing her up from her chair as he did so. Then he kissed her, tasting the soy sauce in her mouth with his playful tongue.

Taking her by the hand, he led her to the familiar bedroom.

* * *

When Marty finally got home, the apartment was dark and quiet. The only sound was the rhythmic thumping of the washing machine in the alcove, nearing the end of its cycle.

He moved quietly, hoping not to wake his wife and hear her complain once again about his late hours at the office. He had to admit, though, that she had not complained much lately. Maybe she was finally getting it.

He set down his bag and walked to the bedroom. The air was thick with the scent of the aromatherapy candles Beth had started using over the past year.

As he undressed in the dark, she broke the silence. "So, how was your day?"

"Oh, busy as always. You?"

"Just the usual." Then, just before she rolled over to go to sleep, she added, "If you're hungry, there's some General Tso's chicken in the fridge."

- end -