“It's not just for emails, it also has to do with clicking on links that look suspicious.”
I chew on the corner of my cheek for a moment. That could easily explain why I was searching porn on my work computer, I guess.
“Fine. But I want to clarify I wasn’t asking you for any favors—” I start to say. I don’t want him to think I’m trying to take advantage of this little heart-to-heart.
“No, no, I feel partly uh, responsible. Considering, the uh, whole bond thing,” he says a little stiffly. He turns bodily away enough that I can’t really see his face through the gap in the stairwell now, just a slice of his back.
“But um... I would save the research for your home computer,” he says over his shoulder.
This whole bonding thing has me off kilter. It seems like everything I say or do is just a little too much. It’s like I don’t know how to be Cool Janice. Subdued, Unaffected, Perfectly Poised Janice. That's the only reason I end up blurting out, “Have any recommendations?”
Oh my god that's the exact opposite of being cool. I meant it to sound ironically flirty and a hundred percent joking. A squeak in my voice makes it err into genuine.
He lifts an eyebrow, and maybe it's the angle he’s looking at me or his expression, but it makes my cheeks flare again. “...If you give me your personal email, I can send you some stuff.”
“Just don't tell your mom you're sending me porn, ok? I won't be able to live down, even if I never meet her,” I stage whisper through the railing bars, because I can't not keep trying to play it off.
He coughs. “It wasn’t going to–, I mean, I would never–”
My face flushes an entirely new shade of red at Unhinged Janice’s behavior, and I quickly escape back into the hallway.
6
My heart doesn't flutterand my clit does not pulse awake when I get the email to set up the training appointment. Those parts don't start doubling down on those sensations in the minutes leading up to it either.
The next time I get to see Khent, he’s sitting on the far end of the room like before.
We didn’t tear each other’s clothes off in the stairwell, when there was significantly less space between us. I try to remind myself that it’s good to be cautious anyway.
Still, my heart does leap a little at how quickly he looks up when I come in. He looks back down at his stack of print-outs. The training questions and quiz.
I remind myself that I don't feel the need to start riding the seam of my pants to appease the endless, heightened need between my legs when I sit down across the room from him, as per MR's instructions about staying apart.
He attempts to slide a paper down the fifteen foot table, it makes it about two feet before the glossy stickiness of the table snags the page. He pulls it back to himself and tries it again, same result.
“I’ll just make it work from this end of the table,” he shrugs, giving me a sheepish smile. I do appreciate the effort he’s putting into staying far enough apart from me.