What Chica Did Next

What happens next?

I was on the third floor information desk. The people in the office behind me had disappeared for their break. Himself had already been up once for a spot of flirting, to find out what the sexy look I said he'd given me looked like. Then came the emails I posted already.

I was wearing this huge, silly smile reading them. Then a couple of students asked for my help, and I had to answer their queries. I started concocting a jocular way of saying no to his last email, when he burst through the double doors opposite my desk onto the third floor and strode towards the back staircase with a huge grin on his face. I burst out laughing. He lifted his chin and carried on. "I'm just emailing you!" I called. "Yeah," he answered from near the double doors, then he came back and said, "It's really dark in there too!" He looked devilish and handsome and excited. I looked at the time. It was almost time to finish anyway. I shut down the computer. He gave up and was about to leave. "Where are you going?" I asked, moving around the front of the desk. "Oh right," he said, and turned on his heel, leading the way to the back stairs. I followed him; a couple of students looked up as we passed.

It was pitch dark in there. I could hardly see his face, just make out his smile in the faint light from the street light through the window. He walked straight to the end of the little enclosure and leaned against the wall. I leaned against the opposite wall. We were both laughing. "Come on then," he said, "I thought you were going to do all kinds to me before my clothes were even off?"
I steeled myself and stepped forward. I walked right up to him until our bodies were touching. I couldn't see his face. I leaned forwards and rested my hands on the wall above his shoulders. I put my face close to his and brushed my lips against his cheek, lingering around but not touching his mouth, then kissing his neck really gently. He tasted like cologne. Then I slid a hand down to his waist and pulled him towards me. He started to respond and so I pulled away and laughed. "Shithouse," he said as I pulled the door handle to leave. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back inside, pushing me up against the wall. He pressed his body against mine, slipped his hand under my top and stroked my hip, and then...

Then he started thrusting a hand between my legs. "Don't," I whispered, pulling on the lapels of his suit jacket. Then he started trying to rub me through my jeans, really roughly. It hurt. "Stop it," I said, and pushed him away. "Shithouse," he said again, and again when I opened the door and left. I stroked his chest. "Not here, not now," I said. "Why?" he asked. I just laughed and walked away.

He followed me and we went down separate staircases to the ground floor. As soon as he went through the doors of the middle staircase I bolted across the third floor, running past a load of students who were eyeing me like I was a madwoman. I was more than a little shellshocked. I have to say I was a bit disappointed in his moves. What the Hell was that all about? It was hardly smooth. I mean, I don't know how he expected to turn me on by doing that, was he looking for a switch down there??

That said, I was elated. But almost immediately he text me apologising and saying he took things too far. A flurried spate of texting extracted the following information: he regretted what had just happened, he didn't want to cheat on Sarah, he wasn't going to leave her, something might happen in the future between us, he wanted to fuck me everywhere, he didn't want to come between me and the Boyf, and he promised he wouldn't be weird with me in work. I also told him he'd been quite rough.

Himself: Oh right. You prefer it more gentle then.
Chica: To begin with.
Himself: I'll remember.

He said he was sorry and felt like he was messing me about but he didn't mean to. I felt really rubbish and wanted to scream yes you are messing me about could you give me any more mixed messages than this? But instead I text back that we'd said it was just harmless flirting so he wasn't messing me about and that I knew it wasn't going anywhere, in an effort to avoid said weirdness.

I turned off my phone about eleven that night, but the next morning when I turned it on there was a message from him trying to get me to send him saucy pictures! I replied, 'haha, cheeky, pictures like that have to be earned'. But inside I was thinking... well, WTF?

I've seen him since and it was a little awkward but he did wish me a good night that night (I was going out with people from work) and was asking about the sexy boots I'd brought with me to change into.

I really don't know what to make of it all. I just can't stop thinking about his face as he burst through those double doors and how funny it was. I'd rather forget the crotch debacle though.

I repeat: What the Fuck?