typing

The slight shuffle of her feet betrays her. My fingers hesitate as I type, itching to be flicking their way across her back instead of this keyboard. I've been sitting here for hours. typing. waiting. I can hear her behind me looking through her tools and my breath quickens. How many times have I wanted to turn around and coax her towards me? How many times have I told myself to focus on the screen? don't turn around. don't look her in the eye. don't say anything. she'd hear the catch in my voice. she'd see me shifting. she'd know and I'd never be able to bear sitting here in our office. My fingers continue flicking across the board and I forget what I'm typing. I panic. she fucking sat down in the spare chair and is watching me type. how can she be doing this? focus. type the code. don't let her distract you. you can do this. deep breaths. Ask her what she wants. You can do it. "did you need something?" "do you mind if I watch? I've been thinking about learning how to code and I was hoping you wouldn't mind my sitting here for a little bit." mind? of course I don't mind. Why should I mind? relax. Read through and clean up your code. That's easy. she can watch. I can think about her tongue flicking across my nipple. deep breaths. "mind if I scoot a little closer? It's a little difficult to read from over here." oh for fuck sake. is she kidding? look her in the eye. could she be flirting? ohhhhhhhh my lord. oh how i love thee let me *count* the ways. this fine, smart, funny as hell butch woman is 2 feet from me. 2 feet... and she looks like she's ready to eat me for dessert. deep breaths. "you could. or if you'd like, you can come over for dinner sometime and I can teach you." [whimper] she's. leaning. towards. me. breathe. relax. breathe. "tonight?" she's whispering, lips just brushing the curls at the nape of my neck. oh honey, I don't think so. With my hand on the back of her neck I pull her onto her knees at my side, head tilted up towards me in a matter of seconds. i lightly brush my lips against hers. "if you ask nicely." her lips slip into a smile so sweet i loosen my grip. [whimper] she doesn't miss a beat. fingers laced through my hair, lips crushed against my mouth. her tongue, so soft, teasing mine. footsteps approach the door and she's back at her toolbox grabbing the measuring tape. Ah. but before she slips out the door, she whispers, "please."