03. Fire and Ice

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There are moments in our lives when we couldn't believe that something, a particularly totally, totally unbelievably something is really happening. We try to think back, we try to justify, we try to reason it out. But at last, we have to believe- it is indeed happening.

I didn't knew how to react when Mr Ambrose...  Mr Ambrose appreciated me. That too, about something that wastes his time. After all, for him all these fondles and hugging are waste of time, right?

But he didn't stopped me when I did that. Instead, he seemed...eager. Eager to feel me against him, eager to feel my touch, to feel my caress.

Why is that?

These were the thoughts going on in my head when I was sleeping- actually, not sleeping. There was a small voice at the back of my mind, who was bulleting away nasty thoughts at me.

Maybe he likes the feel of your body pressed to his, just like you do.

Shut up! You pesky little...

Why? Is it not true that you keep daydreaming about him all the time?

It's all your bloody fault!

But you don't seem to complain that time.

Gah! You are impossible!

So are you!

I couldn't help but notice that what I was thinking wasn't too wrong. It has been happening lately. Me thinking about him endlessly, my eyes not eager enough to turn away from his face, me thinking about the past- the time when both of us were indulged into activities that none of us, a dedicated feminist like me and a chauvanistic bastard like him, will ever resort to. But... It had happened. And we hadn't talked about it, no.

I closed my eyes. Maybe it's right like this. Staying in each other's arms, but not questioning, not complaining. Maybe it's right like this.

*~*~**~*~*

Mr Linton,

Bring me file 2356D7.

Rikkard Ambrose.

I hurried to the desk, where I have arranged all the files last night.

I picked the asked file and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

I walked over to his desk and handed it to him.

"Your file, sir."

"Hm. Bring me 456Q."

Needless to say that I was greatly exhausted after last night's 'sleeping  experience'. So I walked sluggishly, almost tumbling over the chair.

My eyes were almost closed and I wasn't therefore looking where I was going.

My left leg got struck between the legs of the chair and I stumbled forward, thus spraining my leg.

"Ouch!"

Before I could fall and fracture my nose, a pair of strong arms clamped around my waist.

In my drowsy state of mind, I could only make out that I have felt these arms around me before. But whose...?

"Why you must always fall, Mr Linton?"

Mr Ambrose! Yes those arms belong to Mr Ambrose! He is holding me against him, tightly but gently.

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