I still can't . .

Separated by a metal table topped with slight smoked glass, you sat there and looked at me, waiting for me to speak.

I shook my head.

"I still can't." 

This was the third time that you'd been in this same situation, the third time that I'd had to give the same answer.  It didn't please me telling you that I couldn't.  It didn't please me professionally speaking that you were there at all.

But you were.

And while it may not have pleased me professionally speaking, personally I was quite pleased you were.  The vulnerability in your eyes, the chiselled face which turned almost boyish when you broke out into the beaming smile that I will always remember.  

You looked at me, a slight pleading in your eyes.

"I can't do it." I said more forcefully.  "You know that I cannot do it."

You had started to plead with your eyes and I had to look away because I couldn't and wasn't prepared for you to reach in and pull out my insides to put on view.  

You stood up, not breaking your gaze.  I in turn remained seated, sorting out the paperwork on the table, watching your feet through the top of the glass table.  You weren't moving anywhere, just stood rooted to the spot.

"I can't do it. Not until it is right. Not until you've done what you are supposed to be doing"

You sat back down again, letting out a deep sigh as I stood up, putting my papers together.  At that moment you seemed so small, so delicate, so needing and wanting.  And as I began to walk around the table towards the door to send you on your way, I reached up, touched your face as your hand reached up to keep my hand attached to you.  

I looked down at you, knowing that inside you were crumbling, that all of the solid foundations that had been built since the last time were fast collapsing to the floor.  And while I couldn't do what you wanted. I could do what I wanted.

A short time later you were standing, adjusting your clothing, placing your now flaccid self back into your tight fitting boxers, pulling up your trousers that moments before had been round your ankles.  I on the other hand adjusted my skirt, straightening it, making sure that no-one would know that only moments before it had been hoisted around my waist while I rode your cock, tongues fucking each others mouths, hands twisted into fists of hair as a hunger was fed and sated. 

"So? Can you now?" you asked.

I shook my head.  "You know that I still can't"

You looked at me, long and hard, your eyes smiling.

"I've got work to do now, but we can try again after the weekend." I said as I moved towards the office door to usher you out, pulling you in for one last breathless kiss, moving your hand to my breast for one last torturous moment.  My hand reaching between your legs for one last lingering grope.

As the door opened and you stepped outside, another colleague was waiting to come in, I knew you couldn't say what you wanted.

"We will attempt it again after the weekend.  The more we try, the more chance there is of getting it right".

You looked at me before walking away.

"Come in . . ." I said

Promptly ushering the person who had been waiting outside in

"I understand we have to go over that case work again . . . .that it wasn't quite right the last time"