Tortured

How had things with Porter become so complicated in such a short time.

I dropped my forehead into my hands and tried three times to read the same file before I gave up. Only looking up because Teresa was rushing in calling my name.

She tossed a file on my desk and asked me a question.

I couldn’t resist peering past her to get a look at Porter. Since I was looking up anyway.

I found him peering at me from over the rim of his silver glasses. Sitting back in his chair with a file in his hands. But while I was looking at him, he met my glance and stroked an agile tongue from one corner of his mouth, along his upper lip to the otherside.

Implying something was tasty.

Me.

I yipped and fumbled to pick up the file Teresa had tossed onto the desk. Trying multiple times because it had suddenly become so flat that it was nearly part of the desk’s surface. Finally managing to grip it just as Teresa’s head slowly began to rotate in Porter’s direction questioningly.

I blurted some inundane question