FRIDAY

All through the meeting, Faramade could feel Mena’s eyes watching her.

Granted, she was the one presenting, so all the eyes in the room were automatically on her. Except Chike’s, because he was dozing in the corner. But there was something innately different about Ifemena’s gaze. It filled her with a sense of awareness, which was akin to a slow drugging feeling that made its way gradually through her body, and left her feeling heavy and light at the same time. She could feel the other woman’s eyes as they lifted and settled on different parts of her body.

It had started off at her feet.

She was wearing a new pair of heels today- black, lacy stilettos with a pointy toe, and the most gorgeous gold detailing on the heel. It had taken a few months to save up for them, and now that they were hers, she was even more in love. But she had worn them with Mena in mind, because she was the only other person she knew who loved shoes more than she did. So when she had felt Mena’s eyes lingering, she dismissed any ridiculous thoughts that her friend was doing anything other than admiring the shoes.

Then she became aware of Mena’s gaze fixating on her ankles. They were quite bare today, because she had taken off most of her anklets this morning, wanting her shoes to be the star of the show. Instead of rows of beads, chain-link and charms, there was a singular eternity band of paste diamonds set in gold that when caught in the light, shone something pretty.

Faramade turned to face the smartboard, presenting her back to the entire room. Later on, she would think about that moment, and how she hadn’t really needed to do a full turn. She would question her motives, knowing exactly why she had done it, but refuse to admit it to herself. But that would be later. Now, that prickle of awareness, like pins and needles, began to form at the base of her skull, travelling rapidly down her back and then slowly spread out through her body, wrapping her like a hug and heating her up from within. She stood next to one of the air conditioners, and the combination of cool air hitting her skin and arousal simmering beneath the surface had goosebumps pebbling finely all over.

Today, she wore a lace sheath dress that left her calves bare- and clung to her body in a way that closely straddled the line between professional and NSFW. She hadn’t bothered with a jacket, so her curves were on display. This was a fact that would be inconsequential if she couldn’t feel Mena cataloguing said curves.

In her mind’s eye, she was watching Ifemena watch her, watching as the other woman dragged her eyes over her calves and up her thighs, then settle on her wide but slightly angular hips- as well as the little shelf that was her butt. As Faramade continued to address her colleagues, her back still presented to them, she reached on her toes and tapped on something inconsequential in the topmost corner furthest from her. That moment only lasted a second, but the movement had had her stretching her body, arching her back. Presenting her ass. She swore she could feel Mena exhale.

Sweat bloomed in her armpits and between her thighs, then prickled the top of her back. As she finally turned to face the room again, she fought the urge to squirm, or meet Mena’s eyes.

And it continued. Her presentation, the questions asked and answered, the comments passed along. Chike continued to doze, despite being nudged by the person beside him countless times, and Ifemena continued to watch, tracking her every move. She didn’t know how she focused enough to participate and actually sound intelligent, but she managed it, now with arousal pumping steadily through her bloodstream.

Then Isaac, one of the higher ups, who happened to be sitting next to Mena, indicated with his hand and asked a question. Both women didn’t have enough time to react- Faramade looked into Ifemena’s eyes for a split second, and was hit with the intense hunger that shone right back at her.

Her brain stuttered, and she fought the violent shudder that threatened to tumble through her body. “Sorry Isaac, I didn’t get that,” Fara found herself apologizing, her own voice sounding odd. As he repeated the question- and as she tried her best to reply, her mind replayed the look on Mena’s face on a loop. Ungh

Her nipples were rock hard, painful points straining away for attention. She blessed her stars because she had switched to a padded bra instead of the flimsy bit of lace she had intended to wear this morning.

More sweat was now beading on her forehead and upper lip, and there was a new, intense pressure pushing against her clit. She was too aware of the fact that if she stood a little straighter, and pressed her thighs together a little harder, things would feel a little better.

So she did.

She could feel her eyes fluttering shut at the shot of pleasure, could feel the moan threatening to rise to the surface. Instead, she scolded herself and did a little shoulder roll. Behave. But she kept her thighs pressed together, too turned on to let go of that delicious pressure. Her eyes wandered back to Mena’s, just to see how her friend was faring. She was still watching her, but all traces of hunger were gone, replaced with a faint smile and something that could only be interpreted as encouragement? 

Underneath all the arousal, a stream of apprehension began to pool. Had she imagined everything? Was she reading too much into these looks? There had been a strange shift in hers and Mena’s relationship of late. Had all of that been in her head? Was she projecting her growing feelings on her friend? And why did the possibility of all of this being true make her so anxious and sad?

Then she saw Mena casually tugging the sides of her jacket back over her chest, and how tightly her other hand gripped the pen in her hand. She chose to believe this was her sign that Mena wasn’t unaffected. That made the anxiety vanish, and it was replaced with a rush of hopeful giddiness. 

“Thank you so much Faramade,” Jumoke, another of her bosses said, signalling the end of her presentation. As she smiled and made her way back to her seat, her feet felt weird beneath her- almost as if they didn’t belong to her body. Then she sat in her high-backed swivel chair, and all the pressure she needed was just there.

Jumoke launched into her own speech, but Faramade was miles away. It was almost like a compulsion now, the need to orgasm. But specifically to orgasm for Mena; and even though they were now separated by a large wooden table and at least a dozen colleagues, she just knew Mena continued to watch her. That knowledge, and the memory of the look in Mena’s eyes from minutes ago had her shifting in her seat, trying to find the most inconspicuous but quickest rhythm to get her there.

Three particularly intense pulses made her aware that she had found it- and she smoothed her palms over her thighs, brushing out non-existent wrinkles and drying out sweat. All around, her colleagues began to rise from their seats, but her brain refused to process that. She rocked her hips, trying her best to be subtle as a few stragglers remained in the room. She smiled, hoping she wasn’t actually grimacing, and made small talk as people filed past her and spoke. All along, she was aware of that pressure mounting, growing, blooming. She felt fevered, alive but strangely heavy. The fact she had to maintain her outward composure only intensified the pleasure. Finally alone, she rolled her neck and exhaled softly.

Her hands travelled to the sides of her neck, pressing down and caressing, her nails dragging over the now sensitive skin and adding to the melee of delicious things she was feeling. She didn’t have to be so cautious about how she moved her hips now, but she savoured the slow movements, enjoying the steady build. 

Then the hands travelled downwards, one of them passing over her breasts and cupping, while the other continued below. Her breast felt so heavy, and even though her padded bra concealed most of the bump, she could still feel the outline of her nipple. She wished she had worn something that unbuttoned in the front. She would’ve popped her titty out, and she knew it would feel delicious in the cool breeze coming from the ac. What if someone walked in? She would probably be mortified. So hot. She gave into the temptation and pinched down on her nipple, and even though the sensation was dulled by layers of padding and cloth, it was still sharp enough that it went straight to her clit.

She started to come.

It wasn’t an orgasm that shattered her, but a soft steady one that rolled through her, and made her more aware of how turned on she was- of how sensual she felt. 

“Good job, Mama.”

The voice- and the new hand on her shoulder- had her panicking, the orgasm tapering off abruptly, her pussy still fluttering. What was she doing having orgasms thinking about her friend? Her boyfriend’s step-sister?

“Are you okay?” Mena’s hand flexed, her voice close to her ear, so soft and husky, so full of deceptive concern. Like she didn’t know exactly what was going on. Or did she? “Yeah, I’m okay,” she murmured. But her voice sounded hoarse, and the flutters finally stopped, her body registering her surroundings- and the situation she was in.

She was now all too aware of the heat from Mena’s body behind her, the warmth of her breath on her neck. The weight of Mena’s hand on her shoulder was all too powerful now, and for a few seconds she contemplated taking that hand in hers and dragging it down her body, and begging her to finger-fuck her till she saw stars. She was aware of the moisture that was now slicking the top of her thighs, a combination of sweat and her own juices. She was aware of the faint smell of her arousal, and wondered if Mena could smell it too. It mixed with Mena’s scent, a heady mix of lotion, perfume and her that had her salivating to bury her face in the crook of the other woman’s neck- or between her breasts.

“Faramade.”

Her name rolling off her friend’s tongue brought her to her feet instantly, startling Mena. “Sorry,” she mumbled, avoiding what she knew would be the curious gaze on her face. “I need the bathroom, “and she let her legs lead her away.

Typically, Faramade used the toilet in Mena’s office, because she was an executive with an en-suite toilet attached to her private office. But today, she found herself in the general female staff toilet, with her underwear banding around her knees and her head hanging low. It took six wads of tissue to wipe away the slickness that coated her, and she couldn’t help but press the tissue hard against her clit as she wiped, nearly breathing hard from the sensation. This feels so good. How was she still so turned on? Her ruined orgasm should have served as a wakeup call, but now she was even hotter, and she didn’t know what to do with that.

Her underwear was now cold and uncomfortable, so she took them off and wadded them into the tightest ball she could manage. As she made her way back to the conference room to retrieve her things, she walked past many of her colleagues as they began to stream out of the office, signalling closing time. It was a Friday and everyone was in a hurry to get to their respective motives. She wasn’t particularly happy, because it meant two days of not seeing Mena.

In the conference room, her things, as well as Mena, were gone. So, with a mix of fear, excitement, arousal and embarrassment bubbling in her gut, she took a deep breath to steel herself and made her way to the Head of Communications’ office. 

x

She was greeted with a sharp, all-seeing gaze, housed in the most beautiful hazel brown eyes. “Are you feeling better?” Ifemena asked from her position behind her desk. Faramade decided to sit on the sofa off to the side of her office, and Ifemena’s eyes followed her. “Yes, thank you.” She murmured, flashing a small smile. The butterflies in her stomach continued to grow and twist about. “Mmhm.” Mena said through pursed lips, as if she didn’t quite believe. 

In one quick, graceful movement, she rose out of her seat and padded to the corner, where a fridge was built into the stained wood cabinets. From it, she grabbed a bottle of Bigi soda, and the rose gold metal straw that had been kept there specifically for her. Fara used the opportunity to watch the other woman unabashedly. Her movements were precise, authoritative, not a single wasted move. She possessed a calm and a silent authority, which when paired with her height and build ensured she suffered no fools. It was really no surprise that at 28, she was the youngest executive at Marble & Chase. 

Ifemena twisted the cap off and inserted the straw as she made her way to where Faramade sat. “Drink,” she instructed quietly as she handed it over, watching as Fara placed the straw between her lips and pulled. As Mena sat, angling her body so that she was facing Fara, and leaving no space so that her knee pressed against Fara’s thigh, Faramade’s heart did a giddy little flip. 

Mena had been there when Faramade had discovered the tamarind flavoured soda, and subsequently announced that it was her new favourite. Since then she kept tamarind flavoured Bigi soda in her office and home fridges, as well as strawberry-kiwi Snapples, because those were Faramade’s favourites. She also always had snacks- and those were some of the tiny little things Mena did that tugged on her heartstrings. And her clit. But she wasn’t allowed to read too much into these things. Friends always did things like that for their friends, didn’t they?

“Are you leaving soon? I ordered food for us,” Mena asked when Fara released the straw from between her lips and lowered the bottle. “Ooh, where from?” Fara grinned excitedly, and repositioned her body, so she was also facing the other woman. Gosh, she’s so pretty, Faramade thought. And for a few beats, there was silence as they stared into each other’s eyes. What is she thinking? Mena was so good at masking her emotions, and these days it unnerved Fara. The energy between them was charged. It was impossible not to notice. Or was it? Was this just her projecting her apparent bi-curious agenda on the only lesbian she knew?

“The grill,” Mena replied, and reached out to take one of Fara’s braids between her index and middle finger, sliding up and down. “I got you pasta and garlic bread and wings. I’m having rice.” Her voice was soft, and as she looked down to glance at the screen of her phone, Fara couldn’t help but stare at the outline of her lips. Were they as soft as they looked? She just wanted one little taste, one little bite. “I can feel you staring at me. Hope no problem.” The irony of that statement. Mena’s eyes were still on her phone, and her fingers were now flying over the screen of her device. She tried not to stare at those fingers too- long and slender, with perfectly manicured and silk wrapped nails. “You’re conceited,” Fara scoffed, trying to play it off. “I know, but I can feel your eyes, baby girl.” Fara glanced up and flashed a quick grin on the last two words. Then her attention was back on her phone.

“Who are you texting?” “Alexis. From yesterday’s date.” Faramade could suddenly see herself ripping the phone out of Mena’s hands and hurling it across the room. Instead, she tried to sound as positively inquisitive as she could muster as she asked- “Oh, how did that go? Are you guys seeing again?” As soon as the words left her mouth, Mena’s hands stilled over the phone’s screen, and she looked up with one of her eyebrows arched. “Why is your voice sounding like that?” Caught. “I dunno what you’re talking about.” Fara mumbled and averted her gaze, taking a long pull from her straw. “You’re weird.” Mena mumbled, and her eyes were back on the screen of her phone. “The date went well I guess. You’ll meet her at my birthday thing next week.” The last word was a sigh, and she locked her screen and put the phone aside. “Give me your foot,” she instructed.

Fara hesitated, because once again, she was wet, and she worried that Mena would be able to smell her. Or see that she wasn’t wearing underwear. Would that be so bad? So, she scooted back, wishing she could drag her dress up and around her waist, and then subsequently drag her pussy along the soft leather of the sofa. Or the firm muscles of Mena’s thighs. She wasn’t picky. Instead, she rolled her eyes mentally and placed one of her feet in the other woman’s laps. “Your shoes are so pretty.” She said reverently as her fingers traced the lace pattern on the shoe. Fara swore she could feel that same pattern being traced on her clit, and her pussy clenched, producing a fresh trickle of wetness. “I knew you would like them,” she managed to say, her eyes trained on Mena’s fingers. Mmm. “Send me the link? Do you think they’ll have them in my size?” Ifemena was 6’2, and had the build of a WNBA star. She also loved heels, and towering above most of the men she met was one of her favourite things to do. But because she had large feet, finding shoes that were her size and looked good had proven difficult over the years. “Ah, they didn’t come in your size, I checked.” Faramade said apologetically. But they had, and she had already ordered a pair. They would be one of her birthday gifts to Mena. “Ugh, na wa o,” Mena muttered. “Give me your second foot?”

Faramade obeyed, and Mena wrapped a large palm around both ankles, her thumb slowly caressing the anklet and the skin around it. “I saw something that you would like on Instagram. They finally delivered it today.” And with her free hand, she reached into the pocket of her pants and pulled out a velvet jewellery purse. “What did you buy nowww,” Fara groaned, smiling. This wasn’t anything new, and she loved that Mena thought of her even when they weren’t together. Keeping the hand on her ankle, she placed the drawstring of the pouch between her teeth and wiggled it open with her unoccupied hand. Then she upended the contents in Faramade’s laps, dangerously close to her crotch. It was a delicate little gold anklet, with little gem studded butterfly charms hanging from the loops. There was also a matching waist-chain, and Faramade’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s so pretty,” she cooed, one hand flying to her chest, and the other reverently touching the pieces. “Do you want me to put it on?” She nodded vigorously, not trusting her voice

She was in love with this sweet sweet, stubborn woman.

When Mena looked up the tears had fallen down Faramade’s cheeks. “Don’t cry,” she murmured a voice so quiet and soft, she was barely audible. She cupped Fara’s cheek, and swiped the tear away, rubbing it into her skin. “Thank you,” Fara murmured, nuzzling into Mena’s touch. “Don’t sweat it,” Mena dismissed her thanks. “Come out with me tomorrow. I need to organise things for my party. And I need to find outfits.” Mena’s other hand was back on Fara’s ankles, stroking the skin slowly. “Of course,” Fara agreed, without taking a moment to think about it. “Good.” The smile that lit Mena’s features up did something weird to Faramade’s chest. “Should I put the waist-chain on you too?” Mena asked, and Fara wasn’t sure she was being serious. Then in a seemingly innocent move, Mena’s hand swept up Faramade’s legs, hips, and landed on her waist, where she squeezed the soft pudge of flesh gently. Fara’s mouth hung open, and she started to speak, ready to risk it all. Then they were interrupted by two swift raps to the door.

It broke the spell holding them captive, and they sprang into action, detangling body parts and moving away from each other as the door swung open and Mena’s secretary swept into the office with bags of food. 

After their intruder left, Fara busied herself by unpacking the food. They ate, and joked, but the moment was gone. Mena offered to help with a few reports Fara had to get done, and they eventually left the offices, after solidifying their plans for Mena to pick Fara up the next morning.

Later that night, she had her boyfriend, Ayobami, fasten the chain around her waist, and proceeded to fuck him with all the fervour of a woman possessed. And when she came, there was only one thing in her mind, and it was the lust she had seen in Mena’s eyes during that meeting.