Jim and Erin Pt. 01

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“Do y’all realise,” said Bonnie, with an authority she once called ‘ghetto confidence’, “that the company for which we work — that is, Crisply Ltd — is going to retrench all of our asses the second they realise we don’t know how to code?”

“I don’t know,” said Paula. “The CEO really relies on us to get the word out there.”

“Oh, come on!” Bonnie let loose a hoot of laughter. “Paula, sweetie, I know this is your first job and you still believe in the goodness of commercial enterprise. But I am sorry to have to tell you that our beloved CEO would shoot us in a dark room if it meant a bump in the stock price. He’s hell-bent on turning Crisply into-” -she whispered this dramatically, the back of her hand beside her mouth- “a unicorn.”

“A unicorn? You mean, like Erin’s boyfriend?” said Kyle.

“What, multicolored?” Bonnie roared with laughter at this, and so did most of the others.

“No,” said Kyle, smirking. “Mythical.”

Erin grinned through gritted teeth and looked down at her beer, then looked back up at Kyle. Narrowing her lips to a thin line, but still faintly smiling, she fixed her eyes on his and raised a middle finger. Kyle’s smirk dropped a little. He held her eye for a few seconds until she wore him down, then looked away.

Erin lowered her finger and picked up her beer. She glanced over at Jim and found him already looking at her. He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side, as if to say, what can you do with this crowd? She raised her eyebrows back at him, smiling, and mirrored his head movement as she raised her glass to him and took a gulp.

The moment lingered just beyond comfort. Jim thought he could sense her mind whirring. Then she looked away, picking up on Bonnie’s continuing rant.

“You gotta know how to code. More than that, you gotta have shown them you know how to code. Otherwise you’re on the next train out. Y’all don’t have to believe me, but I’m saying this cause I care about y’all, and I don’t want to be showing y’all out the door just because I was the only one to use my 20% time sensibly.” She let her words hang in the air for a few seconds and downed the last of her bourbon and cola. “Mmm. Lord, who’s hungry?”

“Yes!” said Jim, a little too loudly, still thinking about the way Erin had glanced at him and trying to distract himself.

“Oh my god. I could murder some Chinese right now,” said Kyle.

“Do you realise how that sounds, Kyle?” Erin, trying to get her own back a little.

“Chinese, fantastic. I am fucking starving,” said Bonnie.

“Sounds good to me,” said Darren.

They all looked at him — Bonnie, Erin, Kyle, Jim, but also the quiet ones, Selma, Steve, and Paula. They were usually quiet, anyway. There was that one time Selma got quite drunk and really went for it at karaoke. Secretly, Steve hoped to see that Selma again tonight.

“I know you’re all looking at me because I’m Asian,” said Darren, haughtily.

A grin spread across Jim face as he looked over at Erin again. She caught his eye and widened hers, pressing her lips shut in an attempt to prevent herself laughing.

Darren sighed, then smiled. “But yeah, okay, there’s a really good hotpot place round the corner.”

Everyone broke up at that.

“Oh boy, I hope y’all don’t look at me next tone someone says they want fried chicken,” said Bonnie, prompting more laughter. “Now finish your drinks!”


Every guy thinks Erin is single the first time they meet her.

One, she is attractive. Flowing brown hair with blonde highlights, brightly expressive brown eyes, a small but appealingly curvy body.

Two, there’s a mischief about her, a playfulness that seems flirtatious to any straight man.

And three, she might occasionally mention a significant other, but he’s rarely glimpsed. Greg is his name, apparently, and he did come to Friday drinks just one time. He was nice, kind of quiet. They seemed close enough. But why do they seem to do so little together? Wouldn’t he want to join her and her workmates for a beer each week? And if not, wouldn’t she want to get home to him?

So when her straight male colleagues learned she was not in fact single, their interest dimmed only slightly, and temporarily. It didn’t take many glances from those beautiful brown eyes to make them wonder: what if she and Greg were to break up? What if we somehow wound up alone in a bedroom somewhere? What if she were actually wondering all the same things about me?


The seating arrangement at the hotpot table went in a circle as follows: Darren, Bonnie, Kyle, Erin, Jim, Steve, Selma, Paula. Bonnie, as usual, was holding court, giving a running commentary on her enjoyment (or otherwise) of each aspect of the meal while Darren tried in vain to explain how she should cook her food. Selma and Steve quietly shared a plate of pak choi while they thought no one was looking, a conversation about the merits of the non-trilogy Star Wars movies distracting them from the commotion on the other side of the table almost as much as one another’s faces, which seemed to grow increasingly attractive with each beer. And Paula, Kyle, Erin, and Jim Antalya Escort basked in the Bonnie and Darren show — until Paula broke in.

“You know, Darren, there is a better hotpot place in town.”

“Get out of town!” Bonnie, unable to help butting in. Everyone laughed, most of all Bonnie.

“Wait a second,” said Darren. “You’re telling the token Chinese guy on the team that he doesn’t know good Chinese food?”

Paula, blushing, replied, “I’m not saying that at all!” She became flustered and searched for words to defuse the situation until Darren put an arm around her and said he was just kidding.

“Don’t you listen to him, hon,” said Bonnie. “I saw fire in his eyes.”

“Like you’d insulted his mother,” added Kyle, leaning slightly into Erin as he spoke.

“Shut up, you guys!” said Darren. A pause, some silence as Paula — sweet, serious Paula — continued to collect herself.

To make her feel better, Erin said, “Well, I want to know where this superior hotpot place is.”

“Okay,” said Paula. “It’s called Little Sheep and it’s over in Union City.”

“Oh, yeah,” Darren agreed. “That place is incredible.”

“But it’s in Union City,” said Kyle. “Not exactly ‘in town’.”

Everyone — except Selma and Steve, off in their own world — looked at Kyle as if to say: dude.

“Yeah, come on Paula, get it right!” said Jim in a mocking tone of voice. He looked over at Paula and smiled to make sure she understood the joke wasn’t on her.

“Yeahhh,” said Erin, fixing Kyle with a judgemental stare.

“Well, that’s like twenty miles away.” Kyle raised a hand in frustration. “Oh, screw you guys.”

Bonnie leapt to attention. “Ladies and gentlemen. It is 7:24pm and Kyle has just said ‘screw you guys’. Could whoever had 7:24pm in the sweepstake please contact our prizes department?”

More laughter. Kyle himself couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Pretty sure it was 5:53 last week,” Jim chimed in. “You really held back this time!”

“Yeah, yeah, screw you too, Jim.”

“Hey man, I’m sorry. Hey, I’ll let you go first at karaoke this time.” To the group: “We are going to karaoke again, right?”


Whenever he was in such close proximity to Erin — sitting next to her at drinks, moving aside for her at the water cooler — Jim couldn’t help being aware of her body. It wasn’t hard to keep his attention on her pretty face, but part of him found the rounded curve of her chest and the width of her hips incredibly distracting. He sometimes tried to picture her naked, but always in a scenario involving open consent. They went on a hike and decided to skinny dip, for example, or they came back from the bathroom at the same time at a house party and decided to duck into a nearby bedroom to indulge their shared curiosity. She would see him, and he would see her.

Erin, meanwhile, spent a lot of her time around Jim reminding herself that they were friends and she wasn’t single. She picked him out as the cute one on her first day; Kyle, square-jawed and symmetrical, was more conventionally attractive, but Jim had this sweet grin and easy humor that pierced her immediately. He never talked over her in meetings, unlike basically all of the other male staff. He was tall, he looked her in the eye when either of them spoke — but not too intensely… And he could handle her teasing, and give it back with interest.

It was better if neither of them thought about these things too much, given the situation. But the mind can’t be controlled that easily.


With Paula choosing to head home to a particularly enthralling online TV series after dinner, the group was now down to six. Disco lights danced across their faces as they huddled together over the song catalogue. The unmistakable bass line of Stevie Wonder’s ‘Superstition’ rattled their eardrums. Kyle, bopping proudly with his collar popped, got halfway through the first verse before Erin accidentally skipped to the next queued song.

“Shit! Sorry,” said Erin.

Kyle held his arms out to his sides in protest. “Oh, come on! I really wanted t-“

Before he could finish his complaint, Toxic by Britney Spears kicked in, drowning him out.

“Oh, this is mine!” said Darren. He leapt to his feet and went to claim the microphone from Kyle, who angrily handed it over and sat down in the corner in a dramatic sulk. Jim watched as Erin went and sat next to him, put an arm around him, talked into his ear. He saw Kyle’s bitter expression and body language soften slightly. Darts of jealousy threatened to derail his good time. He pushed them down.

Bonnie was next, then Jim, then Erin, and finally Kyle got a full run at Superstition. As their hour closed out, Erin was up in front, dancing to the distinctive piano intro of Bennie and the Jets by Elton John. Steve and Selma cuddled in the corner over their drinks, having finally grown tired of pretending not to care. Kyle continued to leaf absently through the catalog. Bonnie and Darren bounced around, whooping. And Jim sat watching, swaying in time with Erin, when their eyes met.

“Get up here, Jim,” she said into the microphone.

So Antalya Escort Bayan he did, hesitantly at first, a mass of charged particles as he stood beside Erin and put an arm around her shoulder. As they popped their hips from side to side with each piano chord, he relaxed into the moment, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against his left side.

Erin and Jim belted out the first line in unison. Hey kids, shake it loose together. And from there, whenever they sang, they lost themselves in their shared experience. And whenever the instruments took over, they tried their best, with drunken limbs and averted glances, to dance and posture in a way that would hide the thrill of being liquored up and close to each other.


That one time Greg had come to work drinks, Jim had actually really liked him. They all had. Erin had spent the evening gripping his hand and whispering in his ear, clearly very much in love. They kept asking when he would come back, and she kept saying she wasn’t sure, he’s a bit of a homebody. Then they stopped asking and people like Jim and Kyle started wondering again.

The truth was, Jim thought he and Greg were quite alike, apart from him being a bit more comfortable in company. This was confusing because it suggested Erin might be attracted to someone like him. And she did nothing to correct this impression, sending him detailed email replies on subjects unrelated to work and looking in his direction whenever something weird or funny happened. Like when Bonnie accidentally pressed play on her phone before her headphones were connected, blaring Enya into their office space. As laughter erupted, and Bonnie muttered that she would hand in her black card that evening, Erin looked right at Jim and raised her eyebrows with a half-smile. Jim feigned shock, then smiled back. Then they got back to writing whatever corporate nonsense they had to push that day.

Such moments could linger in both of their minds for an entire week.


Steve invited everyone back to his nearby apartment. Everyone expected Selma to jump at the chance, but for some reason she hesitated, so Jim — in an effort to reduce the tension for both of them — said, “Sure, man,” just as Selma began to speak in the affirmative. It was awkward for a few seconds while everyone looked at the three of them. To smooth things over, Erin said she’d go, too.

Back at his place, Steve and Selma arranged themselves under a blanket on the sofa. Jim and Erin sat on cushions on the floor. Steve grabbed them all big glasses of water — no one wanted to drink any more alcohol — and put on a highly rated documentary about free climbing.

After ten minutes of squirming, Steve said, “Uh, I’m gonna get some sleep, I think.”

“Me too. I’m beat,” said Selma.

“There’s room on my bed if you want,” said. Steve.

“Sounds good,” Selma replied.

They stood to go to his bedroom. On the floor at their feet, Jim and Erin were too polite to say anything, but they both knew what the other was thinking: come on, guys, you’re not fooling anyone. Just announce that you will now finally have sex, then go and do it. I mean, we’re all rooting for you!

“Okay, goodnight,” said Erin.

“Yeah, sleep well,” said Jim.

“There’s plenty more blankets in the… over there.” Steve gestured half-heartedly towards an alcove. Selma was already in his room.

“All good man, we’re cool,” Jim reassured him. He whispered, “Go!”

Steve smiled, distracted, then stumbled off to the bedroom, not quite closing the door all the way behind him.

The movie played on. Erin thought about how she and Jim were not touching, and how much she’d like to nestle her tired body up against someone right now. Jim thought about how mind-blowing the movie was, but not as mind-blowing as the experience Steve and Selma were hopefully about to have, nor as mind-blowing as the fact that he and Erin were currently drunk and alone in a room in the middle of the night.

Slowly but surely, their bodies became magnetised. Jim was increasingly aware of Erin’s movements: the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the way she stretched her toes out every couple of minutes, the occasional sip from her glass of water. He wanted to place an arm around her and pull her to him. And Erin could feel it. Her cells vibrated with attraction, desperate for him to do it, the need for contact threatening to overwhelm her.

To assuage this feeling, Erin hauled herself up onto the sofa and stretched out under the blanket.

“You sleepy?” asked Jim.

“Mmm,” she murmured. “You can keep watching if you want to.”

“No, it’s okay,” he replied. He fumbled around on the couch for the remote, brushing her legs in the process — “whoops, sorry” — then switched the TV off and lay down on the rug.


Under his blanket, Jim heard Steve and Selma whispering to each other in the bed across the room.

Nestled into Steve’s enormous sofa, Erin heard their lips smack quietly as they kissed, then heard Jim’s long frame twist slightly on the hard floor.

Both Jim and Erin thought about Escort Antalya how warm and comforting Steve and Selma’s bodies would be to each other at that moment. Erin considered how uncomfortable Jim must be, lying on that hard floor, almost convincing herself that the thought was an altruistic one.

So, with the last remnants of alcohol defeating her internal protests of ‘this is a dangerous idea, Erin,’ she said:

“Do you want to come and lie down here, Jim?”

“Mmm,” said Jim, a non-committal response to hide his racing thoughts.

She sat up, placing her feet on the floor. Jim took this to mean they would be swapping places. The cushions looked a lot more pleasant than the floor, so he sat up too.

“You sure?” he asked, looking directly at Erin.

“Yeah, come on,” she replied.

So he got up, bringing his blanket with him, and arranged himself on the sofa as she stood to let him get comfortable. Then she lay down with him, her back pressed into his torso.

“You’ll have to hold me so I don’t fall off,” she said. Yes, yes, yes, please, finally, she added silently. That isn’t cheating, by the way.

He placed a hand on her hip, and she took it and wrapped it around her stomach. Jim could feel a hint of her lower chest grazing his fingertips. He tried to relax.

From the bed, the blankets rustled. Selma moaned slightly. Jim wanted to say something funny about those two finally getting it on, but he couldn’t speak. After all, he was on a cramped sofa with Erin, his crotch against her butt, feeling every breath in and out. He was in no position to joke about coworkers breaking the sexual tension.

In Erin, that tension was beginning to stretch further, almost painfully. Selma continued to vocalise her pleasure through the crack in the door. Erin imagined a tongue licking and sucking at Selma’s vagina and clitoris, building up heavy desire. Her own genitals were growing slick, and with the slightest bump from Jim’s crotch into her ass, a wave of lubrication poured out of her and into her underwear.

Did she feel that? Jim wondered. He couldn’t help it: he was getting hard. Steve and Selma were all over each other, right over there, and he was tucked against his crush, a person for whom he felt deeply and for whose body he lusted desperately. She adjusted herself against him and breathed out loudly. His increasingly hard penis was now pointed directly between her thighs, and as it grew, it began to force its way through.

Erin gripped the side of the sofa, then — almost involuntarily — laid her hand on Jim’s and squeezed it to her. Is it cheating if I take advantage of this situation? Will everything change? Unable to stop herself, she began to flex her buttocks. With every tensing of her muscles, she felt Jim’s erection grow larger and her vulva fuller. She parted her legs slightly to allow him to get all the way through.

Suddenly, she felt an incredible rush of arousal, like a button had been pressed inside her. Which is more or less what had happened. Jim’s now almost fully erect penis, given room to move, had poked into her underwear right at the entrance to her vagina. Take away his boxers and her panties, and they were basically fucking.

Jim thought he could feel moisture against the head of his erection. It might have been his own precum. Then again, he was pretty sure he could smell Erin. And what a smell it was: sweet and acidic, personal, intense.

What about this, was this cheating? As another sound emanated from the bedroom, she forced all thoughts of Greg from her mind. It can’t count. I’ll figure it out later. It’s not wrong.

Then Jim, with uncharacteristic boldness, unwound his hand from hers and moved it up to her breast. She made no attempt to stop him. The thick fabric of her bra felt smooth and artificial; he wanted to feel the roughness of bare skin. She seemed to understand, leaning forward slightly so she could reach behind herself and unclasp her bra. Jim moved his hand down and under her blouse, then up, past the loose underwire, until his palm closed around her pointed nipple.

Cheating, I am cheating, thought Erin. The thought did not bring her to her senses; in fact, it only got her hotter. Her buttocks continued to squeeze against his penis as it poked against her crotch. She decided to do this properly, seeing as it was already too late anyway, seeing as it wasn’t going to stop until…

Reaching down, gasping quietly with the effort, Erin pushed her underwear down past Jim’s penis and off one leg. They dangled inertly from her ankle. Then she reached behind her and felt Jim’s penis through his boxer fabric. There was a sizeable wet patch. He seemed bigger then Greg.

Jim wasn’t sure if he was lucky, or stupid, or deliriously happy, or a dozen other conflicting feelings. Then she began to tug at his elastic, and he found himself pulling his boxers down, and his penis went down with them and slapped back up between her buttocks and against her open vagina. It clearly wasn’t a dream. There were too many fine details for that: the warmth of her body cocooned in his, the smell of beer and Chinese food in her hair, the sweetly breathy sound of her exhaling through her teeth, the uneven stiffness of her wide nipple between the first knuckles of his middle and ring fingers. Most of all, the way she squirmed around his shaft, leaking fluid onto it, squeezing her ass cheeks against it.

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