Crazy Little Thing Called Love {Si} {M}

[Jacaranda Mulciber]

Weren’t teenage years supposed to be the turbulent ones for emotions? In her thirties, she should be quite stable, married to a rich man and wiling away her days shopping for clothes and frou-frou. Or that had been the plan at the beginning of her twenties. This was supposed to be the time where job security and quality of life was at its peak. She thought she’d at least have another decade or two before her mid-life crisis crashed the party. Because what else could this be? Jac was miserable, rage-filled and self-doubting all at once.

There was not one day when she woke up with her usual determination to take on the world and exploit it for all the money it was worth. The downward spiral started here, where she would be upset at her lack of drive, and also angry at herself for dwelling on it. Her lack of determination to deal with her insecurities niggled at her, and only made those little holes in her resolve widen.

Staring at herself in the mirror that morning, she’d noticed the bags under her eyes were darker and the faint crows-feet at the corners of her eyes were starting to become more prominent. Next she’d have grey hairs ruining her unusually dry and lifeless hair. If there ever was a reason to keep in frequent contact with Abe, it would be to use him as a measure of how dire her appearance was becoming. Hell, he’d be able to mark the exact day when her breasts started to sag.

She cringed at the thought, and could only hope the stress stopped stealing her youth before she was entirely unattractive to anybody but Abraham. And if Abraham ever stopped making his vulgar attempts at courtship? Well, she hoped the stress had killed her before then because that truly would be tragic. As much as she hated the man, he was an ego booster most of the time; if she managed to ignore the fact he made advances on everything with a pulse.

Ah yes, Abraham, the catalyst for this whole shameless scheme. The last time she’d seen him a week ago, they’d been fighting as usual but he’d frayed her last nerve. On coming back to Scores and seeing Silas – a man usually so interested in her that she’d taken to avoiding him – flirting with another woman, she’d snapped. That steel resolve had made a comeback and the next day she had her plan. It was reprehensible and embarrassing that she even had to resort to it but she’d thought of no other way to get control back.

Silas had practically dictated her life for the last few months. She’d had no control, a position she couldn’t remember ever being in. She’d tried giving him what he wanted, she’d tried to pretend she was the one pulling the strings, and she’d tried avoiding him. No matter what she did, he was always there, shadowing every move, catching her in every corner she backed into. Until a week ago. There were no more sideways glances, no more late nights in her office, nothing. It was as if she’d been his favourite toy for so long and he’d just dropped her on the floor as soon as something newer and better came along.

She shouldn’t be surprised really: the man owned a strip club. A week ago, she’d have done anything to have this indifference between them but now it felt as if she’d been abandoned. First Abraham had disappointed her (a subconscious fact she never acknowledged), and now Silas had just discarded her like a used tissue. Well she was having none of it. It was time to get over herself and take back the reins.

And tonight was the night. Her heart hammered on the walk from her office to the bar. She tried to act casual as she ordered her usual and something suitably expensive for Silas but she looked as nervous as her least favourite bartender on rock night. Luckily nobody seemed to notice, and if they did they were used to the accountant looking haggard and wide-eyed as she tried to avoid their employer.

Once the drinks were on the bar and the tender had turned his back, she lifted the hand concealing the vial she’d been clutching and with fugitive glances all around, she poured the contents into Silas’s drink. A puff of pink smoke in the obnoxious shape of a heart came from the glass, and she hastily wafted it away. Picking up the two drinks, she tried to get across the crowded room without having anything spill.

She made it to the staff corridor with only a slight slosh of her own drink darkening her grey skirt. An impressive feat, as there was not a lot of skirt to spill liquid on. The fabric was light, and spun about her hips and thighs with each movement. She wore a white blouse with it, the V-neck dipping between her breasts, modesty clinging by the delicate lace that followed the line of her collar and filled in the V-neck. The ensemble was completed with high ponytail in delicate ringlets, a silver locket around her neck and heels that heartily deserved the classification of ‘stiletto’.

It was a vast change from her usual garb which had toned down in their provocative nature since she’d tried avoiding Silas. But tonight was the night that would change all that. Tonight was the night things started to go her way.

Standing outside Silas’s office, her heart hadn’t stopped racing. She was nervous, but there was no way she was backing out. She had to do this to get control back, so get herself back. She was wondering how to get herself and two drinks through the door when she blushed, put the glasses on the floor, stood and drew out her wand. Levitating the glasses, she opened the door, not bothering to knock.

Stepping into Silas’s office, there was that usual flush of anticipation, whether it was a good or bad feeling she was unsure of. Despite the fact he often scared her, Silas was a powerful and attractive man. It would be unnatural if she didn’t feel something positive upon seeing him.

Closing the door behind her, Jac took her drink from the air and set his on what little free space she could find of his desk. She lowered herself into the chair in front of his desk, crossing her legs at the knee. She’d spent some time freshening her makeup, so her dark eyes looked out from under long accentuated lashes. The shadowing over her eyes was a rich brown, bringing out the chestnut in her irises. She’d used a combination of potions and concealer to reduce the lines around her eyes and while she managed to hold her poker face, she looked quite young and radiant.

Leaning back in the chair, she made her very best effort to appear casual. Silas had a knack of picking up on little details, and she hoped to Merlin he didn’t notice the thrum of tension all but vibrating through her before he’d taken a drink. A tight smile pursed her lips as she sipped her drink. At least she was fairly certain Silas could not resist a drink when offered one. His one weakness, and she intended to take full advantage of it.

[Silas Rosier]

  The sound of footfalls in the hallway made Silas look up. Probably just a dancer heading to the change—No. They were headed for the office. Damn. Silas quickly slipped his glasses off and took his feet off the desk. He didn't need what he was researching being spotted, and in a flash a set of parchment was swept back into the drawer and locked away tightly enough to resist anything short of an aeroplane crash. He straightened up again in time to look busy and give the opening door a quick glance.

  Hmm, only Jac. Good timing, he needed to talk to her. Where the heck did the information about the plan to upgrade Scores into a casino go? Probably buried under all the crap on his desk. She was going to need those and a little niggling sense was telling him he had forgotten to inform her about much, if not most, of his plans. Things couldn’t get underway until she signed off the whole casino transformation as being financially viable.

  Ordinarily Jac wouldn’t even have been able to take two paces into the room before Silas cottoned on to the fact that something wasn’t quite right. Hell, when did she walk into his office at all these days, let alone carrying drinks and dressed as she was? It was a testament to how preoccupied he was with recent matters that his usual bordering-on-paranoid vigilance had managed to slip so far. Besides, it was Jac, and as far as he was concerned she was about as sinister as Dacian’s dandruff.

  Anyway, the important part was that she was here, and she had drinks. Looked like a double firewhiskey on the rocks, to which he wasn’t protesting. His gaze drifted lingeringly over the curve of Jacaranda’s legs as she sat down and put the glass on the table. Ah yes, he just remembered how much he’d missed those short skirts of hers. What were his chances of getting it hitched up around her waist or on the floor before she left? He could always do with a distraction.

  It was clear she had put some effort into her appearance today, and come to think of it, he couldn’t actually remember a time when Jac had been the one to buy him a drink. “Should I be worried?” he asked lightly as he picked up the glass, not even bothering to try and ignore the nagging cravings that had started up the second he’d laid eyes on the tumbler. It wasn’t as though he could resist even if he tried, a fact he wouldn’t consciously admit to anyone let alone himself. “You don’t need to get me drunk to have your way with me you know.”

  Silas pushed the plans for the business expansion towards the side of the desk so he wouldn’t forget them and leaned back comfortably in his chair. In his experience Jac only sought anyone out when she wanted something, so it was just a matter of letting her get to whatever topic she wanted to discuss then trying to steer it around. It didn’t hurt she was providing an excellent view of her cleavage either which he was able to admire out of his lower peripheral, an art Abraham had never managed to learn in favour of blatant ogling. The firewhiskey burned pleasantly on the way down and settled nicely. Either Jac had a good knowledge of her liquors or she’d gotten lucky in her selection.

  Wait. No. Silas exhaled loudly and shifted in what looked like discomfort. Hang on. He frowned, looking almost vaguely confused. Christ he suddenly didn’t feel that well. If was able to see himself he’d notice he didn’t look that much healthier either. The usual flood of warmth associated with a good whiskey was there, but there was something else. He couldn’t place it, and it—

  He turned to look at Jac again, almost as though seeing her for the first time. Yes, he’d noticed before that she was looking unusually good today but now it felt like he hadn’t really noticed until now. You know what? Dacian didn’t matter. And the building cost analysis didn’t either. There was plenty of time to think about that later.

  Admittedly he hadn’t been paying nearly as much attention to Jac in the past week as he used to. Perhaps it said something about Silas’s fickleness that he’d already become bored of her after only a mere 23 days. Barely three and a half weeks. The initial novelty had worn off fast and wasn’t like he didn’t have other sources of a good time. Monogamy had never been his strong point, a fact to which his previous wives could attest. But now for some inexplicable reason he was wondering why the hell he had ever stopped focusing on her.

  Hell, look at her.

[Jacaranda Mulciber]

Her eyes were glued to that tumbler as soon as his hand touched it. She might have noticed his appraising look at her legs had she not been so intent on the whiskey. That devious little glint in his eye that usually preceded an impromptu session on the desk or the floor. Silas had been so preoccupied lately that she had not seen that knowing little glance in a long time.

‘Should I be worried?’, he asked, and Jacaranda could have fled the room right then and there if it weren’t for the fact her limbs were ridged with fear. She managed only a tight little smile, but his next comment almost had her snatching the glass out of his hand. Her startled eyes fixated on his face and the doubt grew from a niggle to a deafening roar. Oh Merlin, what was she doing!? She didn’t need a love potion to get her way! She’d been using men for years! Silas had given her confidence a little shake, but she didn’t have to resort to this. It was just like riding a broom (not that she’d ever embarrassed herself by riding one, but the familiar analogy would do). If you fell off, you just got back on. She just had to get back on Silas and ride him... Heh, a very fitting analogy.

She leaned forward, gathering her courage. She had to get that tumbler away from him. “Silas—” Her diabolical plan had been so foolproof, once set in motion even she couldn’t stop it. He tilted the tumbler to his lips, and she looked on in a fixture of horror and satisfaction as Adam’s apple moved up with each swallow. Well fuck, it was back to plan A.

That fear eating at her stomach faded away as he took on the tell-tale signs of a person under the spell of a love potion – pale skin and sallow cheeks. Not exactly attractive traits, but she still flushed with warmth when his eyes came back to her. She felt flush with victory, her stress and worries falling away. This was worth it. For Silas to look at her like that. Oh sure, she’d seen lust written all over him before – but this was different. He looked at her like there was nobody else. Like he was not looking at a body, but her body.

A knowing smile curved her lips, and she eased back into her seat and took a slow drink from her glass. She recrossed her legs, and when her skirt rode up she let it. He would be the one begging by the end of the evening for a change. “Silas.” She was impressed at how silky her voice sounded. “We need to have a little chat.” She leaned forward, blouse gaping about her cleavage, and set her drink on the desk. “About these renovations.” She laced her fingers and cupped them over her knee. “I found those papers buried in my inbox – where exactly do you think that money is going to come from? It sure isn’t coming out of my salary – I need a raise for the amount of work I put in here.”

Plan A: Milk him for all he’s worth, body, soul and bank account.

[Silas Rosier]

  Jac followed his example by leaning back into her seat, her skirt noticeably riding higher up her thigh as she did so. God he did love those legs of hers. The corners of his mouth tilted up into a smile and his thoughts were already heading in very impure directions when her smooth voice cut across his consciousness.

  “Silas.”

  What? He tried to ignore thrum of tension that ran through him at the sound of her saying his name.

  “About these renovations.”

  About the— Oh right. Silas wrested his attention back to what she was saying. It was only then he realised he hadn’t exhaled recently.

  “I need a raise for the amount of work I put in here.”

  So that’s what this was about. If it was anyone else Silas would have just toyed with them a little bit before sending them out the door with a straight no. He liked his money, thanks, and sharing things had never been his strong point in the history of ever. Not to mention he was going to need to spend a hell of a lot of cash on the revamp, so the more money he could hold onto the better.

  So why wasn’t he telling her to go screw?

  Goddamnit, he must be going crazy. Somehow the request sounded completely reasonable. After all, Jac did put in a lot of work and it wasn’t like there were many other accountants intelligent enough to unravel the complete and utter mess of Scores’s books without assistance. She really did have quite a brilliant mind. She was also one of the rare few who didn’t question the suspicious gaps in the finances he left splattered around the place. Jacaranda was quite a resource, although he always seemed to have taken that for granted until now. The thought of losing her was just... and it wasn’t just the loss to the business either.

  That realisation was a little unsettling. As far as Silas had always been concerned, absolutely everyone was expendable – no exceptions. Until now. What did that mean exactly?

  Putting it in the back of his mind for now, Silas cleared his throat and leaned forwards to rest his arms on the desk. “That sounds fair,” he replied, suddenly noticing his throat was feeling dryer than usual for God knew what reason. Without thinking he lifted the glass again and took another mouthful of the firewhisky. “What did you have in mind?” he managed to ask.

[Jacaranda Mulciber]

She'd never seen Silas so distracted! The way he simply stared at her. The plan was working, and it was working well. Ordinarily she'd never have a chance at a raise, but suddenly it was if he was eager to listen. She could have rubbed her palms together in glee at the prospects that opened up. She flashed him a smile, forgetting her worries completely.

“Oh not much, only a half dozen sickles more an hour - and perhaps a belated Christmas bonus. You know I put in more overtime than anyone else here; don't you think I'm worth it? I know we can afford it.” She practiced fluttering her eyelashes, and was glad she'd spend the time to apply all sorts of cosmetics to add more appeal to the gesture.

Leaning forward, she took her drink from the desk and tipped her head back to finish the rest. Setting the empty glass on the desk, she took more time than necessary to pass her tongue over both top and bottom lips, eyes firmly fixed on Silas’. “Mmm.” She hummed appreciatively, relaxing into her forward leaning pose. She may as well not be wearing a blouse at all for the all-encompassing view of her bra and cleavage Silas was now getting.

[Silas Rosier]

  Why did he have to be drinking when she said that? Silas narrowly avoided having the scotch go into his lungs.

  6 sickles an hour? In theory that was only an extra 720 galleons a year, but considering Jac worked weekends and always stayed a hell of a lot longer than eight hours a day, realistically she was asking for a salary approximate to 21,851 galleons a year – a whopping $US180,625 in muggle terms, and that wasn’t even including whatever bonus she was about to ask for. Fuck. This was why he hated paying staff: couldn’t they just work for fucking free once in a while? For the 2050 galleons she was asking he could hire another bartender, waitress, or hell, even another dealer.

  Yeah he could afford it, but jeez. Scores wasn’t a public business so the money was going to come out of his pocket in one way or another. Talk about cutting into the profit margin.

  The sudden impulse to get onto Jac’s good side was now being severely challenged by his older, much more established desire to hold onto his money. Cause, heck, when did people ever know what they wanted? And being a pushover never made for a good impression. The trouble was if Jac decided she wanted a new job that paid what she was asking she’d probably find one, even if it wasn’t one this prestigious. Casinos were a lot of work for accountants to keep track of, which was actually even more of a reason to give her a raise, he realised disgruntledly.

  Fuck she had better be grateful he was feeling this generous.

  “I know we can afford it,” she pressed.

  “I’d say so, I think this one man hasn’t left the money seats for four days straight,” he replied, already wondering if he could get away with offering her half of what she was asking. A little niggling feeling was informing him that probably not. “I swear he’s resorted to eating parts of the chair.”

  As Jac started leaning forwards he did the same, putting his drink on the table. The fact didn’t escape him that their faces were now closer together. She really did have beautiful eyes, although she was making it very difficult for him to keep his gaze up with that blouse and that tongue thing was clearly a dirty trick that he wished she’d do more often. He wouldn’t let himself be caught blatantly staring, but he was starting to catch on that no one could possibly be showing off that much cleavage unless it was on purpose.

  Oh fuck, his brain was heading south again. She must really want that raise. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of... arrangement.”

[Jacaranda Mulciber]

[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]Damn, she was going to undo her own resolve if she kept provoking him to look at her like that. She was getting to be so distracted that the success of convincing him to increase her salary almost went by uncelebrated. Almost. Her smile broadened, and she picked herself up from her chair and rounded the desk to sit on it in front of Silas. She reached forward and picked up the silk of his tie, running in through her fingers until she was holding the end. “An arrangement? I can think of plenty arrangements we could be in right now.” She tugged on the end of his tie, the quick rise and fall of her brows a blatant suggestion. “Let’s talk details, shall we?” The tug she gave the tie was less of a suggestion and more of a command for him to stand, and se shuffled back on the desk to give him room to stand between her knees. “My bank account could do with that Christmas Bonus, and I’ve just remembered you didn’t give me a Christmas present; have you got any ideas?” Her downward glance and the distinct distress at the front of his trousers suggested he just might. “Hmm,” She sighed, chest heaving, and looked up with smouldering eyes to make sure he was watching as she tugged the shirt from his waistband, “I think we’ve had enough of a chat.” She purred, fingers nimble and lingering as they made their way to his belt buckle.

[Silas Rosier]

  His gaze was glued to the swing of her hips as she sashayed around the desk and before he knew it she was sitting down close enough to touch and holding his tie in her hands. He sucked in a breath. It didn’t matter to him in the slightest that she was practically using his tie as a leash. Fuck, if anything she needed to do that more often. The feeling of it tugging against the back of his neck was all the instruction Silas needed to stand and Jac promptly moved her legs to make way for him. Rather than linger there like an idiot he rested his hands on her hips, sliding them up under her blouse to her waist, taking in the soft warmth of her skin.

  “Have you got any ideas?” she challenged.

  “Mmhm, several,” he replied, leaning forwards a little to bring their faces closer. The downward flick of Jac’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Not exactly subtle, but God it was a mercy not to have to play games for once. Who gave a shit about subtle? This was much more enjoyable.

  Her hands felt warm as they accidentally brushed the skin above his belt. She would practically be able to feel him tense up and he moved his hands down her hips again to unbuckle his belt.

  Once she was finished he took the opportunity to catch her mouth with his, lips moving gentle at first, and then hard and hungry. His hands slid further down her hips to the edge of her skirt, gathering up the fabric in his hands and pushing it up her legs as far as the desk would allow. Jac was in the perfect position for more than one activity, and yes, he had plenty of ideas.

[Jacaranda Mulciber]

[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]And that’s where things got a lot less subtle, and a lot less coherent. The accountant made a noise in her throat that matched the tone of Silas’ as his fingers came questing under her blouse. Her back arched a little, and she revelled in the feeling of those warm fingers on her waist. The tightness in her gut seemed to be directly proportional to how close his hands were to her hips, and she shuffled forward on the desk using his belt as purchase to show her appreciation. Oh god, who’d designed this desk? Had Silas purposefully selected one that made everything match up when he stood and she sat? She’d raised her head up with a blissful groan, and he caught her lips with his. There was another soft noise to voice her positive reception, and her eyes closed as her lips and tongue moved in unison with his. She had been intending to remove the belt, but she’d been quite distracted by his response that she was simply clinging to it, holding him to her. With the ramping intensity of the kiss, she was reminded that they were still wearing clothes, and that made her quite frustrated. The task of loosening his belt became a might more difficult when his hands moved to her skirt, and when she finally managed it, it was with a grunt of satisfaction against his mouth. It was a simple matter then to loosen the button and fly, then with a teasing stroke of her thumb down his hip bone, she slipped her hands around his waistline and down the back of his underwear. They were now firmly met at the hips, and after slipping off her shoes, Jac was able to wind her legs around the backs of his to trap him further. Her heart was thudding desperately, and she was lightheaded from the kissing, but her mind seemed not to care. Her body was in fits of gratification, that anticipation driving her almost wild. Silas’ self control was greater than hers if he could let his build any more, and by the probing strokes of her tongue, she was determined to break that control fairly soon.

[Silas Rosier]

  Things were escalating quickly. Silas could sense the desperation in her, the raw need which was threatening to erode his own self control just as much as hers. Jac pulled herself closer, using his belt to anchor them together and Silas made a deep, guttural sound at feel of her against him. He’d even managed to forget that neither of them had bothered to lock the door.

  Jac’s hands moved quickly over his belt until she was successful in her endeavour with his trousers. Silas responded with more fervour and rolled his hips forward as he heard her shoes drop off behind him.

  Pity. There were few sights sexier than that of a naked woman wearing heels, even if half the time it was a bit impractical.

  The mental image lingered, but he was more than willing to forgive that when Jac’s legs locked themselves around his thighs and her hand slipped around the back of his pants. God. Fuck. Yes.

  Jac was completely right about one thing; the clothes needed to go. His own were becoming too oppressive and it was a miracle Jac even still had hers on. Usually he’d gotten rid of them by now, so what was taking him so long? His hands moved up, working the buttons of Jac’s blouse with practiced fingers. Quickly. Urgently. The fabric came off in one smooth motion and in a few short seconds the bra was next to go. The material was discarded just as easily as Jac’s shoes had been and Silas pulled his head back only long enough to quickly admire the sight before vehemently reclaiming her mouth. Her newly exposed skin was smooth under his fingers and he wasted no time exploring every inch. Fuck she was beautiful.

  Tensions were escalating. He could feel it. And nor had he been kidding when he said he’d had more than one idea. The kiss lingered then broke, his tongue winding a slow, wet trail down her body, pausing at a sweet spot at her neck long enough to suck the skin before continuing. That was probably going to leave a mark.

  His fingers ran down the sides of Jac’s waist, sensitive to every move she made, hands moving lower, palming as low as possible against the curve of her hip. It took a phenomenal effort to to tamp down his overwhelming desire and need for her, but he was only barely coherent enough to know that rushing wouldn’t do him any good.

  No – this wasn’t about to become just another quickie in the office. If she had been the one to come to him for the first time in weeks, then he was going to make it a point that she got more than she bargained for. And for the first time it wasn’t just about his usual desire to see her get off for his own ego-trip either.

  He could almost taste the heat rising from her skin as his right knee hit the floor. The rest of her clothes needed to go now but her position made it difficult. His hands wandered down the length of both her legs, bringing her feet up to brace against his shoulders. “Lift yourself for a moment,” he ordered, warm hands stroking up her bare thighs, riding up just under the edge of her skirt. She obeyed, and Silas moved his hands to the outside and hooked his thumbs under, yanking the rest of her clothing down and slipping them off the end of her feet.

  He took his time at first; mouth sliding up Jac’s her calf, tongue swirling up to her inner thigh. “Let me,” he said, turning his cheek and nudging against the wet heat between her legs. Except it wasn’t really a request, more of an order. It always was.

  He settled between her thighs, pushing them apart, the scent of her clouding his senses. Then his mouth fastened on her, impossibly hot, eager licks and sucks that threaten to take her apart. He drew her into his mouth, holding her there, kept sucking, tip of his tongue working underneath. He growled, spreading his fingers over her thighs, his thumbs hooked behind her knees, opening her for him, and Jesus fucking Christ, yes.