The New Hire Down the Hall Knew My Name Before HR Did novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: Rolling Shelves

The records room was in the basement, behind a steel door with a keypad.

It held thirty years of Heartland Mutual's paper on rolling shelves.

I had been down there a thousand times for old claim files.

I had never once thought of it as a place to be fucked.

On Friday at 6:20 I had Kyle by the wrist in the third aisle, with the overhead light buzzing.

I told him what the shelves were for.

"They're on a track," I said. "You turn the wheel and the aisles open and close. You can shut every aisle but one."

He looked at the long banks of gray steel and the boxes stacked to the ceiling.

He looked at the iron crank wheel on the end of the bank.

"And if you shut both sides of an aisle with us in it?"

"Then nobody can see in. Nobody can hear in. And the light switch is out there."

He put his big hand on the handle.

"Show me," he said.

I stepped into the aisle between two banks of banker's boxes, and he turned the wheel.

The shelves rolled in, slow and heavy, with a long iron groan, until the gap on either side closed behind us.

The light went out.

It was total dark, with a smell of dust and old cardboard, and the tick of the track as it settled.

I couldn't see my own hand.

I heard him breathe, a foot away, and I heard the buckle of his belt.

"Renee."

"Here."

He found me by feel.

His hands came up my arms and over my shoulders and into my hair.

He kissed me hard, and I tasted vending-machine coffee and wanted all of it.

I backed up against a wall of boxes.

They shifted a little, then held.

He opened my blouse.

I felt the cool air on my skin, and then his mouth, hot and fast, at my throat, my sternum, my ribs.

"Slow down," I said.

"No."

"Kyle."

"You said quiet," he said against my stomach. "You didn't say slow."

He knelt in the dark.

I heard the soft scrape of his knees.

His hands went to my waist and pushed my skirt up and my underwear down in one motion.

I stepped out of them.

"Put your foot up," he said.

I found a box by touch, a low one with a label I couldn't read, and set my heel on it.

I would find out later that it said 2011.

He put his mouth on me.

In the dark everything was sharper.

I could not see him.

I could feel the exact place of every touch.

I felt the broad flat sweep of his tongue and the swell of his lips closing on my clit.

I heard the slick sound of it in the dead-silent room.

I held on to the steel shelf behind me with both hands.

"I've been starving for this," he muttered, and went back in.

He sucked.

He alternated, slow and then fast, with one thumb pressed up inside me and his other hand spread wide on my hip.

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