Swing Both Ways

Swing Both Ways By Shawna Jeanne At twenty-eight, Jenny Wilson was beginning to feel like an old maid. In the years after college, she struggled to make ends meet and maintain a social life, but the parties dried up when she landed a well-paying job as the office manager at a local architect firm. Now her weeks blurred together in the same, unending routine. Up at six in the morning to eat a hurried breakfast—one of those Special K egg sandwiches she could microwave while she showered—then a good half hour primping in front of the mirror, make-up and hair and jewelry, everything perfect. She was the first face everyone saw when they entered the lobby of Anders and Associates, and she wanted to make a good impression. Not just on the clients who visited, either. There was a certain coworker whose eye she’d like to catch. Eric Thomas was gay, she knew that. Hell, everyone in the office knew it. He was in a committed relationship with a hot construction foreman named Mike Lewis whose photo sat front and center on Eric’s desk. A candid snapshot of the two of them hugging in front of the rapids on the James River was the background image on Eric’s work laptop. Every time she asked Eric how his weekend went, he invariably started his sentences with, “Wonderful! Mike and I…” She’d even spoken with Mike a few times, when he called the main office number and she had to patch him through to Eric’s line. Mike had a deep voice that sounded incredibly sexy in her ear, gruff and grumbly. It sent shivers up and down her spine. He knew she and Eric were friends, and even knew her name, apparently, because when he growled, “Hello, Jenny,” her knees quivered and her p***y clenched, and her whole body filled with a warm glow. God, what she wouldn’t give to wake up next to a man who sounded like that every morning! In photos, though, Eric was more her type. Mike had muscles and brawn from working construction, but Eric was trim without being athletic, one of those guys who was just naturally slim, with a narrow waist and long legs that seemed to stretch for miles. He had a perpetual tan, a quick grin, and dark hair he couldn’t seem to keep out of his chocolate-colored eyes. When he smiled, he had a dimple to the left of his lower lip, halfway between his cheek and his chin. More than once Jenny poked that dimple with her finger playfully, just to see him duck away, thin color rising in his cheeks. That was the type of relationship they had. Easy, flirty. Safe. God, she wanted more.