<div class="floatleft">(http://0169acf2b41053510793-a17828a56d1fe6987c3860aa718002a9.r21.cf3.rackcdn.com/6873_f2fb64dc-17a0-4222-bbf0-291c8ef070d8.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Thomas Malcolm<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Employee - Junior Copywriter<br/><strong>Date | Time:</strong>January 5th, 2011 | Late Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Pierre, Penthouse.  NYC<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Blue suit and tie<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Erica Everett (Richards)<strong>Mentioned:</strong>N/A<br/><strong>Content Warning:</strong>Growing Interest<hr/>His voice changed as he came closer, his fingers lightly gracing the skin of her neck, rubbing tense muscles into relaxation, feeling a great deal more want for this woman in front of him than was appropriate due to their - well his, anyways - position of employment. He doubted that she would get much blowback, but for him, it could be a career ending mistake. The kind that would have him whispered around those water coolers that he heard gossip around himself. A pariah. A tale of woe to all newly anointed copywriters in the country. The guy that slept with the boss' ex-wife.<br/><br/>Well, if things went as he was beginning to let himself hope, there wouldn't be much sleeping involved in their interaction. And he would only be getting in trouble if he got caught. A woman like Mrs. ... Erica would see the benefit of keeping any indiscretions away from prying eyes and perked ears.<br/><br/>Hopefully.<br/><br/>"There are always risks," He purred throatily into her ear, dipping his head down as he nodded, acquiescing to her request and slowly working the zipper back down, letting his free hand remain on her neck, long calloused fingers curling around to caress her throat as the zipper touched bottom and he pushed the dress down further, letting her feel the tug of the shoulder straps. Another tug was felt before he ran his hand inside her dress, letting her feel his skin run warmly up her back, touching her sides.<br/><br/>"Everything that's worth pursuing has risks," He was close enough that she could feel his breath hot on her neck, watching as goosebumps rose from the tenuous connection. His fingers slipped up under her dress, pulling the straps carefully over her shoulders, his free hand dipping down to do the same on the other side, gliding the lace straps over to the edge, not in any kind of hurry but definitely intent on pushing them past the point of no return, over the precipice, to come tumbling down with the force of his hands and gravity behind them.<br/><br/>"That's what makes them worthwhile. But, if you must ask, I am quite confident," He was now close enough to the small bridge between her neck and shoulder so that she could feel his lips moving lightly over her skin. His hands now moved to her back, pressing her a step forward, stepping her out of the floored dress and leaving her bare but for a perfectly black set of lace underwear, tastefully arranged so as not to show too much or too little, and an equally black pair of of thigh-high stockings completed by a set of black pumps, all in perfect position for him to see either by looking down, or by watching their reflection in the mirror.<br/><br/>"In the success of this campaign.