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"That's a Python script. It handles quite a few things, actually. Namely, running Cosmic Kitty Defense's servers. So, things like user authentication, error handling, ensuring players are on the most up-to-date version, stuff like that."
I nibble on my lower lip, suddenly a clueless date for the second time in twenty-four hours. "So... that's why it's so important?"
"Mhmm," she hums. "Without it running, users couldn't connect and play."
"Which is what moving will do."
"Correct. But I have a solution. Which reminds me..." Her hands fly onto the keyboard, her body half-way craning over mine. My teeth sink into my bottom lip on a sharp breath.
Maybe there are perks to being an amateur...
"I host my own server because it's cheaper, but I can move it to a cloud hosting service temporarily..." Her nails click-clack along the keys, the movement jiggling her ass cheeks ever-so slightly. I don't hear half of what she's saying as the light streaming in through the window illuminates her body like a tempting feast.
"Oh, really?"
She hums again. "I bought cloud space yesterday and even scheduled the code for the move, but the cloud server has lower RAM than my own hosting, so players might experience some lag..."
Whether she notices her compromising position or not, she arches farther, reaching for the mouse. The front of her shirt droops toward the floor, granting a delicious view of her stomach. My lip flops out, my mind turning up utterly blank, when I catch a pair of twin diamond studs sparkling back at me.
Blood rushes straight to my groin. When did she get her belly button pierced?
Thick with arousal, I clear my throat, speaking directly to her backside. "How will you deal with that?" I scoot to the edge of the chair, concealing my raging hard-on beneath the table.
She sighs deeply, grazing her thigh against my forearm, which glues to the armrest with an ironclad grip. "There's not much of a fix, aside from sending an email to my newsletter subscribers about it, which is what I need to do now, before we finish packing."
Keep her talking, keep her talking...
"Wow, that's impressive. How many people are on your email?"
"A couple thousand."
Honestly impressed, my eyebrows raise, but not as much as when her shirt slips farther. I cock my head to the side, like a hungry voyeur in a window who finds something he likes with just the right angle. Juliana's bra is lacy and blushy pink, almost as flush as the top half of her breasts spilling out of the fabric.
At this point, I'm ready to drop to my knees before her and beg, if only she asked, seeing as every flick of her wrist, every tap against the keyboard, sends those perfect tits swaying, pressing my cock harder against my zipper. I shift in my chair, relieving some pressure, only for her to laugh about something I can't even register anymore. The convulsions bounce her breasts harder, exposing the slightest sliver of her nipple.
God, help me.
I grind my teeth, all but failing to block out the images running rampant through my mind. Flashes of Juliana bent over this very table, the waistband of her yoga pants cinched around her thighs and ponytail wrapped tightly around my fist. With every thrust, I bury my cock deeper, tug her hair harder, until she's staring wide-eyed at the sky, moaning something precious on her tongue. Something I can't accurately put a sound to and now crave so desperately to hear...
My name.
My name on those sweet lips, overcome with ecstasy. She could name her price—any price—and I'd write the check right now to hear it, just this once. All she'd have to do is hand me the pen—
"That should do it."
At the exact moment she pushes off the table, I whip my head back to where it belongs, scoot my chair forward, and sit up straight, hiding my situation from her view. Testosterone still rages through my veins when our eyes connect, hers with a naïve innocence as her shirt falls back into place.
What the hell is going on? Since when has a little cleavage made me as hard as a rock?
Noting my cramped position, she cocks an eyebrow, but before she can question it, I slip on my signature smirk, the one I know gets under her skin.
"I, uh..." She blushes, swiping a lock behind her ear. "Hope I didn't bore you to death."
I wink, holding our eye contact without wavering, a glimpse of my fantasy resurfacing when her blush deepens. "Not at all."
I stalled for ten whole minutes before you-know-what went down, by rightfully complaining about my aching joints and muscles. Yet, I'm still rocking a semi-chub and avoiding thinking or looking in Juliana's general direction at all costs, while collecting the final things from her now nearly barren apartment.
Aside from her computer, the final items we've yet to collect lie behind a skinny pantry door, next to the oven. I twist the knob, swing the door open, and—
