But it's not all platonic. In between there are giggly but beautiful bouts of cuddly, fumbling, duvet-bound sex, also slightly tipsy and rich with kisses and pleasure.
Innes mostly sleeps afterwards, revealing that he's still not fully recovered, but I salve my conscience by telling myself that sex is the perfect light exercise and good for his spirits. Bloody hell, it's doing wonders for mine!
Every now and then I wonder what'll happen when we return to normal life after Christmas. Innes doesn't speak of it, and I guess he's putting it out of mind, like me… but as he lies sleeping, he stirs and frowns once or twice.
*** *** ***
Boxing Day morning brings a trill on Innes' entry-phone, and as he's still sleeping, I swathe myself in his dressing gown and answer the call. To both my delight and my suppressed dismay, it's the central heating engineer.
While Innes sleeps on, I deal with him. The cheery craftsman quickly sees the problem, and miracle of miracles, he has the right parts to fix it. I offer him tea, and while we chat I discover something that makes me feel fonder and prouder of Innes than ever. It seems that he gave up his priority place on the central heating man's worksheet in favour of an old folks' home where the heating had broken too - and then told the guy not to spoil his Christmas by coming out afterwards.
When I return to the flat, the rumbling radiators are already warming up, and as Innes sits up, he smiles from ear to ear as if he's a kid again and Santa's brought him a bicycle.
"Wahey, let there be heat!" His blue eyes cruise slowly over me from top to toe. "Maybe now I'll get to see a bit more of your gorgeous body. It's been a crying shame to keep it covered up with jumpers and duvets."
"Well, it's early days yet. I'm not stripping off until the radiators are right up to temperature."
Innes is unabashed. "That just gives me something to look forward to, Nurse Florence." He waggles his expressive eyebrows again. "So, what's for breakfast?"
It's strange to be able to walk round the apartment without cringing and shivering beneath layers of clothes and blankets, but pretty soon, the central heating does its job and the atmosphere is toasty. Innes allows me some private me time in the newly warm bathroom, then takes his turn while I make phone calls and tidy up. It's lovely not to be cold, but perversely I'm also a bit nostalgic for it. Our arctic Christmas experience is almost over now, and we'll both soon be heading out elsewhere to our separate New Year celebrations.
And after that, it's back to work, and we'll either assume our normal roles and yet never be normal with each other ever again, or everything will have to change.
So, there's all the more reason to make the most of our last day and the erotic possibilities afforded by central heating. I knock on the bathroom door, hoping Innes will let me in.
He does, though his "Come in!" is muffled.
Inside, a sumptuous sight greets my eyes. He's standing there stark naked in the steamy air, drying his dark curls vigorously with a small towel.
Desire twists hard in my gut. He's beyond beautiful and this is the first time I've seen his remarkable physique in its entirety since that moment I ordered him back to bed, what seems like a lifetime ago. I've explored his body by touch, beneath the duvets, but here in the light and warmth he's more magnificent than ever. He's a poem of smooth, athletic musculature, a tasty peppering of dark body hair and a long thick penis, that's already awake and taking interest.
"J- just came to check if you were okay," I stammer as if I haven't fucked him and touched him goodness knows how many times in the last couple of days, "Hoping you hadn't had a relapse."
"Do I look as if I'm having a relapse?" His smirk is roguish and the way he drops his towel then casually frisks his cock is nothing short of boastful.
"You look fine, actually."
"Just 'fine'?" He advances towards me. "Cheeky madam… weren't you supposed to be showing me all the goodies I've blindly been fondling under the covers all this time?" When he reaches me, he pulls me hard against his body so I can feel every magnificent inch of him. Intoxicated, I wish my clothes would just dissolve.
His kiss is long and thorough, expressing the desire of a man who's now completely recovered and ready to exert his full powers; something which thrills me and at the same time piques my own sense of devilment. So he thinks he can start throwing his weight about now, eh?
I push away from him. "I still think you should take things easy, boss." The endearment is pointed. "If I'm going to strip off, I think it's safest if you lie down, you know. I wouldn't want you to pass out from the magnificence of my beauty."
Innes laughs, and nods. "Very well, Ms. Nightingale." Gracefully he subsides onto the fluffy bath mat and stretches out like a pasha in his harem. The sleek way he moves is as much Innes putting on a display for me, as the other way around, and the sway of his heavy penis has me hypnotized. I just stare as he takes a hold of it and gently pumps.
My own strip isn't very graceful, but Innes seems to like it. He gives a low growl of appreciation and grabs my ankle to pull me down. "You are magnificent, Cally, but I've no intention of passing out just yet. Maybe when I come inside you, yes, but for the moment, I'm staying conscious, believe me."
We roll and rock on the mat, our bare bodies rubbing against each other while Innes strokes me and kisses me. Within moments, my heels kick and I arch in a quick, hard orgasm, before running my fingers over every inch of him I can reach, including his cock. "Oh, hell, yes," he grunts, and pushes me over firmly on to my back, "I think we're going to need a condom, Nurse Florence."
I push on his shoulder with force of my own, and smilingly he concedes and settles onto his back. "We are," I confirm, throwing a leg across him and settling over his thighs while I scrabble for the pocket of my abandoned jeans… and find the condom therein.
His cock is a rosy, delicious pole nestling against my belly. He's hot and hard, his glans stretched and juicy. He gouges at the rug, then grabs my thighs as I roll the thin latex down his length.
"Oh Cally," he moans as I fondle him, his bottom shifting against rug, rocking me to and fro, "Please don't tease me. God, I've got to be inside you."
"Anything to oblige, boss." It comes out flippant, but that's not the way I'm feeling. Every moment is precious beyond words, and I rise up, and up, to position my body over him. Then, between us, our fingers jostling, we ease the tip of his cock inside me, and I sink down again, and down and down and down.
I gasp. It's like he's pushing into every cell in my body and every corner of my mind. He totally engulfs my heart, and I have to close my eyes to hide the tears.
Oh, how I love him. Life will never be the same again.
I blink hard and dash at my eyes, praying he won't notice, but when I look down at him, his own eyes are closed and his beautiful face is a mask of taut sensation. We settle into a rhythm, slapping against each other, Innes hands at my waist guiding my movements as I incline over him, my hands braced upon his shoulders. When the gathering of tension becomes too intense, I arch back, supporting myself one-handed on his thigh. With my free hand, I reach for my clit, but he's already there, seeking it out, wanting to give.
After that, all is mad crazy beauty; a chain of orgasms, several of mine, and one of his. There are moments when I'm not sure where I end and Innes begins. It's the closest thing to Paradise upon this earth, but in the aftermath, cuddled against him, the tears return.
After this, nobody else will ever reach me quite the same, and though Innes murmurs my name, I sense his thoughts are as troubled as mine.
*** *** ***
Christmas is over. The New Year has begun. It's my first day back at work, but no sign of Innes yet. He must have been in yesterday though, because there are papers to file from the Simpson deal. Or maybe he worked on them while staying with his family?
We haven't spoken since our strange, slightly awkward parting. He seemed to hug me as hard as I hugged him, but neither of us could think of anything much to say. He's texted me a few times since – odd, funny, strangely intimate little missives from his family home, nothing about "us" but feeling like messages from a friend.
But now we're back to being working colleagues, although I'm not really sure I'll be able to hack it.
How shall I greet him? How shall I be with him? Do I even refer to our chilly idyll? I just wish he was here, so we could face the situation head-on.
I make coffee. I get on with routine tasks. I watch the door, my eyes yearning for a glimpse of him, no matter how problematical our new relationship is.
After half an hour, the door swings open. He's here!
Innes strides in, so handsome and familiar, yet so different from my beloved Christmas "patient". Restored to full health, he's immaculately suited and groomed in the way that's always taken my breath away. But having seen him naked adds an amazing new dimension. Having touched him makes me flutter with instant desire.
He comes straight over to my desk, and pauses, not saying anything, just pursing his lips. I can see complex emotions on his face, shadows in his eyes. Oh hell, this is awkward.
"Look, this is uncomfortable, isn't it?" I blurt out, standing up. Innes' eyes widen as if he was about to say the very same thing. "What happened, happened, but we can be adult about it. I can pretend it never happened, if you can. If that's what you want. We never have talk about it ever again." Once it's out, I feel deflated and ready to sit down again. Innes looks first thunderstruck, and then a bit angry.
"Well, I can't pretend it never happened and I want to talk about it. I want to talk about it right now!" He grasps me by the arm, his fingers firm and strong as I remember them from bed. "Let's have some coffee and sort this out, get it over with."
A few minutes later, we're in his office, sitting in the little conversation area where he chats with important visitors. Innes is on the sofa beside me, instead of the chair opposite. He's far too close for comfort, and just being near to him is both agony and ecstasy. He looks as tense as I feel, and he seems to be missing his usual poise and self-possession.
He launches into it, just as I did. "Look, Cally, I've just been over to Woodburn House and spoken to Philip Hastings. He's looking for a new P.A. because his girl is going overseas with her husband." He reaches towards his coffee on the low table in front of us, then snatches back his hand. I've never seen him nervous before, and if this wasn't such awkward situation, I'd almost find it funny. "It's a step up, with some management responsibilities… but the job's yours if you want it. Starting immediately." He plucks at the knee of his beautifully tailored trousers. "It's a nice salary hike too, and a great opportunity."
I reach for my coffee and sip it. I'm trying to stay calm, trying to focus on a hopeful gleam in his eyes and pray that I've interpreted it correctly.
"Ah, so you're getting rid of me." I eye him levelly, watching his dear face and the little telltales of stress and… and understanding. "Well, that'll work. With me over at Woodburn House, and working in a different division, we'll rarely see each other, possibly never. No awkward moments at all."
His eyes narrow, but he's smiling. "We won't see each other during the day." He suddenly winks. "But I was rather hoping that we'd see a lot of each other, a helluva lot of each other, the rest of the time." He reaches across, takes the coffee cup out of my hand, then lifts my fingers to his lips and dusts a kiss on them. "I might have a flu relapse if I don't get regular nursing… and therapy."
This was what I was hoping for, and dreaming of. I love working with Innes but I love being with him, and simply loving him, much, much more.
"You've got it all worked out, boss, haven't you?" I give him a narrow, teasing look. "You're so sure I'll fall in with your schemes."
"But I'm not your boss anymore. Or I soon won't be." He kisses my palm, then tugs on my hand, drawing me closer and closer to him. "The choice is yours, Cally, believe me, always yours."
Our faces are almost touching. I can kiss the cool, firm line of his jaw, the arc of his cheekbone, or the plush curve of his lower lip, if I want to.
And I want to. I hook my hand around the back of his head, and kiss him hard. This is fraternization, office romance, but who cares now?
"Okay, I choose you," I gasp against his hot mouth as we part, just barely. Time to go for broke, now or never. "Because whether you like it or not, boss, I love you."
"Consider me chosen then, Nurse Florence," he growls and kisses back, just as hard. "Which is a relief, because I love you too."
From now on, it'll be Christmas every day.
###
About Portia Da Costa
Portia Da Costa is a multi-published British author of romance, erotic romance and erotic fiction. Her novels have been published by a variety of different houses, both in the US and the UK, and translated into many languages including German, Spanish, Italian, Dutch, Norwegian and Japanese.
Best known for her many novels for the pioneering British erotica publisher Black Lace, her work has been praised for its intense character-driven sensuality and the vivid emotional depth. She enjoys writing books with contemporary, paranormal and occasionally futuristic settings, as well as historical erotic romance set in the late Victorian era.
Writing for publication since 1990, Portia has had over thirty novels and novellas published, as well 100 plus short stories. She has also contributed to many different short story anthologies and women’s magazines.
Portia lives in the heart of West Yorkshire, UK, with her husband and their beloved cat Alice. When she’s not writing she can be found reading, watching TV and movies, hanging out on Twitter, and enjoying online life in general. She was formerly a librarian and has also worked in local government.
Find Portia online at: