It Never Happened

Abe checked his watch impatiently as he waited at Adelaide Airport's departure gate. The 7:15 AM flight to Melbourne for the annual marketing summit was boarding soon, and Nelly was cutting it dangerously close as usual. Just as the final call sounded, he spotted her hurrying through the terminal, auburn curls bouncing with each step, oversized tote bag threatening to spill its contents.

"Cutting it fine again, Thompson," Abe said dryly as she skidded to a stop beside him, slightly out of breath.

Nelly flashed him that infuriatingly charming grin that had disarmed clients for years. "Relax, Watkins. I could've made it during final boarding and still had time to grab a coffee." She held up two takeaway cups. "Though I did stop for these. Your usual - long black, no sugar."

As they settled into their seats on the plane, the familiar rhythm of their work banter filled the space between them. Abe pretended to review his presentation notes while stealing glances at Nelly's profile as she absentmindedly twirled a strand of hair around her finger - a habit he'd noticed she only did when deep in thought.

The hotel lobby was chaos when they arrived. A sea of football jerseys surrounded the front desk, the buzz of excited fans discussing Grand Final strategies filling the air. Nelly squeezed through the crowd to check them in while Abe guarded their luggage.

When she returned, her expression was unreadable. "There's been a... situation with our booking."

Abe raised an eyebrow. "What kind of situation?"

"The kind where corporate only reserved one room instead of two," she said through gritted teeth. "And before you ask, they're completely booked solid. Apparently, there's some football event happening."

They rode the elevator in tense silence, the gravity of their predicament settling between them. The room itself was nicer than expected - modern furnishings, floor-to-ceiling windows with stunning city views, and one conspicuously large king bed dominating the space.

Abe set his bag down with deliberate care. "I can take the chair," he offered, gesturing to the small sitting area.

Nelly rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. We're both adults." She marched to the bed and dramatically drew a line down the centre with her hand. "This is the DMZ. Cross at your own peril."

The seminar proved to be an excellent distraction. As senior account managers, they fell into their professional roles effortlessly - Abe's measured, data-driven insights perfectly complementing Nelly's creative pitches. During lunch, they found themselves at a table with colleagues from Sydney.

"You two always seem so in sync," remarked one of the Sydney marketers between bites of salad. "What's your secret?"

Nelly laughed, the sound warm and rich. "Years of practice and mutual suffering." She nudged Abe playfully. "This grump keeps me grounded while I stop him from putting clients to sleep with spreadsheets."

Abe found himself smiling despite himself. There was truth to her words - their professional chemistry was undeniable, though he'd never examined why too closely.

The after-seminar drinks started innocently enough. A group of them migrated to a nearby cocktail bar, the conversation flowing as freely as the alcohol. Nelly held court at the centre of attention, her laugh carrying across the table as she recounted their most disastrous client presentation from three years ago.

"You should've seen Abe's face," she giggled, her cheeks flushed from her third gin and tonic. "The projector died right as we were showing the revenue forecasts, and he just stood there blinking like an owl in headlights!"

Abe mock-glared at her. "I seem to recall someone promising to bring backup printouts that mysteriously never materialized."

Their playful bickering continued as the night wore on, the crowd thinning around them until they found themselves the last ones remaining. The walk back to the hotel was filled with comfortable silence, their shoulders occasionally brushing as they navigated the bustling Melbourne streets.

Back in their room, the earlier tension returned tenfold. Nelly kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief, wobbling slightly from the alcohol. Abe instinctively reached out to steady her, his large hand warm against the small of her back.

"Easy there," he murmured, his voice deeper than usual.

Time seemed to slow as they stood frozen in the dim light, his hand still resting against her. Nelly turned to face him, her green eyes dark with something unreadable. The air between them crackled with electricity.

Then suddenly, without conscious thought, she was pressing her lips against his, her fingers tangling in his hair. Abe responded instantly, his arms wrapping around her waist as he backed her against the nearest wall.

Clothes were shed in a frantic tangle of limbs and muffled laughter - Abe’s button-up catching on Nelly’s bracelet before being tossed aside, her dress pooling at her feet as she stepped out of it with a shaky exhale. The crisp hotel sheets felt cool against Abe’s back as Nelly straddled him, her curls forming a fiery curtain around their faces, blocking out everything but the heat between them.

Her body was soft in ways that spoke of life - faint silver stretch marks tracing her hips from pregnancies long past, the curve of her stomach yielding under his calloused hands. Abe wasn’t the lean man he’d been in his twenties either; his chest was broader now, dusted with greying hair, his stomach no longer taut but solid, a testament to years of desk work and stolen beers after long days.

Every touch, every gasp, every whispered curse felt like discovering something both brand new and long overdue.

Nelly rocked against him, her breath hitching as his hands slid up her thighs, thumbs brushing the lace edge of her underwear before tugging them down. The sound of her moan - low and throaty - sent a jolt straight to Abe’s cock, already straining against his boxers.

“Fuck,” he growled, flipping her onto her back with a strength that surprised them both. The mattress dipped under their weight as he kissed down her neck, teeth grazing her collarbone before his mouth closed over one nipple, sucking hard.

Nelly arched off the bed with a gasp, fingers twisting in the sheets. “Jesus - Abe - ”

He smirked against her skin, one hand sliding between her legs, fingers finding her already wet, already clenching around nothing. She was loud - breathy moans turning into sharp cries as he worked her with slow, deliberate strokes, his thumb circling her clit in tight little spirals.

“You gonna come for me?” he murmured, lips brushing her ear.

Her answer was a broken whimper, her hips jerking against his hand as she fell apart, her body shuddering under his. Abe didn’t give her time to recover - he hooked one of her legs over his shoulder and pushed into her in one smooth thrust, swallowing her choked cry with a kiss.

The sounds were filthy - skin slapping skin, the creak of the bedframe, Nelly’s breathless ”yes, yes, right there - ” as he fucked her deep, each snap of his hips driving her higher. She clawed at his back, nails leaving half-moon indents in his skin, her thighs trembling around him.

Abe could feel his own release building, heat coiling low in his gut, but he held off, dragging it out - chasing the way her voice cracked when he hit just the right angle, the way her body clenched around him when he whispered ”that’s it, take it, take me - ”

When she came again, it was with a sob, her back bowing off the mattress as she clenched around him, milking his own orgasm from him with a groan that was more growl than anything human.

Afterward, they lay tangled in the wreckage of the sheets, sweat cooling on their skin. The silence stretched, heavy with the weight of what they’d just done.

Nelly was the first to speak, her voice rough. “We can’t - this can’t happen again.”

Abe turned his head to look at her. The dim light caught the flush still high on her cheeks, the swollen redness of her lips. He knew he should agree.

Instead, he said nothing. Afterward, lying tangled in sweaty sheets, reality came crashing back.

"Shit," Abe breathed into the darkness.

Nelly turned away, pulling the sheet around herself. "This never happened," she said firmly, though her voice lacked conviction.

They dressed in silence the next morning, the memory of the night before hanging heavy between them. The flight back to Adelaide was filled with stilted conversation and carefully averted glances.

Weeks passed in the office with painful normalcy. Meetings were attended, reports were filed, coffee was consumed in carefully measured professional doses. But sometimes, when passing in the hallway or during particularly dull presentations, their eyes would meet - and in that instant, the memory of that Melbourne hotel room would flash between them, thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.

The unspoken question lingered in every interaction: Had it been a drunken mistake? Or the beginning of something they couldn't take back?