“Dammit!” You don’t realize how loud your voice is until you feel the irritable stares of the people shuffling up behind you who also missed the elevator. You could be late anyday except for today. Whoever the hell decided to schedule this meeting before 8 a.m. on a Friday needs to be launched off the highest shuttle platform. Of course, military brass always love to hold meetings at o’dark hundred just to piss off the civilian attendees who actually have lives.

Finally, an elevator arrives on the ground floor, and you hurry in. You are already five minutes late and are well aware of another truth about the military. They ALWAYS start on time. They couldn’t be like civilian intelligence employees and chat over coffee first. It’s always straight to business with them.

You take off down the hall the second the elevator doors open for you. The large, closed door looms over you as you skid to a halt. You take a deep breath. And then another. You push your hair behind your ears and put on your calm face. Then you stand in front of the retinal ID scanner and exhale slowly as the door opens for you. Of course, all heads turn at the interruption.

“Sorry,” you say softly, scanning the large conference table for an empty chair. Luckily, it’s on your side of the table. You slip over to the chair as quietly as you can, trying to ignore the scowls you receive for your tardiness. You grab a pen, set your paper on the table……and then get an eyeful of the most glorious image you’ve seen in a long, long time.

From his uniform you can tell that he’s a general. But certainly not like the hard-worn faces of the other men you’ve dealt with in your business. His features are sharply defined, yet his skin does not bear the stress and age that usually come with the rank. You give him a courteous smile, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly in response. His eyes are like ice, yet they study you with warmth…until they shift quickly from you to the head of the table as the briefing continues.

Two hours into the session, and you are begging for an air raid from some hostile force or another. Intelligence work can sometimes by tedious at best…and briefings with those in command can cause even the most devoted individual to pray for good old-fashioned dental work.

You sit back in your chair and regard the eye candy sitting across from you as his attention is completely focused on the pretty graphic display on the wall. Being a lowly consultant to the military, you are not familiar with his face. You wonder how someone so young could have achieved such a high rank. And then you immediately wonder what he would do if you suddenly crawled across the table and into his lap. He’d most likely respond with classic military stoicism. Hell, let’s throw some alcohol into the picture. Okay. Now he’s dragging you across the table and into his lap. He’d then push your skirt up to your thighs, running his hands roughly up your legs as he’d pull your head down and kiss you like he hasn’t had any for a few months…which he probably hasn’t if he’s been stowed away on one of those dreadful ships with nothing but male subordinates of all different species with whom to socialize…save for the fortunate random female who happened to be assigned to this particular general’s ship.

Imagine being on this general’s bridge. A late command post. Him stalking slowly around you. How his hips swagger…you assume he must have lovely hips to go with that lovely face, making you all the more eager for a break to be called so you can see him standing. Suddenly, he would spin your chair around until you were face to waist with him. Reaching up to pull down those fabulously tight black pants – both a curse and a blessing to every woman with a libido, depending on the species wearing the pants. You imagine the look on that stunning face as you slowly suck his presumably impressive length into your mouth.

Your mind jumps back to your surroundings as a new speaker gets up. You dutifully scribble a few notes, looking up as you feel your momentary object of lust give you an inquisitive eye for an instant…and then he returns to his stoic observation of the proceedings, his elbow resting on the chair arm as his hand strokes his chin.

Oh gods, imagine that hand on you…grabbing your waist and pushing you up on the table, ripping your underwear off as his trousers slide down his thighs. Imagine how you shiver as he slides his shaft inside you, spreading you and burying himself within—

“General Kenobi?”

“Thank you, Sir.”

His voice is thick and rich in your ears. You watch intently as he scoots his chair out. He regards you with the same inquisitive look, to which you respond with an innocent gaze. You fight to keep your eyes on his face, careful not to be seen staring at the good general’s body. But as he turns and strides toward the front of the room, something catches your eye, a flash of silver reflecting the light.

Oh gods.

The general is a Jedi.

Fire. That’s the only way to describe it. Pure fire burns your skin as your cheeks blush what must be the brightest shade of crimson. And his faintly cocky look of acknowledgement at your sudden realization sears the truth into your mind in a most humiliating fashion.

He knows EXACTLY what you were thinking.

You fight every muscle and every urge in your body that commands you to crawl under the table and hide there until year’s end. And you would do it, too. Gladly. If you knew that you wouldn’t be hauled out of there on a straight jacket you’d dive right out of your chair this very moment.

This is too, too unfair. First you’re late. Then you have to put up with boring theories and suppositions. Given that alone, you should be allowed some private sex amusement time. But no. You had to pick a Jedi to undress and fuck on the table…not to mention that whole bit about sucking him off on an imaginary ship.

You rub your forehead with your sweaty palm. This is so not good. In a big, big way.

Eventually he sits down. And you stare at the top of the table. At least he has the courtesy not to stare at you…you think. Of course, you’d have to look up at him to verify that.

Finally, a break. Thank the gods. You stand up quickly and rush out of the room, determined to be anywhere but where he is. No small talk during this questionable boondoggle. You make tracks down the hall and around the corner, stopping first in the restroom.

Damn, you look like shit. Your hair is still out of place from your scramble down the hall at the beginning of the session. And yes, your cheeks are blazing red. Then you smirk at yourself a little. Kinda look like you’ve been laid.

You head out of the restroom and down the hall again. The floor is nothing but conference rooms, and all you want is to hide as far away as you can from your greatest humiliation in recent memory. You quickly dart into an empty, dark room and settle yourself in a comfortable chair at the head of the table…the chair that’s always reserved for the VIP running the show.

You close your eyes, and lean back into the soft leather cushion. You breathe slowly, trying to figure out how you will survive the next half of the session.

“Perhaps you could start by keeping your mind on topic.”

You shoot straight up from the chair like a rocket, stumbling over your feet and then grabbing onto the table as your head gets woozy from the sudden movement. You gasp sharply as you feel hands at your waist.

“Easy now.” That voice. “It would be most unfortunate for you to pass out before making good on your intentions.”

The heat of him leaning into you is almost your undoing. “I…I…uhhh.” You gasp again as your body spins around. His hands grip your waist and raise you up on top of the table. Then he gently grasps your chin, tilting your head up until you find his eyes. The icy façade has disappeared, and what remains shakes you to your core. “I didn’t know you were Je—“

“I noticed,” he drawls.

“I’m so—“ Your words die in the rush of his lips sliding along yours. Any vestige of respectability you thought you had shatters and dissipates as his tongue slinks into your mouth. You moan and run your fingers through his hair, sliding your hips forward to grind into his.

A startled cry escapes you as your underwear is ripped from your hips. You slide your hand down the front of his trousers, feeling his hard – and yes, quite impressive – length beneath his clothing. He groans as he nips at your earlobe, pressing his groin into your touch. His groan turns to a growl as he glides his fingers across your wet center.

You sigh and tip your head back, relishing the sensation of his touch, his fingers forming slow circles around your swollen folds. “General,” you mutter in a harsh whisper, as you loosen the clasp on his trousers and reach down to take hold of his erection.

“Nnnnggghhh….” is his response against your neck as you slowly stroke him, his fingers pressing into your engorged flesh a little more earnestly. His body shudders as your tongue traces the curves of his ear, your hand appreciatively caressing his hard, pulsing cock.

You bite your lip with a whimper, pressing your hips forward when you feel his fingers sinking inside you. Out of nowhere, you form the positively lascivious image in your mind of him standing in front of conference room as he was earlier…except that his pants are around his knees, your fingernails skating up and down his thighs as you give him what you imagine to be the blow job of his life.

You whine as his fingers slip out of you, his hands rising swiftly to grab your hair and angle your face so his eyes bear down on you. “What are you doing to me?” he growls before kissing you like you really, truly need to be kissed…his tongue dueling with yours, demanding your acquiescence. In exchange, you stroke his erection harder and faster.

His mouth falls open with a groan, his cheek sliding down your face. You feel his hot breath on your ear. “Oh gods….” he sighs. “Please,” he begs in a quiet, sweet whisper. “Let me fuck you…please….I need to….mmmmhhh….”

You answer by surrender, your body going weak in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist, your hand guiding his shaft to your opening. He pulls you forward slightly until you just rest on the edge of the table, his erection pressing into you. First, there is stillness….and then….one slow thrust of his hips, and he is sliding into you.

You cry out softly as you feel every centimeter of his length burying inside your tight sheath. You feel him pulsing inside you, your muscles contracting around him, his tight, staggered breaths against your cheek.

And then….

He moves. His hips pulling back and circling in with such incredible expertise you wonder how you ever made it this far in life without him, this stranger you only know by rank and surname. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as you clench his hips with your thighs, your head fall backward and your back arching to maneuver your hips in time with his thrusts. In your upright position, his cock torturously slides along your clit on the outside and coaxes that tightness inside you to a fever pitch.

Your bodies rock back and forth, the sway gradually increasing in tempo as he begins to grunt with each smooth thrust inside you, your desire seeping out of you to slicken your thighs.

One arm slips from his shoulder and falls behind you to brace your body as you rock harder and faster. His tongue darts out to catch tiny beads of sweat on your neck. “Mmmmhh,” he sighs, “so good….so….” His words catch in his throat as you tighten your muscles around him. He slides a hand in between you and mercilessly plays at your clit as he thrusts fully inside you, the muscles of his thighs and ass tightly flexing as he concentrates his power on pleasuring you.

Your mouth falls open with a strangled moan as the sensations overwhelm you. Your entire body trembles as you give yourself over to the pleasure, dropping your head back and crying out as the ecstasy spikes and then shatters you as your orgasm rips through you in long, hard waves.

“Yesss,” he hisses, clinging to you tightly. “Oh gods, baby….tighter….tighter….” His plea is replaced by a feral growl, his hips thrusting harder as he throws his head back, every visible muscle tense and bulging from his skin. He cries out and explodes inside you, the wet heat spilling into your body in rapid bursts. His body shudders one final time and then slumps against you, his lungs heaving and his skin hot and sticky.

You have no real sense of how long you stay like that, your legs wrapped around his waist holding him inside you as he rests his head on your shoulder. Finally he moves, sliding out of you and raising his head to look into your eyes. He re-positions his feet, cups your head in his hands, and slowly, gently kisses you. You sink into his sudden tenderness and quite willingly forget about the meeting you are supposed to return to.

Until you hear the door open.

You freeze, still half-naked, and squeeze your eyes shut. If you can’t see them, they can’t see you, right?

And then…the door quietly shuts.

“They were in the wrong room anyway,” he says in a rather amusing tone.

You open one eye and peek up at him. “You mean they didn’t see—“

“No.”

“But how—“

His quirked up eyebrow interrupts your question.

“Jedi. Right,” you say. “I didn’t think you were supposed to use the mind whammy for such purposes.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No, it’s just—“

“I think you talk to too much,” he says, leaning in to kiss you again.

“But the meeting,” you mildly protest against his lips.

Suddenly, he backs away, quickly fastening his pants and helping you off the table. “You’re right,” he says.

“I am?” Stupid you.

“Yes,” he nods. “We need to get back.” He steps forward toward the door. “Only this time….”

“What?” You adjust your skirt and your hair as you follow him out.

He turns quickly, causing you to run into him. He takes a step back and opens the door. “Only this time you get to see what I’m thinking about you,” he purrs with a look in his eye that tells you it’s going to be a rather….unsettling afternoon.