Open space hums. Printer spits paper. Mouse clicks rapid-fire. Coffee aroma clashes with my sharp perfume. I eye Brodsky’s desk. Short guy. Smirks over his sloppy drafts. I’ve been his proofreader. Left flirty notes: ‘You need a mistress to fix your messes.’ ‘Love spanking your errors.’ Last one hit hard: ‘Huge gap between me and your nymphette fantasies. Room 69, March 9th. Verify?’
His reply: ‘Conference Room 69.’
The Tension Builds
Pulse races. Adrenaline spikes. Colleagues drone on calls. I stand. Heels stab floor. Legs endless. Blonde waves cascade. Classy blouse hugs curves. Skirt clings tight.
He lounges in lobby chair. Coffee mug like gin-tonic. Spots me. Stares up.
‘Hey Brodsky. Cyrielle. Size difference clear?’
He jumps up. Eyes lock on my tits. Perfect level.
‘Uh, hi.’
‘You’re a real shortass?’
‘Yeah. Small but packing.’ Bombs chest.
Corridor walk tense. Elevator dings. Up to fifth. Conference Room 69. Door clicks shut. Lock snaps. Heart pounds. Risk of knock. Someone passing.
He strips fast. Pants drop. Cock springs. Thick. Tempting. But I hesitate. Eyes it. Regret flickers.
‘Want you bad. Knew this might flop. Brought insurance.’
Bag unzips. Necronomicon out. Old tome. Bluish glow. Sketchy vibe.
‘What the fuck?’
‘Lovecraft shit. Bought it yesterday. FNAC bargain.’
‘Fake as hell.’
‘Try anyway.’
Marker scratches pentagram on carpet. I step center. Chant low, voice husky.
‘Oh Great Ancients. Immortal beasts. Wake from cosmic tombs. Send Testiculus the Magnificent. Fill our dirtiest holes!’
The Explosive Release
Fog swirls thick. Pungent stench hits. Printer outside whirs louder. Door rattles? No.
Creature looms. Massive. Shapeless. Eight tentacles whip.
One coils my waist. Yanks skirt up. Rip. No panties. Slithers pussy lips. Thick. Slimy. Pulsing.
‘Fuck! Yes!’ I hiss.
Thrusts in. Stretches walls. Deep. Relentless. Coffee scent mixes with musk.
Another tentacle clamps tits. Sucks nipples hard. Wet pops.
Brodsky yelps. Tentacle snares his ankle. Another teases ass. Probes cock.
‘Oh shit! Deeper!’ He groans.
I buck. Pussy grips. Juices drip desk edge. Clicks outside. Footsteps?
Tentacles pound. Faster. Balls deep. G-spot hammered.
‘Cum in me, you beast!’ I scream. Muffled.
Orgasm rips. Squirt sprays. Legs quake. Waves crash.
He grunts. Shoots ropes.
Fog clears. Creature gone. Room pristine. Smell lingers.
Legs jelly. Can’t walk straight. Adjust skirt. Wipe thighs. Button blouse. Perfume sprays quick.
Unlock. Stumble out. Open space stares. I nod cool.
‘Solid meeting prep?’
Sit desk. Cross legs. Throb lingers. Smile pro. Mask on. Back to files. Thrill pulses. Untouched.