Printer hums outside. Clicks of mice echo in the open space. Coffee aroma mixes with my perfume. Strong, musky. I sit across from François in the conference room. Daphnée’s setup again. My old friend, now colleague in marketing. She swore he’d fix me. My orgasm drought. Husband’s tender but vanilla. This bald brute, ex-boxer build, hairy chest peeking from shirt. Client for the new mall project. Massive bookstore inside. Perfect bait for a lit lover like me.
Door clicks locked. His eyes rake me. ‘Wear it today?’ he whispers. Black garter belt, stockings. Stolen thrill from our mall day. Under pencil skirt, blouse crisp. Professional Aude. Ambitious manager. Heart pounds. Colleagues chat outside. Risk spikes my pulse.
Tension Builds Behind Closed Doors
We flip dossiers. Sales projections. His foot nudges mine. ‘Like Sade in the S aisle,’ he grins. Reference to our first meet. I flush. ‘Focus,’ I hiss. But thighs clench. His hand grazes knee under table. Slides up. Fingers trace garter. ‘Wet already?’ Voice low, gravelly.
Open space murmurs. Phone rings distant. Imprimante whirs again. Door rattles—someone tries handle. Panic surges. Adrenaline floods pussy. He doesn’t stop. Fingers push string aside. Dip in. ‘Soaked, married slut.’ Crude words ignite me. I bite lip. No moan escapes.
He stands. Towering. Pulls me up. Spins me. Face down on polished table. Skirt hikes. Papers scatter. ‘Shh.’ His zipper rasps. Cock springs free. Thick, veined. Harder than hubby’s. Bald head gleams under fluorescents. Chest hair tickles back as he leans.
No condom. Risky. Raw. Gland presses slit. ‘Beg.’ ‘Fuck me,’ I gasp. Slides in. Stretches. Fills. Desk creaks. Thrusts brutal. Short, sharp. Balls slap ass. ‘Your cunt grips like virgin.’ Dirty talk fuels fire. Hierarchy flips—he’s client, I’m bossing the pitch. Now his bitch.
Explosive Release on the Meeting Table
Pounding echoes. Muffled voices outside. ‘Meeting over?’ someone calls. Door shakes. Terror peaks. Pussy spasms. His hand clamps mouth. Fingers pinch clit. Circles rough. ‘Cum for me.’ Waves build. Unlike with Alban. No faking. Adrenaline unleashes it.
Explosion hits. I shatter. Gush around cock. Muffled scream. He grunts. Pumps deeper. Fills me. Hot spurts. Claims territory. Collapses over me. Sweat drips. Coffee scent stronger now. Mixed with cum, sex musk.
Pulls out. Drip down thigh. I straighten fast. Skirt smooths. String snaps back. Cum leaks into fabric. Blouse tucked. Hair pinned. Wipe table quick. Papers realign. Unlock door. Click.
Step out. Face colleague. ‘All good?’ Smile tight. ‘Projections solid. Next meeting.’ Stride to open space. Legs shaky. Pussy throbs. Glance back—François winks. Mask on. Ambitious pro. Luxure hidden. But now? Hooked on the rush. Door locked again soon?