Breakroom door clicks shut. Locked. Coffee stench clings to the air, mixing with my vanilla perfume. Printer hums outside. Mouse clicks staccato from the open space. Christmas tree slumps in the corner, needles shedding. Post-holiday mess. Garlands tangled. Old ornaments dusty. He smirks, sales guy Mark. Ambitious eyes meet mine. We’ve danced this since tree setup. Whispers over guirlandes. His hand grazed my ass by the phosphorescent branches. Bought this beast at the big box store, pricey green glow. Now, cleanup duty. Alone.
Tension coils. Dossiers piled on the counter. I flip pages, pretend focus. He leans close. Breath hot on my neck. ‘Those old balls need replacing,’ he mutters, voice low. Innuendo drips. My pulse races. Open space glances earlier—coworkers oblivious. His stare burned through my blouse. Skirt hikes as I bend for boxes. He watches. Hardens. Door’s locked. No one knocks. Coffee pot gurgles empty. Perfume thickens, masking pine rot.
Tension Ignites
His fingers trace my thigh. Short skirt. Stockings rip easy. I gasp. Quiet. Printer whirs louder, cover. Mouse clicks frantic out there. He spins me. Counter edge bites my ass. Lips crash. Tongue invades. Rough. My hands claw his shirt. Belt unbuckles. Zipper rasps. Cock springs free. Thick. Veined. Ready. ‘Fuck me quick,’ I hiss. Adrenaline surges. Tree lights flicker, half-dead. Garlands sway as he shoves me back.
Explosive Release
Pants pool ankles. He yanks panties aside. No time. Wet already. Slips in raw. Deep thrust. I bite lip. Muffle moan. Desk creaks. Coffee mugs rattle. He pounds. Fast. Brutal. ‘Tight pussy, like new ornaments,’ he grunts. Dirty. Real. Hips slap. Wet smacks echo. Printer jams—blessed noise. My nails dig his back. Climax builds. Tense. Electric. Tree branches scratch his shoulder. Needles fall. I clench. Come hard. Silent scream. He follows. Hot spurts inside. Pulls out. Drips on floor. Quick wipe with napkin.
Panting slows. Adjust skirt. Smooth blouse. Hair pinned back. Lipstick reapplied. Mirror check. Flawless. He zips up. Grins. ‘Tree’s down tomorrow.’ Door unlocks. Click. Step out. Open space buzzes. Coworkers nod. ‘Meeting now?’ Boss calls. I stride in. Folders crisp. Voice steady. ‘Ready.’ No trace. Pulse still thumps. Secret locked. Tree waits. Festivities over. But mine? Just starting.