The breakroom door swings shut. Click. Locked. Holiday lights burst: reds, yellows, blues. Garlands shimmer like fireworks. My eyes drink it in. Coffee brews, sharp and bitter, mixing with my cinnamon perfume. Table groans under caramels, meringues, chocolates. Gingerbread men stare, round faces fixed. Little brown bodies, arms out. Tempting.
Open-space buzzes beyond. Printer whirs. Mouse clicks staccato. Stress coils tight. Dossiers pile up. Hierarchy hums. Mark from accounting glances over. Again. Our eyes lock. Heat rises. Ambitious bitch like me? Craves the edge. Professional mask cracks. Heart hammers. I sip coffee. He follows. Door sealed us in.
The Mounting Tension
His gaze drops to my red lips. Skirt hugs tight. Blouse strains. Tension thickens. Fingers brush his arm. Electric. ‘Stress relief?’ I whisper. He nods, bulge growing. Smells swirl: spiced gingerbread, my perfume, his sweat. Adrenaline spikes. What if someone knocks? Printer drones louder. Mouse clicks frantic out there.
I push him back. Table edge bites his ass. Unzip. He’s naked now. Hard cock springs free. Vulnerable. Like those gingerbread boys. My hand wraps him. Warm. Tender. Cinnamon lingers on my skin. Eyes on mine. I drop. Knees hit tile. Red lips part. Take him in. Slow. Tongue swirls. He groans. Muffled.
Suck deeper. Wet heat engulfs. He melts. Fills my mouth. Salty pre-cum. I bob. Faster. Hand pumps base. His fingers tangle my hair. Thrusts shallow. ‘Fuck, yes,’ he hisses. No time for soft. Door rattles? No. Just paranoia. Printer spits paper. Clicks echo. My pussy throbs. Soaked.
The Explosive Release
Teeth graze. Playful bite. Arm? No, shaft. He jolts. ‘Shit!’ I chuckle around him. Suck harder. Balls tighten. He grips table. Gingerbread men watch. Round eyes. ‘Flee, friends!’ I think. Too late. His hips buck. I swallow deep. Throat milks. Explosion hits. Hot jets. Cum floods. I gulp. Nectar sweet. Crunch? His gasp shatters air.
He slumps. Spent. I rise. Wipe lips. Adjust skirt. Smear lipstick? Fixed. Blouse straight. Perfume masks sex stink. Unlock door. Click. Glance back. Gingerbread army intact. His pants zip frantic. ‘Meeting now,’ I say cool. Walk out. Mouse clicks greet me. Printer hums on.
Back in open-space. Dossier opens. Serious face. Legs cross sticky. Thighs slick. Adrenaline buzzes. No one knows. Hierarchy bows. Lust hides deep. Next thrill waits. Door shuts again? Soon.