The Coworker Who Saw Me Lock the Library

The previous afternoon had been a reckless mistake, and I knew it as I went up the building stairs with my coffee in hand. I work in the library on the second floor, the one almost nobody sets foot in after two o’clock, and the day before I’d done the stupid thing of locking the door to be alone with Camila. I’d switched off the lights, drawn the back curtains, and convinced myself nobody had noticed. I carried that same conviction with me when I stepped into the office hallway that morning.

I was wrong.

Renata was waiting for me at the crossing of the two catwalks, a folder pressed to her chest and that sideways smile I’d only seen two or three times, always directed at other people. She’s twenty-nine, one of the tallest women on the floor, and she has a way of standing—one foot slightly forward, shoulders pulled back—that makes you look at her even if you don’t want to. That morning she leaned in to kiss me on the cheek, too slowly for a simple greeting, and before pulling back she spoke in my ear.

—I hope I get a good piece of that dick of yours too, huh.

She said it without raising her voice, almost tenderly, and walked off to her desk as if she’d just commented on the weather. I was left frozen in place, the coffee cooling between my fingers, trying to process what I’d just heard. She’d seen everything. That had to be it.

It took me twenty minutes to sit down in front of my computer without shaking. Just when I was starting to breathe again, the internal phone rang. The number on the screen was hers.

—Mateo, it’s Renata. Got a minute?

—Yeah, tell me —I answered, trying not to let my voice crack.

—Yesterday I saw you lock the library door. I saw who went in before and what time she left. I know damn well you fucked her in there, I know how she was arched against the counter, and I also know that if I tell anyone, by tomorrow you won’t be working here anymore. We clear?

The silence that followed was one of those in which you can hear the fluorescent tubes humming. I pressed the receiver to my ear as if someone else might leak into the conversation.

—We’re clear —I said.

—Good. Don’t worry. I’m not the kind who ruins lives for fun. But I want something in return.

—What do you want?

—The same thing you put in her. I want your cock inside me, Mateo. I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.

She blurted it out with the same naturalness with which one asks for a coffee. Then she laughed softly, a contained laugh, and added something else before hanging up.

—At two o’clock I’ll come down with the excuse of asking you for a book. By then the library has to be empty. You lock the door like yesterday, turn off the lights, and do exactly what I tell you. Not one word more, not one word less.

—All right —I managed before she cut the call.

I stood staring at the phone as if it had bitten me. It was a straight-up blackmail, and at the same time it was the proposition of a woman the rest of the floor had been glancing at out of the corners of their eyes for two years. Renata was the sort of person you greeted politely without ever expecting the greeting to turn into anything else. She supposedly had a man, according to rumor, and judging by how she dealt with the men in the building, nobody would have bet a dime that she’d be interested in any of us. And there she was: threatening to destroy me and offering me exactly what I had sought so many times without daring to ask.

I have no way out. And besides, I don’t want one. I was already getting hard under the desk just imagining her on her knees.

***

The clock in the reading room has a tick-tock I normally don’t hear. That afternoon it got into my head from one-thirty onward. At 1:45 there were still six people reading: two students with their notes spread out, an older woman with a gardening book, and three kids working on a group project. I went up to the desk, tapped the bell softly, and stood in front of the room with the firmest voice I could muster.

—Sorry, we’re closing this section for a few minutes for system maintenance. We reopen at 3:30. If you could please put things away, I’d appreciate it.

There were a few huffs, a few awkward looks, but within five minutes the room was empty. I locked the corridor door, left only the main one ajar, and went back behind the desk. I washed my hands in the sink at the back, straightened my shirt, and looked at myself for two seconds in the cabinet glass. I was pale. My cock was swollen, pressing hard against the fabric of my pants, the outline showing from the side like a shame I couldn’t hide. Both things at once.

Renata showed up right at two o’clock, punctual to the point of exaggeration. She was wearing a short gray skirt that barely covered half a thigh and a white blouse thin enough to make out the lace bra and the dark shadow of her nipples. When she came up to the desk she smiled as if she were really there to check the catalog, and when I leaned in to greet her, she kissed me at the corner of the lips and slipped the tip of her tongue into my mouth for a second.

—Lock it —she said, never losing the smile.

I went to the door, turned the key twice, and came back. I switched off the ceiling panels and the section was left lit only by the low lamp over the shelves, that yellow light that makes everything more intimate than it should be. I wanted to turn that off too, by reflex, but she stopped me with her voice before I reached the switch.

—Not that one. I want to see your face when I suck you.

I froze halfway there. Renata took two steps forward, set the folder on the reading table, and walked toward me with the calm of someone who knows exactly how much time she has. When she reached me, she laid an open hand on my chest, backed me up against the side of the shelf, and found my bulge with her palm. She squeezed slowly, measuring me through the fabric, and smiled when she felt what was inside.

—Look at you. I didn’t even have to touch you.

She undid the button on my pants with two fingers and lowered the zipper in one smooth motion, never taking her eyes off mine. She took off my belt, pulled my pants down to mid-thigh, and then my boxer briefs. My cock sprang out hard, pointing at her face, the tip already glistening with a bead of precum that had leaked out on its own. She grabbed it with her left hand, weighed it, squeezed the base slowly, and gave a low whistle.

—Now I get why Camila kept following you around —she muttered—. No wonder.

She dropped to her knees without hurry on the cold library floor. She made no theatrical comment, no moan meant to impress. She ran her broad tongue over the base, worked it slowly up the length, and gave the tip a wet kiss before opening her mouth and taking me all the way in one go. I felt myself hit the back of her throat and lost my breath. With her right hand she was unbuttoning her blouse on her own, button by button, unhurried, while she kept moving her head back and forth. I braced both hands against the shelf because my knees weren’t holding me all the way.

Her mouth was demanding and precise, alternating the rhythm, stopping on purpose when she felt I was about to lose control. She pulled my cock out, spit on it, smeared it across her face and cheeks, took me back to the hilt and looked up at me with glassy eyes so I’d see her gagging on me. She worked the tip with her tongue in circles, dragged her tight lips along the full length, and with her free hand she grabbed my balls and kneaded them slowly, gauging them as if measuring how much she was going to leave inside me. At one point she stopped looking at me and concentrated on swallowing. I eased her bra down carefully and her tits spilled free, two firm tits with dark, erect nipples that ended up right at my hand. She pulled just enough to take it off the rest of the way, ran my cock between her tits squeezing them around it, and then went right back to work without asking permission. One of her hands slid between her own legs, under her skirt. I noticed when she started rubbing herself in circles, still kneeling, shoulders tense, breathing shorter and shorter, moaning around a mouthful of cock.

—Stand up —I asked, barely above a whisper.

She got to her feet slowly, with that same crooked smile from the hallway, a thread of saliva hanging from her chin down to her left nipple. I grabbed her by the waist, turned her against the reading table, and kissed her like I’d been waiting months for it. Maybe I had. Her mouth tasted like coffee, cheap lipstick, and me, and it finished melting me. I slid the side zipper of her skirt down and let it fall to the floor on its own. Underneath she was wearing almost nothing: a black lace thong, soaked through. I hooked it aside with my thumb without taking it off and ran two fingers through her pussy. She was wrecked. So wet my fingers slid all the way to my wrist in one motion.

—Fuck —she murmured, biting my neck—. You’ve had me like this since I saw you with your coffee.

I tore the thong off her in one pull. She couldn’t have cared less.

—Sit here —I told her, patting the wood.

She sat on the edge of the table, spread her knees, and leaned back on her elbows. I knelt this time. I tasted her without warning, first with my tongue flat, dragging it from bottom to top along her slit all the way to her clit. She was hot and filled my mouth with an acidic, salty taste, entirely her own. I stayed there sucking her clit with closed lips, tugging it just a little, then with the tip of my tongue, searching for the rhythm that made her breathe harder. I slid one finger in, then two, curling them forward until I found the spot that made her jerk on the table. She was gripping her hair with one hand and with the other she was squeezing a breast, pinching her nipple, twisting it as if she wanted to make it hurt.

—There, there, don’t stop, you son of a bitch —she panted softly—. There.

I drove my tongue into her, pulled it out, put it back on her clit. While I was licking her I felt the first spasm climb through her thighs, felt her legs tightening around my head. She bit the back of her hand to keep from screaming and pressed her face against her pussy, coming in my mouth with long tremors that shook her belly. Through the hallway door, distant footsteps could be heard. I kept licking her slowly until she relaxed, then I kissed the hip bone wetly.

—Come here —she begged, voice broken, still trembling—. Now put it in me.

I stood up. I opened her legs wider, positioned myself between them, and ran the head of my cock through her drenched slit, up and down, until she arched her hips herself to take me in. I entered slowly, watching her eyes close when she felt me fully inside her, watching her mouth open soundlessly. She was so wet I slid all the way in with one thrust. I took her by the neck, not squeezing, and started a slow motion that she answered by digging her heels into my lower back, pulling inward.

—More —she panted—. Put it all in me, fuck me hard, don’t go easy on me.

I grabbed her hips with both hands and started fucking in earnest. The table creaked a little with each thrust, its legs scraping the floor. I watched her tits bounce with each drive, her erect nipples moving in rhythm, her mouth open, searching for air. It made me dizzy and blissful in equal parts. I put my thumb in her mouth and she sucked it like another cock, staring straight at me with half-lidded eyes.

—Harder —she repeated, spitting out my thumb—. Don’t be scared, harder, break me.

***

I lifted her in my arms without pulling out, her legs still wrapped around my waist, took three steps, and propped her against the edge of the tallest shelf. I told her to hold onto the upper shelves and she rose onto tiptoe, ass jutting toward me. I ran my hand down her spine, kept going lower, and spread her ass cheeks with both hands so I could watch myself going in and out of her. Her pussy was red, swollen, shining around my cock every time I pulled out halfway.

From that position I took her by the hip and pushed into her again, now without mercy, all the way in, with a thrust that tore a short moan from her. Renata started shoving back against me, setting the rhythm herself, wiggling her ass in my face. Every slap made a wet, obscene sound that bounced off the empty walls of the section. The books trembled on their shelves. In the office upstairs, a chair scraped and the two of us froze for a second, holding our breath, cock buried to the hilt and not moving, before breaking into silent laughter and going on.

—Look at me —I told her in her ear, never stopping my thrusts.

She turned her head just enough for our mouths to meet from the side. She sucked my lips, my tongue, bit my lower lip. I slid my free hand over her belly, then lower, and found her clit with two fingers. I stroked her at the same rhythm I was fucking her, in circles, pressing it. It didn’t take much for her to get there again. This time she didn’t bite down: she let out a deep guttural groan she had to hold between her teeth so it wouldn’t escape the section. I felt her pussy clamp around my cock, squeezing me, sucking me in with small spasms that made me see stars.

—Wait —she panted, pulling away for an instant, grabbing my cock with one hand so I wouldn’t thrust back in—. I want something else. I want to try something.

She leaned forward, rested her elbows on one of the lower shelves, and arched her back, offering me her ass. Without taking her eyes off me over her shoulder, she brought two fingers to her mouth, wet them with spit, and traced her asshole with them in circles. She put one in, then the other, took them out, put them back in, staring straight at me.

—Here. Slowly. It’s been a long time since someone did it.

I obeyed. I spit on my hand and ran it over my cock until it was nicely slick. Then I spit on her asshole and smoothed my fingers over it, calming her. I prepared her with the same patience she’d used to take me apart at the beginning, first with one finger, pushing to the knuckle and pulling out, listening to how her breathing changed, then with two, opening her little by little. She breathed long and controlled, deliberately relaxing.

—Now —she said—. Put it in me.

I set the tip against her ass and pushed just a little. Renata clenched her fists against the shelf, rested her forehead on the wood, and exhaled slowly. I entered carefully, millimeter by millimeter, stopping each time I felt her tense. I could feel how she squeezed me, how the ring closed around my cock, how it yielded little by little. When I finally got all the way in to the base, I stayed still, hands on her waist, waiting for her to get used to it.

—Fuck, you’re huge —she whispered, eyes closed—. Move. Slowly.

Then it was her again who started moving back, grinding against me. I held her waist with both hands and let her set the pace. At first just a little, a short rocking motion, and then with more appetite, taking me in whole and giving me back. When I brought one hand to the front and started stroking her clit again while fucking her from behind, her whole body trembled. I slid two fingers into her pussy at the same time, feeling my own cock through the wall, and a long moan escaped her that this time she couldn’t quite keep in. I started thrusting harder, slipping in and out of her ass with a wet splash, while my fingers worked her pussy in the same rhythm.

—I’m gonna come again —she panted, almost angry—. Fuck, I’m gonna come again.

And she did. She came with her ass clenched like a fist around my cock, drenching my hand with warm wetness that ran down my wrist, biting her own arm so she wouldn’t scream. I held on as best I could, but feeling her finish like that, with those deep contractions milking me, made me lose control.

—I’m going to finish —I warned her through clenched teeth.

—In my mouth —she said without thinking, still trembling—. Pull it out and put it in my mouth. I want to see your face.

I pulled out just in time. She turned around, dropped to her knees again in front of me, and opened her mouth with that same crooked smile from the beginning, tongue out, tits hanging free. She barely touched me with her tongue, barely closed her lips around the tip, and I let go. I emptied my first load straight into her mouth, and she held it there with her tongue stretched out so I could see it clearly. The second landed on her cheek and dripped from her chin. The third I put on her tits, gripping my cock with my hand and shaking it against them. After that I don’t remember the details very well: only leaning one hand against the shelf so I wouldn’t fall, feeling the weakness in my legs, and hearing my own breathing bouncing off the low ceiling of the section.

When I got my breath back, she was still kneeling, looking up at me with shining eyes. She ran two fingers over her face, gathering the cum from her cheek, brought them to her mouth, and sucked them slowly, never taking her eyes off me. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, cleaned her tits with her palm, and licked her hand. She stood up unhurriedly and kissed me on the mouth. She tasted like me. I didn’t care.

—You fuck really well —she said, still short of breath—. Better than I imagined.

—So you imagined it, then —I answered, trying to smile.

—For months. Every time I saw you come up with your coffee, I thought about what you just did to me.

***

She got dressed slowly, without shame, while I straightened my shirt in front of the cabinet glass. Her thong was torn, lying at the foot of the shelf. She picked it up, looked at it for a second, tucked it into the inside pocket of her folder, and laughed when she saw me looking at her.

—Souvenir —she said, shrugging.

I finished buckling my belt in silence. I was still trying to sort out what had just happened: the blackmail, the risk, the ridiculous pleasure that had left my legs useless and my cock sensitive inside my pants. She walked to the desk, fixed her hair in the reflection, and spoke without looking at me.

—Mateo, this doesn’t happen again here. Once was once. Next time I’m the one who pays. There’s a hotel three blocks away, on the avenue, where nobody will know us. Saturday afternoon, if you feel like it. If you don’t, that’s fine too: I’m not going to say anything about yesterday or today. I’m not like that.

—And why did you do all this, then? —I asked—. Why set it up like blackmail if you’re going to let me choose afterward?

She turned to look at me. For the first time that morning, the smile had completely disappeared from her face.

—Because you weren’t going to dare say yes to me any other way. And I needed it to happen. Even if it was only once.

She pulled the folder to her chest like she had that same morning, walked to the door, and waited for me to let her out. When I turned the key and gave her the way through, she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, like any coworker, and walked down the hallway with the same firm step she’d arrived with.

I stayed for a while leaning against the doorframe, staring at the empty section. The clock showed a quarter to three. In forty-five minutes the students would come back, the woman with the gardening book, the three kids from the group project. The library would smell like old books and disinfectant, as always. Nobody would know anything. On the reading table there was a wet stain I dried with paper before it could be noticed.

Saturday afternoon. Hotel on the avenue.

I turned on the ceiling lights, opened the back curtains, and sat behind the desk to wait for reopening. My breathing was still uneven, her taste still in my mouth, and a very concrete suspicion that this was not going to be the last time I locked the door during work hours.