The Office Chat That Led Us to the Bathroom

It all started the way things that later become impossible to stop usually start: with a joke typed in the middle of the afternoon, in a side window of the company’s internal chat, while keyboards, phone calls, and the hum of the air conditioner sounded all around us. I had been working with Luciana on the same floor for months, running into her in meetings, at the coffee machine, and in those long hallways where you always pretend to be in a hurry even though all you really want is to look at her one more time.

She wasn’t the kind of woman who flirted with just anyone. That was precisely why she undid me when, one Tuesday, after an endless video call, her message appeared on my screen.

—You distract me when you loosen your tie.

I stared at the sentence like an idiot. It took me almost a minute to answer, even though a hot jolt had already run through me inside.

—And you distract me when you put on that serious face.

She didn’t take long.

—Then we’re both fucked.

From that day on, we stopped talking like coworkers and started sizing each other up like two adults eager to get themselves into trouble. In meetings, we barely held each other’s gaze for more than a few seconds, but those seconds were enough to leave me hard beneath the desk. If she leaned over the table to point something out in a presentation, I couldn’t hear a damn thing the others were saying. All I noticed was her perfume, the curve of her neck, the way she deliberately brushed my fingers when she handed me a report.

Luciana played along too. Sometimes she would message me from the other end of the office while I watched her type without lifting her head.

—If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to think you want to do more than review reports.

—I’ve wanted more for a while now.

—I know.

That “I know” kept me tossing and turning in bed all night. Not because it was romantic, but because it was a door left ajar. She knew exactly what she was doing to me. And I was no longer pretending to be professional: I masturbated thinking about that mouth, those legs crossed beneath the conference table, the filthy tension of touching her in secret where anyone might catch us.

The Friday when everything exploded, the office was half-empty after a grueling week-end close. A lot of people were working from home, and the few of us who remained had that exhausted look that gives you freedom, because no one pays attention to anything except getting out as soon as possible. I was finishing a report when I saw her name blink in the corner of my screen.

—I can’t take it anymore.

I felt my pulse in my throat.

—Don’t fuck with me.

—I’m not fucking with you.

A few seconds passed. I saw that she was still typing.

—Come to the third-floor bathroom. Five minutes.

I didn’t answer. I closed the spreadsheet, grabbed my phone, and stood up with that false calm you practice when you’re actually about to do something deliciously stupid. I waited for the elevator with a folder in my hand to make it look casual, rode up alone, and walked down the hallway feeling as if every step were making far too much noise. There was no one outside the bathroom. I pushed the door open, went in, and locked it.

Luciana was leaning against the sink, her jacket open and an expression on her face that had nothing to do with the woman from the office anymore. She didn’t smile. She didn’t need to. She looked me up and down slowly, as if in that moment she were finishing deciding something she had actually decided weeks ago.

—I thought you’d take longer, she said.

—I’ve been coming here for days.

This time she did smile, barely. Then she stepped forward and grabbed me by the tie, pulling me toward her mouth.

The kiss was dry at first, direct, our teeth barely colliding in our urgency. I held her by the waist and pressed her against the edge of the sink. I felt her hip strike it, the heat of her body beneath her clothes, and the short moan she let out when my tongue pushed into her mouth without asking permission. Kissing her like that at last was worse than imagining her. Because there was no screen anymore, no carefully measured phrases, no excuses. Just saliva, heavy breathing, and hands roaming over the places we had spent weeks fantasizing about touching.

—I wanted to tear your clothes off in every meeting, she said against my mouth, panting.

—Do it.

She opened my shirt with eager clumsiness, popping a button. I slipped my hands beneath her blouse and moved up until I was cupping her tits over her bra. I squeezed them hard. She let her head fall back and released a hoarse moan, nothing discreet, that bounced off the bathroom tiles.

—Keep your voice down, I murmured, though hearing her like that turned me on too.

—Then stop touching me like you’re going to break me.

I bit her neck. I felt her arch. My fingers slipped around her back, unhooked her bra, and loosened it just enough to pull one tit above the cup. I sucked it in my hurry, while the palm of my other hand pushed her skirt up to mid-thigh. Luciana was breathing faster and faster, spreading her legs to make room for me.

I put my hand between her thighs and found the fabric of her panties wet. Soaking wet. That heated me even more than seeing her. I rubbed with two fingers over the fabric, pressing in circles, and she dug her nails into my shoulders.

—Fuck, she whispered. Look what you’ve done to me.

—That’s how I wanted to find you.

I moved the fabric aside and thrust two fingers deep into her pussy. A louder gasp escaped her, and I had to cover her mouth with an immediate kiss. She was hot and tight, reacting with spasms to every movement of my fingers. I moved in and out slowly just to tease her, feeling her wetness soak my hand while she writhed against the sink, searching for more depth.

—Don’t play with me now, she said in my ear. If you make me come before you fuck me, I’ll kill you.

I laughed against her neck, turned on by her commanding tone, by the way she demanded exactly what I wanted to give her. I pulled my fingers out, and she followed them with her eyes, watching her own wetness shine on my knuckles. I put them in her mouth. She sucked them without breaking eye contact, slowly, obscenely, licking all the way to the base. That was when I lost what little control I had left.

I turned her around and pressed her back against the mirror. I pulled her skirt lower and knelt in front of her. Her eyes widened slightly.

—What are you doing?

—I’m going to shut you up another way.

I pulled her panties down to her knees and opened her with both hands. Her pussy was swollen, shiny, throbbing. Seeing her like that in an office bathroom, her skirt bunched at her waist and her bra half open, was so filthy and perfect that I had to grip her thighs tightly before lunging at her. I ran my tongue from bottom to top, slowly, and Luciana let out a muffled whimper, instinctively bringing one hand to her mouth.

I didn’t let her get used to it. I spread her legs wider and licked her hungrily, thrusting my tongue into her again and again, sucking her clit until it grew hard beneath my mouth. She trembled against the mirror, one hand buried in my hair, the other gripping the edge of the sink. Every time her hips pushed forward, I held her in place so she couldn’t escape the rhythm I was setting.

—Like that... like that... don’t stop, she said between gasps. Fuck, keep going.

I pushed two fingers inside her again while I sucked her, curling them inside her. The mix of her taste, her stifled moans, and the risk of someone pushing open the door made my cock so hard it hurt. Luciana began moving shamelessly, grinding against my face, completely losing the elegant composure she wore when sitting across from the director in meetings.

—Do you like having me eat you out at work? I murmured without pulling away completely.

—Yes.

—Say it properly.

—Yes, I love it. I love you eating my pussy here, like a horny bitch.

Her answer hit me directly in the groin. I went back to licking her harder, alternating suction on her clit with deep, quick fingers. She could no longer keep still. She tugged my hair, moaned my name, and bit her wrist to keep from screaming. When she began tightening around my fingers, I knew she was on the edge.

—Don’t come yet, I ordered, standing up before she fell.

She looked at me with anger and desire mingled together, her chest rising and falling, her lipstick smeared.

—You son of a bitch.

—Not yet. But in two minutes, yes.

I watched her lower her gaze to my bulging trousers. Still panting, she knelt in front of me. She opened my belt with quick hands, lowered the zipper, and slipped her hand inside my boxers to pull out my cock. The cool air hit me for a second, but then her closed hand around me made me grit my teeth.

Luciana stroked me from top to bottom, slowly, enjoying my reaction. Then she looked up and spoke to me in that broken voice that no longer had anything of the flawless executive about it.

—I’ve been imagining this for weeks.

She spat on the tip and spread the moisture with her palm before taking me into her mouth. She went slowly, swallowing only the head, licking around it with a precision that made me let out a dry moan. Then she went lower. Her mouth closed around me, hot, wet, tight, while her hand worked the rest at an even pace.

I braced one hand against the mirror and put the other on the back of her head. Not to force her, but because I needed to hold on to something. Luciana sucked me with genuine enthusiasm, without a beginner’s delicacy or a shy lover’s embarrassment. She brought out her tongue as she pulled away, sucked my balls, filled her mouth again, and moaned softly with my cock inside as if she were masturbating with it too.

—Look at me, I asked.

She obeyed without taking me all the way out. The image almost made me come right there: her on her knees, blouse open, mascara just slightly smeared, sucking me while holding my gaze with brutal boldness. I pushed her head a little, and she followed the movement, letting me set the pace. The wet sound filled the bathroom. I was breathing worse and worse.

—Fuck, Luciana... like that...

She sped up. Deeper, faster, swallowing with her throat relaxed as far as she could take me. Every time she pulled away, a strand of saliva connected her mouth to my cock, and she lowered herself again with her hand so firm that it made my legs tremble. She noticed I was close and pulled away just in time, smiling breathlessly.

—Don’t you dare come now, she said. I want to feel you inside me.

I hauled her to her feet and kissed her, tasting my own flavor on her tongue. I turned her around, bent her over the sink, and pushed her skirt up to her waist. She opened herself on her own, resting her forearms on the marble, offering herself without a trace of modesty. I pulled her panties down to her ankles and took a second to look at her: her taut ass, her trembling legs, her wet pussy waiting.

—If someone calls out, don’t make a sound, I told her as I positioned myself behind her.

—If you get inside me already, I promise I’ll try.

I grabbed one ass cheek hard and ran the tip over her entrance, soaking myself even more. Then I pushed. I entered in one thrust, all the way to the hilt. Luciana let out a muffled cry and silenced it by biting her arm. I stayed buried inside her for a second, feeling her squeeze me all over, hot and alive, as if she too had spent weeks saving that exact spot for me.

—Shit... she gasped. Yes. Yes, like that.

I began moving without gentleness, pulling almost all the way out and driving back in with hard strokes that made the sink bang against the wall. The sound was obscene: skin, breathing, wetness. She pushed her ass back to take me better, and I used it to fuck her harder, holding her by the waist with one hand and by the hair with the other.

—I wanted you like this from the first message, I told her through my teeth.

—And I wanted you to fuck me here from the first time I saw you looking at my legs.

Every sentence turned her on more. I could feel it in the way her pussy squeezed me, in the way she moved her hips to seek the exact impact. I let go of her hair and brought one hand between her legs. I began rubbing her clit in time with my thrusts. Luciana nearly came apart.

—Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, she repeated, both an order and a plea at once.

Outside, someone’s footsteps sounded in the hallway. We both tensed for a second, listening. No one knocked on the door. The danger of being discovered made me even more feral. I pushed her torso lower against the marble and kept pounding her, making her moans mingle with the bathroom’s echo.

—Does it turn you on that they might hear you? I asked.

—Yes... it drives me crazy... knowing they’ll know you’re wrecking my pussy and they can’t do anything about it.

—Listen to the way you talk now.

—Because you’re fucking me the way I wanted.

I pulled my cock out and turned her toward me. I lifted her by the thighs and sat her on the edge of the sink. She wrapped her legs around my waist, desperate. I entered her from the front again, watching her face as I penetrated her. That position let me sink deeper. Luciana gripped my jaw and kissed me halfway, little gasps breaking it with every thrust.

I grabbed her tits, squeezing them, sucking them between one thrust and the next, while she received me by opening herself wider, wet and trembling. The mirror in front of us reflected a brutal image: two office coworkers undone, disheveled, sweaty, fucking as if they wanted to recover all the hours of restraint at once.

—I’m going to come, she said, her voice already cracking.

—Do it.

I slipped my hand between her legs again and rubbed quickly, giving her no respite, while I kept penetrating her with hard, deep strokes. Luciana went rigid, dug her heels into my back, and came with a long spasm that tore a hoarse moan from her, impossible to hide. I felt her pussy contract around my cock again and again, soaking me more, trapping me.

Watching her come like that pushed me over the edge. I lifted her off the sink, turned her around again, and bent her slightly, entering her from behind with a wild, short rhythm that grew more and more clumsy. She was still trembling from her orgasm, but even so she pushed her hips back so I wouldn’t slow down.

—Inside, she told me, still panting. Come inside me.

That phrase broke me. I grabbed her harder and thrust three more times, deep and disordered, until I came with a moan I couldn’t swallow. I felt the brutal release rise from my belly and empty into her in thick pulses while my whole body tensed and surrendered at once. I stayed pressed against her back, breathing as if I had run for miles.

Luciana rested her forehead against the mirror and laughed softly, still breathless. I was still inside her, slowly going soft, my hands fixed on her waist.

—Fuck... she murmured. Now we’ve really crossed the line.

I kissed her shoulder, then her neck, calmer but still burning.

—We crossed it weeks ago. Today we just stopped pretending.

I pulled out slowly and watched her squeeze her thighs together reflexively. I found some paper and cleaned her with an almost tender clumsiness that contrasted with what we had just done. She straightened her clothes, pulled her panties back up, and fastened her bra with fingers that were still trembling. I buttoned my trousers and picked up the button torn from my shirt off the floor.

We looked at ourselves in the mirror. We looked like two adults trying to pull themselves back together after a delicious accident. Swollen lips, messy hair, breathing still uneven. Luciana tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave me a sideways smile.

—I have a meeting with Purchasing in ten minutes, she said. I hope I can sit down without thinking about this.

—I hope I can look at you without giving myself away.

—You’re going to give yourself away.

She came closer and kissed me one last time, more slowly, with the taste of an ending and a threat. When she pulled away, she straightened my tie as if that gesture could erase what had happened.

—Don’t message me for half an hour, she said. Or I won’t answer decently.

—And afterward?

She unlocked the door, and before leaving she gave me a look loaded with promises.

—Afterward, tell me which bathroom you like better. Because this one is too small for us now.

She left first, walking with her usual firm stride. I waited a little, washing my hands, taking deep breaths, trying to restore an impossible normality to my face. But when I went back down to my desk and saw her at the far end of the office, speaking perfectly calmly in front of a screen, I knew there was no going back.

My computer was still on. A few seconds later, a new notification appeared.

—Confirm something for me.

I swallowed and typed.

—What?

Her answer came immediately.

—That this is only the beginning.