What Happened in the Empty Office with the Mover

This happened when I was twenty-two and working my second job, at a small company where we all knew one another’s habits. For budget reasons, the owners decided to leave the house we rented in a nice neighborhood and move to an office building, more impersonal but cheaper. I’m telling it now because even now my face still flushes when I remember it.

The move wasn’t going to take long. The staff had taken turns: some loaded at the old office, others received things at the new one. Everything had been packed and labeled for days. I had done my part hauling boxes, so I thought I was done.

The two scheduled days passed and there were still a handful of loose boxes left. My boss called me at the end of the afternoon and asked me to go the next day to receive them at the new building. Nothing complicated: open up, indicate where to put everything, sign the delivery slip.

That morning I woke up early, showered, and got dressed thinking I might still have to move something. I put on leggings and a short sweater that left a strip of abdomen showing. Light sneakers, and I packed a pair of athletic shoes in my bag in case I had to rearrange furniture. I barely put on any makeup. I wasn’t thinking about pleasing anyone.

I got to the building a while before the truck. I waited by the entrance, and right away I noticed the receptionist’s gaze fixed on me. I’m not going to lie: the leggings clung to every curve, and everything showed. The sweater, being made of such a thin fabric, made my nipples easy to guess whenever there was a little breeze. I crossed my arms, not giving it much importance.

The truck showed up ten minutes later. Two men got out and started taking the boxes into the building. There were only seven. Each one took three, and I offered to carry the seventh, which was the smallest.

We went upstairs. One of them left his load by the door, said he had another delivery, and left without waiting. The one who stayed muttered a curse under his breath at the other guy for leaving him alone with all of it. I opened the office with the key I’d been given.

It was when I walked in that he really looked at me, calmly, from head to toe. Something changed in his face. He relaxed, as if he suddenly felt like he was on his own turf.

—Let me change my shoes before I start putting things away —I said, looking for the pair in my bag.

—No, miss, don’t even think about it —he answered—. You just tell me where everything goes and I’ll take care of it.

—Oh, seriously. Fine, okay. By the way, my name’s Mariela —I said, pointing toward the corner—. Those boxes go in that office.

I walked ahead to open the door for him. I heard him murmur something behind me, but I didn’t catch what.

—I didn’t hear you, what did you say? —I asked, turning my head, and caught him staring at my ass.

—Nothing, miss… sorry, Mariela —he corrected himself—. Just that one of the boxes is a little heavy, that’s all.

—Let me help you.

—Not a chance. I’m here to help you with whatever you need —he said, and smiled in a way that was anything but innocent.

That smile left me a little unsettled. I kept thinking about the double meaning of the comment longer than I should have. He set the boxes down, straightened up, and that was when I noticed the bulge outlined in his pants. Without a trace of shame, he adjusted himself with his hand, slowly, looking me in the eye. I bit my lip without meaning to.

Things started to heat up. He kept moving boxes and sliding the few pieces of furniture wherever I told him. With the effort he took his T-shirt off and was left in a tank top that exposed his torso, marked and wet with sweat. I watched him out of the corner of my eye and felt my nipples harden, betraying me under the thin fabric.

He noticed right away.

—Looks like you’re cold, Mariela —he said, licking his lips slightly—. And honestly, you look damn good.

—And what does that have to do with what I asked you? —I shot back, turning slowly so he could see all of me.

—Sorry, but it’s the truth. You’re gorgeous. You’re making me hard —and he grabbed the bulge again shamelessly, adjusting himself—. Do you like this?

—Like what? What are you talking about? —I played dumb, even though I’d been unable to take my eyes off it for a while, imagining what it would be like, how it would feel—. Come on, let’s go to that other office.

I picked up one of the boxes. He came up behind me and, instead of taking it from the side, he wrapped his arms around me to hold it, pressing the whole bulge against my ass. He was hard. Feeling it like that, all at once, made me let out a soft gasp.

—I told you, you don’t have to carry anything —he whispered in my ear—. I’ll carry you wherever you want.

We set the box on a desk. He took advantage of the movement to slide his hands over my sweater and caress my breasts. I gasped again, and he pressed his groin against my ass again, this time without even pretending.

—I can see you like this, Mariela —he said, already switching to the informal you.

—Oh, no, stop… what are you doing? —I protested with my mouth while my body arched backward and one of my hands fumbled between his legs.

He took my wrist and guided me himself to his bulge. I squeezed it through his pants, ran my fingers all over it, and felt myself getting wet inside. I was lost and I knew it.

—Come on, try it —he said, gently pushing me down to my knees while he unbuttoned his pants and pulled down his boxer briefs.

It was right in front of my face. I ran my tongue over it first, slowly, from bottom to top. I kissed it, took it into my mouth, sucked it down, speeding up until I heard him let out a sudden breath and saw his eyes roll back.

—So good —he murmured, his voice broken.

—Now you suck me off —I asked, standing up—. I can’t take it anymore. Here, on the desk.

He turned me around, yanked my leggings down to my ankles, and pushed me against the wood. I felt his fingers opening me, then his tongue entering where everything was already soaked. I gripped the edge of the desk and pushed my hips against his mouth.

—Mmm, yes… —I gasped—. I love it. Do it now, I don’t want to wait anymore.

He straightened up, moistened himself with his hand, and placed the tip between my lips. He ran it up and down a couple of times, teasing, and then he pushed it in all at once, all the way. I let out a cry that bounced off the office’s empty walls.

—Look how wet you are —he said, starting to move hard—. You love it, don’t you?

—Yes, I love it —I admitted shamelessly—. Don’t stop.

The thrusts were hard, steady, and the sound mixed with my ragged breathing. I didn’t care that on the other side of the wall there was reception, or that someone might walk in. The first orgasm hit me like that, bent over the desk, biting the back of my hand so I wouldn’t scream louder.

***

We moved to a bigger meeting table, one of those long ones that was still empty. He lay back and I climbed up to ride him. I lined the tip up with my opening and let myself sink all the way down. I started moving up and down, slowly at first, then with everything I had, until I felt another orgasm building again. I put my hands on his chest and shook over him.

I stayed still for a second, breathless, out of air. But he wasn’t finished. He lifted me off the table, turned me around, and bent me over again. This time his tongue went lower, tracing me all over, and I moaned without holding back. The empty office returned every sound.

—So good —I panted—. Keep going like that, don’t stop.

When he straightened up, I felt the tip pressing higher, against a different entrance. I tensed for a second, but I was so hot I only wanted more. He pushed in little by little, working his way in, and I bit my lip until he was all the way inside.

—Ah, slow —I asked, and immediately changed my mind—. No, like that, that’s perfect. Don’t stop.

—You’re behaving so well —he said, gripping my hips—. I’m going to leave you filled up.

—Come on, give me all of it —I answered, already feeling the last orgasm rising from deep in my belly.

He sped up, his hands digging into my waist, and we both came almost at the same time. I fell apart against the table and he emptied himself inside with a long groan, still thrusting until the very last shudder.

After that we stayed still for a few seconds, catching our breath, my cheek pressed to the cold wood of the table. When he let me go, I slowly sat up, my legs trembling.

He got dressed first, without many words. Only then did I realize I hadn’t even asked his name. He gave me a half-smile, a “take care,” grabbed the unsigned delivery slip, and left, leaving me there, half-naked and flushed, on the meeting table of a company that wasn’t even entirely mine.

It took me a while to get back into my body. I got dressed, adjusted my leggings, ran my fingers through my hair in front of a glass wall. Then I called my boss to let him know the boxes had been delivered and that I was about to leave. I spoke in the calmest voice I could manage to fake.

I locked the office, went down in the elevator avoiding the receptionist’s eyes, and walked home slowly. On the bus, looking out the window, I could still feel the echo of everything in my body. I never found out who he was or saw him again. And yet every time I pass a half-moved office building, with boxes stacked in the lobby, something tightens inside me and I go back, against my will, to that morning.