What Happened with My Assistant Before Closing the Deal

My name is Marcos Vega, and what I’m about to tell happened a little over a year ago, when I’d already spent nearly a decade as an associate director at a financial consultancy in the city center. I’m not going to pretend to be modest: I’m the kind of guy who closes the impossible deals. Six foot one, the body of someone who gets up before dawn to hammer iron before sunrise, dark hair always in place, and that kind of confidence that intimidates clients just enough to get them to sign without too many questions. Tailored suits, silver cufflinks, shoes that shine more than the boardroom table. The wolf of the twelfth floor, as the interns called me when they thought I couldn’t hear them. But that October morning I was no wolf. I was a guy with sweaty hands and a knot in his stomach that wouldn’t even let me swallow my own spit.

Lucía had worked with me for five years. She came in as an assistant straight out of college and climbed her way up until she became my personal assistant, my living agenda, the person who knew exactly when I needed a double espresso and when I needed to be left alone. We got along well. Too well, according to people in the office. The rumors had been running through the hallways since the first year: that we stayed late alone, that one day they were going to catch us locked in my office. We laughed about it. There was nothing between us. Never a look that lasted too long, never an accidental brush that went on a second longer than necessary. We were boss and assistant, period. That doesn’t mean I had never noticed her. Lucía was petite, brunette, with huge brown eyes that seemed to understand everything without needing anything explained. She had that way of tilting her head when she listened that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. And yes, once or twice I had looked at her cleavage when she bent down to pick up a pen from the floor. I think anyone would have.

The thing is, that morning we had the meeting that could define the whole year. An Asian investment fund wanted to buy a portfolio of assets valued at numbers that made my head spin just thinking about them. We’d spent three weeks preparing the presentation, the due diligence reports, the projections, everything. Three weeks sleeping four hours a night, eating sandwiches from the Vips downstairs, and answering emails at three in the morning. I was wrecked. And nerves had taken me hostage.

Lucía arrived half an hour earlier than usual. Her hair was tied back in a low ponytail, she wore a cream blouse that fit her in exactly the right places, and a dark skirt that ended just above her knees. She set two coffees on my desk, opened her laptop, and started reviewing the latest numbers like it was any other Tuesday.

I’d been staring at the same paragraph of the valuation report for forty minutes. Forty minutes without taking in a single line. I could feel my pulse in my temples, my tie felt like it was choking me, and every time I tried to focus my mind ran off to all the ways things could go wrong.

Lucía looked up from her laptop and met my eyes. She had that expression I knew all too well: the one she wore when she knew exactly what was going on and had already decided what to do about it.

—Marcos, you’ve been on page four for almost an hour —she said calmly, without a trace of reproach—. The fund people arrive in fifty minutes and you’re blocked. You need to let off some tension somehow or you’re going to walk in there a mess.

—I know, Lu —I said, running a hand over my face—. I just don’t know how. I’ve tried breathing, stretching, taking my coffee without sugar. Nothing works.

She stayed silent for a couple of seconds, as if she were calculating something. Then she closed the laptop slowly, stood up from her chair, and came around the desk until she was beside me.

—I can help you relax —she said, lowering her voice a little—. Seriously. With my hands. Or whatever you need. So you can go into that meeting being yourself.

I looked at her, not understanding. Or rather, understanding perfectly, but refusing to believe it.

—What are you saying, Lu?

—That I can jerk you off, Marcos —she replied with the same naturalness she would’ve used to offer to print a document—. To help you release the tension. You’ve been going nonstop for weeks, you’re clearly building up everything, and you need to unload before you walk into that room. That’s all.

—But you and I have never… We’ve worked together for five years and never…

—Exactly because of that —she cut in, raising a hand—. Because we know each other and there’s trust. I’m not offering you anything weird. It’s practical. If it makes you uncomfortable, we stop and keep going with page four. But tell me whether that’s going to work.

She was right. Page four wasn’t going to work. And I was a forty-year-old man who had spent weeks thinking about nothing but return ratios and exit clauses. My body had been ignored for so long I’d nearly forgotten it existed below the waist.

—I don’t care if you don’t care —I said, and my voice came out rougher than I expected.

—I don’t care at all —she answered with a shrug—. It’s like giving you a neck massage. Just lower.

She didn’t wait for me to do anything. Her hands went straight to my belt. She unbuckled it with a skill that caught me off guard, pulled down my zipper, and slid her fingers inside my underwear. I felt her slender, warm fingers wrapping around me, and before I could process it she’d already gotten me out into the open. I was half erect from anticipation alone, but as soon as the cool air touched me and her fingers closed around me, all the blood rushed down there in a matter of seconds.

Lucía glanced down for a moment and opened her eyes a little wider.

—Wow —she murmured, almost to herself—. I wasn’t expecting that.

She didn’t say anything else. She started moving her hand slowly, up and down, in a steady, measured rhythm that made me close my eyes and sink back into the armchair. Her fingers were soft, the pressure just right, and every time she reached the top she made a subtle twist with her wrist that sent a shiver straight down my spine.

I opened my eyes and saw her looking out toward the glass wall. The downtown buildings stood out against a gray autumn sky, and she watched them with a calm expression, as if she were mentally going over the day’s schedule while her hand kept sliding up and down my erection with that slow cadence that was driving me crazy. Her indifference, that absolute calm, made everything feel more intense.

I couldn’t help looking at her chest. The cream blouse had opened a little with the motion of her arm, and I could make out the outline of a dark bra beneath the fabric. She noticed without needing me to say anything.

—Would it help to see more? —she asked without stopping the motion of her hand or taking her eyes off the window.

—Yes —I answered, my voice breaking.

With her free hand she unfastened two buttons, pulled the top of her bra down, and exposed her breasts. They were small, round, with dark nipples standing hard from the cold office air. Perfect. I’d never imagined them being that beautiful.

The rhythm of her hand didn’t change. She kept going up and down with that calculated slowness, squeezing just enough on each pass, while I felt pleasure building at the base of my abdomen like a wave taking its time before breaking. Her breathing stayed even, controlled, but her eyes, when she finally turned her head toward me, had a mischievous spark I had never seen before.

—Look at me —she ordered softly.

I obeyed. She barely bit her lower lip and let her hand speed up a little, not much, just enough to make me tense my thighs and dig my fingers into the armrests. The motion was firm, precise, and each stroke made the skin on my cock slide under her palm with a wet friction that drew an involuntary groan from me.

—That’s it —she whispered—. Don’t hold back. I want to hear you breathe.

I was about to answer something, but I couldn’t get enough air. She stopped looking at the window and leaned a little farther over me, so close I could smell coffee on her breath and the clean perfume she always wore. The tip of her breast brushed my arm when she shifted position, and that tiny contact made me clench my jaw.

—Fuck, Lu…

—That’s it —she said, and smiled faintly—. Let yourself go a little.

Then she changed the rhythm again. She brought her hand down to the base, squeezed more firmly, and slid back up slowly, enclosing me completely in her palm. Her thumb traced a brief circle over the head, bringing out a drop of pre-cum that she spread with obscene naturalness, as if she were preparing delicate machinery. She clearly knew what she was doing. There was no hesitation in her movements, only a calm confidence that disarmed me more than any rush would have.

—Do you like it when I squeeze you like this? —she asked, almost with professional curiosity.

—Yes —I said, and the word came out with a ridiculous tremor.

—And like this?

She squeezed a little harder, sliding her thumb over the head while the rest of her hand pumped faster. I felt the heat traveling through my body, first to my lower belly, then to my chest, then to my throat. The chair creaked as I sank deeper into it, surrendering to the exact pressure of her fingers.

I realized she was getting genuinely turned on when her breathing deepened a little and her thighs pressed together. Lucía still had that serious office-woman face, but her cheeks were flushed and her nipples were harder than before, pressing against the fabric she still had pulled up. The image was brutal: a flawless executive touching my cock in the middle of the office while pretending she was talking about work.

—Take off your skirt —I said without really thinking.

She raised an eyebrow.

—Oh, yeah?

—I want to see you properly.

She smiled with a hint of challenge and finally released my erection just enough to unfasten her skirt. She let it fall to the floor without taking her eyes off me, and underneath she was wearing tiny black lace panties, already soaked at the center. Seeing her like that hit me harder than any hand could. She sat sideways on the edge of my desk, opened her legs slowly, and let me look.

—You’re seeing too much for someone who had a meeting in fifty minutes —she said, and ran the tip of her tongue over her lips.

Driven half by desire, I stood, wrapped one hand around her waist, and pulled her toward me until we were nearly pressed together. She didn’t pull away. On the contrary, she grabbed me by the nape and tugged me in for a deep, filthy kiss, all tongue and saliva, with not the slightest trace of office politeness. It was the first time I felt her tremble. She tasted like coffee, cream, and desire held back for far too long.

—You’ve got an incredible mouth —she murmured against my lips.

—And you’re soaked through —I shot back, looking at the dark patch spreading across her panties.

Lucía gave a short, almost breathless laugh and pushed me back into the chair.

—Then sit down and stop talking so much.

She dropped to her knees between my legs again without wasting a second. This time it wasn’t just her hand. She lowered her head and, with slow, sure movement, ran her tongue over the head, collecting the moisture already shining at the tip. The contact was so direct I had to throw my head back and let out a rough moan. Then she took my cock into her mouth without hesitation, warming it instantly with that wet, hot cavity that made me lose track of the office, the clock, and even my own name.

Her tongue coiled around the shaft while her mouth moved up and down with an obscene cadence. It wasn’t a rushed or clumsy motion; she sucked me with a mixture of hunger and control that had me on the edge in seconds. Every time she came down, the corners of her lips brushed my balls with a brief tug, and when she went back up she made a wet sound, scandalous in the silence of the office. One hand rested on her head, not pressing, just feeling the motion, and with the other I clung to the edge of the desk so I wouldn’t come too soon.

—Shit… Lu… like that…

She lifted her eyes a little, with my cock still buried halfway in her mouth, and looked up at me with an expression of complete satisfaction. Then she took me in again until I was almost in her throat, letting the tip strike the wet back of her mouth again and again. Saliva ran down her chin and over the thumb she’d brought to the base to jerk me off at the same time. The sight was brutal, maddening, perfect.

—You’re holding out well —she said as she let me go for a second, panting—. But don’t start thinking you’re some kind of hero yet.

—I’m not going to last much longer —I admitted, with no shame left at all.

—Good. I don’t want you to last much longer.

She straightened just enough to pull away completely, yanked off her bra, and sat back on the desk with her legs open, her lace panties soaked through, her pink, shiny cunt peeking out from the center. She made a two-finger gesture, inviting me closer. I obeyed, still half dazed, and she guided my hand to her sex.

—Touch me here —she said—. I want you to feel how you’ve got me going.

I slid two fingers along her slit, parting the soaked fabric and touching the hot wetness covering her from within. She was burning up. When I pushed my fingers a little deeper, she arched her back and a rough moan escaped her that lit me up even more. I pulled her panties aside completely and saw her naked from the waist down, legs open, her pussy fully on display, shining with slickness.

I put one finger in first, then two, and she met me with an immediate contraction, clamping down on me from the inside as if she wanted to keep me there. Her hips started moving with my hand, short and impatient, and her nails sank into my shoulder.

—More —she begged, already breathing hard—. Faster.

I sped up. My fingers went in and out of her cunt with a wet, filthy sound while my thumb rubbed her clit in hard circles. Lucía threw her head back and let out a long moan, the kind you never hear in offices, not even with the door locked. Her body tensed and then opened under me, soaking my hand with an ease that threw me off balance.

—Fuck, Marcos… like that… don’t stop.

I pulled her to the edge of the desk, shoved my pants all the way down, and she, never taking her eyes off me, moved her panties aside and guided the head to her entrance with a precision that was almost mocking. I felt the heat of her cunt pressed against the head of my cock and the moisture sliding along my shaft. When I pushed in, I entered slowly at first, feeling her take me with a hot, tight, delicious pressure. Lucía let out her breath in one sharp burst, grabbed my shoulders, and dug her heels into my lower back to force me to keep going.

—Give it to me —she said, her voice broken—. All of it.

I buried myself to the hilt. The impact of my hips against the edge of the desk echoed and she let out a muffled cry, biting her lip so she wouldn’t make more noise. I pulled out slowly and drove back in, harder this time, until the sound of our bodies started filling the office: skin against skin, broken breaths, the desk creaking under the weight of her back and the rhythm of my thrusts. Every time my cock slammed into her, Lucía arched and clawed at my shirt, wrinkling the fabric with her fingers as if she wanted to tear away more than my composure.

—That’s it —she panted—. Fuck me good. Come on, Marcos, eat my pussy already like you need it.

The phrase cut through me like a jolt. I gripped her hips and started fucking her harder, deeper, rougher, feeling her tits brush my chest and her cunt tighten around my cock with every thrust. She put a hand between her legs and started rubbing her clit while I fucked her from above, and that made her even more unhinged. Her breathing turned into a string of short moans, and I could feel myself getting closer to the edge with every hard slam, with every contraction of her muscles around my cock.

—I’m going to come on you —I warned her through clenched teeth.

—Do it —she answered, locking eyes with me—. I want to see you come in here or on my face. Whichever you can’t hold back from.

I couldn’t hold back at all. The last thrust drove me over the edge and I came inside her with a deep growl, burying myself to the hilt as my release filled her cunt in one spasm after another. Lucía moaned when she felt me flooding her, tightened her legs around my waist, and kept moving against my cock until she squeezed out the very last pulse. Some of the cum leaked out over the edge as I pulled my hips back slightly, mixed with the lube and her wetness, shining between her thighs.

She stayed still for a few seconds, breathing deeply, her skin flushed and her hair finally a little mussed. Then she took my face in both hands and kissed me again, slowly this time, still tasting both of us, as if she wanted to make sure I understood what had just happened. When she pulled back, her eyes were dark and she had a satisfied smile I had never seen before.

—That left you better than coffee —she murmured.

—Much better —I admitted, still shaking.

She got off the desk with insulting calm, adjusted her soaked panties, wiped a bit of cum from her thighs with a tissue, and put her bra and skirt back on. She did it all with that meticulous precision of hers, as if she’d just reviewed a spreadsheet and not fucked me on top of my desk.

—Let me know when you’re about to lose your mind again —she said, smoothing her blouse—. That way we can come prepared.

I laughed under my breath, still breathing unevenly and with my cock half soft after emptying myself inside her. I bent down, pulled up my pants, and composed myself as best I could while Lucía went back to her chair, opened her laptop, and resumed the day’s agenda as if the world were exactly the same.

And, in a way, it was. I walked into the boardroom half an hour later with my head strangely clear, my body still charged with the electricity of what had just happened, and a calm that bordered on insolence. I spoke clearly, answered every objection without hesitation, and closed the key points with a precision that even surprised me. Lucía was seated to my left taking notes, her ponytail immaculate and her blouse perfectly buttoned, as if half an hour earlier she hadn’t had my hands between her legs and my cock in her mouth.

They signed before one. The whole package, without a single modification. When they left the room, my partner slapped me on the back and said it had been the best presentation he’d seen in years. I nodded and looked for Lucía. She was already gathering the documents with that efficiency of hers that left no room for improvisation.

Back in the office, I closed the door and looked at her.

—Lu, thank you. Seriously. I don’t know how to thank you for this morning.

She stacked the papers on the desk and shrugged.

—You don’t have to thank me for anything. That’s what I’m here for. Whatever it takes to keep you functioning at one hundred percent.

She turned toward the door, but before opening it she paused for a moment and said without turning around:

—And if before the next important meeting you need help with your nerves again, you know where to find me.

She left the office and closed the door quietly. I was left alone, looking at the skyscrapers through the glass wall, with a smile I couldn’t wipe off my face.

That wasn’t the last time. In fact, it became something neither of us ever mentioned outside those four walls. Before every major negotiation, every board meeting with dizzying figures, Lucía would walk into my office fifteen minutes early, close the door, and ask me in that calm, professional voice if I needed a hand. I always said yes. And then we’d go out to the boardroom together as if nothing had happened, her with her perfect ponytail and me with the clearest head in the building.

No one ever found out what went on behind closed doors. The rumors kept going, of course, but they stayed just that: rumors. And every time someone asked Lucía whether there was anything going on between us, she’d lift an eyebrow, smile with those lips I now knew in a different way, and always answer the same thing:

—We’re just boss and assistant. Nothing more.