I Took Off My Underwear in the Middle of the Notary’s Office for Him

We had already had enough encounters to know that what was happening between us was not something either of us could switch off by sheer willpower. Each time had been better than the last, and that had me completely lost over that man. It was enough just to be near him for the world to stop, for everything else to become background noise. He managed something no one else had ever managed before: he made it so that only he and I existed, even when we were surrounded by people.

That morning I was going to see him again, and I was nervous, as I always was whenever I knew I’d have him just a few centimeters away. It wasn’t an unpleasant kind of nervousness. It was that anticipation that settles in the stomach and slowly, gradually, turns into something else. I had promised myself I’d keep my composure. I already knew, even before leaving home, that promise wasn’t going to last.

I chose a new dress, bottle green, fitted at the waist and with a discreet neckline that hinted without showing too much. I paired it with matching high-heeled sandals and spent more time than necessary putting on makeup. While I looked at myself in the mirror, I realized I was getting ready for him, for him alone, even though the appointment was, in theory, nothing more than a mind-numbingly boring errand.

The signing was at twelve on the dot, at the notary’s office downtown. Mateo was finalizing the purchase of his new house and I was accompanying him. A perfect excuse, wrapped up in official papers and formal handshakes.

***

I arrived five minutes early and there he was, waiting at the door. He wasn’t alone: his mother was with him, an elegant woman with a kind smile who greeted me with two kisses and a comment about how beautiful I looked. I returned the courtesy, thinking to myself that if that lovely woman knew even half of what her son and I did when nobody was watching, the smile would freeze on her face. If she knew how her son fucked me, how he spread my legs and buried his cock to the hilt while I screamed for him not to stop, there wouldn’t be any polite comment worth a damn.

When I gave Mateo the customary two kisses in greeting, I let my lips barely brush his cheek. I caught the scent of his cologne, that mix of wood and citrus I had memorized, and the tickle of his beard against my skin. At that instant, with my face pressed to his, he squeezed my hand. Just that. A brief pressure, almost imperceptible to anyone else.

For me it was like a jolt. The tingling ran through my entire body, my nipples hardened under the dress, and I felt my cunt start to get wet, just like every time his skin touched mine, and I had to take a deep breath so it wouldn’t show on my face.

***

The notary made us wait. The three of us sat in a small room with leather chairs and a glass table, his mother chatting cheerfully about curtains and furniture, completely oblivious to the electric current running between her son and me. I nodded, smiled, pretended to be interested, but inside I was somewhere else.

Then my phone vibrated in my lap.

—You look way too hot —I read—. Stop looking at me like that, you’re driving me crazy. I’m getting hard just looking at you.

I looked up for a second, just enough to meet his eyes, and then I went back to the screen.

—I’m not looking at you any particular way —I typed.

—Yes, you are, and you know it. Are you nervous?

—A little.

—What are you wearing under the dress?

I hesitated. I felt my cheeks burn as I typed the answer.

—A black thong.

—And is it already wet?

—Soaked —I replied, pressing my thighs together.

The answer came almost instantly, a single word that stole my breath.

—I want it.

I looked at him. He smiled, slowly, with that unbearable confidence of his. And I, who had left home determined to behave, got up from the chair.

—Excuse me for a moment, I’ll be right back —I said, in the steadiest voice I could fake.

His mother nodded without giving it a thought. Mateo didn’t take his eyes off me for a single second.

***

What are you doing? Are you really going to do it?

I walked down the hallway toward the ladies’ room asking myself that with every step, but my feet weren’t obeying reason. I was way too turned on by all of it: the game, the risk, the idea that he was controlling every move from his chair without even raising his voice. I wanted to play along. I wanted to win.

I closed the bathroom door, leaned against the sink, and looked at myself in the mirror. My pupils were dilated and I had a flush that wasn’t from makeup. I slowly lifted the dress, slid the thong down my legs, and when I pulled it away I saw how the black fabric was sticking to my fingers, marked by a wet stain from my own arousal. Before thinking twice, I hung it from the inside doorknob. The black fabric swaying there, ridiculous and shameless, soaked with me, made me laugh nervously.

Before pulling my dress back down, I slipped my hand between my legs. I was dripping. I ran two fingers over the lips of my cunt, swollen and slick, and felt my clit throb just from being touched. I would have shoved my fingers deep inside right there if I hadn’t known he was waiting for me outside to do it much better. I sucked my fingers, tasting myself, imagining it was his tongue, and adjusted my dress. The fabric brushed directly against my skin, and the sensation of wearing nothing underneath, with my soaked cunt rubbing against the hem of the dress, gave me goosebumps. I came out of the bathroom with my heart pounding in my throat.

***

I went back to the office trying to look normal, though every step reminded me of what I had just done. When I opened the door, I noticed Mateo shifting a little in his seat, expectant, trying to read how far the game had gone from my face. I sat down with my legs tightly together and texted him without looking at him.

—You’ve got it hanging from the women’s bathroom door handle. It’s soaking wet.

I watched him read the message. He smiled, ran his tongue over his lower lip, and stood up.

—I’m going to the bathroom for a second, this notary is taking forever —he said to his mother, who barely looked up.

I followed him with my eyes until he disappeared down the hall. A few seconds later, my phone vibrated again.

—This smells so good. I’m hard just from smelling you. I’m putting it in my mouth —he wrote from there.

I bit my lip so I wouldn’t laugh, and at the same time I felt a lash of heat between my legs. Imagining him in that bathroom, my thong in his hand, sucking on the damp fabric while he rubbed his cock over his trousers, sent a heat rising through my chest and straight down to my cunt. When he came back, he opened the office door just in time to catch me blushing and smiling like a teenager.

He sat down beside me and wrote:

—How are you?

—Horny. I’m leaking —I answered, not bothering to hide anything anymore.

—I want to check. Turn a little toward me.

***

I did. I turned my body just a little, pretending to get comfortable in the chair, and positioned myself so that the glass table hid us partly from his mother, who at that moment was looking through some brochures. I felt his hand slide under the hem of my dress, his fingers slowly making their way between my thighs until they found me. I had to dig my nails into my own knee not to react.

His fingers stroked me with calculated slowness, just enough to drive me crazy without getting anywhere. He traced the slit of my cunt from top to bottom, parting my lips, and I felt his fingers instantly become slick with my wetness. I was so drenched they slid easily, and that seemed to please him, because I could tell he was smiling without looking at me. He circled his middle finger over my swollen clit, drawing the slowest circles, making me clench my jaw. Then he lowered his hand and pushed one finger into me, slowly, all the way in. A barely audible gasp slipped out of me, and I disguised it with a cough.

He thrust the finger in and out with the same infuriating calm, curling it inside me, hitting that spot that made me see stars. He added a second finger, and now I could feel them working their way into my tight cunt, the friction of his knuckles against my entrance bringing out little spasms I had to choke down by clenching my teeth. I was breathing through my nose, slowly, holding back every sound that threatened to escape, with my panties—ones I no longer even had on—dripping onto what was now the chair itself.

I can’t take much more of this.

I needed him all the way. I needed him to touch me without restraint, to kiss me, to feel his tongue in my mouth, his body against mine, his hard cock driving into me to the hilt. I wanted him to lay me out on that fucking glass table, spread my legs wide open, and fuck me right there, in front of the glass, in front of everyone. Everything that damn office, with its glass table and its late notary, kept me from having. But what was forbidden had its own flavor, and I admit part of me didn’t want it to end.

What finished me off was seeing him pull his fingers back with complete naturalness and bring them to his mouth, sucking them slowly, one by one, in front of everyone there, like someone savoring something sweet. He did it without haste, looking toward the wall, as if nothing were happening, tasting my cunt on his tongue with a tiny smile. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. My face and my body were starting to give me away, and he knew it. He knew me too well. He knew exactly how badly I wanted him, how much I needed his cock inside me.

***

At last the notary appeared, with his folder and his apologies for the delay. The three of us sat down, now in proper formality, and the procession of pages, stamps, and signatures began. I barely listened; I nodded mechanically while trying to catch my breath and cool the heat climbing up my neck, while I felt a thread of my own wetness sliding down the inside of my thigh.

At one point I had to stand beside Mateo to show him a document that also needed his signature. I leaned over the table, explaining where he had to put his initials, and felt his hand sliding along the inside of my thigh again. It moved upward slowly, stroking me little by little while I tried to keep my voice steady and point to the correct line on the paper.

—Here, and also on this page —I said, and my voice trembled slightly on the last word.

His hand kept climbing, millimeter by millimeter, until it nearly reached my groin. When his fingers finally brushed my bare cunt again from behind, taking advantage of my bent-over position, a spasm escaped me that I had to hide by pretending I’d dropped a pen. He pushed his finger in to the knuckle, the palm of his hand grazing my ass, and worked it slowly inside me while the notary looked for another page. I closed my eyes for a second. I needed him to keep going. I needed him to finish what he had started, to bring me to orgasm right there, with his hand buried to the hilt. But when he realized the situation was about to get completely out of hand, when my broken breathing was becoming too obvious, he yanked his hand away, casually wiped his fingers on his trousers, and signed the document with infuriating calm, as if nothing had happened.

I went back to my seat with trembling legs and my cunt throbbing, empty, demanding more.

***

When it was all over, we said goodbye at the notary’s door. His mother was leaving in her car, and we each had to go back to work, to pretend that that morning had been nothing more than a routine errand.

We exchanged the customary two kisses, this time in front of his mother and half the office staff. I took advantage of the gesture to give him a discreet squeeze over his trousers, and there it was: his hard cock, swollen, outlined beneath the fabric, throbbing under my fingers. Just to make sure I wasn’t the only one who had spent the whole morning on the edge. I wasn’t. Not even close. With my lips just centimeters from his ear, I whispered:

—I adore you. And I want that cock inside me now.

I felt him shudder. I got into my car with my heart racing, with my cunt leaking against the seat, and my phone already vibrating in my hand.

—I’ll swing by your place later to finish what we started. I want to eat your cunt until you scream, fuck you against the wall, and come inside you —he wrote.

—I’m aching for it. Come split me in two —I replied.

—I want you.

—More than you do —I wrote, and started the car knowing that afternoon was going to be anything but boring.