What I Imagined About My Coworker When I Went Back to the Office

When restrictions finally eased and we were asked to go back to the office, I took it with a strange mix of laziness and relief. Two years of working from home had gotten me used to a routine with no seven a.m. alarm, no packed subway, no putting on makeup for anyone. But they had also made me a little invisible, shut away between my screen and my bed, and deep down I needed to feel like I existed outside my house again.

The first day I arrived early, with that awkwardness of someone retracing a path they thought they had forgotten. The floor was still half empty. I recognized faces behind the masks, heard the same old jokes, and saw that confinement had taken its toll on all of us. I wasn’t the only one who had gone up a couple of sizes, and some, on the other hand, had changed for the better.

Like Damián.

Damián was the kind of coworker you always run into: the one who goes out of his way to help you, the one who makes you smile when everything gets complicated, the one who remembers your birthday better than your own family. A really good friend, the real thing. I loved him a lot, but he had never been my type, and besides, he’d been in a steady relationship for years. Even so, I had to admit it: working from home had agreed with him wonderfully. He was slimmer, more toned, with shoulders defined beneath his shirt.

He came up to my desk with his usual smile.

—What’s up, coworker? —he said, opening his arms.

—Come here, give me a hug —I said, standing up.

Damián wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his body. It wasn’t a perfunctory hug, one of those you give with your backs. He held me for real, hard, and pressed two kisses near my ear. At that moment a rush of heat went through my whole body, from my stomach to my cheeks, so sudden that I had to pull away a little so it wouldn’t show.

But what the hell is happening to me?

I didn’t give it much thought. I asked him about his partner, how he had handled the lockdown, about the team’s plans. We went up together to our department and caught up on the new procedures, a brief training on changed regulations, boring paperwork that swallowed the whole morning. We worked side by side, as we had so many times before, and yet I was different. Every time he leaned over my desk to point at something on the screen, I found myself more focused on his arm than on what he was saying.

By noon our first day was over. Damián came over again.

—Hey, could you give me a ride to the subway? I came without my car today.

—Of course, coworker. I’ll wait for you downstairs.

I dropped him off at the nearest subway entrance. Before getting out, he gave me another quick goodbye kiss on the cheek, and once again that stupid heat lit up my face. I gripped the steering wheel and pulled off before he could read my expression.

On the way home I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Damián had been my work buddy forever. I had crossed paths with him in a thousand projects, at company dinners, in impossible early mornings, and never had my body reacted like that. He wasn’t the kind of man I pictured myself in bed with. He was my best friend. And yet there I was, stopped at a traffic light, squeezing my thighs together without even realizing it.

***

I got home with my T-shirt stuck to my back. The strain of going back to the office, the traffic, the thick midday air: I was drenched in sweat. I exchanged a couple of sentences with my sister, who was in the kitchen, and went straight to my room to take off my work clothes.

I needed a shower. I turned on the tap, waited for the water to run warm, and stepped under it. I let it fall over me for a good while without moving, my forehead pressed to the tiles. I loved that feeling of water sliding over my naked body, running down my chest, gliding over my belly to my pussy, shaved except for a small triangle I always left there on a whim.

While I soaped myself, I couldn’t get Damián out of my head. The hug. The pressure of his chest against mine. That pleasant, unexpected feeling that had swept through me in the middle of the office, in front of everyone.

Without thinking too much about it, my hands started playing with my breasts. I soaped them slowly, feeling my nipples harden under the foam, and one hand drifted on its own down to my sex. I ran my fingers over it, just a brush, and a small moan slipped out of my mouth.

Then I remembered I wasn’t alone at home.

I had to stop. When I masturbate I like to let myself go completely, and I’m the kind who moans very loudly. With my sister on the other side of the hallway, there was no way. I shut off the tap almost angrily, dried off, and put on a pair of panties and a long T-shirt, one of those that barely cover anything, and left the bathroom with my body still burning.

I went to the kitchen to see what my sister had prepared for lunch. We ate together, chatted about anything and everything, but I was still horny, with that sticky frustration of having started something and not being able to finish it. I just needed a while alone.

***

The afternoon made it easy for me. Mid-afternoon, my sister mentioned that she was meeting a mutual friend for drinks and asked if I wanted to come along.

—Ugh, not today —I said, pretending to be tired—. I have to go over some notes and get a couple of work things ready. Another day.

She kissed me, grabbed her bag, and left. I waited a few minutes by the window, in case she came back for something she had forgotten, like she always did. She didn’t return. Once I was sure I had the whole house to myself, I almost ran to my room.

This time I wanted to enjoy it for real, without rushing, in the most intense way possible. And for that I had my trusted ally.

I opened the bedside drawer and took out my favorite toy for occasions like this: my electric toothbrush.

Yes, an electric toothbrush. I discovered it by chance in my teens, thanks to a friend who told me about it between laughs at a sleepover, and ever since then it has accompanied me through more than one solo session. The smooth handle, the steady vibrations, the perfect size: it’s discreet, always within reach, and nobody suspects a thing.

I threw my T-shirt to the floor and lay down on the bed. I closed my eyes and let my hands start again where they had left off in the shower. I stroked my breasts, squeezed them, played with my nipples, and this time I didn’t hold back from imagining.

They were Damián’s hands.

I imagined it was him kneading them, squeezing them with that calm strength I had felt in the hug. One of my hands slid down my belly and slipped inside my panties, and I began to play with the little triangle of hair. I love that feeling, slowly running my fingers over that small patch, drawing out the wait. Then one finger started roaming over my sex, which was already wet and very hot.

It was time to switch on my peculiar toy. I turned it on at the lowest speed and pressed it over my panties, right on top of my clit. The fabric dampened the vibration a little, just enough for the first wave to come slowly, restrained, a promise of what was coming.

I started moaning without holding back. Finally alone, finally with no concern for the noise. The vibrations on my clit were incredible even through the fabric.

I yanked my panties off and threw them away. With my legs spread wide and my hips slightly raised, I ran the toothbrush handle over my entrance, up and down. The wetness made everything easier, and the direct contact, with no barrier, drew a long sigh from me.

I needed more. I turned it up to the next speed and rubbed my clit with the tip, in circles, pressing a little. Then I pointed the end of the handle toward my entrance. I needed to feel it inside, imagine it was him filling me, and little by little I began to slide it in.

The first moan was so loud it surprised even me. Others followed, one after another, without pause. I was at my peak. As the toothbrush went in and out with its own rhythm, my other hand rubbed my clit faster and faster, and the two pleasures mixed until I could no longer tell one from the other. I thought about the hug, about his chest, his kisses near my ear, about how forbidden all of it was precisely because it was him.

My moans became more frequent, louder, until they filled the empty room. I arched my back. A powerful wave shot through me from top to bottom, from my thighs to the nape of my neck, forcing me to let out a muffled cry as I clenched my legs over my hands to keep the pleasure inside me for as long as possible.

I stayed still, panting, with the toothbrush still buzzing between my fingers. I turned it off. I needed to catch my breath. My legs were still trembling, the sheets were wet beneath me, and a stupid smile had settled on my face.

I laughed to myself, staring at the ceiling. The next day I would have to see him again, sit next to him, pretend nothing had happened. Damián would still be my best friend, the one who went out of his way to help me, the one with the easy smile. And I would keep this secret to myself, this small detour of the imagination that no one needed to know about.

After all, fantasies don’t hurt anyone. Going back to the office had only given me one good reason to want to get up early.