My Experienced Business Partner Stayed the Night With Me

This happened just a few weeks ago, and it still surprises me when I think back on it. I’d gone months without sitting down to write, because the start of the year in my line of work leaves no free gap, but what happened that cold night was worth telling.

The Friday before, our consultancy held its year-end lunch. We booked a private room in a client’s restaurant and gathered there the eighteen people who, one way or another, keep the company moving: the women in the office, my two partners — Lorena and Renata — the girl from the real-estate agency we work with, the insurance agent, the two cleaning ladies, and a couple of friends who always lend a hand. Twenty women and me. Same as always.

It was a long, excellent lunch, but I kept myself spotless. I didn’t have a single drink too many, I didn’t flirt with anyone, I didn’t allow myself even one inappropriate look. With so many eyes on me, my role was strictly professional, though more than once I would have liked to let my guard down. I know those dates are a magnet for slip-ups between coworkers, especially after company dinners, and precisely for that reason I was twice as careful.

We wrapped up around six. After the goodbyes, instead of going home, I stopped by the office to drop off some papers. I went down to the garage and was surprised to find Renata’s car parked in her space. It was nearly eight on a Friday evening.

I went upstairs. On the floor, very soft music was playing through the sound system, the lights were off, and there was only a glow under her office door. I knocked twice with my knuckles.

“May I?” I asked.

“Come in,” she said, without looking up from the screen.

“Renata, what are you still doing here? Why didn’t you go home?”

“Damián went to the mountains with his friends for three days, he’s back Tuesday.” She said it seriously, almost without inflection. “No one’s waiting for me, and an empty house suffocates me. I’d rather finish these balance sheets and leave the accounts closed for the first half of the month.”

“You’re a work addict. We come back from lunch and you lock yourself in here.” I gave her a light tap on the shoulder. “You’re like a coffee maker.”

“Look, look at this.” She turned the monitor toward me.

I stared at the figures for the year. I hadn’t expected those numbers. I knew we billed well for our size, but the control my two partners exercise over every expense is on another level: they squeeze every item and scold me if I go a single euro over budget. Fierce, but brilliant.

“Fuck, that’s good,” I said.

“And what’s coming. If the projects hold, next year we’ll grow ten percent. It’ll be the year we consolidate, we deserve it.” She smiled at me with that confidence I’ve always liked in her.

“Thanks to you both. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me professionally.”

That was when I really looked at her. Seated in her armchair, in a bottle-green dress that fit her body closely, the neckline hinted at far more than it showed. Her straight blonde hair fell down either side of a face that, at thirty-eight, was better than ever. Two alert blue eyes that at that moment held my gaze longer than was wise.

“What are you looking at?” she asked, touching the neckline, half in jest.

“Renata, I’m not made of stone. What do you want me to look at?”

“You’re hopeless.” She was laughing, but she didn’t look away.

“I’m a good boy. If you weren’t my partner, and if you hadn’t been with Damián for so many years, I don’t know what would happen.”

“Nothing would happen. We’ve known each other eight years and nothing ever happened.”

Her hand rested on the wood of the desk. I looked at her again and, for some reason, thought of Lorena. For years I promised myself I would respect my two partners above all else, until Lorena, on the day she turned forty-five, asked me for a ride in my car as her birthday present and we ended up breaking that promise in a dirt lot on the outskirts. I sinned, yes, and discovered I liked it far too much. With Renata, temptation had been there for longer, but I had never dared go that far.

“That’s true,” I said, and laid my left hand over hers. “We’ve been just friends for too long.”

I thought she’d pull her hand away. She didn’t. She turned hers and intertwined her fingers with mine. We held each other’s gaze for a second too long. Slowly, without letting go of me, she stood up. We were both standing then, face to face, and she hugged me.

“Martín,” she murmured against my neck, “I had many doubts when I left my steady job to get into this with you. And today I’m the happiest woman in the world. I come to work eager. Thank you for the way you treat us.”

It was a real hug, tight, grateful. She didn’t separate her body while I answered, and her tits were still crushed against my chest, soft and warm beneath the dress. God, how hot this woman is.

“Thank you, Renata. You’re very important to me, you know that.”

She rested her face to one side and squeezed me again. When she pulled back, her eyes sought mine and there were no more words. She closed her eyelids, brought her lips closer, and I couldn’t stop myself. We melted into a long, deep kiss, loaded with everything we’d been keeping quiet for years. My tongue slid slowly into her mouth and she met it with hers, sucking on it hungrily, nibbling my lower lip with the heat of someone who’s been holding back for too long. A cold December afternoon, in a dark office, after a lunch where we hadn’t even sat near each other.

***

We stayed pressed together, she leaning against the edge of the desk and my body against hers. My cock went hard all at once, trapped sideways inside my trousers, pulling at the fabric until it bothered me, and I lowered my hand to adjust it without stopping kissing her. Renata noticed. She barely parted her mouth, drew breath, and spoke in a hoarse voice.

“I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time. You’ve got me soaking wet, Martín, I swear.”

I didn’t answer. I slipped one hand to her back and the other to her hips while the kiss went on. She lowered hers, slowly, until she found the bulge in my trousers, and when she palmed me through the fabric her eyes flew open.

“Fuck, how hard you are. It’s rock solid.”

“That’s what you do to me.”

I unbuttoned the top button of her dress and pulled the neckline down enough to free her tits from her lace bra. They were round, white, with nipples already hard as stones, pink and taut. I took one whole in my hand, bent down, and put the nipple in my mouth. I sucked it hard, tugging with my lips, biting it a little with my teeth, and she clutched my nape and pressed me to her chest, breathing in short gasps.

“Like that, keep going, don’t stop.”

I moved to the other nipple and did the same, while with my free hand I lifted the hem of her dress. I slipped my hand under the fabric and raised it to the edge of the desk. I pushed the thread of her underwear aside and ran my palm over her cunt; she was soaking, hot, swollen, her lips parted from how wet she was. I slid two fingers into her and she let out a cut-off moan, throwing her head back. I found her clit with my thumb and rubbed it in circles while I fingered her, feeling her cunt contract around me.

“Wait, wait, stop,” she panted. “If you keep doing that I’ll come right now, and I want to come with your cock inside me.”

“Take off your panties.”

She barely lifted herself off the edge, hooked the elastic with her fingers, and tugged them down her legs. They fell to the floor, a small scrap of soaked black fabric. She opened my belt, yanked my trousers and boxers down in one pull, and my cock sprang free, hard, throbbing against my stomach. She grabbed it with her hand and squeezed it, squeezing my balls too with the other.

“I want us to do it here. Now. Fuck me already.”

“Wait, let me find a condom.”

“No. Like this. Bare. I want to feel you, I want to feel you cum inside me.”

I didn’t argue. I pulled her closer to the edge, spread her legs with a shove, and ran the head of my cock over the lips of her cunt, up and down, soaking it in her own juices. She rocked her hips toward me, impatient. When I found the entrance, I pushed slowly and felt her receive me centimeter by centimeter, felt her walls opening with each small thrust of my hips, felt her squeezing me, hot, wet, tight. I drove all the way in and held still for a moment, enjoying having her pinned on me.

“My God,” she whispered, “you’re enormous, you fill me completely.”

She threw her head back, moved her hips toward me and began to moan softly, biting her lip so she wouldn’t make noise in that empty building.

I took my time. I held her by the hips and set a slow, deep rhythm, pulling almost all the way out and pushing back in slowly, all the way in, searching for the spot that made her tremble. Every thrust lifted her slightly from the desk, and her tits spilled from the dress, bouncing in time. I wasn’t in a hurry: I wanted her to remember that first time for weeks, not minutes.

“Faster,” she asked against my ear. “Fuck me harder, don’t stop, like that, like that.”

I sped up. I grabbed her ass with both hands, pulled her against me with every thrust, and started driving into her hard, wet, slapping my balls against her ass. Her face changed completely, her moans turned into shorter and shorter gasps, the sound of our flesh colliding filling the dark office. She grabbed my shirt, ripped off two buttons without realizing it, and when I felt her tightening and shuddering against my cock I knew she was coming. She clung to my shoulders, dug her nails in, and let out a long, sharp moan that broke free from her control. Her cunt throbbed around me, squeezing me in waves, sucking on me as if it didn’t want to let go. I held out until she stopped trembling, without finishing myself, holding her while she caught her breath, my cock still buried to the hilt.

I hugged her and kissed her slowly, saying nothing. I didn’t want her to feel used; I wanted her to feel desired. I pulled out carefully — the exit made a wet, obscene little sound that made both of us smile — and when our eyes met I saw them fill with tears. She turned her face away, buried her head in my shoulder, and started crying silently, little sobs against my ear.

I didn’t rush her. I stroked her back and her hair until she calmed down. I knew a thousand things were colliding in her head at once: what had just happened, Damián, the fear that she’d made a mistake. I let her let it all out, without hurry, without pressure.

***

I have a small apartment on the top floor of the building, an old rest area that over the years I turned into a refuge. We went up. Renata went downstairs first to her car to make some calls and, when she came back, found me coming out of the shower.

“Do you feel like coffee?” she asked from the kitchen.

I hugged her from behind while she put the pod into the machine and moved her hair aside to kiss her neck. I slid my hands around to the front and grabbed her tits over the dress, squeezing them, and she leaned back against me, rubbing her ass against the cock that was hardening again.

“If I drink coffee, I’ll have you standing all night,” I told her. “And with you next to me, I make no promises.”

“Men are so dramatic.” She laughed. “In movies they spend the whole night fucking. In real life I never experienced that, that’s why I say it.”

“Never?”

“Never. I had two calm relationships and Damián is a good guy, but he does his own thing. He comes, rolls over, and falls asleep. I never spent a night like this.”

I turned her around and kissed her, pressing her against my cock. She’s asking me for exactly that.

“Then get ready,” I told her, “and face the consequences.”

We went to the bedroom. I undressed her slowly, with no rush. I pulled the dress off over her head, unfastened her bra and let it fall, and I stood for a moment looking at her naked in the low light of the bedside lamp: the big firm tits, the narrow waist, the wide hips, the blond trimmed pubis, the cunt still shining from earlier. I laid her on the bed and knelt between her legs. I ran my tongue from her navel to her pubis, nibbling her skin, and when I reached her cunt I parted her lips with my fingers and ate her out slowly. I slid my tongue flat from her perineum to her clit, from bottom to top, over and over, until I saw her arch. I sucked her clit with my lips, bit it softly, licked it in circles, while I slid two fingers inside her and searched for the spot deep within, pressing toward her navel.

“Oh God, oh yes, yes, there, don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop.”

She came the first time gripping the headboard, arching her whole back, closing her thighs around my face. I gave her a minute and went back to work: I kept sucking her clit with my fingers inside her, not letting her breathe, and she came again, back to back, surprised by her own body, her legs trembling and a moan she wasn’t even trying to hide anymore. When I rose and kissed her with the taste of her pleasure still on my lips and chin, she licked my mouth over and over, unrestrained, hotter than ever, sucking my lips, my tongue, the chin wet with her juices.

“Give it to me, put your cock in me already,” she panted. “I need it.”

I got on top of her. She spread her legs and guided me with her hand to the entrance. I pushed and filled her again in one thrust, and she let out a muffled cry, pressing my back. The first time I let go was with her underneath me, legs up, resting on my shoulders, both of us kissing while I pushed harder and harder, deeper and deeper, giving her everything. I felt my balls tighten, the orgasm rising from the root. As soon as she felt the first pulse inside, the first hot jet against the back, she opened her eyes, opened her mouth, and came at the same time as me, convulsing, squeezing my cock in spasms that drew out every last drop. I emptied into her with four or five slow thrusts, growling against her neck, and she moaned with each one, her panting mixing with mine into something that sounded like a single voice.

“Jesus,” she murmured afterward, still trembling, with my cock still inside her. “I didn’t know this existed. I’d never come at the same time with anyone.”

We rested for a while in each other’s arms, covered with the duvet, stroking one another like two lovers who wanted to stop time. My semen dripped between her thighs and she didn’t care. That was when she opened up.

“I have to confess two things to you,” she said, her face pressed close to mine, not looking at me. “I had never wanted sex this way. And this has been, without a doubt, the best night of my life.”

“Don’t thank me,” I answered. “I thank you.”

We started again more than once that night. Half an hour later I had her on all fours, her ass up, her face turned into the pillow, and I was fucking her from behind, gripping her hips, watching her white ass move against my pelvis with each thrust. I gave her a soft slap on the right cheek and she let out a new moan, different, rougher.

“Another,” she begged. “Again, give me one more.”

I gave her two more, one on each cheek, and her skin flushed red. She came like that, with her face buried in the pillow so she wouldn’t scream, shaking her ass against my cock like a madwoman.

At two in the morning I had her kneeling in front of the wardrobe mirror, watching the whole scene reflected back: my hand closed in her blond hair, pulling her head back, her tits swaying with every thrust, her mouth open moaning without restraint, my cock going in and out of her soaked cunt at the level of the reflection. With my other hand I found her clit and rubbed it in circles while I drove into her from behind. She watched herself in the mirror, saw herself being fucked, and that turned her on even more.

“Look at me like that, look at me fucking you,” I told her in her ear. “Look how filthy you are.”

“I’m yours, fuck, I’m yours, don’t stop.”

When her cunt started squeezing me as if it wanted to keep me inside, I couldn’t hold out, and we came together for the second time that night. I spilled inside her again, feeling her convulse all over, seeing everything in the mirror, and I stayed there a while, buried in her, my hands on her tits, kissing the sweat-damp nape of her neck.

“I can’t take any more,” she said, laughing, wrecked, when I pulled out of her and a thread of semen ran down the inside of her thigh. “You’re destroying me. I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

We slept barely three hours. I always wake at dawn, there’s no way around it, so I made coffee and some toast while she slowly opened her eyes, dazed, beautiful, naked among the tangled sheets.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“I’m still in a trance,” she murmured, and tugged me down to kiss me.

We had breakfast calmly and, by mid-morning, after she mounted me slowly, straddling me, moving her hips above me in slow circles, hands on my chest, head thrown back with her hair falling down her back, and she came once more squeezing my cock with her cunt, I lifted her carefully before I finished. I went looking for the ending I’d been saving all night. I laid her on her back, knelt over her chest so that my cock was above her face, and she understood without my saying anything. She opened her mouth, grabbed me with her hand, and started sucking me slowly, sucking my head with her lips, passing her tongue under it, taking me in deep until she choked on it. I held her head and pushed a couple of times softly, looking at her blue eyes lifted up toward me, her mouth full of my cock. When I felt I couldn’t hold out any longer, I asked permission with my eyes and she nodded without taking me out, and I let go. I spilled into her mouth everything I had left, two, three, four hot bursts that filled her tongue and overflowed at the corner of her lips. She swallowed almost against her will, went red for a moment, wiped the rest with her finger and licked it, and when she finished she couldn’t hold back her laughter.

“This is the first time I’ve done this,” she said. “And you didn’t warn me, asshole.”

“There’s always a first time. And you’re gorgeous like that.”

We said goodbye a couple of hours later. She went to lunch with her parents, as she does every Saturday.

On Sunday I sent her a message and she replied that she’d loved what happened. Nothing else.

It’s been a month since that night and, I’ll be honest, everything is still exactly the same as before. Renata hasn’t hinted at anything again, and in the office we act like two partners who respect each other. But I’m an old dog and I know how to read a look: something changed inside her. I notice it in the way she falls silent to think, in the way she watches me when she thinks I can’t see her. I’m not going to pressure her or set a trap. I’m going to wait, no rush. And I’m convinced that this story, sooner or later, will have a second part.