The Old Civil Servant Ended Up on His Knees Before Me

Marcos parked double-parked, as always, because he was incapable of finding a decent spot. He looked at me with that crooked smile that promised long nights, even though it was broad daylight.

“Come on, Carla, don’t dawdle, I’ve got a meeting at eleven,” he said, and his hand slid up my thigh to the edge of my skirt.

“You know what these offices are like, love. A five-minute errand that steals your whole morning,” I replied, and gave him a quick kiss before getting out.

The cool air hit my bare legs. I was wearing a tight white strapless top and a navy skirt that wasn’t especially short, but which outlined every curve. A thin coat over my shoulders, more out of habit than because I was cold. I knew perfectly well the effect I had, and I liked it.

The government building was a gray block that smelled of old paper and machine coffee. I slung the coat over my arm and crossed the lobby with my head high, feeling the eyes settle on me. Men turning discreetly, women pressing their lips together. I went on, enjoying every one of them. Marcos always told me I was shameless, and he was right, but that morning I hadn’t come to flirt. I’d come to sort out something that could not wait.

The waiting room was an oven. Heat blasting, plastic chairs, resigned people. I had made an appointment, but it didn’t matter: more than an hour pinned to that seat, feeling my patience run out. The deadline closed the next day, and without that paperwork fixed, the surcharge was going to be brutal.

At last my number appeared on the screen. Office three.

Inside, a gray-haired man in his late fifties looked up from the computer. Old-fashioned tie, thick-framed glasses, that expression of someone counting the days until retirement. He barely looked at me.

“How can I help you?” he said in a flat voice.

I explained the reason and handed him the stack of documents. He leafed through them lazily, frowning.

“You’re missing a certificate. Without it, I can’t process anything. You’ll have to come back another day, with a new appointment.”

“But it’s urgent. If I book another appointment, I’ll miss the deadline. They told me on the phone this was enough.”

“What they told you on the phone is one thing. Procedure is another,” he replied, shrugging, already looking back at his screen.

I felt the knot in my throat. After all that effort, was everything going to fall apart because of one stamp? I was just about to beg when I noticed something. While he spoke, his eyes kept dropping. To my cleavage, to my legs crossed under the desk. He was terrible at hiding it. He was nowhere near as impassive as he pretended to be.

An idea forced its way into my head. Perverse, but tempting.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the edge of the desk so the top opened a little more. My eyes sought his, and now he didn’t know where to look.

“Look, it really is extremely important,” I said, lowering my voice until it became a whisper. “I don’t know what to do. If you gave me a hand… I’d know how to thank you. Very well.”

He swallowed audibly. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.

“I… I don’t know what you mean. The paperwork is what it is,” he muttered, but his gaze was no longer leaving me.

I slid my palm along my thigh, slowly, until it brushed the edge of my skirt. He followed the movement with his eyes.

“I mean I’m very grateful. You seem like a capable man. I’m sure with a couple of clicks that certificate can appear. And I’d make sure you felt very good about helping me.”

There was a long silence. His breathing had quickened. Then he nodded, once.

“Let’s say I can turn a blind eye to this paper,” he said, with a rougher voice than I’d expected. “But if you don’t do your part, tomorrow first thing this gets denied. Understood?”

“Understood. When and where?”

He scribbled something on a yellow sheet and slid it across the desk to me. An address and a time. His handwriting shook.

“Tonight. My place. And don’t forget the rest of the documents.”

I left the office with my heart racing and a smile I couldn’t suppress. Shame mixed with an excitement I hadn’t expected to feel.

“Did you get it?” Marcos asked as soon as I got back in the car.

“Let’s say yes. I had to make a little extra effort. And tonight I’ll have to make another,” I replied.

He looked at me, first confused, then with that spark I knew so well. He loved it when I told him everything. The more perverse, the better.

***

The address took me to the outskirts, to a semi-detached house with a garden cared for in meticulous detail. Marcos dropped me off around the corner with a “have fun and don’t leave anything out” that made me shrink between nerves and desire.

I was wearing a short black silk dress, with a neckline that left little to the imagination. My heels clicked on the asphalt as I approached the door. I took a deep breath. It was a strange feeling: part reluctance, part wild excitement running through me completely.

I rang the bell and the door opened almost at once, as if he’d been standing there waiting with his back against it.

It was him. But without the old-fashioned tie or the glasses, in a checked bathrobe and with his hair mussed, he looked like someone else. Smaller. More vulnerable. His eyes traveled over me from top to bottom with a mixture of greed and fear.

“Miss…” his voice was barely a thread.

“Carla,” I said. “You can call me Carla. Are you inviting me in, or are we staying out here, where it’s cold?”

He stepped aside, trembling. The hall was small and neat, smelling of floral air freshener. He shut the door behind me with a click that sounded like a sentence.

“You know why I’m here?” I asked, turning to face him.

“Yes… for the paperwork,” he stammered, but his eyes weren’t on the folder he was holding; they were on my mouth, my neck, my neckline.

“That’s already sorted, isn’t it?” I reminded him, sliding a finger from his chin down to his throat. “I’m here to do my part. Tell me your name.”

“Eduardo,” he said quickly, his cheeks burning.

“Good, Eduardo. Let’s see what you want.”

His trembling hand settled on my arm and climbed to my shoulder. With a boldness I wouldn’t have credited him with, his thumb brushed the edge of my neckline.

“I want… I want to feel like a man again,” he murmured. “It’s been a long time since anyone…”

“You will. But you’re going to do it my way,” I cut in, taking a step back and breaking the contact. His eyes followed me, hungry. “Take off the robe. And whatever you’ve got on underneath.”

He hesitated for a moment.

“You wouldn’t want me to change my mind about your certificate, would you?” I added, softening the threat with a smile.

With clumsy hands, he loosened the belt and let the robe fall. Underneath, an undershirt and some old briefs. His body had nothing of Marcos’s athletic build: prominent belly, thin arms, sloping shoulders. And yet, that fragility of his, so different from the arrogance with which he had treated me that morning, lit me up in a strange way.

“The rest too,” I ordered.

He obeyed slowly, as though each garment cost him a piece of pride. When he was naked, he kept his gaze fixed on the floor.

“Look at me, Eduardo,” I said, and he lifted his head, his eyes full of fear and desire in equal measure. “That’s better. Now, on your knees.”

He stared at me in astonishment, but didn’t protest. He sank onto the rug, trembling.

I sat on the sofa, lifted one leg, and rested my heel on his shoulder.

“Take off my shoes. Slowly. And tell me what you feel.”

With unsteady fingers he freed one foot, then the other. His lips settled on my instep and his tongue traced every toe with a devotion that sent a shiver through me, pure power.

“You’re… you’re incredible,” he murmured between kisses. “I don’t deserve this.”

“No, you don’t,” I said, and noticed how that, far from stopping him, only turned him on more. “But tonight you’re mine. Come up. I want your mouth on my legs.”

He climbed up on his knees, licking my calves, my knees, his hands finding their way along the insides of my thighs. I thought of Marcos, of how I’d tell him every detail, of how he’d be dying with desire as he listened. That thought melted me as much as Eduardo’s tongue inching upward, centimeter by centimeter.

“Higher,” I ordered. “Don’t hold back.”

He reached the edge of the lace, carefully moved it aside, and his tongue found my clit. Gentle at first, then firmer. Unexpected skill in a man who seemed so clumsy. A moan escaped my lips and I arched my back, tangling my fingers in his gray hair.

“Like that, Eduardo. Don’t stop.”

He doubled his efforts, breathing hard against my skin. Pleasure rose in waves, higher and higher, until my hips began moving on their own, searching for his mouth. When the orgasm hit me, it was like a whip crack. I clutched his head and let the convulsions shake me whole, while he kept going, attentive to every shudder, until I was breathless.

He straightened, his face shining and his eyes blazing.

“Satisfied?” he asked, hoarse.

“Only a little,” I replied, catching my breath. “Now it’s your turn to show me how much you want me. Lie down.”

He obeyed at once, collapsing onto the rug. I straddled him, my knees on either side of his body, and leaned down until I brushed against him.

“Ready?” I whispered.

“Yes, Carla. Please,” he begged, his hands reaching for my hips.

I lowered myself slowly, feeling full, hot. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. I started moving: first slowly, savoring every inch, then faster, my hips rising and falling with a ferocity that had him gasping. His hands clung to me, and I set the rhythm, the pace, everything. He controlled nothing, and that was exactly what we both wanted.

“Do you like it when I’m in charge?” I asked, coming down hard.

“Yes… I love it…” he gasped.

I felt his body tighten under mine, felt him nearing the edge. I sped up, chasing my own, until pleasure exploded in both of us almost at the same time. He arched with a muffled cry; I collapsed against his chest, trembling, my heart hammering.

We stayed like that for a while, catching our breath, the only sound our breathing.

“Shall we consider the matter closed?” I asked at last, sitting up.

“Closed,” he said, and then, with a shy smile, added, “Won’t you have any more errands pending for another day?”

I laughed as I got dressed. That night, Marcos was waiting to hear every detail, and I was dying to tell him.

***

The certificate appeared the next morning, stamped and in order, just in time. And although I never went back to that gray office, sometimes, when I pass by a government building, I smile thinking about how powerful a woman can feel when she knows exactly what she wants.