My Boss Discovered Tamara Behind the Suit

Vértice Capital’s offices occupied the seventeenth floor of a glass tower in the heart of Montevideo. At half past eleven at night, only the dim light in the director’s office, Esteban Vidal’s, was still on. Everything else was a desert of dark cubicles and corporate silence.

Tomás —that was the name he signed on every report, the name everyone called him— was bent over the glass table, going over the latest figures in the quarterly close. Fitted white shirt, loose tie, straight-cut black trousers. His body, after eighteen months of hormone treatment, had changed enough that every garment was an exercise in precarious balance.

The small but firm breasts pressed against the fabric. His hips had rounded just a little. His waist was marked in a way no men’s shirt could ever fully hide. His skin, thinner and more sensitive than ever, burned every time the cotton brushed his nipples, hardened by the air-conditioning.

Esteban was standing behind him, arms crossed over his broad chest. He was nearly six-foot-three, with the shoulders of a former rugby player and a deep voice that made the air in the office vibrate when he spoke. He smelled of dry wood, strong coffee, and that cold metal scent Tomás had learned to recognize as the smell of power.

—Tomás —Esteban said suddenly, lowering his voice—. Look at this.

He held out the tablet. On the screen, opened by accident, was a personal folder that should never have left his private cloud. A recent photo. Tomás —Tamara— in black lace underwear, in front of the mirror in her apartment bathroom. Soft breasts, pink nipples, the curve of her hip already feminine, the bulge still visible beneath the fabric but softened by hormones.

She had taken the photo for herself, to remind herself who she was when no one was looking. And now it was there, lit up between her boss’s huge fingers.

The silence was brutal.

Tomás felt his stomach knot into a fist. He waited for rejection. For the order to pack up his things. For the HR call first thing in the morning.

But Esteban didn’t move. He just drew a deeper breath. His dark eyes ran over the photo and then slowly lifted over the body in front of him, pausing at the way the shirt strained over the breasts, at the delicate line of the neck, at the lips that were fuller than they had been a year ago.

—You changed —he murmured, almost to himself—. There’s something about you I still haven’t been able to read for months.

Tomás swallowed. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure the other man could hear it. He took a step forward and broke the safe distance they always kept. Esteban’s scent —clean sweat, expensive cologne, man— wrapped around him like a hand laid against the throat.

—Tomás is the one who finishes your reports, Esteban —he said, and his voice came out with that new melody, deeper but with a softness it had never had before—. But the person standing in front of you now… the one who’s spent a year and a half rebuilding herself to be real… is called Tamara.

Esteban dropped the tablet onto the table. The hard sound rang through the empty office like a gunshot.

—Tamara —he repeated, savoring the name. His large hand lifted, hesitated for a second, then brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

The contact was electric. Tamara’s skin, sensitized by the hormones, prickled all over. A soft moan, almost inaudible, escaped her throat before she could hold it in.

—Holy shit… —he muttered—. You’re beautiful.

Tamara closed her eyes. The touch was so intense she felt heat flare immediately between her legs. Every nerve ending seemed to have multiplied over these months, and now they were all responding at once.

—I don’t know if this is a good idea —she whispered, but she was already moving closer, until her breasts brushed the man’s hard torso.

—Neither do I —he growled—. But I’ve been watching you for months and wondering what the fuck is going on with me. Now I know.

Esteban’s hand slid down Tamara’s neck and opened the first button of her shirt with impatient fingers. Then the second. Then the third. The fabric gave way and revealed pale skin, small perfect breasts, erect nipples.

—Shit… —he leaned down and took one in his mouth. Hot, wet, his tongue circled the nipple with a hunger he made no effort to hide.

—Ah… —Tamara arched her back and dug her nails into his shoulders—. Esteban… harder…

He sucked hard, noisily, while his other hand roamed her back and squeezed the curve of her ass over her trousers. Tamara trembled. Every lick sent direct jolts to her sex, already wet, throbbing against her underwear.

Esteban pulled away only to rip off his tie and shirt in one yank. His broad chest, covered in dark hair, gleamed under the office’s dim light. He shoved Tamara against the edge of the desk. The quarterly-close papers fell to the floor, forgotten.

—I want to see you all the way —he growled, struggling with her belt with clumsy, desire-drunk hands.

The trousers and underwear fell together. Tamara stood naked in front of him: a slim, delicate body, swollen breasts, narrow waist, soft hips. And between her legs, her half-erect member —still there, still sensitive— and beneath it, the warm, shiny flesh of her slit, wet, open.

Esteban dropped to his knees. Without saying a word, he spread her thighs and buried his face between them.

—Oh God… —Tamara moaned loudly when the thick tongue licked from bottom to top, slowly—. Yes… like that… keep going, please…

He growled into the wet flesh, while two thick fingers sank into her. The sound was obscene, wet, rhythmic, the splashing of his fingers going in and out while his mouth never stopped.

Tamara trembled, legs open on the desk, one hand tangled in the man’s thick hair, pulling him toward her.

This can’t be happening. Not here. Not with him.

But it was happening, and she didn’t want it to stop for anything in the world.

—I’m… I’m so sensitive… the hormones have me like this… ah… ah… I’m going to come…

Esteban looked up, his lips shining.

—Come in my mouth, Tamara. I want to taste you.

He pushed his fingers deeper, curling them against that spot that made her see stars. Tamara came with a muffled cry, her body shaking all over as a hot rush ran from the nape of her neck to the soles of her feet.

—Fuck… —she panted, still trembling.

Esteban got to his feet. His cock was thick, hard, ready. He rubbed it slowly against Tamara’s soaked crotch, sliding it between the swollen folds.

—You want this? —he asked, voice rough.

—Yes —Tamara looked him in the eyes, bold despite her trembling legs—. I want you to fuck me. I want you to use me, here, in this shitty office where nobody knows who I really am.

Esteban growled and pushed. The thick head parted her slowly, centimeter by centimeter. Both of them moaned at the same time.

—So tight… fuck, Tamara… you’re dripping…

—Deeper… fill me —she dug her nails into his back, pulling him closer.

When he was all the way inside, Esteban began to move hard. The desk creaked under their weight. The thrusts were hard, deep, the sound of their bodies crashing together filling the silent office.

—Ah… ah… yes… harder —she begged, her voice breaking.

Esteban grabbed her hair and yanked her head back while he fucked her without mercy.

—You’re mine now —he growled into her ear—. This office, this body… all mine. Do you understand?

—Yes… yes… I’m yours, Esteban… don’t stop…

He lifted her off the desk without pulling out, turned her, and bent her over the glass tabletop. Now he took her from behind, one hand on her hip, the other pinching a sensitive nipple. Tamara moaned without control, cheek pressed to the cold glass, seeing her own distorted reflection in the surface.

And for a second, through the haze of pleasure, she saw herself. Really saw herself. Her hair falling across her face, lips parted, eyes shut in pleasure. Nothing was left of the suit, the tie, the name she used by day. It was her. At last, it was her.

—I’m going to come —Esteban warned, his voice broken.

—Inside… fill me… I want to feel it —Tamara pleaded.

Esteban roared and buried himself to the hilt. His whole body tensed and he emptied into her with a deep groan that seemed to come from his chest. Tamara came again, screaming against the glass, while her own body, without anyone even touching it, surrendered over the desk.

They stayed like that, panting, sweat-soaked bodies pressed together. The office remained silent, as if nothing had happened in it, as if the walls were keeping the secret for themselves.

***

After a long minute, Esteban withdrew slowly. He turned Tamara carefully and sat her on the edge of the desk. He brushed a strand of hair off her face with a tenderness that contrasted with his force from a moment ago, and then he kissed her. Deep. Slow. As if they had all the time in the world.

—Tamara —he whispered against her mouth—. This doesn’t change anything… and it changes everything.

She smiled, exhausted, radiant.

—Tomorrow I’m going back to being Tomás in front of everyone —she said—. But when we’re alone… I’m going to be Tamara. Your Tamara.

Esteban stroked her sweat-damp hair.

—And I’m going to be the son of a bitch who takes care of you —he replied—. And the one who fucks you until you can’t walk straight.

They dressed in silence, exchanging loaded looks. Tamara buttoned her shirt button by button, feeling with every movement the warm memory of what had just happened, still throbbing between her legs.

***

The next day, at the nine o’clock meeting, Tomás was seated in his usual place, impeccable, his voice steady as he presented the quarter’s numbers. Esteban chaired the table with an impassive face, handing out orders and signing folders like any other Monday.

Nobody in that room suspected a thing. The managers nodded, the analysts took notes, the coffee went cold in the cups. It was a corporate morning identical to every other.

Only the two of them knew that, beneath the oak table, Esteban’s hand was discreetly brushing Tomás’s knee. And that between Tamara’s legs, the flesh was still throbbing, full of the hot, forbidden memory of her boss.

The secret was theirs. So was the desire. And for the first time in a long time, beneath that armor of suit and tie, Tamara felt completely alive.