Charles, intelligent as he is, caught on quickly. “Of course, this way.’’
I followed him quietly, shooting glances around me absent-mindedly, aware that I had no clue what I was to do once we got there, but I could only focus on one thing: getting to his office.
As we came to a halt, it dawned on me: Charles works in a glass office. How very modern, architecture-firmy of them.
He smirks at me, probably at my stricken expression, and invites me to sit down.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” He didn’t ask for my name, good.
“Well…” I looked wildly around, thrown off by this glass box that spoiled what I had in mind.
He seemed to enjoy my agitated state. He clicked a button on some sort of a remote, stood up, and pulled me to standing. My heart was in my throat. I looked around and realized that he had switched his smart glass on, blocking us from view.
“Shhh”, he whispered, to let me know that although we cannot be seen, we can certainly be heard.
I took his hand and guided him underneath my skirt, and he let out an appreciative “Oh” at my lack of underwear.
This released the rush of lust needed to push him into my chair and undo his fly, and start stroking his thang, a very nice one, might I add.
We fucked silently, quickly, him in the chair and I on top, until I rode to a shattering climax.
I got up, straightened my skirt, buttoned up my blouse, walked to the door, and threw over my shoulder: “See you in the elevator” and left.
Needless to say, Charles waited for me in the lobby the next morning.