Lucy leaned her forehead against the cool tile, water cascading down her back. The ache between her legs was immediate, her body responding to memory as much as sensation.
Images from the previous night crowded behind her closed eyelids: the run in the park, the crisp air, and the moment she fell a few steps behind James, pretending fatigue. Pedro, moving like lightning, casually closed the distance between them. Their conversation, masked by the rhythm of pounding feet and the crowd noise, would have sounded harmless to anyone listening. But when Pedro leaned in, his voice barely more than a breath, Lucy felt the full weight and command of his words:
“You don’t have sex until we meet again.”
The sentence stuck; a command masked as a soft caress. Then, as if to tease her more, he sped up, passed just next to James, and disappeared into the crowd.
Now, as hot water trailed over her skin, that denial ignited a forbidden thrill, quickening her pulse. The ache grew impossible to ignore, and her hand slipped lower—defiant and desperate. She closed her eyes, picturing his hand replacing her own. A gasp escaped her lips, her back arching as her fingers danced their magic. Two fingers deep inside, she remembered that secret meeting with Pedro—how his hand had found that same spot, warm and slick, and how unexpectedly quick and easy it was to reach pleasure with him. Her body cried out for more, but her hand froze mid-motion.
“Until we meet again…”
She fought to ignore the words, allowing herself just a little more pleasure, but guilt and craving tangled inside her—raw and burning. The tension built until it snapped—she jerked her hand away, cursing, “Fucking Pedro!” trying to fight the fierce hunger. She gathered all her will and stepped out of the shower, her release denied, but the anticipation of meeting Pedro again filling her mind.
For a moment, she considered calling him, tempted by the idea of hearing his voice. The impulse felt urgent, intimate, and dangerous. She hesitated and opted for caution. After multiple versions, she carefully wrote a message:
“I missed you last night. I’ll arrange a visit very soon. Hope you’re ready for it.”
No more than an hour later, Lucy arrived at work determined to focus, throwing herself into tasks to keep her mind busy. She denied herself the usual distractions—the office gossip, the small pretexts to slack off—resolute in finishing everything she had planned for the morning. When noon was close, she gathered her things, straightened her blouse, and moved toward the office door. Passing a colleague, she offered a composed smile.
“I’m meeting with a client. I’ll be back after lunch,” she said, keeping her voice steady, careful not to reveal the tension she felt inside.
Soon after, Lucy entered the office building where James worked. As always, Susan sat behind her desk, focused on some documents. Rising ceremoniously to greet Lucy, Susan moved with a composure and style Lucy couldn’t help but admire—long legs sheathed in silk stockings, a dress perfectly cut to turn heads, and that sweet, melting smile. She moved from behind her desk and extended a hand with choreographed grace.
“What a nice surprise. I’m afraid James is in a meeting with a client. It might be… a while.”
“Great, that makes it easier,” Lucy replied smoothly, revealing her plan for a surprise romantic dinner. “You’re the only one who really knows his calendar. I could use your help.”
She offered a measured smile, her eyes briefly narrowing as though weighing Lucy’s motives. Still, her voice remained even, helpful. She quietly flipped through the appointment book, giving Lucy the requested details with practiced discretion.
As Susan spoke, casually flipping through the appointment book with her practiced grace, Lucy’s mind began to wander. She noticed how Susan leaned in, arching her back slightly, letting her breasts escape just a little from her blouse, while her skirt nudged up just a bit with each turn of the page. Provoked by this image, Lucy’s mind slipped into an uninvited reverie. James, in the frame of his office door, loosening his tie, his eyes hungry, his voice strong: “Bend over.” The secretary obeys without question, her perfect perky tits pressed flat to the cool wood. Her skirt rode high, exposing the creamy length of her thighs. Slowly, she peels down her silk panties, leaving them to drop next to her stiletto shoes. She didn’t dare to look back at him, but she knew he enjoyed the spectacle as she slowly lifted her shirt up.
"I think Wednesday is a good choice. Six o’clock?” Susan’s voice, crisp and businesslike, pulled Lucy from her fantasy into sharp reality. She blinked, cheeks flushing, steadying herself.
“You are the perfect wife. James is lucky to have you!” There was an undeniable sincerity in Susan’s tone that made Lucy fully accept the compliment.
“Yes. Wednesday would be perfect.” She kept her tone measured, masking the current of sensation just beneath her composure.
Get a grip, she told herself. This is not an erotic story. This is real life.
As Lucy prepared to leave, Susan leaned in slightly and whispered:
“And don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
For an instant, the room seemed to pause. Lucy met Susan’s eyes, searching for any hint of a deeper meaning—whether it was reassurance, a warning, or something more beneath the surface. With careful calculation, Lucy offered a seemingly casual invitation designed to lower defenses, away from the watchful eyes of the office:
“Lunch break is coming up soon. Why don’t we grab a bite? My treat.”
Susan shook her head slightly. “That’s very kind, but I’ve got something scheduled.”
Lucy persisted, her tone light but intent:
“If it is about James, don’t worry—I’ll talk him into letting you escape for a few minutes.”
And with saying that, a more familiar image formed in Lucy’s excited mind. James, hands gripping tightly beneath Susan’s thighs, lifting her like she weighed nothing, her giggle swallowed by hungry kisses as he set her down on his desk like a trophy, while Susan’s hands guided him inside her.
Susan’s polite but determined refusal shattered the fantasy. She smiled genuinely, thanking Lucy again and assuring her that she would accept the invitation next time. Lucy waved Susan goodbye as she thought to herself that her imagination was over the top these days.
Maybe I should write erotic stories instead of just living in my head…
Call it a woman’s intuition, but Lucy couldn’t shake the sense of secrecy behind Susan’s refusal. Determined to find out more, she stepped into the elevator—only to come face to face with Mark, James’s eager protégé. He greeted her enthusiastically and mentioned the weekend getaway with James and Ann. Lucy smiled and softened her voice:
“Don’t mention today’s visit to James. It’s a surprise. Looking forward to the weekend with you both.”
Lucy actually found Mark and Ann boring, especially Mark’s nonstop talk about the office, which tested her patience to the limit. Now she listened quietly as he thanked James for trusting him with more responsibilities. She’d known for some time that Mark was desperate to impress James, and she felt a touch of pity for how James, his closest friend, mostly used him.
Lucy excused herself deftly, slipping away from Mark’s eager chatter, free to follow her plan. She waited patiently—but still anxiously—in the small park near the office until Susan appeared. Keeping a careful distance, she followed, trying to steady her breathing as Susan quickened her pace. When Susan disappeared into a nearby charming hotel, a sharp spike of doubt and jealousy twisted inside Lucy. Was Susan really having an affair with James?
Lucy paused outside the entrance, then, with deliberate care, she slipped inside the lobby, determined not to be noticed. She scrolled absently on her phone, masking her real purpose with practiced indifference. To her surprise, it wasn’t a man at all waiting for Susan—but a woman. Petite in stature, yet she radiated authority—elegant, self-possessed, with an electric power that crackled in the air around her. The way she moved turned the entire lobby into her dominion.
The shock deepened when Lucy realized the mystery woman was none other than Margaret Schmitt—one of the top managers at James’s company. The idea of Susan and Margaret together sent a ripple of surprise through Lucy’s careful deduction.
They were at the bar, their backs to her, oblivious to the world around them, enjoying two fancy cocktails. The nature of their encounter was unmistakable—the lingering looks, the soft touches, the low murmur of laughter thick with suggestion. Lucy saw it for what it was: a lover’s meeting, hidden in plain sight. But even so, her mind took a step further.
Was this a power play? Had James orchestrated it, pushing Susan as his pawn to seduce Margaret—to extract secrets and leverage that could vault him into the upper echelons? This could explain the late-night warning message. Or was it simply Susan, the perfect femme fatale, choosing a bigger fish than James in her own corporate struggle for success? Or Susan could be playing both of them at the same time, couldn’t she?
It was no surprise when Margaret leaned in for a brief kiss, soft as a peach, before taking Susan’s hand and guiding her toward the elevator. Lucy tracked their ascent, watching the glowing numbers climb until they stopped at the top floor. Likely a penthouse where they could indulge in their private escape.
Lucy stood there, pretending to search for something on her phone, her eyes fixed on the elevator panel. It would be easy to follow—but what if they caught her? The risk was too great, and she wasn’t careless. Still, as she waited, she imagined the penthouse suite in dim lighting, where Margaret, unhurried and moving with predatory grace, pressed Susan onto soft silk sheets, devouring her with kisses that blurred the line between conquest and worship. Susan gasped, arching into every demand, surrendering with the same perfect poise she wore at her desk, then suddenly seizing control—flipping the power dynamic. A dance of dominance and surrender, each woman alternately conqueror and willing slave.
Lucy had never been with a woman herself, but thinking of Susan she couldn’t help but admit—she had always drawn attention. The thought sent a hot, insistent pulse through Lucy, awakening desires she’d never confronted before. The image from the office returned, but this time, it wasn’t James pushing her onto the desk—it was Lucy.
She imagined herself with a harness strapped tight against her own hips, supporting an exaggerated dildo. She was in full control of Susan’s body, her desires and pleasure. A powerful conqueror, taking what she wanted. Standing behind her, one hand tangled in that soft blonde hair, pulling her head back as her mouth pressed against her neck, leaving deliberate marks.
Susan gasped with every thrust in a relentless rhythm as Lucy’s hands cupped her round ass. From time to time, Lucy saw herself withdrawing completely—not just to tease, but to get a clear view of Susan, widely stretched and dripping with desire. She savored the sight before slowly pushing back in, admiring every inch and watching Susan’s reactions closely. Before each return, Lucy’s voice would command:
“Tell me, how much do you want it?”
Susan would cry out Lucy’s name, cursing and begging, pleading for more with a fevered intensity that sent a thrill pulsing through them both. Occasionally, she’d glance back over her shoulder with a flicker of defiance or hunger, silently challenging Lucy’s dominion even if she already yielded completely.
“Touch yourself”, Lucy imagined commanding in a soft, urgent voice. Susan quickly obeyed, caught in the fever of the moment, her fingers trembling as they explored her own body. But sensing Susan teetering on the edge, Lucy gently took her hand, then the other, guiding them both firmly behind her back into a position of total surrender. Then, with slow, deliberate motions, Lucy impaled her deep inside Susan, sending a powerful orgasm crashing through her in an overwhelming wave of release and pleasure. Susan’s body convulsed against the desk, breathless and undone beneath Lucy’s commanding presence.
As Lucy pictured the scene, a strong rush of excitement washed over her. Her heart beat faster as she imagined being the one in control, drawing such reactions from Susan. A new kind of confidence and desire rose inside her. In that moment, she didn’t care whether Susan had ever been with James or not. She allowed herself a few moments to calm her racing mind and left the hotel behind, ready to continue her work. But then, as if the universe was conspiring against her, an unknown number called.
She answered hesitantly, only to hear a familiar voice:
“Are you ready?”
