Jenny liked the illusion of control her office gave her: the straight lines of the desk, the quiet order of ledgers and screens. With her dark hair smoothed into a practical style and a fitted blouse tucked neatly into her skirt, she looked every bit the professional accountant her clients trusted.

That illusion shattered the moment Eliza walked in.

Tall and unapologetically striking, the redhead filled the doorway in a dress that clung to her like a promise. The fabric traced her curves without shame, and her smile was slow and intimate.

“Lunch?” Eliza murmured. “I thought we could steal half an hour.”

Heat bloomed low in Jenny’s stomach.

“Sorry, I can’t.” She gestured to the phone, the blinking light announcing the imminent conference call. “I have a conference call starting any second now.”

Eliza stepped inside anyway, the door clicking shut behind her.

“Always working,” she teased, drifting closer, her scent, something warm and faintly spiced, wrapping around Jenny. “You know... you look irresistible when you’re being responsible.”

Before Jenny could object, Eliza reached behind her and, with a practised flick of her wrist, closed the blinds. The office dimmed into a more private hush.

“Eliza,” Jenny whispered, her pulse skidding.

Instead of answering, Eliza sank gracefully to her knees and slipped beneath the desk, leaving only the faint rustle of fabric behind.

The call connected.

Jenny straightened in her chair, professionalism snapping into place by sheer force of will.

“Good afternoon,” she said calmly, even as her heart hammered.

Under the desk, Eliza’s fingers travelled slowly, appreciatively. From Jenny’s calf to her knee, but then paused, discovering the lace-topped, thigh-high stockings hidden beneath the sober skirt. A risqué choice for the office; not that she was complaining.

Jenny’s breath hitched, but her voice did not. She spoke of figures and forecasts, of margins and timelines, while sensation hummed through her like a live wire. Eliza’s touch was deliberate, hovering just close enough to make Jenny ache. Fingertips traced patterns through the fabric, then withdrew, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Then a devilish smile flashed upward, seen only by Jenny.

She felt Eliza's fingers playing with the waistband of her panties before peeling them down. There was nothing she could do to stop her at this point, so she lifted her bottom from the chair to allow them to be slid off completely.

She rested her head on the back of the chair and closed her eyes as she felt Eliza spread her legs wide. She was fully exposed under the desk, and all she could do was pray the call ended without incident.

Phantom fingertips playfully teased the perfect landing strip of pubic hair ending just above her clit before venturing lower. They traced the slick folds of her sex, parting them inquisitively.

“Yes!” Jenny cried, nails clawing the desk. “That aligns perfectly with the forecast.”

Her tight nipples were achingly sensitive, lewdly tenting the front of her cream coloured top. Each caress of her silk blouse over the puckered flesh was pure agony. Eliza shifted closer, her presence intimate and intoxicating. She leaned in, her whisper a warm ghost against Jenny’s skin.

“I love seeing you like this.”

Warm breath caressed her now desperately aching cleft. Eliza was kissing and nibbling the skin of her inner thighs, just waiting for the right moment, like a predator choosing the moment to pounce.

Jenny swallowed hard, forcing her focus back to the call as Eliza’s fingers and teeth drove her to delirium, reminding her of everything waiting just beyond restraint. Every second stretched, delicious and unbearable, until at last the call ended.

Just as the digital tone sounded, indicating the end of the conversation, she felt Eliza's lips press to her throbbing cunt. Instinctively, she slid her bottom forward on the chair, pressing her drooling sex into the eager mouth working in the shadows underneath her desk.

"I love eating your pussy," whispered Eliza from between her thighs. "You taste so fucking good."

Jenny moaned as Eliza's skilled tongue lapped at her smooth sex, devouring her sensitive, swollen flesh. The quiet, wet sucking sounds of Eliza savouring the juices of her arousal were the only evidence of mischief.

She gasped as Eliza's tongue parted the folds of her labia and dipped inside her pouting honey pot, then dug her fingernails into the leather arms of her office chair as she felt her lover's lips close over her throbbing clit. Jenny bit into her hand to keep from crying out as Eliza sucked hard.

Her head rolled from side to side, eyes unable to focus, as the exquisite pleasure she was feeling between her thighs kept building to ever higher peaks. The climax was going to be monstrous, she could feel it. Should a colleague walk into her office now, there would be no way to conceal the truth of the situation.

Instinctively, her hands reached down and grasped fistfuls of soft, red curls, pulling Eliza's proficient mouth harder against her sopping cunt.

Her cheeks burned, her chest flushed red, her back arched, and with a final gasp, she froze. Liquid fire spread from her loins, pouring over her body like she had been doused in gasoline. It burned through her veins and over her skin, scorching her flesh from the tips of her toes to the hair on her head. Her legs shook uncontrollably as her breath hitched in her chest and her eyelids fluttered. Eliza's tongue still probed her depths as her pussy spasmed and clenched, riding her orgasm through to the last.

Eventually, Jenny sagged back in her chair, utterly spent. Her hair, now wild and damp with perspiration, clung to her cheeks and neck. She looked feral.

Eliza rose smoothly to her feet, eyes bright with triumph. She used Eliza's panties to wipe the corner of her pretty mouth and dropped the scrap of lace onto the desk.

“Thanks for lunch,” Eliza said softly. "How about dinner at my place?"

Jenny chuckled breathlessly and nodded.