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The Office

By Acromania

Erotica / Romance

The Office

She is his secretary and he is on edge.

The intercome chimes up and I press the button to speak, my slightly short but manicured nails clicking against the metal.

„Yes?“ I hate that my voice is timid but I am a bit on edge because my boss was in a bad mood when he entered through the door this morning, not even glancing in my direction.

„Are the reports finished?“ His voice is cold and distant. I bite my lip.

„Yes. Do you want me to print and bind them for you to take with you?“

„Yes.“ I should be accustomed by now that I won't receive a thank you or a please but I am not. I suppress the anger and sent the documents off to the printer in the hallway. Pushing my chair back, I stand up, straighten my black pencil skirt and pick at the neckline of my blouse to not reveal too much of my cleavage. My heeled feet click on the hardwood floor when I make my way into the hallway and I cringe slightly that I am so obvious to anyone because of the sound.

I really hate wearing heels, preferring comfortable clothes like sneakers, jeans and a hoodie, but I would never see the end of it if I ever decide to show up like this here. My boss and the company itself are really strict on the dress code and when I started working here two years ago I needed a few months to get everything down without a flaw. I was really grateful for my friend Christina then, because she has this natural ability to just look good in everything and picking out just the right stuff.

I go down the corridor to the printer and notice with annoyance that I have to put new paper into it. I am frustrated with the people working here. Our company band-waggoning on the security train that started back in 2001 is really successful and we employ the leading scientist in the field of digital security, but when it comes down to recharging the printer or ordering new office material they are at a loss. I huff slightly when I pull out a new package of our company paper with the logo already printed onto the right upper corner - a black flame on white, the word Dauntless written under it. The drawer is squeaking slightly when I pull it open and a shiver runs down my spine at the noise. When I am finished I press the green button to let it finally start on the documents my boss needs for his appointment tomorrow morning.

The printer starts working and I take the time to look outside of the huge windows along the hallway. Dauntless inhabits the five topmost floors of a large office building in the heart of Chicago and I love the view from up here, watching the people on Chicago's streets that look like ants. They scurry through the thick snowflakes, probably doing last minute shopping trips because Christmas is fast approaching. I won't go down to my family this year, deciding on Thanksgiving that I just cannot put up with their behavior and lifestyle this year. I will enjoy a few days at home alone, reading and indulging in hot chocolate until I can't look at it anymore without feeling sick. I look up when I hear someone approaching me and smile tightly.

“Mr. Eaton.” I greet, my voice indifferent, my arms crossing in front of my chest.

“Tris, nice to see you. And its Tobias.” He answers, smiling down at me, one of his hands in his smart gray trousers.

“I would prefer staying on the professional base.” I answer him levelly and he frowns slightly, but shrugs a second later.

“Everything alright? Any plans for the holidays?” He asks and I am a bit annoyed at his wish for small talk. I just nod, not elaborating and hope he gets the hint. There is an uncomfortable silence between us for a minute or two before his shoulders slump a bit and he nods with a rueful smile.

“I see you around then.” He says and continues his way down to the elevator. I sigh in relief and watch his retreating back frowning a bit.

Tobias and I grew up together in an alternative community called Abnegation that makes it its goal to help whoever where ever needs the help... or doesn't. I felt like I was suffocating growing up without anything that I could say was mine, without being able to be me and do the things I love and when I met Tobias we connected easily on the shared wish to leave our homes and make a life of our own.

Along the way we fell in love naturally, even shared a flat when I graduated college top of my class but things didn't work out. He wanted a family and I didn't. Not then anyway or maybe not with him. Something held me back and I think it were the small things I choose to ignore when I was still deeply in love with him. The way he was always around not doing things on his own. When Zeke, a co-worker of his and since two years ago of mine, succeeded in convincing him to join their friends for a beer, he would write me nonstop and I started to wish he would be one of the guys that play it cool and don't call back as soon as they leave the front door. But I know he couldn't stop it and that wanting to change him was a sign of him not being the right one for me, or for me not being the right girl for him. So I stopped it before we both wasted our time on each other, before we ended up in a cold marriage 30 something years later with me hating his guts and him dreaming about missed opportunities and bitter feelings because I couldn't give him what he was looking for.

It was hard at first because after nearly ten years together I was so used to Tobias that not being with him felt like something was missing. But I stayed strong, blocked his calls and blocked him altogether when he didn't stop writing messages after I told him to for the fifth time. We lost contact after that and I only saw him again nearly a year later when I entered the lobby to be punctual for my job interview as chief secretary for the boss of the company. I wasn't over him then, my heart only remembering his good sides, while my brain was coming up with all the things that weren't good and felt wrong back then and now. Fortunately or unfortunately – depending on the perspective on things – after only working here for three months I forgot all about Tobias, the heartache my decision brought for both of us and the plans some part of me wanted to make true with him because there was suddenly someone else that easily caught my eye and my affection sometime along the way unconsciously. I sigh softly and let a hand run through my hair.

I realize the printer stopped working and turn around to find the documents I need ready to be picked up. I make my way, papers in both hands back to my office and step up to my huge desk. If anything my boss is generous when it comes to utensils you need for doing the best in your job. I am always slightly taken aback at the taste combined with practical sense he displayed when he redecorated the lobby to his office after I got the job. I know he did it mostly himself because I was there through the process, collecting color-examples for the wooden surfaces, sending him lists from different office shops filled with many useful and even more useless things and he picked most of it by himself. I am glad he put so much effort into it because my office is my second home, most of my time spend here instead of my loft further away from the center of the city.

I sigh softly when I sit down on my comfy chair and start with the task at hand: getting the folders ready for the meeting tomorrow. He has to get a flight early in the morning and I make sure to check his reservations a last time before I get the device to laminate the front page. I lose myself in it and my hand binding the papers until they all are orderly for me to bring to my boss with practiced ease.

I decide to try to ease his foul mood with coffee just the way he likes it. I make it my task to watch out for him, not only when it comes to business matters, checking calculations for him when the marketing department sends the freshest results of their evaluation, but also for him as a human because he tends to overwork himself. And a sick boss is a sign that his secretary doesn't do a good job. I scowl slightly at myself. As if that is the only reason my heart tells my brain and I have to agree. Truth is, the man that made me forget Tobias and the yearning I felt for not being with him anymore, is my boss.

As cliche as it is, he is the first man I noticed after the man with the most transfixing eyes that grew up with me. Maybe I go out too little because at this point in life I am more or less married to my job. Or it is the other way around and I am married with my job because my body and mind are focused on my boss and that is the reason I am not going out too often? I don't think it really matters because fact is: I want him. And that is even more impossible then going back to Tobias is. I shake my head slightly and stand up.

I go to the small kitchenette that is attached to the lobby of his office, get his cup, put two spoonful of sugar but no milk into it before filling it with the already brewed fair trade coffee. I smile softly at this small detail that he made sure I know about right from the beginning. It was a bit confusing at first why someone like him that seems to not have a care in the world and is always so distant from anyone would make sure to buy coffee to help other people, but knowing him now for two years I am aware that his sense for equality and justice is without limits.

Securing the folders under one arm and his coffee in the other I slowly approach his door, knocking softly with my free hand. He needs a moment to answer and I think he is probably buried under too much paperwork again. He really should relax more and delegate the work better. But I am just a secretary and don't let him know that I think he works too much and carries too much responsibility. At least in an obvious way. A man like him doesn't want to hear that he can't achieve what he is aiming for and maybe he thinks if he doesn't do it it will just come out wrong.

“Enter.” Is the only thing I hear, his deep voice muffled from the thick dark wood of his door. I open the heavy door slowly and step into the huge office, looking through the glass behind his desk that takes up the whole wall.

“The folders are finished and I brought you some coffee.” I say, voice calm to not disturb him too much. He nods, but doesn't look up. When I approach his desk I see his shoulders are tense and he clenches and unclenches his jaw now and again. One of his hands goes to his short hair, tugging at the strands slightly, probably in frustration. I arrange the folders at one side and put down the cup gently on the milky glass of his desk.

I observe his open display of contradiction for a moment, enjoying his clear features, the piercing and tattoos that are in stark contrast to his office attire. I clear my throat lightly, stepping from one foot to the other for a moment before speaking up.

“Anything I could help you with, Sir?” I ask and he finally looks up. His eyes are a dark gray, anger and annoyance shining in them. I cringe mentally, arguing with myself why I didn't just leave his office when I already knew he is in a bad mood. But I also know I could never leave him without making sure that he is alright.

“What makes you think someone like you could help me?” He replies, voice cold and with a hard edge. My cheeks color a bit but I meet his eyes with determination, anger at his comment and my feelings for him raising within me.

“I may only be your secretary, but I think I already proved that I am capable of more then brewing coffee and receiving the calls for you. I have a major in business administration, you know.” I answer him, voice a bit quivering with anger. At first he looks at me as if he is surprised at my reaction, but then his facial expression slowly changes. His lips pull into a smirk and he leans back in his chair, hands casually clasped in front of his stomach. My heart beats fast in my chest, blood rushing through my veins in highspeed.

“Tell me more, please.” He arrogantly says and I clench my hands at my sides. His gray eyes flicker at the movement and slowly travel my body, making me feel hot in an instant. Now isn't the time I tell my body and promise it to take care of the urge when we get home and into a hot bubble bath. But it doesn't respond to me having a will of its own, probably because I denied it the touch of another human being for so long – at least a sexual touch.

“I write the texts for the marketing, check the mails, answering some.. I even meet with some of our clients on your behalf.. and... and...” I stop myself because I suddenly don't feel like talking anymore. He knows all of this and I am aware he just wants to see me squirm. Its something he enjoys I discovered a year and a half ago. Why, I am not sure.

His smirk broadens and my cheeks are flaming red, I think. He stands up then and I silently marvel his tall, muscular body that just doesn't fit into an office setting, the way his dark blue button-down shirt spreads around his broad shoulders and chest. I lick my lips at the way he walks like a predator and realizing that maybe I am his prey.

I feel ashamed at openly staring at him, my eyes turning down to the desk a few feet in front of me. The only sound is my rushing blood in my ears and his strong steps on the office floor. I am aware of his presence, of his eyes on me, but don't look up again, a mixture of fear and confusion letting me freeze on the spot.

I feel him move behind me, the heat he emanates and can't stop myself inhaling his scent that lingers around me. The sound of his shoes on the wood of the floor warn me, but not enough to stop the sharp intake of air, when one of his hands goes around my body to grasp the fabric of my skirt just above the juncture of my legs, pulling me against his hard body forcefully.

“What are you doing?” I ask and hate that my voice is breathless. Instead of answering he starts to pull my blouse out of my skirt, taking his time doing so. I bite my lip, my mind suddenly blank at the meaning of his invasion.

“I think I give us both a break and finally do something we both wanted since day one.” He answers casually. He starts unbuttoning it with practiced ease.

“I...”, I inhale again, trying to speak louder then a whisper, “I don't know what you are talking about.” His thumb draws circles on my abdomen, my fingers quivering, being torn between pushing him away or helping him getting rid of the blouse.

“Don't play stupid. It doesn't suit you.” He answers, his voice harsh and the last button of my shirt pops open.

“I know a way, Tris,”, and the way he says my name lets something inside of me flutter and my abdomen tighten, “only you can help me at the moment.” He says, his mouth just above my ear, his breath tickling it and my exposed neck. I shudder against him and feel him chuckle slightly.

“How?” I ask him and feel stupid because it is obvious what will happen next. His hand not longer occupied with my shirt goes up to my neck and jaw, turning it upwards and to the side a bit. His gray eyes meet mine and I bite my lip at the expression and intensity in them. Instead of answering he lowers his mouth to mine and when our lips meet I sigh. He kisses like fire, his lips demanding and hard against mine, his hot breath stroking my red-colored cheeks and I gasp when his tongue strokes my lower lip. I open my mouth, letting him get full access, his dominance, scent and touches drowning me.

My lips leave his and I strain my back and neck to place hot open-mouthed kisses along his strong jaw line, my hands clenched in the fabric of his trousers behind me. He pushes the fabric of my blouse open, exposing my humble breast clad in black lace. I hear him hum approvingly, his rough hand gliding up over my exposed skin until his hand covers one of my breasts, grabbing it for a moment when I bite his neck, fingers catching the already erected nipple between his knuckles. I moan loudly and throw my head back against his shoulder as he twists the pink bud.

He continues touching me, the hand that lay above my now wet folds sliding up to my right hip to unzip my skirt. He pushes it down, fingers gliding over my heated skin, the straps of my tong and stockings, the skirt landing at my feet.

“Oh god...” He whispers above me, voice strained and raspy. His fingers find one side of my tong and pushes it away to slide in between my legs. I spread them in response for him to have better access to the pulsing area. When he brushes my lips down there a second shaky moan leaves my mouth and it feels like my legs will give out under me.

Suddenly he turns me around, grabbing the backside of my thighs and pulls me up. I sling my arms around his neck and feel cool glass meeting my skin. I look up to him and his gray eyes are filled with lust and a wild streak I haven't seen before. Before I can make a move he crashes his lips down to mine and all I can do is give in to him, let him claim my mouth like I dreamed he would so many times in the last two years. Honestly, nothing can compare to the reality, though.

He presses into my body and I feel his cock hard against my stomach. Making quick work I open his trousers and push them down along with his tight shorts. When my searching fingertips brush against the hot and soft skin of his hardened length he growls deep in his throat and I shiver at the animalistic sound. I start to stroke him, feeling how big he is and my core tightens in anticipation at the things he could do to me if he knows how to. There isn't a doubt in my mind that he does.

He pushes his hips forward, probably wanting me to stroke harder but I stay with the lazy pace I put up even though I feel my own urge to feel him and get the much needed release. It seems his patience is short because he pushes my hand away and uses the other to pull my tong away from my throbbing core, the fabric soaked through with my need of him. His fingers slide in between my folds, easily finding my clit and I throw my head back at the intense feeling it sends through my body. I open my eyes shortly to see him smirk and slowly getting down on his knees.

Before I can stop him, his tongue is on me, finding the bundle of nerves that lets my back go rigid and my hips jerking forward. His right hand presses my hips down, his left is busy in the next moment inserting two fingers into me, spreading me. I moan again, my breath coming in gasps when he starts to suck at the bundle of nerves and pushing his fingers in and out of me in a agonizing rhythm. I feel something inside of me tightening – a sweet pain with a promise of a long needed release. Before I can cum, he pulls his fingers out of me, letting his tongue take a last swipe from my entrance to my clit and I feel him stand up. I groan in protest and my lust-glazed eyes scowl at him. His own are dark with desire, taking in my posture on his desk, legs spread, glass slightly wet. His gray meets my gray-blue and he smirks shortly before he leisurely inserts his fingers in his mouth, sucking up my juices and letting me watch.

“I think I will prefer this over coffee anytime again.” He says, his tone casual, but his voice laced with something I can't grasp in my dizzy state. I slowly sit up from my laying position, grab his shirt to pull him to me and start to unbutton it, my fingertips grazing his hard abs, the hairs that lead down to his cock, warm skin and finally light chest hair. He pushes his shirt down his shoulders. I lean back a bit to finally see him in his naked glory. I can only stare and laugh mentally at my poor imagination. He is perfection.

He steps up then, lifts my left leg with one of his hands and positions himself at my entrance. My knuckles turn white with the strong grip I have on the edge of the table, bracing myself against his trusts I hope are as powerful as he is. Instead of pushing his cock into me, he starts to let its head glide up and down between my folds, randomly hitting the bundle of nerves and I shudder and gasp at the contact. I lean my head back and relax slightly. Maybe he waited for that moment because he chooses it to enter me in one swift trust and I moan loudly when he fills me to the brim, toes curling, teeth biting down on my lip. We stay like this for a moment, his eyes closed in contentment and mine wide with the feeling of being complete.

“You have no idea how long I wanted my cock inside of you.” He says, his hand gliding up and down my leg, his other braced next to my hip on the desk. I am taken aback and bite my lip and before I can think about an answer he starts to move, the friction he causes letting me shudder and grasp, forgetting about his statement. His pace is slow at first, hard. His trust close to perfection, filling me up fully and pulling out with nearly being gone.

“Gods, you feel so good, Tris.” He groans, spreading my legs wider now, entering me deeper, his fingers boring into my skin. I stare at him through half-lidded eyes as he watches his cock gliding in and out of me and this alone lets my inside clench in fascination and lust.

He starts to pick up his pace, the sound of our labored breaths and skin hitting skin the only thing around us. Intensity takes my breath away and I feel like crying and laughing at the same time, just breathing and moaning not enough anymore to tell him how good he feels, how good he makes me feel. I reach out to him, want to have something that holds me in this reality, but instead of getting a hold, he lets my legs down, his right hand wandering up my body, skipping my breasts and pinning my arms down on the table with one hand at my wrists, his upper body pushing down on me as well.

“No, you will just feel.” He commands and I can't answer him because his trusts drive me wild, my fingers clenching and unclenching unrhythmically around his and when he picks up his pace I think I am going to die right here. When his other hand goes down between us and finds with sure accuracy my bundle of nerves I explode, stars appearing behind my closed lips, head thrown as far back as possible as a loud scream leaves my lips, along with his name. His tongue glides over my neck, his teeth gently nipping my jaw and when our lips meet, his trusts get frantic until he growls again in the back of his throat and bites my lip in his release.

My eyes are closed for the next minutes as I try to catch my breath, my face feeling numb with the high from my orgasm. Our hearts beat fascinatingly synchronous, making me smile lazily. He pulls slowly out of me and I moan quietly because my flesh is still sensitive to the touch. He glides down stopping just above my wet folds and blows at them. I shudder, goosebumps raising on my arms and exposed breasts. He lets his tongue take a last swipe of me and I ask myself if he relishes in the combined tastes of him and me. I think I would.

“Eric...” I groan and he looks at me, eyes light grey now, like they usually are when he is relaxed and pulls up his trousers and shorts. He gives me my skirt and I start to stand up, legs lightly quivering and start to right my tong and skirt. When I want to start buttoning my blouse he steps up, hands on either side of my still exposed breasts and lets his thump glide over my pink nipples. My nerves are highly aware and I moan again, the flesh already tightening again, making my nipples stand up against his rough skin. He leans down, taking one of it in his mouth, letting it glided around between his teeth, latching at it with his tongue. I grab his shoulder, fingers boring into his muscles and think I will collapse in the middle of his office if he doesn't stop. He stands up again, taking my hand from his shoulder and smirks at my dazed state. I try to scowl but I am too relaxed to do anything then growl softly.

“Tease...” I whisper agonized. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips that I feel to the sole of my feet and I am surprised by his tender grasp of my jaw, his stroking thumb on my cheek. He pulls back then, I right my bra and blouse.

We don't exchange another word and I leave his office that smells of sex, him and me. I take a deep breath, heart still beating fast and even faster when I realize what just happened. I had sex with him. With my boss. Rule number one: Never have sex with your superior. And I just crossed that line. It doesn't matter that it was the best experience ever or that my feelings for him are even deeper now. It doesn't matter that I enjoy his lingering scent on my skin and how he was rough throughout the act and soft afterwards. All that matters is, that I overstepped that one line – the line every secretary has to respect. Every employee has to.

I more jogg then go to the bathroom, hand pressed onto my tingling lips to stop myself from feeling this way. I look at myself in the mirror, cheeks glowing, eyes glinting, lipstick and hair slightly mussed, bottom lip even a bit swollen. I repair the damage as best as I can and when I am finished it looks like nothing ever happened. Although I will be able to hide the events from anyone around me, I can't hide from myself or the things I feel. I sigh, close my eyes for a moment and suppress the tears that want to start falling. I messed up. Not only my career but with myself. But I am no coward, will face the consequences of these perfect moments and stay true to myself, true to my feelings for my boss.

When I sit at my desk again, going through mails and writing up short explanations for Eric the intercome chimes up and I press the button to speak, my slightly short but manicured nails clicking against the metal.

„Yes?“ I hate that my voice is timid but I am a bit on edge because I just had sex with my boss and maybe he has come to his senses too.

„You will accompany me to my home tonight.“ He simply says, voice no longer cold and distant but relaxed and deep. I bite my lip.

„Yes. Do you want me to get my jacket so you can take me with you?“


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