Straightening up

You stay seated with Cheryl still on your lap, the thick length of you slowly softening inside her while the last of your cum continues to leak out around the base. The conference room is quiet except for the low hum of the fluorescent lights and the sound of both of you catching your breath. Papers are still scattered across the table. Her blouse hangs open. The pencil skirt is bunched around her waist. The professional mask she usually wears is nowhere in sight.

Cheryl lifts her head from your shoulder after a long moment. Her cheeks are flushed, lips slightly swollen, the yoga-toned body still trembling with residual aftershocks. She looks at you with a small, almost disbelieving smile, the earlier competitive edge completely gone.

“We should probably get dressed before someone else decides to work late,” she says, voice still rough. She makes no immediate move to climb off you. Instead she shifts her hips once more, a slow, deliberate grind that squeezes the last sensitive pulses from your cock, and lets out a quiet, satisfied sound.

“That was better than any bonus,” she adds. “I have been thinking about taking this cock since the first time you adjusted yourself under the desk when I leaned over you. The photo was a test. You passed.”

She finally rises, the wet sound of your spent length leaving her clear in the quiet room. Cum runs down the inside of one toned thigh. Cheryl doesn’t wipe it away immediately. She simply stands there for a second, looking down at the evidence, then reaches for her knickers and steps into them without cleaning up first, the soaked fabric settling against her skin as a private reminder.

You both straighten the rest of your clothes in silence. The folder of projections is still open on the table, the numbers for Friday’s presentation waiting as if nothing happened. Cheryl gathers the papers, smooths her skirt, and meets your eyes one more time before she moves toward the door.

“This isn’t over,” she says, quiet and certain. “Smash the presentation out of the park and I’ll make sure you get exactly what that cock needs again. Consider the mess in my knickers a down payment.”

She unlocks the door and steps out into the dark, empty office corridor, leaving you alone in Conference Room B with the lingering scent of sex, the scattered papers, and the clear knowledge that the competition between you has permanently changed shape.