The Dust Closet

"The Dust Closet" was what everyone called it.

Roy still knew it by its original name: the old server room.

The room had been mostly obsolete for years. The company had moved the servers elsewhere, leaving an empty space that collected file boxes and a thick layer of dust that seemed to regenerate no matter how often someone cleaned around the edges. The single lightbulb overhead buzzed faintly whenever it was switched on, and the air always carried the stale, dry smell of cardboard.

But what was more important was that almost nobody went in there anymore. Roy was, in fact, one of the few people who still had a working key.

Over the years, he'd occasionally imagined turning the room into something useful. A private meeting space, perhaps. Somewhere for employees to work when they needed quiet. Maybe even a proper storage room if he could convince someone to throw out the accumulated junk.

None of those ideas had ever survived long enough to become reality.

Until today.

Today, Roy had a visitor.

A very enthusiastic visitor.

And a plan that made him feel increasingly like a terrible person.

The key turned in the lock. Roy pushed the door open and glanced over his shoulder. The young woman stood behind him, smiling brightly. She had followed him through the office without questioning where they were going. The moment he'd taken her hand and suggested that he knew somewhere private, she'd simply assumed this was part of the adventure.

That intense trust made him feel even worse.

Roy stepped aside.

"Welcome to the Dust Closet."

His new girlfriend peered inside.

"What is this place?"

"The old server room."

She looked around at the small space, the stacks of boxes, the mouse traps in the corner.

"Wow," she said, a grin spreading across her face. "This is romantic."

Roy laughed despite himself.

"I was going to say that it has a certain charm."

"Sure it does," she stepped inside and looked around with exaggerated interest. "Very exclusive. Very mysterious. Very..." She glanced at a dead computer monitor on top of one stack. "Private."

"Exactly."

Roy closed the door. The click of the latch seemed much louder than it should have. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then she turned towards him.

"So..."

The smile on her face told him exactly what she was expecting.

Roy swallowed.

This was the point. He'd spent the entire morning thinking about it. He'd told himself that this was the only practical way to end the current iteration of the wish. If she became intimate with him, the magic would release her. She would return to her real life, free from a relationship she had never actually chosen.

That was the justification. It was a good one. At least, it was the best one Roy had.

There was another reason, though, and he couldn't quite bring himself to pretend it didn't exist. If he could somehow influence the wish, even a little, then perhaps the next woman wouldn't simply appear at random. Perhaps he could finally get ahead of whatever was happening to him.

It was a terrible thing to do. It was also the only strategy he had to try to get some control over a life that had become sexually chaotic.

Roy looked at her. She was waiting patiently, her expression bright with anticipation.

"Well?" she asked.

Roy managed a smile.

"I think you've earned a honeymoon suite."

The young woman burst out laughing.

"Roy!" The sound of her laughter filled the tiny room. "You old dog." She stepped closer, her hands catching the front of his shirt. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

Roy's fingers found the first button of his shirt.

"This place doesn't exactly have room service," he told her, trying to keep the mood playful.

"Who needs room service?" Her answer came with a mischievous grin. "I've already got everything I want right here."

She tugged at his shirt, helping him with the buttons. Her own hoodie quickly joined the growing pile of clothing, followed by her shoes and shorts as she moved around the cramped room with the easy confidence of someone who had never once worried about whether she was being too forward.

Roy found himself smiling. That was the dangerous part. Despite everything, despite the guilt and the uncertainty and the knowledge that none of this was supposed to be happening, this woman was impossible not to like.

She was funny.

She was enthusiastic.

She seemed genuinely happy to be there.

And she loved him.

At least, the version of her created by the wish did.

The woman stepped closer again, her warmth cutting through the stale chill of the room. She caught the waistband of his underwear and tugged playfully, earning a startled laugh from him.

"Sorry," she said, grinning. "I'm impatient." Her eyes met his. "Let's get this party started."

Roy stared at her for a moment. Every sensible part of his mind was screaming at him to stop. This wasn't normal. This wasn't fair. This wasn't a woman making a fully informed choice about him.

It was magic. Magic that had rewritten her history, her memories and her feelings until loving Roy felt as natural to her as remembering her own name. Yet she was standing there, smiling at him as though nothing in the world could possibly be wrong.

Roy's moral compass had never felt so useless.

She kissed him. Whatever he'd been about to say disappeared beneath the warmth of the moment. Her arms went around him, pulling him close. Roy responded almost automatically, his hands settling around her as she leaned into him. There was nothing hesitant about her. She wanted him, completely and without reservation. That should have made things easier.

Instead, it made them harder.

Because Roy knew that she didn't understand what was happening. But he did. The knowledge sat between them like a third person in the room. She pulled him closer again, laughing softly against him.

"You're thinking too much."

Roy gave a quiet laugh.

"You have no idea."

"Nope." She smiled. "And I'm okay with that."

Her arms tightened around him. For one last moment, Roy considered stopping. He could open the door. He could walk her back outside. He could tell himself that there had to be another way. But the wish had already changed her. Whatever happened next, Roy couldn't undo that. And if this really was the only way to set her free...

Roy closed his eyes. Then he let himself be pulled into the moment. And once he did, she was unstoppable.

One second they were kissing. The next she had leapt into his arms, legs locking around his waist, mouth frantic on his as if she were dying of thirst and he was the only water left.

His cock, already hard from her kissing, thickened further, heavy and insistent. She shifted, lined him up, and sank down in one smooth, greedy motion.

"Mmmmmm…" The sound she made was pure filthy satisfaction. "Yessssss…"

She froze there, arms locked around his neck, pussy clenched tight around him, eyes half-lidded as she simply felt him. Then those eyes opened, dark and gleaming.

"You are so fucking hot," she breathed. "I don't even know why I was wasting time with any of those other boys. Show me what it means to be a man."

Legs still locked around him, she started to move. Slow, deliberate rolls of her hips that dragged every inch of him through her slick heat. The sensation was so intense, so unexpected, that Roy almost lost his footing. Boxes toppled. He stumbled, caught himself by driving her back against the wall, and thrust up hard to meet her.

She gasped, then laughed, then moaned, the sounds overlapping as she matched him. Fingernails raked down his back. She bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood; the sharp sting only made his next thrust deeper. The cramped space forced them close, her breasts crushed against his chest, her breath hot against his ear, the wet slap of skin on skin loud in the dusty silence.

Gone were thoughts of moral dilemmas. Gone were thoughts of Tom, of genie bartenders, of the next woman waiting somewhere outside.

The only thing left was the furnace between them; the tight, greedy pull of her sex, the way she clenched every time he bottomed out, the low broken sounds she made when he angled just right.

"Mmmmmmfffffff...." she said.

"Uuuuunnnnnhhhhh...." he replied.

She came first. The first orgasm was sharp and sudden, a full-body shudder that made her dig her heels into his ass and cry out against his neck. The second hit harder, longer, her head thrown back, thighs shaking, his name torn from her throat in a raw, shameless scream that would have brought the whole building running if anyone had been close enough to hear.

Roy kept moving through it, slower now, deeper, watching her face as the aftershocks rippled through her. The frantic edge softened. Her kisses turned slower, almost tender. Her hands stroked instead of clawed. She held him like she never wanted to let go, whispering broken little praises against his mouth while she worked him with slow, deliberate squeezes of her pussy.

"Cum for me," she murmured. "I want to feel it. Give it to me."

He did.

The orgasm hit like a wave; thick, pulsing, almost violent. His knees nearly buckled. He buried his face in her neck and groaned as he emptied into her, every pulse wringing another soft, satisfied sound from her throat. She held him through it, stroking his hair, kissing his temple, riding out every last shudder until he was spent and trembling.

If he had been a younger man, and had he been able to repeat his performance right away, he would have spent the entire day in the dust closet.

But a younger man he was not. Slowly he softened. He eased her down onto one of the fallen boxes, then sank to the floor himself, back against the wall. The mess around them was spectacular, scattered boxes, clothes everywhere, the air thick with the scent of sex and dust.

She crawled into his lap anyway, head resting on his chest, breathing slow and peaceful. Nothing in her expression showed distress. This had gone exactly the way she'd wanted.

He couldn't decide whether he felt relieved, guilty, or both.

Not that it mattered. He had done his job. Roy had freed this woman from him.

And somewhere on the other side of the dust closet's door, another woman was waiting.