Working late

The office printer had been jammed for twenty minutes when Emily decided she'd had enough. She crouched beside the machine, her skirt riding up just enough to reveal the delicate lace trim of her stockings, though she pretended not to notice Kevin’s gaze flickering in her direction.

"You ever think about how weird it is," she said, tugging at the crumpled paper caught in the rollers, "that we spend more time with these machines than with actual people?" Her voice was light, almost playful, but there was something deliberate in the way she shifted her weight, the hem of her blouse slipping just slightly as she reached deeper into the printer.

Kevin cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. "I’ll put in a ticket with IT tomorrow," he muttered, staring resolutely at his monitor. The numbers on his spreadsheet blurred together—he’d been staring at them too long, or maybe it was the way Emily’s hair caught the fluorescent light when she turned her head.

She stood abruptly, brushing imaginary dust from her knees. "Well, if we’re stuck here all night, we might as well make it fun." She grinned, plucking a stray paperclip from the tray and twirling it between her fingers. "Bet you’ve never seen anyone fold one of these into a heart, have you?"

Kevin exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Emily, the Henderson report is due by morning." But his tone lacked its usual authority, and she noticed. Her smile widened as she leaned against his desk, close enough that he could catch the faintest trace of her perfume—something sweet and warm, like vanilla left in the sun.

Kevin’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, frozen mid-sentence as Emily perched herself on the corner of his desk. The Henderson report could wait another thirty seconds—or at least, that’s what she seemed to be betting on. "You know," she said, dangling the twisted paperclip heart in front of him, "back home, we’d call this a sign." She let it drop onto his keyboard with a soft *click*. "A heart means someone’s got a secret."

He picked it up, turning the flimsy metal between his fingers. "You’re from Texas, right? They teach you corporate espionage down there with the sweet tea?" It was meant to sound dry, professional, but his voice came out uneven, like a man trying to joke while holding his breath.

Emily laughed, low and throaty, swinging one crossed leg just enough that her shoe grazed his shin. "Oh, we learned *all kinds* of things." She leaned in, close enough that he could see the faint freckles dusting her collarbone where her blouse gaped. "But I’d never steal from you, Kevin. Just… maybe distract you a little." She tapped the paperclip heart against his tie. "See? Already working."

He swallowed hard. The office was too quiet—just the hum of the AC and the occasional creak of Emily shifting her weight. When had the rest of the team left? The realization prickled at the back of his neck. This wasn’t just a late night; it was a trap she’d set with nothing more than a jammed printer and that infuriating, guileless smile.

She slid off the desk with deliberate slowness, her skirt whispering against his chair as she passed behind him. "You’re tense," she murmured, her hands suddenly on his shoulders, thumbs pressing into the knots along his spine. Kevin stiffened, but didn’t pull away. "Mmm. Like a bowstring." Her breath tickled his ear. "What happens if I…" Her fingers trailed up to the base of his skull, nails grazing lightly.