Work to Live

Work to Live

Monday morning and the tedious routine of the 7am alarm, shower, suit, breakfast on the go, dash for the train, fighting through crowds of faceless city workers to finally reach the office in a stressed out sweat to start another day of laborious tasks with narcissistic colleagues was enough to make me cry.

 

I always intended to abide by a ‘work to live’, not ‘live to work’ policy but lately life was work. Initially the impressive wage stroked my ego and validated my decision to become a city chick. It facilitated purchases of needless designer handbags and ridiculously expensive champagne on a school night out and was well worth the early mornings, late evenings and pressure of  unrealistic targets and demanding clients. However, 2 1/2 years on, at the age of 29, a few one night stands notched on my bed post (not nearly enough for my liking) I was bored, lonely and thoroughly pissed off with life.

 

Tuesday morning as I was sat in my bland symmetrical square box at my bland symmetrical desk that looked depressingly identical to the other 65 desks on my floor debating whether to book an impulsive city break for one, my line managers chubby, red, pock riddled face appeared over the plywood board that acted as my barrier to the rest of the office / world. He was unusually pleasant as he introduced James, the new Head of Marketing.

 

Hello!!!!! Before me stood a 6ft mountain of manliness. I managed a quick hi as my pulse raced, heart beat quickened and a stirring began in my lower regions. I was instantly turned on. He must have noticed my flushed cheeks as he met my gaze and knowingly smiled with a cheeky glint in his eye. Work had just gotten more interesting.

 

Over the next few days I found myself dressing in my tighter pencil skirts, sheer blouses being undone one extra button and the re-emergence of my favourite g-string, push up bra and stockings – just in case. I felt a spark I hadn’t felt for far too long, a lust for life (work) and a sexual urge that woke me in a state of arousal each morning and an urgent need to masturbate before I responded to the 7am wake up call.

 

James as it turns out was a little older than me, very good at his job and it would seem had noticed my obvious attraction to him. We caught glances across the floor, bumped into each other at the coffee machine and then one evening, found ourselves alone, waiting for the same lift at the end of a very long, busy but productive day. We exchanged pleasantries, the pleasantness excruciatingly pleasant as it was clear there was an instant connection between us, when I realised I’d left my phone on my desk. Shit!! Do I leave it so I can enjoy the lift ride in a confined space with James or do I go get it? Crap, I know I have to retrieve the damn thing so I smile apologetically, berating myself for being so forgetful and head back off into the darkened deserted office. I know my way around the rows of identical work stations so leave the lights off as I head to my spot at the far end of the floor.

 

I reach my station and start to fumble amongst files and papers looking for my phone when I’m startled by a presence behind me. A hushed voice whispers ‘stay there and don’t move’. I’m bent over my desk partly scared but mostly excited. I’m sure it was James’ voice – he had followed me back in, but why?

 

I soon found out as he put his hands on my ass which was now frozen in it’s arched position. Aching for his touch, I responded by thrusting further into his hands. Realising my need he lifted my skirt and brushed his bulging trousers against my naked cheeks (thank god for the g string and hold ups I’d chosen today). He pulled down my barely there underwear which dropped around my ankles resting on my new heels exposing my soaking wet pussy.

 

It was pitch black and completely silent apart from the sloshing noise his fingers were now making as they parted my lips and searched for my throbbing clit. I let out a moan as he began exploring. He shussed – I wasn’t sure if it was because he was scared of getting caught or to prolong the intensity of the moment. But whatever the reason for the silence, I bit my bottom lip hard to stifle my gasp as he slid his fingers inside me. I had to rest my head on the desk as he probed and curved his fingers to gently rub my g-spot. I could feel an orgasm building instantly. My legs began to buckle as I exploded over his hand but just as I peaked he whipped his fingers out and thrust his hard, thick cock deep inside me. This time I couldn’t help but release a moan followed by a series of short frantic gasps as I demanded to be fucked harder and faster. I could hear his heavy breathing as he gripped my waist and pounded into me, his balls slapping against my thighs, his length penetrating every inch I could take. Then I felt his breath against my neck as he slupmed against my back, jerking and twitching as his release swam into me.

 

As we savoured the moment, both bent over my square bit of territory in an unremarkable office, naked from the waist down, his spent cock sliding limply out of me, in the dark silence apart from our satisfied gasps I thought how ‘living to work’ may not be the worst policy to live by after all.