Chapter 10: The Aftermath Confessions
The taste of expensive whiskey and salt was still a phantom on her tongue when Lacy let herself into the apartment. The familiar scent of lemon cleaner and takeout boxes wrapped around her, a mundane blanket after the sterile, high-stakes air of the corner office. Mark was on the couch, wearing sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, a spreadsheet glowing on his laptop. He looked up, his face softening into that easy, welcoming smile that always made something twinge inside her, a feeling she promptly buried.
“Hey, you’re late,” he said, closing the laptop.
“Mr. Harrison had some… filing he needed me to catch up on,” she said, dropping her purse and kicking off her heels. The lie was effortless, a smooth stone. She walked over and curled into the space beside him, tucking her feet under her. She rested her head on his shoulder, inhaling the smell of his cheap deodorant.
“Everything okay?” he asked, his arm sliding around her.
She was quiet for a moment, letting the silence build. Then she tilted her head back to look at him, her blue eyes wide in the dim light of the television. “He called me into his office today.”
Mark’s hand stilled on her arm. “Harrison? Why?”
“He… knows.” She let the word hang, feeling his body tense. “He’d heard things. From Derek, I think.”
“Oh, god, Lacy.” Mark’s voice was a hushed rush of panic. “Are you fired? What did he say?”
She traced a finger along the line of his jaw. “He didn’t fire me.” She paused, her voice dropping to a confidential whisper. “He made me prove it.”
Mark’s breath caught. She felt the immediate, betraying hardness press against her hip through his sweatpants. His guilt was a physical thing, a wave of heat from his skin. “What do you mean, prove it?”
Lacy shifted, turning to straddle his lap, her knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his thighs. She took his face in her hands, her expression a perfect blend of ashamed confession and thrilling secrecy. “He closed the blinds. He told me to take off my clothes. All of them. And then he just… watched me. From his big leather chair.”
Mark’s eyes were locked on hers, horrified and rapt. “You didn’t.”
“I had to, baby,” she whispered, her lips brushing his. “You know how badly I need this job. For us. For the wedding.” She kissed him, slow and deep, letting him taste the ghost of another man. When she pulled back, her voice was breathy, detailed. “He’s so much bigger than I thought he’d be. Thick. And he just sat there, drinking his whiskey, with his cock standing straight up out of his pants. He didn’t even touch me. Just told me to get on my knees.”
A low groan escaped Mark, his hands gripping her hips. “Lacy, Jesus.”
“So I knelt on his carpet. It was so soft. And I took him in my mouth.” She described it in a steady, filthy whisper, her lips moving against his ear. The stretch of her jaws, the way his grey pubic hair scratched her nose, the precise, controlled rhythm she used. She told him about the guttural sound Mr. Harrison made, a sound of pure satisfaction, not passion. She told him about swallowing every drop while the man’s hand fisted in her hair, holding her down until he was done.
She told him about swallowing every drop while the man’s hand fisted in her hair, holding her down until he was done. Mark was rigid beneath her, his breathing shallow. His cock was a firm, demanding pressure against her through two layers of fabric. The conflict in his eyes was better than any mirror; it showed her the perfect balance of her craft.
“But that was just this morning,” she whispered, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. She slid off his lap, her knees meeting the worn rug on the floor. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of his sweatpants and his boxers, pulling them down just enough to free his erection. “My lunch break was… longer.”
She took him into her mouth without preamble, her tongue flattening against the throbbing underside of his shaft. He gasped, his head falling back against the couch with a dull thud. His hands hovered near her head, wanting to guide but afraid to claim.
“Derek found me at the coffee cart,” she said, the words vibrating around his flesh as she slid her lips slowly back up to his tip. She paused, swirling her tongue there. “He said he couldn’t stop thinking. About my mouth. About how I looked on my knees in that alley.”
“Fuck, Lacy,” Mark choked out, his fingers finally tunneling into her blonde hair.
She sucked him back down, deeper this time, until her nose pressed into the coarse thatch at his base. She held it, making a show of the strain in her throat, then released him with a wet, messy pop. A string of saliva connected her lips to his glistening head.
“He drove us to that sandwich shop off the bypass. The one with the big, empty parking lot in the back.” She licked a broad, slow stripe from his balls to his tip, savoring the jerk of his hips. “Carl from payroll was already in the backseat. Waiting.”
Mark’s groan was half agony. His grip tightened. “Both of them?”
“Mmhmm.” She engulfed him again, establishing a rough, demanding rhythm. Her speech became fragmented, punctuated by the slick sounds of her work. “Derek’s cock in my mouth… tasted like cheap coffee and cigarettes. He was already so hard… he fucked my face right there… sun blazing through the windshield.”
She remembered the stifling heat of the sedan, the pleather sticking to her bare thighs. She mimicked the frantic pace now, fucking her own face on Mark’s length, using her hand to twist at the base. Drool coated her chin.
“Carl… he just unzipped and shoved his fat dick against my cheek,” she mumbled, her words garbled by flesh. “Wanted a turn. I took Derek’s out… sucked Carl’s for a minute… then went back to Derek. They were grabbing my tits… through my blouse.”
Mark was muttering, a stream of “oh god” and “Jesus” falling from his lips. His thighs trembled. She could feel the tense, gathering storm in his balls.
“Then Derek came,” she said, pulling off to stare up at him, her lips swollen, eyes bright. “All over my tongue. I showed him. Then I turned and took Carl’s whole fucking dick down my throat until he shot his load, too. Swallowed it all. Every last drop.”
The vulgar summary, delivered in her sweet, wrecked voice, was the final trigger. Mark’s body bowed off the couch. A ragged shout tore from him as his orgasm hit, pulses of hot come painting the back of her throat in swift, salty jets. She kept her mouth sealed tightly around him, swallowing diligently, her throat working until he was spent and softening.
She finally released him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She rested her cheek on his thigh, looking up at him through her lashes. His chest heaved; he looked devastated and utterly satiated.
“They’re going to expect it again,” she said softly, the manipulative core of her wrapped in a sheath of regretful fact. “Derek and Carl. Maybe others. It’s how things work there. You understand, don’t you, baby? For the job?”
Mark’s hand fell onto her head, a limp, heavy weight. He couldn’t meet her eyes. He just stared at the ceiling, his breathing slowly settling into a defeated rhythm. The silence in the apartment was complete, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator. It was the sound of a new agreement, sealed not with a kiss, but with a deeply compromised sigh.
It was the sound of a new agreement, sealed not with a kiss, but with a deeply compromised sigh.
Lacy let the silence thicken, a palpable fog of his shame and her victory. She finally rose from the floor, her knees cracking faintly, and climbed back onto the couch beside his limp form. She curled into him, her head finding the hollow of his shoulder again, her finger tracing idle circles on his chest through the thin cotton. She felt the frantic beat of his heart begin to slow.
“Derek kept trying to slip a finger into my ass while I was sucking Carl off,” she said, her voice conversational, as if remarking on the weather. “Pressing against my panties through my skirt. Really persistent about it.”
Mark stiffened. A fresh, different tension wire pulled tight in his neck.
“He and Carl were both asking about it. My ass, I mean.” She tilted her head to look at him, a slow, wicked grin spreading across her gloss-sticky lips. “But I told them not today. I said their cocks were much too large for my tight little backdoor. That it was a special treat. For someone special.”
She watched his face, the flicker of possessive pride wrestling with the grotesque image she’d painted. He licked his lips, his voice hoarse. “You… you told them that?”
“Of course I did.” She nipped his earlobe. “I’m your good girl, aren’t I?” She let the question hang, a poisonous sweetness. Then she pushed herself up, standing before him in the dim room. “They felt bad, though. For being so pushy. So they gave me a gift. To apologize.”
She turned her back to him, the curtain’s shadow slicing across the gentle curve of her spine. Her hands went to the waistband of her skirt. She unzipped it slowly, letting it fall to the floor. She hooked her thumbs into the sides of her lace panties and bent forward from the waist, presenting herself to him as she drew them down her thighs.
There, nestled between the pale globes of her ass, was a jewel. A teardrop of faceted pink crystal, glittering even in the poor light, its flared base just peeking out from her puckered, clenched hole. It was absurdly sparkly, garish, a piece of costume jewelry lodged in the most intimate part of her.
Mark made a sound, a choked inhalation that wasn’t quite a word.
“Do you like it?” she asked, glancing back over her shoulder, her expression pure, corrupted innocence. “Derek said it would help me get ready.”
She walked back to him, the movement causing a subtle, internal shift that made the crystal catch the light anew. She knelt on the cushion beside him, took his limp, spent hand, and guided it behind her. She pressed his fingers against the cool, hard surface of the plug, forcing him to feel its unyielding presence inside her body.
“He bought it at some sleazy adult store on his way back to the office,” she whispered, her breath hot against his neck. “He was so proud of himself. Said he can’t wait to see it in me during the next department lunch.”
A violent shudder ran through Mark. Revulsion and a sharp, unwanted bolt of arousal twisted together in his gut. His fingers, against his will, traced the flared base, feeling the tight ring of muscle stretched taut around the narrow stem. She was so full. The visualization was instantaneous and brutal: Derek selecting this, laughing with Carl, imagining its path into her.