Chapter 5: The Public Display
The buzzing from his phone didn’t stop for an hour. Each new notification was a tiny, electric shock against his thigh. He kept his head down, pretending to be absorbed in a depreciation schedule, but the silence in the office had changed.It was a waiting silence, thick and knowing. When Delia walked past his cubicle to refill her water bottle, she trailed her fingers across his shoulders.“Great photo, huh?” she whispered, not breaking stride. “Really captures your… work ethic.”
By mid-afternoon, the hum of normalcy had partially returned, though every glance felt loaded.Then, Catriona’s voice cut through the room, crisp and clear. “Spontaneous team morale meeting.Break room.Now.”
Aidan’s stomach tightened. Delia popped up with a cheerful, “Ooh, a surprise!” Irina, from her corner by the filing cabinets, closed a ledger with a definitive thud and stood without a word, her expression unreadable.The break room was a depressing rectangle. The overhead light buzzed and flickered, casting a jaundiced pallor over the scratched linoleum and the ancient microwave. A forgotten cake sat on the counter, its vanilla frosting smeared and cratered. The air smelled of burnt coffee and neglect.
Catriona followed them in, the sharp click of her heels a timer counting down.She closed the door. The metallic snick of the lock was the loudest sound in the room.“Line up,” she said, her voice devoid of its usual boardroom polish. It was flat, instructional.
Delia giggled, a nervous, excited sound, and leaned against the counter, hiking her skirt up around her hips. Irina took a position beside her, her movements economical. She unbuttoned her tailored trousers, pushed them down her thighs, and stared straight ahead at the stained backsplash, as if awaiting a medical procedure. Catriona positioned herself last, commanding the most space.She didn’t hurry.She watched Aidan, her green eyes assessing.
“You’ve had individual onboarding,” Catriona stated. “Now it’s time for integrated systems testing.Delia first.You know her preferences.”
Aidan’s mouth was dry. The fluorescents hummed.He fumbled with his belt.
“Come on, superstar,” Delia chirped, patting the countertop. “We’re on the clock.”
He approached her.The others were watching. Irina’s gaze was a side-long pressure, Catriona’s a direct beam.He entered Delia from behind, her soft body familiar now. She moaned, arching her back.“Yeah, that’s the stuff. Just like earlier, but with an audience! Adds a little spice, right?”
Her encouragement felt grotesque under the others’ stares.He moved mechanically, his pleasure secondary to the performance. When he finished, Delia let out a satisfied sigh and slid off the counter, giving his ass a slap.“Nice and quick. Efficient.”
“Now Irina,” Catriona ordered.“She doesn’t like foreplay. Get to it.”
Irina didn’t look at him. She simply bent over, bracing her hands on the counter, presenting herself.Her posture was rigid, expectant. She was tighter than the others, a tense, clenched heat. There was no sound from her, just the shallow shift of her breath.Her silence was more unnerving than Delia’s chatter. He worked himself into a rhythm, focused on the physical act, a transaction of stress relief. When he came, her only reaction was a slight tremor in her thighs. She stood, pulled her clothes up, and returned to her spot against the counter, her face a closed door.
“Finally, me,” Catriona said.She didn’t assume a position.She pointed to the floor in front of her. “Here.On your knees first.I want your mouth. The others should see the proper technique.”
He knelt on the cold linoleum.The vanilla-scented cake was inches from his face. He obeyed, his tongue working under Catriona’s sharp gaze.Delia watched, fascinated. Irina watched, analyzing.“Enough,” Catriona finally said, her voice husky. She turned, gripping the edge of the sink.“Now. Do not finish until I tell you.”
It was a different kind of command.This was about her control, her timeline. He entered her, and she was possessive, dominant, taking him with a practiced, rolling motion of her hips. She dictated the pace, slow and grinding, then fast and punishing. “See how he responds?” she said, not to him, but to the room.“Predictable.Reliable. A tool requires a firm hand.”
Delia giggled in agreement.Irina remained silent.
Sweat trickled down Aidan’s spine. The flickering light made the scene judder like a broken film.Catriona’s commands were short, breathy gasps.“Now. Now.”
His release was less a pleasure than a relief, a mandated function executed. He stayed inside her as she shuddered, her knuckles white on the sink. When she finally pushed him back, she turned, a thin trail of his cum already tracing a path down her inner thigh.
She didn’t clean it.Instead, she picked up her phone from the counter. “Gather in,” she instructed.
Delia sidled up, beaming, throwing an arm around Aidan’s waist. Irina, after a pause, stepped stiffly to the other side, her face set in a grim line. Catriona held the phone at arm’s length, capturing the four of them: her, disheveled and triumphant; Delia, grinning; Irina, stoic; Aidan, dazed and exposed. The evidence glistened on Catriona’s skin in the unflattering light.The click of the photo was shockingly loud.
Catriona’s thumbs danced over the screen. A second later, Aidan’s phone, discarded on the table, lit up and buzzed against the Formica.He didn’t need to look. He knew the caption would be there in the ‘Finch & Co. – Water Cooler’ chat, beneath the damning photo.
Catriona smoothed her skirt, a CEO concluding a successful merger.“Quarterly review complete,” she said, echoing the notification now hitting their devices. She unlocked the door, the normal world waiting just outside.“Back to work. Aidan, your performance evaluation is at four.My office.”
The door swung open. The hum of computers, the distant ring of a phone, the mundane sounds of the office flooded back in, now forever layered with the scent of sweat and vanilla frosting.