Chapter 2: The Office Affair
The scent of expensive coffee and ozone from electronic devices lingered in the air as Steve pushed open the heavy glass door to Natalie’s executive suite. His knuckles were white around the handle of the insulated lunch bag – her favourite salmon salad, prepped meticulously, an attempt to smooth over the jagged edges of the morning. The memory of her sharp departure, the slam of the front door vibrating through the minimalist living room, still echoed. He’d cleaned the kitchen twice, vacuumed with unnecessary vigour, all while replaying the flat refusal that had sparked her fury. Just once, he’d thought, just once, couldn’t she…?
He stepped into the plush silence. Natalie’s office was a temple to corporate power: vast, dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows framing the city like a diorama, the sky a hard, bright blue. A sleek chrome desk gleamed under recessed lighting. The hum of the HVAC was the only sound.
Until he heard it.
A low, rhythmic, wet sucking sound. Like someone devouring ripe fruit with desperate hunger. And beneath it, a breathy gasp he knew intimately.
Steve froze, the lunch bag suddenly heavy as lead. His gaze tracked the sound to the far side of the desk, hidden from the door by the high-backed executive chair. Slowly, heart hammering against his ribs, he took two steps.
Natalie was reclined in her chair, head thrown back, eyes closed, a sheen of sweat glistening at her temples despite the cool air conditioning. Her tailored skirt was rucked up around her waist, her blouse open, revealing the black lace cup of her bra pushed down, the firm swell of her breast exposed. Her legs were spread wide over the chair’s arms. Kneeling between them, his tailored suit jacket discarded, tie askew, face buried deep in her lap, was Jack. Natalie’s hand was clamped possessively on the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair, forcing him down, grinding his face into her.
Steve saw the dark, dense thatch of Natalie’s pubic hair glistening with wetness. Saw Jack’s jaw working frantically, his shoulders hunched with effort. Heard the obscene slurping sounds intensify, punctuated by Natalie’s sharp, guttural moan. "Fuck, yes… right there… suck it, Jack… suck my fucking cunt harder!"
The sight hit Steve like a physical blow. The lunch bag slipped from his nerveless fingers, landing with a soft thud on the thick carpet. The sound jerked Natalie’s eyes open. Her gaze found Steve instantly. There was no shock, no guilt. Only a flicker of annoyance, then a slow, predatory satisfaction spread across her face. Her grip on Jack’s head tightened, keeping him working.
"Steve," she said, her voice thick with arousal but utterly controlled. "Didn’t hear you come in." She moaned again, arching her back, grinding down onto Jack’s mouth. "Oh god, that’s it… don’t stop…"
Jack’s head snapped up, his face a mask of mortification, slick with her juices, lips swollen, chin dripping. He scrambled back, trying to wipe his mouth with his sleeve, his eyes wide with panic. "Natalie! Jesus! Steve! I’m sorry, man, I… she said… it wasn’t…" He stammered, utterly flustered, scrambling to his feet, fumbling with his fly.
"Sit down, Jack," Natalie commanded, her voice cutting through his panic like ice. She hadn’t moved from her sprawled position, her pussy still exposed and glistening. "I didn’t tell you to stop. We’re not finished." She fixed Steve with a cool stare. "Steve brought lunch. How thoughtful." Her tone dripped with casual dismissal. "Put it on the desk. And close the door."
Steve stood rooted, his face burning hot, then deathly cold. The scent of her arousal, sharp and musky, filled the air, mingling sickeningly with the sterile office smells. He saw the raw panic in Jack’s eyes, the man frozen halfway between kneeling and standing, humiliation radiating off him. And Natalie, utterly unperturbed, legs splayed, demanding, entitled.
"Nat…" Steve’s voice was a dry croak. "What the fuck?"
Natalie sighed, a sound of profound irritation. "Oh, relax, Steve. Don’t be so dramatic. I needed release after that fucking disaster this morning." Her eyes narrowed. "You left me hanging. All wound up. Stress before the Henderson pitch? Unacceptable." She gestured dismissively towards Jack. "Jack was available. He understands his place. Unlike some people." Her gaze bored into Steve. "He knows how to properly attend to a woman’s needs." She shifted her hips, a deliberate, provocative movement. "Don’t you, Jack?"
Jack flinched, his face scarlet. "Natalie, please… Steve’s here…" he mumbled, unable to meet Steve’s eyes.
"And?" Natalie retorted sharply. "His presence doesn't change my requirement. He can watch. Maybe learn something." She patted her thigh impatiently. "Stop dawdling. Get back down there. Eat me. Now."
Jack hesitated, a trapped animal look in his eyes. He shot Steve a look of pure, agonized apology, then slowly, defeatedly, sank back to his knees. He avoided Steve’s gaze as he lowered his head back between her legs.
The wet sounds started again, louder now, amplified by Steve’s hyper-awareness. Jack’s tongue rasped against Natalie’s swollen folds, lapping at her clit with a desperate, focused energy. Natalie moaned, long and low, her fingers tightening in Jack’s hair again, pulling him deeper. "That’s it… suck it like you need it… oh fuck, yes…" She threw Steve a look of pure, smug triumph, her eyes dark with lust and power. "See, Steve? This is service. He knows he’s here for my pleasure. He doesn’t whine."
Steve watched, his stomach churning. He saw Jack’s shoulders tremble, whether with effort or shame he couldn't tell. He saw the intense concentration on Jack’s face, the way his tongue worked frantically, plunging into her, then circling her clit. He saw Natalie arch and gasp, her knuckles white where she gripped the armrests. The air thickened with the raw scent of sex and dominance.
"Faster," Natalie hissed. "Harder! Make me fucking cum, Jack!" Her command was sharp, laced with impatience. Jack redoubled his efforts, his head bobbing vigorously. Natalie’s breathing became ragged, her hips lifting off the chair to meet his mouth. "God, yes… oh fuck… suck my clit! Suck it hard! Oh shit… yes! YES!" Her body went rigid, a guttural cry tearing from her throat as she slammed Jack’s face hard against her. Her thighs clamped around his head, holding him prisoner as she shuddered through her climax, her moans echoing in the high-ceilinged room.
Steve stood frozen, the untouched lunch bag at his feet, the image of his wife convulsing in orgasm on her subordinate’s tongue while he watched, unwanted and invisible, searing itself into his brain. The hollow feeling from the morning yawned wider, deeper, filling with something colder than resentment. He saw Jack pull back, gasping for air, his face a mess of saliva and Natalie's cum, looking utterly wrecked.
Natalie slumped back in the chair, breathing heavily, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. She smoothed her skirt down casually, ignoring Jack who was wiping his face, trying to regain some composure. She looked at Steve, her eyes still hooded with post-orgasmic languor, but sharp with expectation.
"Well?" she asked, her voice regaining its usual crisp edge. "The lunch?"