You've Got Mail #Friday Flash

She felt his hand on her back, pushing her forward to give him greater access. She rolled her eyes and complied. The things one had to do to stay employed. At first it had only been the covert touch over clothing, the intermittent rubbing himself against her. Gradually it grew to hands against flesh, his fingers probing deeper and deeper. He never tried to kiss her, though. She always found that rather odd. Perhaps he wanted to save that for his wife. Some men have standards, she guessed.

She could hear him behind her, grunting, his breathing becoming shallow and rapid. Her skirt was pushed up over her hips, her panties bunched around her ankles. His condom encased tool was rubbing between her thighs; occasionally it would slip inside her, causing him to pause in his exertions and savor the sensation. The carnality itself wasn't weird or humiliating. The weird part was his insistence that she take dictation during the fornication, then type it up in an e-mail and send it to him. Once a week.

"Oh yes, that's good. Take it, you know you want it. You're so good, God baby you're wonderful, call me Daddy, make me spank you, take it baby, take it hard."

He was starting to climax; she braced herself against the desk as he began to pummel her harder. She tried to keep her writing legible as he fell against her on the desk. The weight of his body hurt; the edge of the desk was cutting into the front of her thighs. He fell back into his chair, trying to catch his breath. She had to stay bent over until he said other wise. One time she had forgotten, and had to spend half an hour on her knees. Under his desk. During a meeting with his supervisor. She was surprised they hadn't been caught. Even more surprised that he could still hold an intelligent conversation while being pleasured orally. Maybe she wasn't as good as she thought.

He leaned forward and tugged on the hem of her skirt; the signal. She slowly stood upright, keeping her back to him. Making eye contact was also forbidden. She stepped out of her underwear, leaving them on the floor, and stood by the side of the desk. The spoils of conquest; he must have had more than a dozen pair hidden away somewhere. She always wondered where.

She heard him zip up his pants and push his chair closer to his desk.

"Thanks, dear. Get that e-mail to me ASAP".

She opened the door and went back to her desk outside his office. She opened up her e-mail, wrote his address in the TO: column, wrote his supervisor's address and her lawyer's address in the BCC: column, then transcribed the e-mail, pressing send when she was finished.