Office overwork

An empty office. Daylight fades against half-drawn blinds. The blonde secretary slips off her heels and lets her skirt ride up her thighs, exposing the black lace of her garter belt. She settles back in the big leather chair, legs parted, and slides two fingers under the thin strip of her thong. Her eyes close as she pictures her boss behind the desk, his hand fisting her hair while she kneels between his legs. Her breath grows quick and shallow; the only sound in the quiet room is the wet glide of her fingers and the soft creak of the chair beneath her hips. She pinches her nipple through the silk blouse, teasing it hard, and lets a quiet moan slip free. Alone with the fantasy, she works herself faster, hips lifting to meet her own hand, the lace dampening beneath her touch.