The Secretary's Secret

Melon looks the perfect employee. Buttoned-up, reliable. But the moment the boss leaves the room, she sheds every stitch. Naked under fluorescent lights, she walks the empty desks, nipples tight, pulse loud. The risk alone makes her wet. She leans back against a filing cabinet, spreads her thighs, and works two fingers inside herself. The wet sound fills the quiet office. She keeps going—faster—until her legs shake and a sudden rush spills over her hand, dripping onto the carpet. She catches her breath, heart hammering, already wondering how much longer she can get away with it.