The Congressman's Secretary

David Perry carries more than a briefcase into the office tonight. His secretary Ary knows the weight of it. One tug and that scarlet dress pools at her ankles. Calls can wait. He wants her mouth first, hot and ready, taking him deep until his hand finds the back of her blond head and urges her on. She never flinches, just works him harder, lips slick, tongue stroking every inch. When he’s pulsing at the edge, she pulls back, offers her face without a word. He paints her cheeks and lips in thick, white ropes while she holds his gaze, every drop claimed like a private victory. The phones keep blinking. Neither of them reaches for them.