Under the Desk

It started as a passing daydream. A desk. A touch. A slow, aching tease with coworkers nearby. She sat frozen, heart racing, thighs trembling - his fingers buried deep between whispered hellos and morning meetings. No one noticed. No one could. And when she came back to herself, flushed and wet… there was no one there. Just soaked lace, silent need, and a full day ahead.