But as I pack up, suddenly a weird noise sounds out from the back. What is that? I go completely still, trying to figure out the mystery, but then it stops.
Fuck. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one here, unless we’re being burgled. Is that what it was? A criminal?
A chill runs down my spine. Maybe Jemima forgot to lock the door behind her, and now I’m about to be attacked. Prickles run down my spine, but then I shake my head. She’d never do that because she’s no amateur. We all know that we have to keep the door locked. Not only does it protect our employees, but it protects our property because otherwise, anyone could walk in otherwise and steal our designs.
I know I’m safe, and yet my heart continues to race. I try to breathe and calm myself down. This building is old, rickety, and sometimes it makes weird sounds. It’s probably just the pipes or the building settling for the night. There’s nothing to be worried about.
But as I sling my purse over my shoulder, another noise hits my ears. There’s a creaking sound, and maybe some moaning, like a ghost begging me to release her from a locked attic. Oh shit! Where is the sound coming from? This can’t be happening. I’m alone on our floor, and moreover, I don’t believe in ghosts. There’s some logical explanation for the ruckus I’m hearing.
A normal person would run for the front door and escape, but instead, I grit my teeth. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I grab my purse more securely, and then stand up. Hopefully fortune favors the bold.
Slowly, I make my way to the back of our floor. It’s dimly lit, and there’s a narrow hallway which leads to management’s offices. The floors are polished concrete, and my footsteps make a soft shuffling sound. I try not to breathe.
Then another ghostly moan rings out, and I pause, the hair on my arms standing straight up. Oh shit. Is this Mr. Rochester’s wife signaling for me to save her? I’m hardly Jane Eyre, but that’s what it reminds me of.
Finally, I’m standing before a locked door in the very back. This is Marcus Steele’s office, and to tell the truth, I’ve never gone inside. Marcus is the CEO of our company, and he runs the House of Steele along with my boss, Marissa. This space is sacrosanct, and I’ve only seen high level executives enter.
But then the moan comes again and my heart pounds in my chest. What if someone’s in his office trying to steal the company’s property? Our designs are all on his computer. Some of them are trademarked, but some of them aren’t yet. Quite a few of our latest dresses are top secret, to be revealed during the next fashion week.
“Stop being a coward,” I whisper to myself. “There’s no one in there. And if there is, then you have to prevent them from stealing our stuff!”
Trembling a bit, I put my hand on the doorknob and turn it slightly to the right. Oh god, I hope I don’t get busted. Or rather, I hope I do so that I don’t have to confront this thief on my own.
But then my jaw drops and my eyes go wide.
Oh shit. There’s someone in the office, alright. Or rather, there are two someones because my eyes alight on my boss, Marissa, lying on her back with her legs wide open. She’s moaning and pinching her nipples, her eyes closed with ecstasy, as her husband Marcus drills her roughly.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chants musically before erupting into a high-pitched wail. “Marcuuusss!”
But he’s not done yet. His smile is sinister as pulls out all the way and shifts her ass around, trying to get a better angle. At that moment, I see his tool, and literally gasp. His cock is massive, at least nine inches long and as thick as my wrist. How is Marissa, a tiny woman, taking all of that? Would I be able to fit him better?
I catch a glimpse of Marcus’s sexy abs too and my mouth waters with desire. He’s my boss’s husband, but I’m not immune to those good looks. You could wash clothes using those abs, and his broad shoulders only emphasize how lean his waist is, leading to powerful, thick thighs. I’ve never seen him shirtless before, but from now on, I know I’ll only see him like this: powerful, commanding, and a conqueror in every way.
At that moment, Marcus plunges back into Marissa and she lets out another heady squeal. He grins and growls.
“You like that baby?”
Then he pushes her legs even further apart, so that she’s basically doing the air splits with her toes pointing at opposite corners of the room. By now, they’re both panting like animals, and nearing their climax. I know I should go and leave them to this private moment, but for some reason, I can’t turn away. My eyes are fixed on the sexy scene, and specifically on the hard, shiny flesh moving between Marissa’s legs.
“I’m gonna come,” he growls harshly, pushing his wife’s knees back so that she’s almost a human pretzel.
“Then cooooome!” she screams, exploding on his dick. Meanwhile, Marcus jerks, his jaw clenched, and I can literally see the base of his rod throbbing as he gives it up.
“Fuck!” he roars. “Oh shit!”
This would be my moment to get away: when they’re both so entranced in pleasure that they don’t notice me. But instead, I stare, utterly immobilized, and just as Marcus plunges into Marissa one more time, his eyes look up
