by David Cain

“Yeah, I know Tanya. I used to work with her.”

“No shit. Where?”

“A marketing company downtown.”

“The Triumph Building?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“She’s a wild one.”

“Nah, she was kind of lame. Bit of a prude, you know.”

“I do not know. Maybe she was straight laced at work but we had some adventures together.”

“No shit?”

“One time, she was working on a Sunday, down at Triumph and she called me up, told me to meet her at the office.”

“Weird. No one ever worked on the weekends there.”

“That’s what she told me. She had the whole building to herself. So I met her there that afternoon.”


“She let me in the building and then we got on the elevator. The door closed and started going up. Tanya reached over and pushed the STOP button and the rickety thing lurched to a stop. Tanya had a sly look on her face and told me to stand in one corner. She moved to the opposite corner and started dancing but there was no music. She’s swaying, bumping her hips to the silent rhythm in her head. Then she picks up the hem of her dress, a light loose summer kind of dress and lifts it higher and higher as she dances. No underwear, nothing but thighs and bush and her bouncy butt.”

“Damn. I wish I’d seen that.”

“It was a sight worth seeing. But I noticed she wasn’t really looking at me. She just kept smiling and dancing and showing off her bits but she’s looking above me. So I look up and realize there’s a security camera in the corner of the elevator. She’s dancing for the camera.”

“I’ll bet the security guys loved it.”

“Then she tells me to come closer and when I did she got down on her knees and opened my pants. My dick springs out and into her open mouth.”

“Holy shit.”

“She went at me for a few minutes, then she laughed and started the elevator up. When we got to her office, the phone was ringing. ‘Probably Gary,’ she said. The security guy. She picked up the phone and chatted with him for a while, lots of ‘yeahs’ and ‘you liked that?’ and ‘maybe, maybe soon.’ Then she hung up, took my hand and led me down the hall.”

“I can’t believe it. No way it’s the same woman”

“We went down the hall to this really big office. She runs into the room and throws herself down on this big fat leather chair behind the desk, puts both feet on the desk, you know, so her pussy is wide open and started playing with herself.”

“Old man Carter’s office?  He was a total freak about neatness, always yelling at the staff for messing up his paperclips and shit.”

“Told me to come over and give it to her on the chair. So we did that for a while.”

“I’ll bet he’d have blown a fuse if he knew.”

“Then we went to another office, down another hall.”

“Glenda’s office, I’ll bet.”

“She sat on the desk and rubbed her naked butt there for a bit and told some old cow to fuck herself.”

“Good for her. Glenda was such a bitch.”

“Then we went to a smaller office, near the corner. There were two desks in the office and she bent over one and then the other, pulling her dress up to her waist and telling me to do her from behind while she messed up the papers with her naked titties.”

“Oh, shit. That was my office. I remember that Monday. Everyone was confused by the clutter, like a storm blew through the place.”

“Then she went over to the copy center and plopped down on the Xerox machine. I’d seen people do it in movies and stuff but she made a perfect color copy of her cunt.”

“Good God, I wish I had a copy.”

“I think I still do somewhere. So she took a copy to this office and put it on the desk, face down. Then she had me fuck her on the chair, on the desk, on another chair and on the floor. I noticed the pictures on the wall showed a really good looking guy.”


“His office reeked of sex when we were done. Between that and the Xerox of her pussy, I’m sure he had a clue.”

“Wow. Tanya, I never knew you.”

“We should call her.”

“Yeah, I have a job for her.”

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, poetry, swinging, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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