Closing
Time

Jake stays late on purpose now. The office empties, the only light left is the cool glow of Sarah's monitor. She's a decade older — his boss — and every night this week she's found a reason to keep him there. She pretends to work, but her knees are parted under the desk and her breathing has changed. He can see the faint flush climbing her throat, the way her fingers hesitate over the keyboard. When she finally stands and walks to the copy room, he follows. She doesn't turn around. She simply places both hands on the warm machine, arches her back slightly, and waits. The only sounds are the low hum of the building and the soft rustle of her skirt being lifted. He presses against her from behind, one hand sliding up her thigh while the other cups her jaw, tilting her head back. 'You've been thinking about this all day, haven't you?' he murmurs against her ear. Her only answer is a shudder. He fucks her there, slow and deep, one hand covering her mouth so the night cleaner won't hear. When he pulls out to push into her other hole, she whimpers — but she pushes back against him, asking for it. 'That's it. Take it. You're so fucking tight.' She comes first, shaking silently against the glass. He finishes inside her a minute later, forehead pressed to the back of her neck, both of them still fully dressed except where it matters. 'Don't clean up,' he whispers, his hand still pressed to her belly. 'I want you to feel me dripping out of you for the rest of the night.'