Last week, she came to my door with some personnel files, code for "we're fucking today". She closed my door, turned the lock.

She's taller than me, redheaded: pale skin, freckles, light blue eyes, A-cup tits and a small, cruel mouth. She always wears dresses or skirts, knows her ass is her best feature.

She undid the clasp on her skirt, unzipped the seam at her hip. She pulled it down over those nice hips and let it fall to the floor. Nothing underneath, never anything underneath. She walked to my desk, unbuttoning her blouse. She slid in between me and my keyboard. Her face was hard, her expression annoyed, amused. She put her left foot up on my desk, the black pump nudging my printer. She put her right foot on my chest, the pump's heel digging into my tie. She pushed me back.

I took my tie off. I could already smell her, could see the wetness on her newly-waxed pussy.

She reached over, grabbed my head.

"Get to work," she said...