Redhead $name1 hides under her boss’s desk and sucks him through a conference call until he floods her mouth in silence.
$name1’s copper hair was always the first thing people noticed in the open-plan office. The second, if they looked longer at the redhead PA with the sharp calendar skills, was her mouth.
She had worked as Daniel’s assistant for eight months. He was married. She was not. The tension had been a live wire since the Christmas party when his hand had lingered on her lower back by the photocopier and she had gone home to fuck herself with two fingers thinking about his cock and his wedding ring. On a grey Wednesday with the office half-empty for a company training day, she decided the wire could finally spark.
She walked into his glass-walled office with a folder she did not need, closed the door, and locked it with a soft snick.
“Cancel my eleven?” he asked without looking up from his screen.
“Already did,” $name1 said. She set the folder on the desk, walked around to his side, and sank to her knees on the carpet between his spread legs. His eyes widened. Colour rose in his neck. “You have a call with Zurich in four minutes. Keep your voice steady. Don’t mute unless you cum.”
“Fuck — $name1 — we can’t—”
She freed his cock from his trousers with practised calm, zipper careful. He was already hardening in her hand. She licked a slow stripe up the underside, copper hair tumbling over his thighs like a curtain, and took him into her mouth just as the phone rang on speaker and a Swiss accent filled the room.
“Daniel, hi — can you hear us all right?”
“Loud and clear,” he said, voice only slightly strained, while $name1 bobbed slowly, wet and nearly silent, one hand stroking what her lips left bare. She looked up through her lashes. His knuckles were white on the desk edge. A pen rolled and stopped.
She sucked him through quarterly figures and shipping delays and a tedious debate about timelines. Spit slicked her fist. She hollowed her cheeks on every upstroke and took him deeper on the down until her nose brushed his shirt and she had to breathe carefully through her nose. When Zurich asked a direct question he answered in clipped, professional sentences while she swirled her tongue around the head and tasted the first bead of precum. His free hand finally tangled in her red hair — not pushing, just holding on like a man drowning politely.
Under the desk it was warm and dim and filthy. $name1 rubbed her own clit through her knickers with her free hand, skirt hiked to her hips, wetness soaking the lace. She was dripping for the power of it: redhead on her knees in work hours, boss on an international call, the whole floor outside unaware that the PA’s mouth was full of cock.
Zurich moved on to next-quarter projections. Daniel said, “That works for us on this end,” and his cock twitched hard against her tongue. She pulled off just long enough to whisper, barely audible under the table lip, “Cum in my mouth. Don’t you dare make a sound they can hear. Flood me.”
Then she swallowed him as deep as she could and hummed a low vibration.
He came with a full-body shudder he turned into a cough, flooding her tongue in thick pulses while he stabbed the mute button for three seconds and exhaled a silent curse at the ceiling. $name1 swallowed every drop, licked him clean with thorough little strokes, and tucked him away gently while Zurich thanked him for his time and signed off. She stayed on her knees, wiping her chin, until the line clicked dead and the office went quiet except for their breathing.
Daniel stared down at her — swollen lips, smeared lipstick on his cock and her chin, copper hair wild and tangled from his fist. “Christ. You’re insane. That was — fuck.”
“You’re hard again,” she observed, palm pressing the front of his trousers, feeling him twitch. “Lock your calendar at five. I want you to fuck my cunt over this desk when everyone else has gone. Pull my hair. Call me your filthy redhead PA while you fill me.”
He nodded like a man signing a contract he had already read twice. “Five. Door locked. Don’t wear those knickers.”
$name1 stood on steady legs, smoothed her skirt, wiped her mouth with a tissue from his drawer, reapplied lipstick from her pocket in his monitor’s reflection, and walked out with the useless folder under her arm. At her desk she answered emails with the taste of his cum still on her tongue and her knickers ruined against the office chair.
At 4:57 she watched the last analyst leave with a laptop bag. At 5:01 she locked Daniel’s door behind her, bent over the blotter without being asked, and tugged her knickers down her thighs to her knees. He shoved into her soaked cunt in one thrust and fucked her hard enough to rattle the monitor and knock a stapler to the floor, fist in her copper hair, whispering exactly what she had asked for against her ear.
She came biting her own wrist to stay quiet. He pulled out and painted her arse and the small of her back with hot stripes. She laughed softly into the wood of the desk, already planning which conference call she would interrupt next week on her knees.
Redhead. Kneeling. Under the desk. Best job — and best secret — she had ever had.
