After hours

Chapter 4- The Countdown

I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, the late-afternoon sun slanting through the blinds and painting gold stripes across my bare skin. The black dress from the holiday party lay across the bed—slinky, backless, the kind of fabric that clung like a second skin and whispered against every curve when I moved. I’d already showered twice, shaved everything twice, slathered on the jasmine-and-vanilla body oil he’d once complimented during a late-night coffee run (“You always smell like trouble,” he’d said, voice low, eyes on my neck instead of the cup in my hand).

Now I was deciding between the black lace thong I’d worn last week (the one that left faint red marks on my hips when I sat too long) or going without entirely, as he’d ordered. No bra was non-negotiable—the dress’s deep V neckline and thin straps made that impossible anyway. My n*****s were already tight from the anticipation, brushing the silk lining every time I breathed.

I slipped the thong on, then off, then on again. f**k it. No panties. Let him discover that the second his hand slid up my thigh in the elevator.

My phone buzzed on the dresser—sharp, insistent. Elaine’s name lit the screen.

I answered on the third ring, putting it on speaker so I could keep fussing with my hair.

“Girl,” Elaine started before I could even say hello, voice bright and slightly slurred like she’d already had a glass of rosé. “You will not believe the night I had. I’m still recovering.”

I laughed, leaning against the dresser. “Spill. I need distraction before I lose my mind.”

“Okay, so remember that guy from the gym? The one with the forearms and the man-bun who always stares when I’m on the squat rack? Turns out his name is Marcus and he’s a personal trainer. Obviously. Anyway, last night I’m at this rooftop bar downtown, minding my business, and he slides up like he’s been waiting for me to show up. One drink turns into three, three turns into him whispering in my ear that he’s been thinking about bending me over the weight bench since week one.”

I smirked at my reflection. “And?”

“And I said, ‘Prove it.’ We left ten minutes later. His place was five blocks away—loft, exposed brick, king bed that looked like it cost more than my rent. Door barely closed before he had me against the wall, hands everywhere, kissing like he was starving. He picked me up—full-on caveman carry—and threw me on the bed. Clothes gone in seconds. No foreplay preamble, just straight to him eating me out like it was his last meal on earth. Tongue everywhere, fingers curling, sucking my c**t until I saw stars. I came so hard I think I blacked out for a second.”

I bit my lip, thighs pressing together. “Jesus, Elaine.”

“Hold on, it gets better. He flips me over, ass up, face down, and slides in slow—real slow—like he wants me to feel every inch. Thick, curved just right, hitting spots I didn’t know I had. He’s got one hand in my hair, pulling my head back so he can whisper filthy s**t in my ear: ‘You’ve been teasing me for months, haven’t you? Walking around in those leggings, pretending you don’t know what you do to me.’ I’m moaning like a porn star, pushing back on him, begging for harder. He gives it—slamming deep, spanking my ass just enough to sting, calling me his good little slut. I came again—twice more—before he finally pulled out and finished on my back. Hot, messy, perfect. We passed out tangled up, woke up at three a.m. for round two in the shower. Slower this time, face-to-face, eye contact the whole time. Romantic as hell after the animal sex.”

I exhaled slowly, core throbbing. “You’re killing me. I’m supposed to be getting ready and now I’m soaked just listening.”

Elaine laughed, delighted. “Wait—getting ready for what? Spill, b***h. You’ve been radio silent all day.”

I hesitated for half a second, then decided f**k it. She’d earned the truth.

“I’m f*****g my boss tonight.”

Dead silence. Then a shriek so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear.

“ELIAS? The hot, scary, older one who looks like he could fire you and then f**k you on his desk? THAT boss?”

“The very same.”

“Details. Now. Everything. Don’t leave out a single filthy second.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, dress still untouched. “It started months ago—little things. Him standing too close during reviews, brushing my back, lingering on my wrist when he handed me files. Then the holiday party—he told me I looked dangerous, tucked my hair behind my ear, almost kissed me. Last night… I went to his office after hours. Pushed every button. Sat on his desk, tugged his tie, slid my hand down his chest. He caught my wrist, told me ‘not tonight,’ then walked out like it was nothing. This morning I cornered him in his office again—leaned over his desk, let my blouse gape, told him I was done pretending. He grabbed my wrist again, thumb on my pulse, said he was half a second from f*****g me right there. Then a call came. After the call he summoned me to the conference room. Locked door. He kissed me like he was drowning. Hands under my skirt, fingers inside me, c**k grinding against me through his trousers. I was this close to coming when he pulled back. Said we couldn’t—not there. Too risky. Told me to come to his place tonight. Black dress. No bra. No panties.”

Elaine whistled low. “Holy s**t. He’s been edging himself for months too, huh?”

“Apparently. And me. I’ve never been this wound up.”

“Okay, listen,” she said, voice shifting to big-sister mode. “Tonight is your night. You’re not just f*****g your boss—you’re claiming him. Here’s what you do.”

I grabbed a notepad from the nightstand, pen ready.

“First: walk in like you own the place. Don’t wait for him to make the first move. The second the door closes, push him against it. Kiss him like you kissed in the conference room—hard, messy, teeth. Bite his lip, tug his hair, make him groan. Men like him thrive on being taken by surprise.

“Second: keep the dress on as long as possible. Let him peel it off slowly—make him earn every inch of skin. When he finally gets it down to your waist, arch your back, push your t**s toward his mouth. No bra means he gets to suck your n*****s right away—hard. Let him mark you there. You want hickeys you can feel tomorrow.

“Third: edge him. Get on your knees, undo his belt slow—tease the zipper, palm him through his boxers first. Tell him how hard he feels, how wet it makes you. Then take him in your mouth—but don’t let him come. Suck him deep, swirl your tongue, hollow your cheeks, then pull off right when he starts thrusting. Do it two or three times. Make him beg. When he’s shaking, stand up, turn around, bend over whatever surface is closest—couch, kitchen counter, doesn’t matter. Tell him to f**k you from behind first. Hard. Let him spank you, pull your hair, call you whatever filthy name he’s been holding back.

“Fourth: switch it up. Ride him. Climb on top, sink down slow, make him watch every inch disappear. Roll your hips in circles—grind your c**t against him. Lean forward so your t**s are in his face. When you’re close, tell him to flip you onto your back. Legs over his shoulders. Deep, relentless thrusts. Look him in the eye when you come—make him see your face when you shatter. Then clench around him until he loses it inside you.

“Fifth—and this is important—aftercare. He’s probably going to be wrecked emotionally too. Boss/employee s**t is heavy. Curl up against him, kiss his chest, tell him it was worth it. Let him hold you. If he wants round two in the shower at 2 a.m., let him. But don’t let him overthink it tonight. Keep it raw, keep it real.

“And Liora? Have fun. You’ve waited long enough. Go ruin him.”

I exhaled, shaky laugh escaping. “You’re evil. I love you.”

“Love you more. Text me tomorrow with the body count. And send pics of any marks—he’s got big hands, right? I want to see fingerprints on your ass.”

I hung up laughing, heart racing faster than before.

The clock read 7:12 p.m.

Forty-eight minutes until I left.

I slipped into the black dress—no panties, no bra, just skin and silk and anticipation.

I looked in the mirror one last time—lips painted dark red, eyes smoky, hair loose around my shoulders.

Tonight wasn’t about restraint anymore.

Tonight was about surrender.

Both of us.