Office Dispatch

Log off. Say you’re on a call. I’ve got overtime. And I’ve got *you*. Door’s cracked.

I wear heels too high, panties too tight, perched on the desk like a spark in the dark.

He walks in — stiff tie, shaky breath — and I pull him closer, slow.

“…sit.” He does. “Ma’am, I shouldn’t—” I drag a kiss to his jaw. He freezes.

I lean in — hips shifting — and let the moment catch fire around me —

While security lights blink and the office stays quiet.

I moan: “…yes… yes…” *(echo: *yes… yes…*)

He bends me down — no screen — just me — copier still humming.

I’m not in charge — I’m *in the middle* — of his hunger — and I *love it*.

I’m the HR whore who *wants it* — I’m the one who *lets them* —

Desk slams down — I’m riding his face — and I *love it*!

I’m the policy, the leak, the wet spot on the rug —

You come in for discipline… You leave *begging me* to come again!

Breakroom’s empty — coffee cold — two of them — one on each side —

One tongue down my throat — one fingers on my clit —

I don’t tell them to stop — I bite my lip — let them fuck me like overtime.

“*Ma’am please—*” I say: *“…not ‘ma’am.’ Call me *Queen*.”*

Then he pins me to the wall — and I smile — *yes, yes, yes* —

Panties in my hand — I’m wet — and I *love* it.

I’m the HR whore who *wants it* — I’m the one who *lets them* —

Desk slams down — I’m riding his face — and I *love it*!

I’m the policy, the leak, the wet spot on the rug —

You come in for discipline… You leave *begging me* to come again!

Server room’s hot — humming like a secret — bent over the rack —

One in my mouth — one at my back — I’m not asking — I’m *telling*:

“…*more.*” They don’t listen — they *go harder*.

Copier stops — they find me — supply closet — panties in hand —

All of them come — while the lights flicker — and I *smile* —

Because *finally* — I’m not alone.

10-42… I’m done. Come back tomorrow — I’ll be here — *no panties*.

If you’re late… I’ll write you up — then… you’ll come in — *on your knees*.