The Work Party

When Katie gets left alone with a colleague’s boyfriend, sparks begin to fly…

Warning: this post contains sexually explicit material.

Katie was twenty-nine and tired of being sensible.

The party had slipped its leash early. What was meant to be a work thing had turned into one of those nights where hierarchy blurred and ambition got drunk. Music low, lights forgiving, prosecco poured with enthusiasm rather than care. People leaned closer than necessary. Laughed a second too long.

But Management partied separately. They had a room booked at the top of the stairs. Dimly lit, with a reddish hue. Only the chosen few were beckoned up there.

Lena was pulled aside first.

“VIP’s open,” one of the directors said, already ushering her toward the roped section at the back. “Come meet the people who actually decide things.”

Lena beamed, half-apologetic as she was swept away. “I’ll be stuck in there for ages,” she called over her shoulder. “Don’t wait up.”

Her boyfriend, Eric, lingered.

“That’s managers for you,” he said lightly. “Once you’re in, you don’t escape.”

He look flustered; perturbed. Standing in a corner, nursing a beer. Shoulders bulging through a tight leather jacket.

He was twenty-two, Katie knew this. A couple of years younger than Lena; several years younger than her. Clean jaw. Open mouth. Tousled, thick blonde hair.

Katie smiled. “You sound experienced.”

He shrugged. And then with a glint in his eye and a smile pursing his lips - “I’ve had Managers before.”

Katie couldn’t tell what he meant by the statement.

He handed her a drink. Their fingers met.

Not briefly.

Not accidentally.

“You looked like you needed it,” he said, eyes flicking to her mouth.

Across the room, Lena disappeared into velvet light and laughter.

Katie told herself this was coincidence.

They talked. Nothing important. Music. Office nonsense. Eric listened with his whole body — leaning in, voice low, not rushing to fill silence.

When Katie glanced toward the VIP rope, he followed her gaze.

“She’ll be in there all night,” he said. “They start talking futures.”

Something in the way he said futures felt deliberate.

She downed her first glass of wine and he ordered her another…

———

Streets away, Katie’s flat smelled faintly of perfume and something warm left unattended. She kicked off her heels, suddenly aware of herself — her hips, her neck, the way confidence settles once you’ve earned it.

Eric stood close behind her.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m deciding just how bad this is.”

He didn’t answer with words.

His hands came down on her hips, firm and claiming, pushing her back against the counter like he’d already decided where she belonged.

His mouth found her neck and stayed there — probing. Teeth grazing skin.

Breath hot and deliberate.

Katie gasped, startled by the sound of herself.

“You’re not as careful as you pretend,” he murmured.

She laughed softly, breathless. “Neither are you.”

He tugged her dress up, bunching the fabric in his fists, hands closing hard around her arse.

The grip was possessive, grounding — like he needed proof she was real. She felt it everywhere.

“Jesus,” she breathed.

“Say stop,” he said, almost gently.

She pulled him closer instead.

They moved through the flat like this — him steering, her letting herself be led — until her back hit the bedroom wall. He kissed her there, mouth hungry, confident now, hands roaming like he’d memorised her already.

The fabric of her dress prised apart, revealing her thighs, which he wasted no time in beginning to kiss up.

At this point, Katie’s self consciousness began to kick in.

What was she doing?

Before this thought could even settle, he’d pulled down her underwear; exposing her against the electric ripple of the cool air.

She hadn’t shaved. At 29 and with no man on the scene, the thought hadn’t even entered her mind.

Eric didn’t seem disturbed or confused, as he advanced towards her thicket and Katie found her mind wandering about the women he’d slept with before. Younger. Probably shaved. No. She couldn’t let him do this. Not yet.

She pulled him up, erect against her. For the first time, his expression dropped. From hungry to slightly disappointed.

But when she slid her tongue down his chest, felt him tense beneath her touch, he groaned low and caught her wrists, pinning them briefly above her head.

The power shift made her pulse spike.

“Look at you,” he said quietly. “So sure you’re in charge.”

She smiled — slow, knowing — even as he guided her back onto the bed.

Outside the room, a floorboard creaked.

Katie didn’t hear it.

Eric’s mouth moved with purpose, staying just long enough in each place to make her lose track of time. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, nails biting down. The bed creaked beneath them, steady and rhythmic. Her voice softened. Broke. Her legs shuddered as the muscles in his hips contracted against her flesh.

She could feel him throbbing inside her.

———

Outside the bedroom, Lena held the door handle for support.

She’d slipped away from the VIP section ages ago.

She’d said all the right things. Smiled at the right men. Laughed at jokes she’d heard before.

But something tugged at her.

She’d noticed Eric and Katie, the way they seemed to be doing an almost imperceptible dance with each other.

Following them had been easy. They barely seemed to notice anything but each other.

She’d gotten as close as the door to the flat, and found it ajar.

She paused.

Inside, Katie made a sound Lena recognised — Surrender.

She knew what Eric must be doing to make her make a noise like that. Knew where his tongue must be; his fingers; his cock…

Eric’s breathing shifted too, rougher now, that familiar hitch that meant he was losing control.

Lena leaned closer, silently opening the door.

The smell hit her first. A mingle of perfume, sweat and flesh. The unmistakeable - undeniable smell of sex.

Her hand slid beneath the hem of her dress almost without instruction.

Her breath stayed careful, controlled, even as heat bloomed sharp and visceral.

Inside, Eric’s hands held Katie exactly where he wanted her, thumbs pressing into her hips like anchors. Katie arched, body responding before thought could intervene - the wet slap of body parts intertwining.

Outside, Lena pressed her palm to the wall, eyes closed.

Pleasure built, insistent, syncing with the sounds slipping through the crack of the door.

She bit down on her lip, stifling a sound, fingers moving faster.

Inside, Katie whispered his name — a broken sound.

Eric answered with one of his own, low and unguarded, grip tightening.

The rhythms aligned — breath for breath, pause for pause — a private choreography split by a door that never quite closed.

Inside, Katie cried out — sharp, unguarded.

Outside, Lena’s breath caught and stilled.

For a moment, everything held.

Then the bed creaked once more. Collapse. Quiet aftermath.

Lena exhaled, smoothing her dress, pulse still racing. She stepped back from the door, leaving it ajar. Leaving the moment intact.

Inside, Katie lay back, heart pounding, never once turning toward the strip of light slicing across the floor.

Eric was panting too; stickiness all around his midriff and chanced a subtle look at the bedroom door.

She was there.

He smiled, almost imperceptibly.

Katie noticed it.

“Someone’s proud of themselves.”

“Well I do love to seduce an older woman.”

And then, he thought to himself - And Lena does love to watch.