How To Catch A Coworker

Charlie props her laptop on the nightstand, angles the webcam, and starts rubbing circles over her clit until her thighs twitch and her hips lift off the bed. She moans, shows the lens how wet she gets, then closes the lid and drops the file into a folder named “Private” she knows Summer will sniff out like a hound. Later, Charlie waves her coworker inside, two laptops open, coffee poured, spreadsheets faking innocence on the screen. She announces a “quick errand,” slips out the door, and crouches in the hallway shadows, ear cocked. The moment the latch clicks, Summer’s curiosity wins. She drags the mouse, clicks the tempting folder, and hits play. On-screen, Charlie’s fingers are buried knuckle-deep, hips bucking, breath ragged. Summer’s jaw drops, her own hand dives between her legs, rubbing fast over denim. Charlie bites her lip to keep from laughing. She storms back in on cue. Summer yelps, slams the laptop, cheeks blazing. Excuses tumble out—“I was just checking email”—but Charlie’s grin gives the game away. “I left it for you,” she admits. “Figured if you were nosy enough, we could skip the small talk.” Summer’s laugh turns breathy. Clothes hit the floor in a messy heap. Charlie shoves Summer against the couch, tongue between her legs, tasting how the video left her soaked. Summer flips her over, rides her thigh until both women shake, then sixty-nine until Charlie’s moans fill the room the same way they did on the recording. Work never gets finished, but neither of them cares.