See Right Through You

Seth's cubicle smelled like burnt coffee and bad decisions when the pawn-shop glasses did their trick. He peeked over the monitor and swore under his breath because his boss wasn't wearing any panties today, just a slim pink vibe humming right up against her clit. Connie must've sensed the laser-beam stare; she marched over, snatched the frames clean off his face and barked something about HR while dragging him toward the break-room-turned-office. Out in the hallway, Jewelz Blu spotted the dropped gadget, plunked them on her nose out of boredom, and nearly dropped her latte. Through the wall she watched her boss yank Seth’s belt open and start giving him what looked suspiciously like a private performance review. Jewelz’s free hand crept under her pencil skirt. She bit her lip, leaned against the copier, legs parting wider every time Connie smacked Seth’s ass and purred instructions he clearly needed repeated. Connie caught the motion through the half-open blinds, grinned like a cat with two canaries, and crooked a finger. Jewelz stumbled in still wearing the glasses, vibrator still rattling on Connie’s clit, Seth already leaking down his thigh. The door clicked shut behind her with a promise of its own kind of sexual-harassment seminar—three warm bodies, zero PowerPoints, and an HR policy nobody was about to file.