The sun has set while we've been closeted away in the conference room, reviewing endless spreadsheets for this very particular client. I look up from my laptop as she returns, carrying drinks, and closing the door behind her. I rub my eyes and stretch, as she goes about pouring. She's liberated the bourbon and glasses from my desk, I note, as well as some seltzers. She sips hers, and switches on the lamp in the corner, while flicking off the horrific overhead lighting.
"I think that's enough for today, don't you?" she asks, looking critically at the two large screens on the wall, currently displaying a variety of spreadsheets, slides, and reports.
"Yes," I reply, pushing back from the table, and accepting the glass of bourbon she's handing me. The burn of the alcohol revives me a bit, and I unfasten the top two buttons of my shirt. My fingers still on the second, when I notice that she's now shifted her gaze from the screens to me, like a cat watching a mouse. She slinks around the table until she's standing so close our clothes are brushing, keeping eye contact the whole time. She clinks her glass against mine with a smirk, and we both take a drink. She shifts even closer, slipping between me and the table, and now her body is pressed lightly against mine. I take another sip while she sets her glass down on the table behind her. Her fingers dance over my third button.
"The conference room table, really? That's such a cliché, you know," I tease, as she proceeds to open all of the buttons, and runs her hands up my chest to push the shirt off my shoulders.
"Yes, it is," she admits, now tugging at the hem of my t-shirt. I hand her my glass and pull the tee over my head. "Will you forgive my shameful lack of originality?" I reclaim the glass for another sip, then set it aside.
"I think I can make an exception this time," I tell her, pulling her close and kissing her. She tastes like vanilla from the bourbon, and I feel her smile as she strokes my bare chest. I slip my hand under the hem of her blouse and up to cup her breast. Her hips press against mine reflexively as I squeeze. She pulls back slightly to start on her own buttons, as I slide my hand up her back to unclasp her bra. She's kissing me again as we fumble the shirt and bra off, and then her bare breasts are pressed against my chest, and I'm groping her with both hands. She's suddenly two inches shorter, and I realize she's kicked off her heels. I paw at the waistband of her skirt, and she obligingly wiggles out of it, losing her hair clip in the process. I run my thumb over the tattoo on her hip, and take a moment to just *look*. She's all messy hair and flushed cheeks, peaked pink nipples, and long legs as she lounges against the edge of the table. Her panties have a picture of mistletoe, directly over her pussy.
"Bringing ALL the cliches today, aren't you?" I ask, dropping back into my chair, and she snickers. I pull her panties down an inch at a time, savoring the reveal like I'm opening a Christmas present. Once she's naked, she sits up on the table, leaning back on her hands, and I scoot forward while pushing her thighs apart.
Motion across the room catches my eye, and suddenly on the two big TV screens, rather than spreadsheets I see—her. Twice; once on each 65" screen. Oh, yes. This is good. My laptop has gone to sleep and the room's webcam, mounted just across from us, is now the default display. I nudge her slightly sideways, so the camera is catching more of her profile. She hasn't noticed the show behind her, but I'm transfixed. I keep one eye on the screens, visible just past her hip, as I begin to explore her pussy with my fingers and tongue. It's a completely different experience, to see her back arch when I curl my finger inside her, and have it echoed by the women on the screens. I'm looking back and forth between her real breasts above me, and the side view of them on the TVs; her thigh beside my head, and my hand gripping her bare leg on the screens. I always like to see the way she looks when she comes, but in triplicate like this, it's magnificent.
She's catching her breath as I stand up, and pull her up with me. I turn her around, and she jumps, startled by the nude women on the giant screens. The zoom on the camera is fairly close, and her body is nearly life-size. I watch over her shoulder, as my hands slide from her hips, up the curve of her waist, to her tits. She gasps and leans back against me as I play with her nipples. My erection is straining through my pants, but I need to see her come like this.
