After Hours: Subtleties of Power

**After Hours: Subtleties of Power** The office was already breathing the silence of empty hallways, that moment when the walls seemed to sigh in relief after twelve hours of clattering keyboards, ringing phones, and the constant hum of fluorescent lights. Clara slid her fingers along the edge of the desk, feeling the cold metal beneath her nails, painted a deep red, almost wine-colored, matching the lipstick stain left in the coffee cup beside her. The clock on the wall read 7:47 PM, but time there always felt elastic, stretching between duty and desire. She had finished filing the last contracts of the day, her agile hands organizing folders with the precision of someone who knew every detail of that place. Every drawer, every shelf, every shadow cast by the half-closed blinds. But her eyes, those couldn’t tear themselves away from the crack of the slightly open door. On the other side, Daniel sat at his desk, the lamp’s light drawing golden contours on his face. He had taken off his jacket hours ago, leaving it hanging on the back of his chair, and now the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms, marked by discreet veins that Clara had already memorized in moments of distraction. His long fingers held a fountain pen, moving with the same elegance with which he signed checks or shook hands in important meetings. But it was his forehead that held her there—the deep crease between his dark eyebrows, a sign he was immersed in some complicated report. Clara knew she should leave. She had already turned off her computer, put away the papers, even organized the drawer of pens that always got messy. But something kept her there, as if the air between them were charged with static electricity, about to spark at the slightest movement. She approached the door, her low heels sinking into the thick carpet, and pressed her shoulder against the cold wood. — You’re still here — his voice cut through the silence, low and rough, without lifting his eyes from the paper. Clara felt her heart beat faster, as if she had been caught red-handed. But it wasn’t fear. It was something hotter, more urgent. — Just finishing up some details — she lied, because the truth was she didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Daniel finally looked up, and his eyes, a deep brown like freshly brewed coffee, met hers through the crack. A slow smile spread across his lips, the kind that made Clara wonder if he knew exactly the effect he had. — You work too much, Clara. — Someone has to keep you in line — she replied, her voice softer than she intended. He laughed, a deep sound that reverberated through the empty office, and turned his attention back to the report. But Clara didn’t move. She watched the way the muscles in his back tensed beneath his shirt, how his fingers drummed lightly on the desk—a nervous tic he only showed when he was truly focused. Or when he was thinking about something he shouldn’t. The air conditioning shut off suddenly, leaving the room even quieter, more intimate. Clara felt the heat rise up her neck, spreading across her face. She knew she should turn around, grab her bag, and go home. But something compelled her to stay. Maybe it was the way the lamp’s light illuminated the contour of his jaw, or how the scent of his cologne—something woody, with a hint of spice—seemed to blend with the aroma of the leather chair and the old paper of the files. — Aren’t you leaving? — he asked, without looking at her this time. — In a minute — she murmured, her fingers gripping the doorframe. Daniel sighed, as if giving in to something they both knew they shouldn’t. Then, with a deliberate movement, he pushed his chair back and stood. Clara held her breath as he approached the door, his body too large for the space between them. He reached out, not to touch her, but to close the door completely. — Good night, Clara — he said, his voice now closer, rougher. She didn’t answer. Just nodded, her lips parted, feeling the heat of his body radiating through the thin wood. When she heard his footsteps moving toward the elevator, she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. But she didn’t leave. She stayed there, leaning against the door, listening to the distant sound of the elevators, the click of the floor’s lock being engaged. And then, as if the universe were conspiring in her favor, Daniel’s phone rang on the desk. The shrill sound echoed through the empty office, and Clara hesitated for only a second before pushing the door open again. Daniel was facing away, answering the call with that authoritative voice he used in important meetings. But when he turned and saw her standing there in the middle of the office, the crease between his eyebrows returned. It wasn’t concentration anymore. It was something more dangerous. — I need help with a file — he said, covering the phone’s mouthpiece with his hand. — It’s urgent. Clara smiled, slow and deliberate. — Of course, boss. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she bent down to pick up the folder she had *accidentally* dropped at his feet. The room was almost completely dark when Clara reached for the main light switch. The dry click echoed through the empty floor, and the fluorescent light above Daniel’s desk flickered one last time before going out, leaving only the bluish glow of the screensavers and the reflection of the city lights filtering through the half-closed blinds. She took a deep breath, feeling the air denser now, laden with the scent of old paper, reheated coffee, and that woody perfume Daniel wore—something expensive, imported, that clung to the throat and made her legs weak. Her heels sank slightly into the carpet as she walked toward the exit, her steps deliberately slow. The folder she carried—with the quarterly closing reports—felt heavier than it should, as if it knew what was coming. She balanced it against her hip, her fingers drumming on the synthetic leather cover, and cast one last glance at Daniel’s slightly open office door. Inside, he was still bent over his desk, his silhouette outlined against the desk lamp’s light, his broad shoulders tense beneath the thin fabric of his dress shirt. Clara bit her lower lip, tasting the metallic tang of the lipstick she had discreetly reapplied in the women’s bathroom. *Just a little longer*, she thought. *Just enough for him to notice.* Then, as if fate had given her a cue, her fingers slipped. The folder dropped to the floor with a dull thud, scattering loose sheets and plastic folders across the carpet. She let out a muffled gasp, more out of instinct than surprise, and quickly knelt, her hands already reaching to gather the papers. But before she could touch anything, a shadow fell over her. — Let me help. Daniel’s voice was low, rough, as if he too had been holding his breath for too long. Clara slowly looked up, meeting his eyes—dark, intense, with that spark of something beyond mere professional curiosity. He was already crouched in front of her, his knees almost touching hers, his hands too large to be delicate as they gathered the documents with almost military efficiency. — Sorry — she murmured, reaching for a sheet that had fallen near his shoe. — I didn’t realize it was so heavy. Daniel didn’t answer right away. Instead, his fingers brushed against hers as they both reached for the same paper, and the contact was like an electric shock. Clara held her breath, feeling her skin tingle where he had touched her. He must have felt it too, because his movements hesitated for a second, his eyes locked on hers, as if searching for something—permission, maybe, or just confirmation that he wasn’t imagining it. — Are you okay? — he asked, finally, his voice deeper than before. Clara nodded, but didn’t move. Instead, she let her fingers slide lightly along his leg as she pretended to adjust her position to grab another paper. It was a quick touch, almost imperceptible, but enough to make Daniel stiffen. She saw the muscle in his thigh contract beneath the fabric of his pants, heard the almost inaudible sound of his breathing quickening. — Clara… — he began, but she interrupted him with a nervous laugh, grabbing the last sheet and standing up quickly. — How embarrassing — she said, shaking the papers as if she could erase the moment with a gesture. — Good thing you were already leaving. Daniel stood slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. He didn’t smile, but there was something in the way his lips parted, as if he were about to say something he shouldn’t. Instead, he just held out the folder to her, his fingers brushing against hers on purpose this time. — Watch the steps — he murmured, his voice rough. — I don’t want to have to explain an accident in the security report. Clara laughed again, but the sound came out more breathless than she intended. She held the folder against her chest, as if it could shield her from what she was feeling, and took a step back. — Good night, Daniel. He didn’t answer. Just stood there in the middle of the semi-dark office, watching as she walked toward the elevator. Clara could feel the weight of his gaze on her back, like a slow, deliberate caress. When the elevator doors closed, she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and leaned her forehead against the cold mirror. *Shit.* She wanted more. And by the way Daniel had looked at her, so did he. --- The elevator descended in silence, but Clara barely noticed. Her thoughts were stuck in that moment—the heat of his fingers against hers, the way her breath had faltered when she touched his leg. She pressed her thighs together, feeling the dampness between them, and bit her lip hard enough to leave a mark. When the doors opened in the lobby, she almost stumbled out. The night security guard looked up from his newspaper, but Clara just waved with a distracted smile and headed toward the revolving doors. The night air was cool, but she barely felt it. Her body was still burning. She was almost on the sidewalk when she heard quick footsteps behind her. — Clara. She turned, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. Daniel stood there, his tie slightly crooked, his breathing visibly ragged. He didn’t say anything for a long second, just stared at her with an intensity that made her stomach clench. — You forgot this — he said, finally, holding out a keycard. Hers. The one she always left in her desk drawer. Clara blinked, confused, and then smiled. — Oh. Thanks. He didn’t move. Neither did she. — You… — Daniel hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. — Do you often work late? — Sometimes — she replied, taking a step toward him. — When there’s something urgent. — And is there today? She tilted her head, her lips curving into a slow smile. — Now there is. The air between them seemed to crackle. Daniel swallowed hard, his eyes dropping to her mouth before returning to hers. — The dead file — he said suddenly. — There’s a document I need to review. It’s old, from the time of the merger with the São Paulo company. Do you know where it is? Clara knew. She knew exactly where it was. And she also knew that the corridor leading to it was narrow, poorly lit, with shelves that almost touched. — I do — she murmured. — But it’s locked. Daniel held up the keycard between his fingers, turning it slowly. — Not anymore. She didn’t answer. Just reached out, her fingers brushing against his as she took the card. — Let’s go — she said, her voice low. — Before someone sees us. And then, without looking back, she turned and walked toward the side entrance of the building, feeling his eyes burning into her back like a promise. The corridor stretched before them like a dark vein in the building’s body, lit only by emergency lights that cast pale, trembling halos over the worn linoleum floor. Clara walked ahead, the heels of her shoes echoing in staccato against the concrete walls, each step a quickened heartbeat. Daniel followed, the keycard still warm between his fingers, as if it had absorbed the heat of her skin. The air there was denser, laden with the scent of old paper, dust, and something more—something that belonged only to her. A citrusy perfume, with notes of bergamot and a hint of vanilla, that coiled around his senses like an invisible hand. — This way — she said, without looking back, but knowing he was watching her. She could feel the weight of his gaze on the curve of her shoulders, on the way her tight skirt outlined the movement of her hips. Daniel swallowed hard. The dead file wasn’t just a place; it was a maze of steel shelves, narrow corridors that barely allowed two people to walk side by side. And yet, there they were, entering that forbidden space after hours, as if the building itself conspired to bring them closer. — Do you come here often? — he asked, trying to sound casual, but his voice came out rough, betrayed by tension. Clara laughed softly, a sound that reverberated between the shelves like a shared secret. — Only when the boss asks for something *urgent*. He smiled, despite everything. There was something deliciously perverse in hearing that word—*boss*—from her mouth in that context. As if, for a moment, the roles had reversed, and he was the subordinate, hungry for every crumb of attention. — And does he often ask for urgent things? — Sometimes — she murmured, stopping in front of a tall shelf. Her fingers slid along the spines of the files, a slow, almost affectionate gesture. — But never like this. The *like this* hung in the air, laden with meaning. Daniel stepped closer, her body partially blocking the passage. The corridor was so narrow that, to continue, he would have to squeeze against her. And that’s what he did. — Sorry — he said, his voice low, but he didn’t move. Clara didn’t answer. Instead, she tilted her head back, her lips parted, as if tasting the air between them. Her perfume intensified, now mixed with the heat of her own skin, and Daniel felt the blood pulse harder in his veins. When she finally turned to him, their bodies touched—his chest against her back, his thigh brushing against hers. A minimal contact, but enough to make him hold his breath. — The file you want is at the end — she said, her voice a whisper. — But the corridor is narrow. — I noticed. She started walking, and he followed, their steps deliberately slow. With every movement, their bodies brushed—her hip against his, his arm grazing hers, their hands touching by chance as they braced themselves against the shelves. Daniel felt every point of contact like a spark, an electric current running through his skin and concentrating in places he tried to ignore. But how could he ignore it, when her scent enveloped him, when the heat of her body seeped through the layers of fabric between them? — You’re doing this on purpose — he accused, his voice low, when she stopped suddenly, forcing him to collide against her back. Clara turned, her eyes shining in the dim light. — And if I am? Daniel didn’t answer. Instead, he brought his hand to her face, his fingers brushing the line of her jaw. Her skin was soft, warm. He felt the tremor that ran through her, a shiver she couldn’t hide. — You’re dangerous — he murmured. — And you like that. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, said with a confidence that excited him even more. Because she was right. He liked it. He liked the way she challenged him, the way she provoked him, the way she made him feel that, in that moment, he wasn’t the boss—he was just a man, vulnerable to desire. — Here — she said, finally, stopping in front of a file box. — It should be here. Daniel stepped closer, but not to look at the documents. Instead, his hand found hers, their fingers slowly intertwining. Clara didn’t pull away. Instead, she turned her face to him, her lips inches from his. — You didn’t come here for the file — she whispered. — No — he admitted. — But now that I’m here... He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he leaned in and captured her mouth in a kiss. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant. It was urgent, hungry, as if they both knew this moment was stolen, that at any second someone could appear, that the world outside continued to exist, indifferent to what was happening between those walls. Clara moaned against his lips, her hands rising to grab the lapel of his jacket, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, tongues meeting, teeth grazing. Daniel felt her body mold to his, the soft curves yielding to the pressure of his muscles. One of his hands slid to her waist, his fingers squeezing the flesh beneath her skirt, while the other tangled in her hair, pulling lightly to expose her neck. — Daniel… — she murmured, his name a plea and a provocation at the same time. He didn’t answer. Instead, he lowered his mouth along her neck, feeling her accelerated pulse beneath his lips, the salty taste of her skin. Clara arched her back, pressing against him, and Daniel knew he was lost. The file, the work, the entire building—none of it mattered. Only her. Only this moment. But then, as if the universe had decided to test them, the sound of a door opening echoed down the corridor. Footsteps. Voices. Clara pulled away abruptly, her eyes wide, her breathing ragged. Daniel also stepped back, his heart pounding so hard he was sure it could be heard from the other side of the building. — Shit — he whispered. — Someone’s coming — she said, her voice trembling. Daniel looked around, desperate. There was nowhere to go. The shelves were too tall to hide behind, and the corridor had no exits. Then, Clara grabbed his hand and pulled him into a corner, behind a shelf that almost touched the wall. — Stay quiet — she murmured, pressing against him, their bodies pressed together in the tight space. Daniel could feel every inch of her—the rise and fall of her chest with her quickened breath, her thigh between his, the heat radiating from her skin. He swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything but the fact that if they were discovered, there would be no plausible explanation for what they were doing there. The voices drew closer. — …said the report was ready — a man spoke, his voice echoing down the corridor. — It must be in the dead file — a woman replied. — But we’d better not take long. The security guard makes his rounds at eight. The footsteps stopped a few meters from them. Daniel held his breath, his body tense. Clara was also still, but he could feel her tension, the way her fingers dug into his arm. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Then, the footsteps resumed, slowly moving away. Daniel let out a slow breath, relieved. Clara also relaxed, but didn’t pull away. Instead, she turned her face to him, her lips almost touching his. — Still want that file? — she asked, her voice low, laced with irony. He didn’t answer. Instead, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, slower this time, as if they had all the time in the world. As if they hadn’t just narrowly escaped discovery. When they parted, Clara smiled, her eyes shining with a promise. — Let’s go — she said, taking his hand. — There’s a better place to continue this. The dead file smelled of aged paper and dust, an aroma that, under other circumstances, would have been suffocating. But there, between the narrow shelves and the yellowish dimness of the emergency lights, the scent mingled with Clara’s perfume—something floral with a hint of vanilla, sweet enough to leave Daniel’s mouth dry. She walked ahead, her low heels sinking slightly into the worn carpet, her hips swaying in a rhythm he already knew by heart, even if he had never dared to admit it. Daniel held the document up to the faint light, pretending to read. The letters danced before his eyes, blurred by the proximity of their bodies, by the heat radiating from her. Clara stopped beside him, so close he could hear her breathing—light, controlled, but with an almost imperceptible tremor when their shoulders brushed. He reached out, as if to point at something on the paper, but instead, his fingers found her wrist. The touch was casual, almost professional. But the second Clara’s soft skin touched his, something changed. He didn’t let go. Instead, his thumb began to trace slow circles on the inside of her wrist, where the veins pulsed beneath the surface. Clara didn’t move. She didn’t pull away. She just stood there, her lips parted, her eyes fixed on the document as if she were still reading. — Here — Daniel murmured, his voice rough. — This note… it’s important. Clara turned her face to him, her lashes lowered, her pupils dilated in the dim light. His thumb continued its hypnotic movement, now sliding into the palm of her hand, caressing her lifeline as if he could decipher all her secrets there. — Important? — she repeated, the word coming out in a whisper. — Or just an excuse to touch me? He smiled, slow, dangerous. His thumb paused for a moment, pressing more firmly, feeling her pulse quicken beneath his fingertip. — Do you think I need excuses, Clara? She bit her lower lip, her white teeth sinking into the rosy flesh. Daniel felt the heat rise through his own body, a slow wave that started in his stomach and spread to his neck, to the tips of his fingers. He wanted to pull her against him. He wanted to feel her weight, the taste of her mouth, the sound she would make when he touched her for real. But something held him back—maybe the fear of breaking the spell, maybe the certainty that if he went too far, she would retreat. — No — she admitted, finally. — I don’t think you do. His thumb resumed its movement, now slower, more deliberate. Clara closed her eyes for a second, as if absorbing the sensation, as if etching the texture of his skin against hers into her memory. When she opened them again, there was something new in them—a flame, a promise. — You’re playing with fire — she said, her voice low, almost a warning. Daniel leaned in a little more, until his lips almost brushed her ear. Clara’s perfume invaded his senses, mingling with the scent of old paper and his own desire, thick, almost palpable. — What if I want to get burned? She didn’t answer. Instead, she turned her hand, capturing his thumb between her fingers. It wasn’t a gesture of refusal, but of possession. Clara held him there, squeezing lightly, as if testing his resistance. Daniel held his breath. The air between them was charged, electric, like the moment before a storm. — Then you’ll have to be quick — she murmured, releasing him as suddenly as she had grabbed him. — Because the security guard will be here in five minutes. Daniel didn’t move. His thumb still tingled where she had touched him. He looked at Clara, at the curve of her neck, at the way her tight blouse outlined her breasts as she took a deep breath. He wanted to say something, but the words seemed to have evaporated. Instead, he reached out again, this time not for her wrist, but for her face. Clara didn’t pull away when his fingers brushed her cheek, sliding to the line of her jaw. He could feel the heat of her skin, the slight roughness of his stubble in contrast to her feminine softness. She tilted her face into his touch, her eyes half-closed, as if savoring every second. — Clara — he began, but she interrupted him with a gesture. — Shhh — she whispered, placing a finger over his lips. — Don’t ruin everything. Daniel smiled against her finger. Then, without warning, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back, until Clara’s back hit the metal shelf. The sound echoed in the silence of the file room, muffled by the sound of their quickened breaths. He didn’t kiss her. Not yet. Instead, he leaned in until his mouth was inches from hers, feeling her warm breath mingle with his. — I’m not ruining anything — he murmured. — I’m just getting started. Clara didn’t answer. But when he pulled away just enough to look into her eyes, he saw the answer there: desire, surrender, the certainty that this wouldn’t end here. She licked her lips, a quick, unconscious gesture, and Daniel felt his entire body react. — Let’s go — she said, finally, her voice rough. — We need to get out of here before someone finds us. Daniel nodded, but didn’t move. Instead, he took her hand again, intertwining his fingers with hers. Clara didn’t resist. She just squeezed back, hard enough for him to know she wasn’t playing—that this was real, that the two of them were heading toward something inevitable. And when they left the dead file, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridor, Daniel knew there would be no turning back. Whatever happened next was no longer a question of *if*, but of *when*. The service elevator smelled of cold metal and accumulated dust, a harsh contrast to the heat rising between them as the doors closed with a metallic creak. Clara didn’t wait. The second the mechanism jammed and the car stopped between the tenth and eleventh floors, she turned to Daniel with an urgency that left no room for hesitation. Her eyes, once restrained, now burned with an intensity he had never seen—or perhaps had never allowed himself to see. — You always knew this was going to happen — she murmured, her voice low, almost a whisper, but laden with a certainty that made him hold his breath. Daniel didn’t have time to respond. Clara advanced, pushing him against the wall with a firm movement, her hands splayed on his chest. The impact made his entire body vibrate, but it wasn’t the force that surprised him—it was the precision. She wasn’t asking for permission. She was taking what they both knew was already hers. — Clara— — Shut up — she cut him off, her mouth finding his before he could finish. The kiss wasn’t soft. There was no gentleness, no hesitation. It was a clash of lips, teeth, tongues, as if she were starving and he was the only thing that could satisfy her. Daniel groaned against her mouth, the sound muffled by the pressure of her lips, and his hands flew to her waist, pulling her closer. She fit between his legs, her hips pressing against his, and he felt her heat even through the layers of fabric—her tight dress, the suit that suddenly felt too tight. Clara bit his lower lip, a quick, deliberate tug, and Daniel let out a growl, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her waist. She laughed, a low, satisfied sound, before sliding her hands inside his jacket, exploring the defined muscles beneath his shirt. The thin fabric wasn’t enough of a barrier—he could feel every touch, every movement of her fingers as if they were embers against his skin. — You like to provoke me — he murmured, his voice rough, as she unbuttoned the first button of his shirt. — And you like to pretend you don’t — she replied, her fingers already working on the second button. Daniel didn’t deny it. Instead, he tilted his head back, exposing his neck, and Clara didn’t waste time. Her lips found the sensitive skin just below his jaw, and he felt her tongue trace a wet path to his collarbone. A shiver ran down his spine, and he pulled her closer, his hands sliding down to grip the firm curve of her ass. — Fuck — he groaned, when she ground against him, the movement deliberate, torturous. Clara didn’t answer with words. Instead, her hands moved to his belt, her fingers deftly working the buckle as her lips returned to his. The kiss deepened, more urgent now, and Daniel felt his own body react with an intensity that surprised him. It wasn’t just desire—it was something more primal, more raw. Something he had been repressing for months, maybe years. When she finally managed to open his belt, her fingers slid inside his pants, and Daniel let out a ragged breath. Clara didn’t hesitate. Her hand wrapped around him firmly, and he felt the world spin for a second, the sensation so intense it nearly made him lose his balance. — You’re a tease — he managed to say, his voice rough, as she began to move her hand in a slow, torturous rhythm. — And you love it — she whispered against his lips, before nipping at his chin. Daniel couldn’t deny it. Every touch, every movement, every sound she drew from him was confirmation. He pulled her closer, one hand tangled in her hair, the other sliding under her dress, exploring the soft skin of her thighs. Clara arched against him, a moan escaping her lips when his fingers found the damp fabric of her panties. — This is what you do to me — she murmured, her teeth digging into his earlobe. — Since the first day. Daniel didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Instead, he pushed the fabric aside and slid a finger inside her, feeling her tighten around him. Clara let out a shaky sigh, her hips moving in response, and he took the opportunity to add a second finger, the rhythm slow and deliberate. — Daniel— — What? — he asked, his voice a rough whisper, as his lips found her neck. — Don’t stop — she managed to say, her nails digging into his shoulders. He had no intention of stopping. Every sound she made, every tremor that ran through her body, was confirmation of the power she had over him. And in that moment, he didn’t want to resist. He didn’t want anything but to watch her come undone in his arms. The elevator shuddered suddenly, a metallic creak echoing through the confined space, and they both froze for a second. Clara let out a low, nervous laugh, but didn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers tightened around him, as if challenging him to continue. — No one’s going to find us here — she murmured, her lips brushing his ear. — Not yet. Daniel didn’t need any more encouragement. With a quick movement, he spun her around, pressing her against the elevator wall. Clara let out a gasp when her back hit the cold metal, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. — You’re insufferable — he murmured, as his lips found hers again. — And you want me — she replied, her teeth grazing his lower lip. Daniel didn’t deny it. Instead, he aligned himself with her, his body tense with anticipation. Clara arched her back, her fingers digging into his shoulders, and he entered her with a firm thrust, feeling her adjust around him. A groan escaped both their lips, the sound echoing in the confined space. — Fuck— — That’s it — she whispered, her hips moving in a rhythm that drove him wild. — Like that. Daniel didn’t need further instructions. His movements became more urgent, each thrust deeper, more intense. The city lights reflected in the windows, illuminating them in intermittent flashes, as if the universe itself were witnessing this moment. Daniel sat up, wrapping his arms around her, and switched their positions, laying her down on the couch. Clara wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he thrust into her with force. Each movement made her moan louder, the sounds echoing through the empty room. — I’m going to come — he warned, his voice strained. — Come inside me — Clara begged, her nails digging into his back. — I want to feel you. Daniel didn’t need any more encouragement. With one last deep thrust, he let go, his body trembling as he came. Clara felt the heat of his release filling her, and that was enough to push her over the edge into a second orgasm, her body clenching around him as waves of pleasure coursed through her. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing, their bodies still entwined. Daniel propped himself up on his elbows, looking at her with an expression Clara couldn’t quite decipher. There was something vulnerable in his gaze, something beyond physical satisfaction. — What is it? — she asked, running her fingers along his face. — Nothing — he replied, kissing her softly. — I was just thinking this was better than I imagined. Clara smiled, her heart beating faster. — And did you imagine it a lot? — More than you can imagine. She laughed, pulling him into another kiss. When they parted, Daniel rolled onto his side, pulling her so she lay on his chest. Clara rested her head there, listening to the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. — And now? — she asked, tracing lazy circles on his skin. — Now? — Daniel repeated, his voice sleepy. — Now we’re going to do this again. And again. Until neither of us can walk. Clara laughed, but didn’t disagree. Instead, she leaned in to kiss him again, knowing he was right. This was just the beginning. They stayed there for a while longer, exchanging lazy caresses, until Daniel finally stood up, offering his hand to help her up. Clara picked up her clothes from the floor, dressing slowly, while he did the same. When they were ready, Daniel took his phone from his pocket, quickly typing something before handing it to her. — My number — he said simply. — For when you want to do this again. Clara smiled, saving the number before handing the phone back. — And mine — she replied, taking her own phone and typing a quick message. — For when *you* want to do this again. Daniel read the message, a smile spreading across his face. — *I think I left my lipstick in your office. Need to stop by tomorrow to get it.* — he read aloud, raising an eyebrow. — Subtle. — I never said I was subtle — Clara replied, winking at him. — But you’ll like it. Daniel laughed, pulling her into one last kiss before opening the meeting room door. The corridor was still empty, but now it seemed charged with possibilities. Clara adjusted her skirt, feeling her body still tingling, as Daniel walked her to the elevator. — Until tomorrow, Clara — he murmured, kissing her softly before the doors closed. She smiled, leaning against the elevator wall as it descended. She knew nothing would be the same. And for the first time in a long time, she was looking forward to what came next.