Corporate Dictation

Renata was the best secretary Dumont & Associates had ever had. Organized, discreet, punctual. Three years without a single mistake. Everyone knew: if you needed something, she was the one to ask. When the new CEO took over, everything changed. Daniel Meireles. Forty-two years old, divorced, custom-tailored suits. Gray eyes that seemed to read minds. On his first day, he called Renata into his office. — You’re Renata. They told me you’re indispensable. — I do my job, Mr. Meireles. — Daniel. Call me Daniel. His tone was firm, but there was something beneath it. A warmth. Renata felt her face flush. The following weeks became a game. Gazes that lingered too long. Hands that brushed when passing documents. Once, he leaned over her shoulder to see the screen, and his scent—sandalwood and leather—made her legs weaken. Friday, six in the evening. The office emptied. Daniel appeared at her door. — Renata, I need you. An urgent dictation. She picked up her notepad and pen. Followed him to his office. The door closed, blinds drawn. He sat in the leather armchair behind his massive desk. — Sit here—he pointed to the chair beside him. Not in front. Beside. Renata sat. Crossed her legs. Her skirt tightened around her thighs. Daniel looked. — Ready? — Always. He began to dictate. Corporate words, numbers, projections. But his voice grew softer. Rougher. He leaned in. — Renata. — Yes? — Drop the notepad. She did. Her heart raced. Daniel stood. Stood before her. Extended his hand. Renata took it, and he pulled her up. Bodies inches apart. — Three months—he said.—Three months holding back. — Me too—she whispered. The kiss was like a dam breaking. Hungry mouths, hands everywhere. Daniel pushed her against the desk. Papers scattered to the floor. Renata sat on the edge, legs spread, pulling him by his tie. He tore off the tie. Undid the first buttons of his shirt. Renata dragged her nails down his chest, and he growled. — Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this?—he said, sliding his hands up her thighs beneath her skirt. — Show me. Daniel pulled her panties down. Renata lifted her hips to help. He knelt between her legs. — My God—he murmured at the sight of how wet she was. His mouth found her, and Renata gripped the edge of the desk. Precise tongue, firm lips. He knew exactly what to do—as if he’d studied. — Daniel... ah... He didn’t stop. He sped up. Renata locked her legs behind his head, hips rolling. — I’m going to come—she warned. — Come for me. It’s an order. The orgasm hit her hard. Trembling legs, arched back, a long moan she tried to stifle. Daniel stood, wiping his mouth. Eyes dark with desire. — My turn—said Renata, sliding off the desk. She pushed him into the armchair. Undid his belt, his pants. Freed him—hard, thick. Straddled his lap, skirt hiked up. She sank down slowly. They both groaned. Renata braced her hands on his shoulders and began to ride. — Fuck, Renata... — Like this, boss? — Don’t call me boss right now. — Daniel—she moaned, picking up the pace. He gripped her hips, helping. The chair creaked. The sound of their bodies filled the room. — Deeper—she begged. Daniel planted his feet on the floor and thrust upward. Renata threw her head back, breasts swaying beneath her open blouse. — Like that... like that... — Come with me—he said through gritted teeth. They came together. Renata dug her nails into his shoulders, her whole body pulsing. Daniel held her tight, his face buried in her neck. They stayed like that for a minute. Breathless. Sweaty. — This... complicates things—she said. — It does. But I’m the CEO. I make the rules. Renata laughed, still in his lap. — And what’s the new rule? — Dictation every Friday. After hours. Mandatory. — Yes, sir. Daniel smiled and kissed her again. Slowly this time. Dumont & Associates never found out why productivity dropped on Fridays.