If you were my coworker would you fuck me in the back office?

She's leaning against the filing cabinet like she owns every square foot of that cramped back office — hip cocked, blouse barely doing its job, eyes daring you to make a decision you can't take back.

Those curves were distracting enough through the glass partition all week. Up close, with the door locked and the fluorescent hum the only witness, your hands already know exactly where they want to land.

The paperwork can wait. The meeting can wait. Everything outside that door dissolves the moment she reaches back and turns the blinds shut without breaking eye contact.