"I forgot to put on underwear today."

The handwritten note was open in front of my eyes and I didn't have the emotional intelligence to deal with it.

"With the rise in the dollar, our financial results need to practically double in order to continue delivering desirable results to the headquarters" the president of the multinational where I worked continued listing the challenges of that fiscal year, when a new note landed on my leg.

I unwrapped the paper with surgical calm. I already knew what a good thing it wasn't and I didn't understand why I kept paying attention to her naughty notes, but the curiosity of whatever she was up to this time was higher.

"The fabric of the skirt against my pussy... And you here, so close, are not helping to stop this delicious slide."

Why, Layla? Why me?

"We will need commitment from all areas to prosper in the face of these difficulties, which is why we have created short and long-term goals for each department".

The subject of that general company meeting was serious and important. My work was directly affected by the definitions communicated there, since I was responsible for one of the company's most profitable products. And, being in the Technology Industry, I also depended on high investments in research and development to ensure that I would deliver good results, which meant that I needed to know in advance the cuts that would be made and draw up contingency plans so that they did not negatively affect our software.

Layla should also pay attention, since she was the leader of the commercial area that sold my product, and directly linked to the company's financial results, since everyone knew that the soul of any business was sales.

But she didn't give a damn. She preferred to use her casual and provocative way to take me out of my comfort zone and, consequently, I wasn't listening to much of what was being said either.

It was always like this.

Layla didn't miss an opportunity to poke me with her dirty phrases full of ulterior motives. Whether it was in meetings like this, in the corridors, dealing with work or at Thursday Happy Hours. Even when we were separated, each in her own home, she never stopped sending me erotic messages.

I could report her to HR and get it over with. But she knew very well that I would never do that. Not just because I wasn't a snitch, but because most of the time, deep down, I thought it was incredible that a woman like that said she wanted me.

You see, I've always been a nerd, geek, whatever you want to call it. I wore large pairs of glasses, shirts buttoned all the way, and well-pressed linen pants. Nothing in my life was off track or not planned accordingly.

Except her.

It was an inevitability that I couldn't put into the schedule.

But of course that didn't mean I knew how to respond to her advances. On the contrary, in 99% of the cases I was left red and embarrassed, stuttering and sweating at her terrifying presence, because, after all, I didn't have the slightest experience of what to do with a woman of that caliber. Not with any woman, actually. My introverted personality and somewhat exclusive interests had deprived me of all the experimentation of adolescence and had culminated in an adult self who knew the basics of the alphabet of seduction and very little about the application of that theory.

So it was safe to say that my performance in the face of her provocations was, in a word, poor. And that seemed to further encourage the demon in skirts to try and squeeze a carnal reaction out of me, as she only really stopped when she thought I was actually going to break or something.

Layla had a keen sense of knowing exactly how much I could take of her advances before withdrawing and that was just one more reason to let her do that disgrace to me without punishment. Since it started, about a year ago, she had considerably increased her approach and I had created a frankly fantastic resistance to things that previously caused me impossible embarrassment.

I felt like a dog being trained, which despite being molded to the owner's pleasure, still gets treats here and there.

And she was a powerful owner, let me tell you. She walked tall, self-assured, an enviable posture poised on top of her balance in fifteen heels. She was still shorter than me, but her presence filled any room, turned heads with her incomparable beauty and the way she was such a businesswoman.

"What if I get down here and suck every last drop of you, do you think they'll notice?"

A bead of sweat fell from my scalp at the latest note. As long as I didn't respond, she would keep moving forward and forward, but I didn't know which was worse. Saying "enough" now and proving myself weak and inexperienced, or letting her drag it out to the point where I need to leave the room without lots of elegance.

"Your managers will hold 1-on-1 meetings to define the guidelines for the coming months and the idea is to really have a clear and concise work plan that leads us to a winning mentality".

Layla crossed her legs to my side and started rubbing her calf against mine. Inside the leg, her foot hugging me, going up my pants a little only to go down again. She rubbed her fingers against her skirt, smoothing the fabric and drawing my attention to her toned legs.

Did that meeting have no end? I wanted to open the last button on my shirt urgently.

"Layla..." I whispered, in agony.

"Hm, that's right, moan my name" she replied in the same tone.

I closed my eyes tightly and tried to cloud my mind of any thoughts that led to her. It was useless and I knew it, but I tried anyway because I was a resilient person.

"So thank you everyone for being here today and let's get back to work!"

Finally the meeting was over and I could return to my cubicle in peace - but with my dignity severely tarnished. Layla got up before me and in the crowd of people waiting to leave the auditorium, she stopped abruptly so that we could bump into each other. Her hips fitted into my crotch for a few seconds and I didn't know what to do.

"Nicolas, Nicolas..." she murmured as if reciting to a child. "One of these days you'll have to fuck me. Hard".

And he left, without giving me the right to respond.

–

Layla was out of the country in training with other sales managers from Latin America. She took advantage of the trip to schedule some demonstrations with a regional client and wrote to me asking for assistance with questions she had about the product.

As we were always making updates and improvements, that type of meeting between the two of us was quite common. But, one way or another, it always ended with a very shocked me and a very perverse Layla, saying lewd things.

That time, however, I was hoping it would be different. With her away and through a screen, I expected her willpower to tease me to wane or disappear. Who knows, maybe there were even people around - although that hadn't proven to be an obstacle before.

When the video call connected, she had her professional air coming through and I breathed a sigh of relief for a few seconds. She wore a silk shirt with a gold necklace that she never took off and I couldn't see more than her waist. Her well-painted eyes looked at me with the same attention I gave her and I cleared my throat, beginning our interaction.

"Hi, Layla, good evening. How is the trip?"

She smiled tightly, her iris shining with some thought I couldn't guess.

"Better now".

Oh well. I guess I was wrong, considering her tone of voice was husky and sensual and dangerous.

"You said you had questions, how can I help you?" I preferred to continue the agenda, scratching the back of my head evasively.

She laughed, looking down. She bit her lip looking hesitant for just a second.

"The client I visited here has technical, not administrative, competence. He was not interested in the economic benefits of the company's solution for the business, but rather in how implementing the software would help his work and that of his team".

"These are the most complicated..." I commented, because I knew that our commercial team, although very prepared and capable, did not have the training focused on systems development, as was expected.

"They are indeed" she agreed. "He wants me to go through all the program specifications, all those difficult names you keep saying" I laughed, thinking she looked beautiful sulking like that. "And I'm not sure I can repeat it without you reminding me".

I was sure she knew that speech backwards and forwards because there was no more competent person in that company, but then her demonstrated insecurity was so adorable that I couldn't question it.

"I understand" I waved once, adjusting my glasses on my face. I cleared my throat, ready to begin the long explanation of every line of code that my team and I had spent years developing and even more time perfecting. It was a "blah blah blah" that would sound boring to absolutely anyone in the world, but I loved saying it. I was very proud of what we created, but more than that, I simply loved talking about all the insights within the project, the ways we overcame difficulties, the ideas we had to improve the user experience or solve any user difficulties, all the different features exclusively designed to leave our customers amazed, what we had built with so much effort and which was simply unheard of in the market until then...

Anyway, I wasn't that excited even when I killed a paladin for good in World of Warcraft - damn bubbles and stupid cures that forced us to win a fight not once, but twice.

And Layla was a great listener. She seemed genuinely interested, asking questions when they arose and encouraging me to give more and more information, even those that I knew wouldn't make any difference in the sale, such as what my relationship was with the people on the team, who had developed a particular solution, which programming languages we used for each specification and which one was my favorite.

I didn't know if she was as excited as I was about that conversation or if she had forgotten to turn on the air conditioning in her hotel room, but her cheeks started to blush and she became increasingly breathless, starting to contribute to the video conference with little grunts of encouragement only.

Concerned about my colleague's well-being, at one point I chose to ask if she wanted to take a break or if she wanted me to send a summary of the matter by email.

"No!" she protested on the other side, running her tongue across her red lips. "Keep going, Nicolas, please. Do not stop!"

Shrugging, I continued my conclusions, watching intently as she closed her eyes, throwing her head back for a few seconds. Not far from where I had started, I forced myself to stop again.

"Layla? Everything ok there?"

"H-hm" she replied, her bust as red as her cheeks. "You were saying?"

A bit embarrassed for not understanding their reactions, I glanced at the clock seeing that it was already well past my working hours. The office around me was completely empty and although I was feeling like I could continue with that meeting for a few more days, that fact made me realize that maybe my colleague was tired, sleepy, who knows.

"Layla, it's late. Don't you want to rest? I don't want to be inconvenient and I will understand if you..."

"Uh, Nicolas!" she roared from the other side, sounding frustrated. She moved the laptop camera, tilting it lower where I could now see much, much more than just her waist. "I was so close! Just a couple more sentences about your technology, with those intellectual words and that nice man face of yours and you would have made my trip worth it".

"What?" I stammered, still very shocked by the scene of her exposed thighs and very crumpled pink panties. "Were you...?"

"Touching myself, Nicolas" she replied, running her tongue over her lips again. "For you. It's not the first time, you know?"

I swallowed, without action. My eyes must have been wider than they had been in my entire life.

"What do you say to continue our subject just a little longer? Just..." she let the words get lost at the same time as she slid her right hand down her belly, permeating the waistband of her underwear and penetrating its insides.

Was my heart beating right? I don't think so.

Her moan echoed through my headphones and I didn't know how or why, a spasm of chastity made me reach into the computer's power cord and pull it out of the socket in one jerk.

I was panting as if I had run a 50-mile marathon after months of a severe sedentary lifestyle. I needed my asthma pump with some level of certainty. My body felt strange, my head was light, my vision was blurred, my mouth was dry. And I would prefer to stop the analysis there.

I pulled my hair like a maniac, wondering if that had been rude of me. Should I apologize? What was the protocol for that action? Would I send an email or...? And did she still need the specs?

My cell phone beeped a good 10 minutes after my shame attack. As I had a tendency to clear notifications immediately, I opened the Whatsapp icon with its little red balloon of an unread message.

It was Layla. A photo.

I almost wanted the company's internet to go down so that it couldn't be downloaded without turning on the operator's data. That would have given me a few more seconds to prepare for that bomb.

The image was a selfie of my co-worker smiling, half-naked and with the inside of her thigh smeared with a sticky liquid that according to my biology classes could only be... by Odin. I was really screwed.

–

I wasn't prepared to see her. I don't think I ever was, but that time, in particular, even less so.

Layla was back from her trip, as were all the sales reps, and even though my desk wasn't in the way between hers and the elevator, I just knew she wouldn't let the day go by without "casually" stopping by.

I considered taking the day to work from home, but postponing the meeting would only make me more anxious and tense. I also considered staying in the cafe, in the common area or even in a meeting room, where she could only find me surrounded by other people, but the truth is that the lack of privacy had never stopped my co-worker in any way. On the contrary, she found even more perverse ways to mess with me when we were in public.

That's why all I had to do was wait. Waiting until that monument of a woman appeared in my office, her hips against the doorframe and a libidinous smile painting her face. We were already at the end of the day, she had cooked me in agony a whole day before appearing in sight, calculated at the moment when I would have the fewest distractions or opportunities to escape.

She was very, very intelligent, that was undeniable. A little evil genius.

"Hey Nick".

My face felt hot and I knew I was flushed beyond recovery. I could barely keep my eyes on hers, I was so embarrassed. I remembered the photo I had received and deleted so quickly that an entire folder of images had gone with it without me noticing. The pink panties. The wetness on her thighs.

I wasn't mature enough to look at her even on Google Maps cameras at that point, let alone in person and with no one around. I made an incomprehensible grunt that in my head translated into "hi", but in reality could only be interpreted as some ancient dialect from the prehistoric era.

She laughed, the damn thing. An open laugh of joy and satisfaction at my impressive awkwardness upon the opposite sex.

"Oh, Nicolas..." she shook her head, still amused by my performance, and then walked the steps that separated us, closing my door behind her.

And that was the story of how a nerd died from a heartache with just the hard work of his overly fertile mind. The end.

No, jokes aside, I stood firm and strong in my shaky, awkward self as I watched her sit at the table right in front of me. On a whim, I turned off the monitor screen on the left, trying to deprive her eagle view of something that I didn't know I was ready to share with someone else. That, of course, ended up catching Layla's attention even more than my indifference would have.

"Did you leave my photo as your wallpaper or are you trying to hide your startup's plans?" my dumbfounded look must have said more than the entire dictionary. "Of course I know".

"You do?"

"I've been watching you for a long time, my dear" she replied, in a blink. "I know you have ambitions far greater than what this place can provide for you. Working on new challenges, being your own boss... Is the app ready yet?"

I wanted to be a healthy person and have a glass of water by my side. I certainly needed a good few liters to push the lump that developed in my throat at that moment.

"I really shouldn't be discussing this with a co-worker..."

"And I shouldn't have masturbated thinking about you" Layla countered, forcefully returning the redness to my cheeks. "But look, it seems that rules are made to be broken, limits to be exceeded, desires to be satisfied.."

"Layla" I wanted more than anything for her to stop talking with that sexy voice because I didn't know how to deal with the temperature my body reached when she used it.

"You don't agree?"

"I wouldn't know" I denied, taking off my glasses to massage the bridge of my nose. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not the most experienced person in the world when it comes to social interactions. Not even average, actually".

She smiled again, an interested gleam in her eyes.

"I didn't notice" she joked, making me laugh strangely. "But what do you know? You should give it a shot. If not with everything else, at least with this app dream of yours".

"You mean I should resign?"

"Well, why not?" she questioned, crossing her leg very close to my gaze. "I'm sure you already have money in your account to buy all the extensions for the games you love for the rest of your existence. You can invest your time in making this work, opening your own company, getting clients. I believe you would do very well if you could open yourself up to this opportunity".

Thoughtfully, I strummed my keyboard for a few seconds, not knowing how to react to that encouragement.

"I don't know..." I sighed, going back to admiring her shiny hair. "I would have to take a lot of risks, get out of my comfort zone. And what about the company?" I was alarmed, thinking that my team was not ready for my absence, they would need to hire another computer engineer, I would have to pass the administrative user to my first developer, and when Ignacio was too lazy to review his lines of code, a bug could affect all software beyond repair. "No way!" I exclaimed, worried.

"Psst" Layla called, breaking me out of my reveries. "That wouldn't be your problem anymore. Believe me, the company would manage. I would have to get accustomed to not having our meetings too, which would be much more dramatic, but I would get over it".

I hadn't thought about that. If I actually followed her advice and resigned, Layla would no longer have me at her disposal every day to harass. She was expected to be the last person interested in my leaving, so her encouragement speech didn't make sense.

"Do you want me to go away?" I decided to ask, in the midst of my confusion.

"Never, darling" She assured. "In fact, my goals with this conversation are also selfish".

"How so?"

"Well, if you open yourself up enough to do what you want professionally, you might be more willing to do it in another field" Her naughty smile told me the conclusion of her thought and I didn't need any more information in that aspect. "So, are you going to show me the app or was it really my photo in your background?"

"Are you kidding me? I deleted the photo the second I received it. If I didn't love technology so much, I might have thrown my cell phone out the window, just to avoid looking at it".

I wanted to make it clear that I respected her too much to have a nude of her floating around in my database, but my speech sounded more like I was rejecting her. Fortunately, Layla was self-assured enough not to be put off by my lack of oral skills. She got up from the table, resting her hands on the arms of my chair. She lowered her face until it was leveled with mine, eyes connected, so close that I could smell her breath and the smell of her shampoo.

"I almost believed you didn't like it, but then... Then I realized that my little nerd must prefer high definition graphics, augmented reality and all kinds of 3D stuff. Maybe you'd prefer to see it in person, right? Feel, smell, taste..."

I swallowed hard, very nervous about the direction of the conversation. The mere mention of the photo gave me chills, imagine the reference to a possible live do over. Even worse was not being able to live my shame in full, because Layla was determined to give me a taste of what it would be like to be outside my comfort zone - in fact, ripped away from it, without mercy.

"What do you say, Nick?" Her eyes were two sparks and her hands sought mine, positioning them on the hem of her tight dress. "Can I give you a taste of what it would be like to finally free yourself from these bonds of yours?"

My muteness was more than acceptance: it was a lack of objections. Smiling, she pressed my fingers to help push up the fabric of her clothes, calmly exposing mounds and mounds of silky skin. Her panties started to show and I thought I was going to vomit. It was small and provocative, made of dark fabric with lace at the edges, simply too erotic for a frightened and inexperienced Nicolas.

I opened my mouth ready to protest my inability to go through with this game of horrors when I saw it. Tiny, delicate, such a fine and innocent line... Layla had the symbol of the Deathly Hallows tattooed high on the left side of her groin.

My glassy eyes gave courage to my cold hands to touch the drawing with curiosity and fascination. The triangle of the invisibility cloak, the circle of the resurrection stone and the line that represented the Elder Wand. Harry Potter marked my entire childhood... I knew every slightest meaning that could be attributed to that symbol, but at that moment, more than the defiance of death, more than protection and choice, seeing it stamping Layla's sculptural body made me feel a warm feeling of familiarity.

Suddenly, I felt comfortable in my own skin. I saw in her an equal, an acquaintance, a person with whom I could identify. A person I didn't need to fear.

Layla smiled wide, watching my adoration for her tattoo, and she decided to swing a leg on either side of my chair, effectively sitting on my lap. Her arms surrounded my neck and her hands made a simple caress through my hair.

"Can I ask you for a kiss?"

The shark who was usually the form of my co-worker seemed to give way to a thoughtful woman who knew when to be delicate so as not to make me run away in a panic attack. That only encouraged the shivers of wonder to continue feverishly running down my spine.

"I will disappoint you" I assured, not knowing where to put my hands. She helped me, directing them to her waist, where I grabbed the fabric enthusiastically, happy to have a place to hold my latent anxiety.

"Impossible" she breathed, bringing our faces close to the point of rubbing our noses. "You are already much better than my imagination" She kissed my cheek once, twice, three times, her thumb leaving a warm caress across my jaw and chest. I was sure she could feel the exorbitant speed at which my pulse was beating. "Please, Nick... I miss you".

Even though I knew it didn't make sense, after all we had never been in such an intimate moment before, I found myself wanting to give in to her ordeal. I could blame it on my insistent inability to say "no" to anyone, but the truth was I wanted to. I was curious to taste her and shut her fierce mouth for just a moment.

Running my timid hands up her arms, watching the pores there tingle, I finally said, in a resigned sigh:

"All right, then".

Without wanting to wait another second, Layla pressed herself against me, rolling around in our joint and as soon as she raised her face to mine, she kissed me.

Restless and anxious as I had never seen her before, she opened her lips to capture my taste and involve me in her not-so-subtle dance of seduction.

And her kiss was so much better than expected... So much better than anything I had ever known before. It was wonderful and sensual like her, powerful, strong, it left me feeling helpless.

With some level of certainty I knew that if my teenage self had discovered Layla at the height of his hormones, my life would be very different. I would have spent my days dedicated to feeling her tongue on mine instead of playing video games with my virtual friends in the dark of a room. Maybe I would have even developed a certain extroversion, followed a different career path, traveled the world and learned to dance.

Because that kiss did that for me. It made me feel things I didn't know were possible, question themes that were previously so definitive, and travel on a wave of satisfaction and heresy.

Layla was panting, giving more of herself than she had, and she broke the kiss when she ran out of air to look at me. My hands on her flushed face, hers opening the first two buttons of my tightly closed shirt. I looked at her work, the shame threatening to return, but she didn't let it. With a finger on my chin, she told me to keep looking at her eyes, and pulled her own dress over her head, making her half-naked as in the photo. I swallowed hard, my frantic chest rising and falling with difficulty in keeping my breath calm.

Her iris told me all the dirty things she was thinking, each of the kinky phrases that she had said to me so many times without worrying about my reactions, but at this time she saved it to try to make me more comfortable.

Giving me two more wet pecks and kissing my jaw and ear again, Layla lowered her hands again, this time resting them on my belt buckle.

"You may not know it, Nick, but you were once responsible for my moments of greatest pleasure" She whispered in my ear, trying to calm me with her warm voice as she unzipped and buttoned my pants. "I want to repay at least one of them today".

I felt cold, nervous about the whole unknown situation and its action protocols. I wished for half a second that someone would tell me which buttons to press and in which order to be victorious, but not even the concept of victory was familiar to me.

"Will you let me touch you?"

Did she mean… Caress me… There?

"Layla!" I gasped, far from ready to deal with it properly. "You don't have to, I don't want you to feel like..."

"But would you just look at you, Nick" her hand went around my dick through my boxers, as hard as it had ever been, even painful due to excitement. "Let it have its release. Let me help you with that".

A nervous laugh erupted from my throat without permission. I looked around the room without finding a single thing that could bring me back to comfort and serenity.

"I promise I'll be gentle. And, if you don't like anything, you can tell me and I'll stop right away".

How, I wondered, how could I begin to explain that my fear was not at all related to what she was going to do - because I was sure that whatever it was would make me lose my head even more - but rather all my emotional barriers, lack of composure and ignorance of my own body?

Well, anyway it didn't matter anymore, because Layla was mesmerized by my shaft, having left my lap to kneel right in front of the chair, uncovering me from the fabrics.

My cock pointed upwards, without any clothes blocking its size, and she ran her tongue across her lips, seeming very pleased with the sight. I was forced to throw my head back and cover my eyes the moment I sensed my co-worker moving, and it turned out to be a very wise decision, because the wet, warm feeling around my pleasure point was meant to be enjoyed without distractions.

Layla covered him with her mouth and hands, covering all the nerve endings, every tiny piece of skin, and began a sucking and back-and-forth movement that made me sweat and tremble without control. I heard more than I felt my own voice exclaiming natural interjections and grunts that drowned out the sound of her slurping and heavy breathing.

A characteristic smell began to fill the environment while the restlessness in my lower abdomen continued to increase. My hands instinctively went to Layla's silky hair, wanting to somehow direct her activities, even though I knew that whatever my intentions, it would be for the worse: she clearly knew how to conduct this much better than I could dream of.

One of her hands disappeared down and I knew, I just knew, that she was all wet like in the photo, touching herself for me and to me, seeking her own pleasure just with the stimulation of our kiss and my ecstasy. The scene combined with the still constant stimulation on my penis meant that the ejaculation could no longer be held back, which Layla promptly drank to the last drop while she screamed my name between incomprehensible obscenities.

This is the end of Part 1, for the rest of this short story, check out my account!