Overtime

by Roxie Noir

  Finally, the talk moved on to another topic, one that seemed to involve him less, and he opened a drawer in his desk to his left, sliding out a jewelry box slightly larger than usual. Valerie’s stomach flip-flopped. It could be a nice necklace or something, she thought.

  Or something better, like nipple clamps, or handcuffs. No, it was too small for handcuffs, but she still liked the idea better than a necklace.

  Watching her, Mr. Declan patted the top of his desk, a motion she’d seen before and that she knew the meaning of instantly. Valerie rose to her feet, turned, and hopped up, her heels slipping off her feet as she did. She crossed her ankles and leaned forward on her hands, just a little, doing her best to seem like an innocent girl, not someone who’d just blown her boss and couldn’t wait to do it again.

  He wrote on a post-it note again.

  LEAN BACK, it said.

  It seemed that their first encounter was about to play out, all over again. Valerie went back onto her elbows across his wide mahogany desk, the smooth top cool. Her knees were still together, but in short order he had pushed them apart and begun pushing her skirt up. She steadied her heels against the desk and lifted her hips, just enough to let him get the fabric past, wondering if her juices would harm the desk somehow, or if the cleaning people would know from the stains what went on in this office.

  Then he opened the box, and she stopped worrying about it.

  It contained two smooth, silver objects, cylindrical, about four inches long, one oblong and one flared at one end. Valerie knew a vibrator when she saw one.

  “Jasper,” a man’s voice on the other end of the phone said. “When’s your lunch with the Sonic people?”

  “I”m sending Anna,” he replied. Anna was one of the sales reps, a department Valerie didn’t have much to do with.

  Mr. Declan took one of the silver objects out of the case, making eye contact with Valerie as he spun it slowly. She didn’t move. “She’s more suited to that sort of thing, I think.”

  “Right, but when’s her lunch?” another voice said. Valerie knew this one: Eddie Salter, who had retired years ago but still had a lot invested in the agency. He was southern, with a thick, slimy accent that he clearly thought was charming. He was also the sweatiest human Valerie had ever met, huffing and puffing up to her desk a few months before after a two-block walk and an elevator ride.

  “Next Tuesday,” Jasper said. “Don’t worry, Anna can handle those boys just fine.” He twisted the base of the vibrator and Valerie could see it spring to life in his hands, almost perfectly silent.

  On the other end of the line, Eddie grumbled, but then Mr. Declan touched one end of the vibrator to the spot right above Valerie’s clit, and she gasped out loud.

  Mr. Declan removed the vibrator and put a finger to his lips, a wicked smile forming around his eyes.

  “Sorry,” Valerie mouthed.

  As he touched the vibrator to her again, she bit her lip to keep herself from screaming. He slid it down her mound just a bit, the cool metal right on her clit, already engorged from the day’s activities.

  Valerie came right away, the explosion hitting her like a sonic boom, totally beyond her control, and she had to bite into her fist to keep herself from making any noise. She hadn’t meant to come—hadn’t even wanted to, yet—but she’d been so wet and ready that it had barely taken any stimulus. Her orgasm went on and on, her pussy muscles spasming as she gasped and panted, trying her absolute hardest to not make any noise.

  Through it all, Mr. Declan just looked pleased with himself. The voices on the phone talked on and on.

  After the orgasm passed, Valerie sat on the desk, feeling the sweat beginning to trickle down from her hairline, down her chest between her breasts, and she tried to even out her breathing, return to normal.

  Then she heard him turn the vibrator up a notch.

  Jesus, that was level one? she thought.

  She jerked her whole body, involuntarily, when he touched it, again, to her pussy lips. He made a slow circuit of her cunt with the very tip of the vibrator, his touch with it so light that it almost tickled: a light buzz, a tease, even while her pussy muscles still spasmed from her last, sudden orgasm. Mr. Declan widened the circle slowly, still touching her only with the vibrator, Valerie sitting on his desk, leaning back on her hands, legs wide. His face was framed between her knees, the look in his eyes hungry as he looked from her cunt to her face and back again, over and over.

  Now the vibrator was making a wide loop, from her wet entrance to her clit, spending time in the slick folds of her vulva, never staying in any one place for too long. He rolled it between his fingers and over her as Valerie breathed harder and harder, beginning again to pant with the effort of not making any noise.

  With each pass, the vibrating metal paused longer and longer on her clit, now ready again, swollen and tender. Valerie ached for another release, tensing all her muscles every time he touched that button, desperate for the tension within her to snap, and finally it did as he paused for a millisecond longer and Valerie came even harder than before, her tired muscles jerking as she reclined on his desk, her own hand over her mouth lest she shout as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

  “Does that sound good to you, Jasper?” a voice asked.

  “Sounds wonderful,” Mr. Declan answered.

  From a drawer he produced a box of wet wipes and spread one on his desk, turning off the vibrator and laying on top. Then he reached for the other metal cylinder, flared at one end, and twisted its base. Just like the other, it sprung to life.

  Still panting and trying to catch her breath, Valerie began to shake her head, almost without meaning to. She needed a break. Her last orgasm had been right on the edge of pain, right where she could tell the next one would hurt a little, like she’d been wrung out. She needed a minute, she thought, shaking her head at him.

  He looked at her undecipherably, then wrote something on another Post-It.

  YOU KNOW THE SAFE WORD, it read, in his neat all-caps handwriting.

  For a moment, they stared at each other, the word hippopotamus floating across Valerie’s brain, the word that could stop him in this tracks, give her a break from this. It was on her lips.

  Valerie closed her mouth and swallowed, never breaking eye contact.

  Mr. Declan reached forward with the second vibrator, putting it against her opening, sliding it up and down her crevasse. It felt as though the vibrations were rocking her whole body, tired from orgasms. She could practically feel it in her teeth, a sensation that only increased for Valerie as he slid the hard, cool device inside her where it felt as though it were buzzing her organs, shaking her liver, even as she could feel it stimulate the roots of her clitoris from the inside, along the front wall of her vagina.

  With one finger, he rotated the vibrator in her pussy, making it spin in a wide circle so it pressed against all the parts inside her, the delightful sensation spread out. Valerie had never felt anything like it before: being this stimulated from the inside, feeling the strange yearning, the impulse that she could come again, even though the stimulation was entirely new and strange to her.

  “So that’s settled,” said a voice on the phone, still prattling on about business.

  Mr. Declan began to push harder, to rotate more, the vibrations digging into the sensitive parts of Valerie’s channel and she felt the heat rise within her, the flush that always came to her face and neck. It was strange to have it happen this way, every sensation familiar but not, the cloying ache creeping up on her, bit by bit as she leaned back on her hands and tried not to make a sound, the people on the phone still going on and on about advertising.

  Mr. Declan was insistent and the feeling grew and grew, until suddenly, it burst, jolting her and taking her by surprise. Valerie ground her teeth together, turning her head from side to side, fighting the urge to shout and scream, letting out only the tiniest whimper toward the end, as she finished.

  The vibrator still buzzed, insi
stent as ever.

  Before she could even open her eyes she felt another thing, the first vibrator, cranked up to high and touching her as well: two vibrators, both working on her at once, one inside and one out. Valerie felt like she might be shaken to pieces, her tired muscles almost refusing to work any longer, every touch to her over-sensitive clit making her entire body jerk involuntarily.

  Mr. Declan was relentless, and he stared into Valerie’s face intently as he turned both vibrators up and pressed them into her, harder and harder. She knew it might hurt; she was fatigued, and she’d come so hard so many times that she couldn’t fathom coming again. She was afraid she’d cry out, and then not only the people on the phone would hear but her colleagues outside Mr. Declan’s office, and they’d wonder what was going on inside. Rumors would start. Everyone would know.

  He pressed harder and Valerie lost all control, her body seeming almost separated from her mind by the pleasure and pain: tired muscles spasming, over and over as she came uncontrollably, her fist in her mouth again. Just as one orgasm subsided she felt another bubble up as Mr. Declan continued to push, continued to watch her with that hungry look on his face.

  Valerie closed her eyes and came again and again, each pushing the brink of pain, each one jolting through her body spasmodically, sending new waves of pleasure through her.

  Finally, he turned off the vibrators, withdrew one from her aching, tired cunt. Valerie couldn’t move and lay back on the desk, skirt still around her waist, hoping that the cool surface would make her stop sweating, or at least ease the flush that had crept over her face. When she finally looked up, Mr. Declan was wiping both vibrators down with the baby wipes, discussing something on the phone with his coworkers, completely ignoring her. As he spoke he laid each one in its spot in the jewelry case, then slid it into the back of a drawer in his desk. He looked completely relaxed, as though he’d just had a routine meeting with his assistant.

  From the same drawer he produced a small hand mirror and gave it to Valerie. She used it to fix her hair, which had begun to look utterly insane, and she wiped off her cheeks and her bosom with a tissue she borrowed from him.

  “All right,” a voice on the phone said. “It’s nearly eleven, so let’s table the rest until next week.”

  “Sounds good,” said the greasy voice of Eddie Salter.

  “I’ll talk to you next week, gentlemen,” said Mr. Declan, and his finger pushed the red disconnect button on his phone.

  Valerie had stood and was tugging down her skirt, tucking her blouse back into it, trying to smooth the wrinkles it had from where it had been crushed against her for so long. She stepped back into her shoes, still reeling a bit on her feet.

  “Have a seat and wait a few minutes,” he said. “I can’t have you going out into the office looking like that.”

  She nodded and sank into a chair, grateful, massaging her wrists where she’d been leaning all her weight. Mr. Declan scooped up the post-it notes he’d written on and fed them into his shredder, then carefully put the yoga mat back into a sleek wooden cabinet.

  “I tell people I have a bad back,” he said. “And sometimes I need to do stretches in the office.”

  Valerie nodded, too tired to say much. She sat quietly for a few more minutes, watching as he did work, until he looked over at her and nodded approvingly.

  “You’re all right to go now,” he said.

  Valerie took a deep breath and stood, careful not to wobble on her high heels, smoothing her skirt against her ample thighs and ass, and left his office, praying that no one would look at her as she did.

  Most people didn’t. Most people, except Camille, who looked up once, casually from her desk. Then she looked at her computer screen and seemed to think for a moment and looked up again, almost suspiciously. Valerie felt herself blush but tried not to act as though she’d seen anything out of the ordinary.

  No one would ever imagine what really just happened, she told herself. They’d all think something went wrong with the Starbucks deal, or I know that someone’s going to get fired.

  She sat, the fabric of her skirt against her sore pussy a reminder that she wasn’t wearing panties. She stared at her email, uncomprehendingly: meetings, proofreading, clients to reach out to. None of it made sense right then.

  Camille looked over one more time and then quickly back at her own desk.

  She doesn’t think you’re fucking Mr. Declan, Valerie told herself. That would be crazy.

  Then she thought: You’re not even fucking. You give him blow jobs and he fingers you. It was the truth Valerie tried not to think about: why, during their strange sexual olympics, he hadn’t wanted to actually fuck her yet. Did the thought not turn her on? Was she not good enough for him?

  She shook her head and got back to work.

  Chapter Sixteen

  That night, minutes after Valerie got home and had taken off her work clothes to put on her sweatpants, there was a knock at the door. She’d come to expect bicycle messengers with gifts by now, so she wasn’t surprised to see a young man in a hoodie, messenger bag, and helmet standing there, the familiar brown-paper-wrapped package in his hands.

  “Thanks,” she said to the young man’s back.

  Inside was the familiar matte black box and card, again with just an address and a time on it: Saturday night.

  Bring this, the card read. I’ll send a car.

  She wasn’t sure why he’d given her an address if he was sending the car, but she didn’t worry about it too much.

  The box was much more puzzling, and she had no idea what it was at first: leather straps attached to a rubber ball, maybe? The whole thing was held together with shiny steel rings that glimmered even in the lighting of her tiny apartment, the leather soft but strong. She wandered back inside and locked her door, laying the contents of the package out on the kitchen counter.

  As she did, it hit her: it was a ball gag.

  Valerie stared at it in surprise for a few more moments, not quite sure how to take the gift: a time, a place, a demand, and a ball gag. She touched it carefully, turning it over and over in her hands, thinking about what she’d gotten herself into and whether she wanted to get out, but then she remembered the thrill she felt every time he looked at her, the electric way she felt whenever they touched. Her delight at receiving all the gifts. The charge of sneaking around, in the office.

  Best of all, surprising even to her, the feeling of being utterly under his control, powerless to do anything except what he wanted.

  Valerie fingered the ball gag and smiled.

  Saturday came and Valerie woke at seven without an alarm, probably a first for her. Usually she relished sleeping in until noon, but it was a big night, and she couldn’t wait. She looked the address he’d given her up on Google maps: a boutique hotel, apparently, on the Upper West Side, not far from Columbia. It was very expensive, and furthermore, if the address was a hotel, they were just going to have sex.

  Valerie felt a pang of sadness, just for a moment - didn’t he want to take her out to dinner anymore? Had she embarrassed him somehow the time before? Had the used the wrong fork or spoon or drunk her champagne wrong, or, worst of all, was she just too fat?

  You’re his assistant, she thought. It’s dangerous to go out together in public, that’s why.

  The thought made her feel better.

  Around one, her phone rang: Adrienne. Valerie felt guilty immediately. She hadn’t called her best friend in almost two weeks, and hadn’t texted much either - just little snippets, like, “Working soooo much,” or “Did you hear Amy’s engaged?”

  “Hey,” Adrienne said. “Wanna go to a party tonight in Williamsburg?”

  Valerie licked her lips. “I can’t,” she said.

  “Come on,” Adrienne said. “There’s some DJ they tell me is famous, and the party will have men with beards.”

  “You’re the one who likes beards,” said Valerie. “I think they just trap food and invite germs.”

  “W
ell, if you date people who never wash themselves,” said Adrienne. “Beards can be perfectly sanitary.”

  “I’ve got plans, anyway,” Valerie said.

  Fuck, what am I gonna tell her, she thought.

  “What are you up to?”

  Valerie was stuck for a moment. She’d only just barely moved to New York and didn’t know many people besides Adrienne, and Adrienne knew that.

  “Oh, it’s some thing my coworker is doing,” she said. “Some cocktail party for people at work, and who are in advertising, there’s like networking and stuff...”

  You are the worst fucking liar, thought Valerie.

  “Bleh,” said Adrienne. “Networking stuff is the worst.”

  Thank God, Valerie thought.

  “I know,” she said. “Think of me tonight while you’re partying and I’m making small talk about my passion for copywriting.”

  “I’ll lick a beard for you.”

  “Disgusting,” said Valerie.

  Adrienne just laughed, and they changed the subject, talking about tights and snow boots and how terrible the subway was, though at least in the coming winter it wouldn’t be nearly as smelly anymore.

  I hope he lets me wear tights during the winter, Valerie thought.

  Then she thought, Will this still be going on during the winter?

  She had no idea, and she tried to stop thinking about it.

  “All right,” Adrienne said when she had to go. “Network your ass off.”

  “Will do,” said Valerie, looking at the ball gag on the kitchen counter.

  When she hung up, she felt guilty about lying. Would Adrienne even say anything against the affair? Or would she just high-five Valerie on banging her hot boss and then move on, acting like nothing was wrong?

  She should keep it a secret, she decided. She knew better.