For months, none of the guys on my floor would shut up about the new building receptionist, Amy. She joined the firm right before Christmas—and her hard-to-get game had every single guy in my department intrigued.

Although we are a large enough company to occupy an entire building downtown, a sense of familiarity developed among my crew. On our floor, it was mostly junior brokers; we’re all in our mid to late 20s and tended to get a little rowdy.

Indeed, our floor’s reputation as the company’s frat house preceded us with prospective hires, much to the chagrin of HR. I don’t think it’s an accident that the female coworkers we usually encountered were of the happily married, taken or grandma variety. Amy, however, was young and as fresh as the driven snow in our lingering Chicago winter, and thus hope sprang eternal that one of us might yet score.

For security reasons, we have to swipe in and out of the building, and let reception know who is still there after normal business hours. As such, it wasn’t long before Amy knew all of us by name and had playfully rebuffed each of our individual attempts at flirting with her at least twice.

Now, you may be thinking: You guys are bunch of pigs! Well, maybe we are, but we were also careful not to cross any real lines. Plus, Amy clearly knew how to beat us at our own game. Part of the fun was seeing how she’d shoot you down, and then letting the other guys rag on you for it. Besides, if you can survive working at our firm, you obviously like pain, so our politically incorrect rapport worked out well.

However, behind my pathetic attempts at arranging a happy hour was a genuine desire to get to know this clever, stunning and seemingly impossible-to-get woman. Amy had an ethereal, Raphaelite sort of beauty: an oval face with warm, brown eyes, beautiful ivory skin, reddish gold hair and curves in all the right places. She possessed a pleasing plumpness that was heavenly walking around in a fitted skirt. She was effortlessly sensual and elegant, but real enough to make me want to breathe her in and never exhale.

By March, no one had succeeded in getting her to go out with them. I’d planned on giving it another shot, but hadn’t tried for weeks. I’d been too busy freaking out about not messing up a client’s merger to do anything else.

Let’s fast forward to St. Patrick’s Day weekend, when I got dragged out to a pub crawl by my brother-in-law and some old college buddies. After plenty of green beer, we ended up checking out this new adult cabaret that had a feature show with a prominent porn star.

While we were waiting for the headliner to start, I excused myself to use the john, which was upstairs near a secondary stage and the VIP area. Just as I emerged from the restroom, a woman walked onto the smaller stage.

She wore a long platinum blonde wig, a white eye mask and a horned headpiece interwoven with flowers, like a female Bacchus. She danced and slowly peeled away her white faux fur bikini top—which was decorated with bunches of grapes and leaves—and then started to simulate masturbation.

I stopped in my tracks. She really knew how to move, and I was digging the rite of spring motif she had going on. After a few moments of solo dancing, a nude maiden in a flower crown joined the Bacchus babe for a little play time. Well, let’s just say that was some hot interpretive dance, and I had to grab a drink and sit down. When their bit ended, the two dancers and some other ladies circulated, and I knew I needed a lap dance from Bacchus babe.

When she approached me, I thought,Yes!But I almost choked when she leaned in and whispered, “Hello, Kevin.”

Bacchus Babe settled into my lap with a smile.

“How do you know my name?” I handed her some bills.

“I have my ways.”

She teased me seductively by letting her stiff nipples brush against my shirt. I was almost too afraid to look at her because, in truth, I hadn’t felt like coming in my pants so badly since freshman year of college!

“This music is loud, but your voice sounds familiar,” I ventured. “And with the mask, I can’t place your face.”

“I think that’s half the fun. Who do you think I am?”

I sat there completely dumbfounded for the duration of her sensual dance. It had been awhile since I’d had a steady girlfriend, and I couldn’t place that beautiful woman from anywhere. At the end of the song, I thanked her and reached for my whiskey.

“That was amazing,” I told her.

“You’re welcome.” She started to walk away, then looked back to say: “Have a nice day, Mr. E.”

Then I choked for real! Her voice and tone hit me: I’d just had a lap dance from my unattainable work fantasy, Amy! It had to be her!

Unfortunately, once I’d composed myself, she’d already disappeared—and then my friends showed up and dragged me back downstairs. However, on Monday morning, I drove into work an hour early for the sole purpose of catching her alone.

Amy greeted me as usual, saying: “Good morning, Mr. E.”

“Amy,” I began, my voice trailing off.

“If you’re thinking of discussing your weekend, I’m not interested.”

I smirked and said softly, “Come on, I know it was you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You teased me deliberately.”

“You must have me confused with someone else.”

“No, there’s no confusion, Amy. I know what I saw—and you were … unreal. Spectacular. The hottest woman ever.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Do you say that to all the dancers, Kevin?” she asked mockingly.

“Look, I just want you to know that even before this weekend, I’ve been crazy about you, and now, well, if this is a game, there’s no contest. You’ve won it already, like a thousand times over.” I threw my hands up and told her, “I surrender.”

Amy looked like she was going to say something but stopped. We just stared at each other. Then the sounds of other people entering the building interfered with our moment. I stepped away and headed into the elevator.

At least I had plenty of work that day to keep me distracted, and when I finally left at 8 p.m., Amy wasn’t at the front desk.

The next morning I rolled in with some coworkers. Amy stood up and smiled.

“Good morning, everyone. Mr. E, I need you to come with me to the security office.”

“Finally busted him for insider trading, huh?” one of the guys teased.

“This shouldn’t take long,” Amy said. Then she cleared her throat and added, “I noticed your ID wasn’t scanning properly the other day. We need to issue you a new card.”

“Uh, OK.” I nodded and glanced at my coworkers: “See you guys upstairs.”

“Greg, the ID guy, is out with the flu, so bear with me,” Amy said, unlocking the door to the security office. She made no allusions to our conversation the other day—or our earlier salacious encounter.

I followed her into the secluded space in the back of the lobby, and the minute we stepped inside, Amy dropped all pretense. She shut the door, clicked the lock and pulled me in for a kiss. In a split second, I felt my libido go from 35 to 120 mph.

Our lips melded together, and my heart raced. When she pulled back, I felt dizzy.

“This changes nothing,” Amy whispered, grabbing hold of my belt buckle.

“Bullshit.” I fired back, lifting her tight sweater over her head. I kissed her neck, drawing a soft moan from her, and then reached behind her to unzip her skirt. We took turns stripping each other in a frenzy until our work clothes were in a rumpled pile on the floor.

Amy leaned in and softly stroked my bulge through my boxer briefs. She teased my earlobe with her tongue and sensually cooed, “You have potential.”

But this time, I took control. I kissed her again and lifted her onto the desk, telling her: “You’ve been underestimating me.”

“Is that right?”

I just smiled and yanked off her silky panties. She had a reddish gold triangle of curly hair above her pussy lips, which glistened with her arousal. I dove into her slit, tasting her nectar. At first, I took my time sucking on her clit, but I then introduced my fingers, teasing the entrance to her cunt.

“Oh God!” Amy squealed. “Oh my God.”

I looked up and saw her clasping her hands over her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds of her pleasure.

I slid two fingers inside her and kept plucking away at her clit with my free hand and my tongue until she came and rewarded me with a torrent of girl juice.

As Amy sat there catching her breath, I took my time licking away her excess honey until she tugged at my hair and said, “Get up here.”

“Of course,” I said, kissing my way up her soft belly and the snowy white mounds of her breasts until our mouths met again.

I felt her nails graze the head of my cock as she reached for me.

“Fuck me, Kevin,” Amy moaned. “I want you so bad!”

I teased her entrance with my dick, trying to commit every detail of the moment to my memory. Finally, Amy wanted me, and now she was mine. I drew in a huge breath and thrust my cock inside her.

Amy wrapped her legs around my waist and bucked her hips in time with my thrusts as she groaned, “Yes! Don’t stop!”

We fucked so hard we sent every object on the desk tumbling to the floor, including the lamp!

I won’t lie and say I lasted forever, but I made sure she came again before I finally let go and left my load inside her.

Our hookup happened about a month ago. Since then, I’ve gotten promoted to the 14th floor. But the real satisfaction comes from seeing my former colleagues’ faces when I stroll through the lobby with my beautiful girlfriend in tow.