Two coworkers in a tight situation make the most of the moment.

Seven minutes into the workday, I ran out of paper and headed to the office supply closet. I walked along the tiled hallway slowly, tabulating everything I had to get done that morning. The day had only begun, but it was already feeling like a typical Monday. I was ticking off items on my mental to-do list when I saw the door to the closet was slightly ajar. Curious, I glanced in. Josh was already inside, fumbling with a clear container of paperclips. Maybe I entered the closet quietly, or maybe he was thinking about something else, too, because when he turned and saw me, he spilled the entire jar. The paperclips danced noisily onto the concrete floor.

“Dana… ”

I came forward to help him, pulling the door to the closet firmly shut behind me as I forgot that it automatically locks. We heard the audible click together.

His “damn” became my “fuck.”

“What did I do?” I asked rhetorically. I knew, and he knew. I’d locked us in. Stupid door. “Typical Monday,” I said next, thinking of all the things that had already gone wrong that morning, and all of the rest of the things that still had the potential to explode or implode. We’d have to wait until someone noticed our absence, went looking for supplies of their own, or heard us knocking, which I was about to do when Josh said something I wasn’t prepared for.

“You know, you look beautiful today.”

I turned and smiled at him. He grinned back. I couldn’t return the compliment, because “beautiful” isn’t what comes to mind when I look at Josh. He has coffee-colored curls that he occasionally forgets to cut, so that some days, like that one, they fall into his eyes, which are blue. I know this, because I’ve lost myself in them from time to time during staff meetings, tuning out whatever the topic of the day is to think of different adjectives to describe that blue. Sky. Ocean. Cerulean is my favorite.

“This isn’t how I thought things would go,” Josh said next, continuing to baffle me.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve imagined the two of us plenty of times,” he explained. “Running into each other somewhere outside of the office.”

“He drove a finger into my pussy and my muscles contracted around that digit.”

“Like where?” I was intrigued, and I leaned against the door, getting more comfortable. He’d definitely put some time into this scenario. I wanted to hear all the details.

“Grocery store. Donut shop. Jazz club. Then I might say, ‘Come here often?’ or ‘Fancy meeting you here.’”

I liked where this was going. “What would I do?”

“Stammer and blush, sometimes. Or say something quick-witted others. Sort of depends on the type of situation. How my day was going.”

All worries of my work had been deleted from my brain. Josh had thought about me, pictured the two of us finding ourselves in some type of cute-meet situation. Truthfully, we’d flirted for months, never quite hooking up. I looked him over, taking in his buttoned-up appearance, the gray suit slacks, crisp white shirt, burgundy tie. The fact that his hair was sloppy and curly added intensely to his appeal. “So try it.”

“Try what?”

“One of your lines.”

He didn’t speak right away. It was as if he were mentally preparing himself. He shook his hair out of his eyes, shot me a lecherous (yet very adorable) half-smile, and then winked. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said, and I giggled.

“Not good?” he asked. “Too on-the-nose?”

“Try the other,” I told him, standing up straighter as if I were about to head onstage to deliver my own lines.

“Come here often?”

“All the time,” I said, doing my best to play along. “This place has gotten rave reviews, you know.”

“You don’t say?”

I nodded, acting as seriously as I possibly could. “I find their paperclips more delicate than any other office supply closet in the city.”

He smirked. “I’ve had good luck with the pencil sharpener,” he said confidentially. “The rotary one is more dependable than the electric.”

I glanced around the room, trying to find an item to praise. “The glue sticks aren’t bad. At least, when they’re fresh.”

“You’re right there,” he agreed. “Positively divine. And what do you think of the rubber cement?”

“Creamy,” I said, thoughtfully, as if describing a tiramisu or chocolate fondue. “Exactly the right consistency. Sticky without being too wet.”

“Too wet,” Josh repeated, taking a step closer. I almost forgot that we were locked in the closet. Forgot we were bantering about the glue sticks and the paste jars. This was surreal. I had a to-do list as long as my arm, and all of a sudden my panties were damp at the center. At some point, at any point, one of our coworkers could open the door and find us. But then I took a breath and caught a hint of Josh’s aftershave, spicy and elegant, and I thought that he and I really might have met somewhere — might have found each other at a nightclub or a bookstore — and bantered like this. Although not quite like this, because if we’d been outside of work, we could have taken things to a natural ending point. His place. My place. Instead, we were trapped in a closet. There was no natural conclusion.

The ridiculousness of the situation suddenly caught up with me. I started to laugh, and after a moment, he did, too. We were two adults locked up with the pens and ink, in the middle of the morning on a typical Monday, and there was no way we were going to…

“You know what they say?” he asked me, and he was closer now in that tight space, touching his shoulder to my shoulder. He was intoxicating.

“No,” I responded, “what do they say?”

“Office supplies can be aphrodisiacs.” He wiggled his dark eyebrows.

“You’re not serious.”

He tilted his head. “Cross my heart,” he said. “All those ballpoint pens… and hole punches.” He was enunciating the words in the most over-the-top manner. The hard “p” in point, pens, and punches. I felt a sensual heat creep over me. What if we’d been in a dance club or crushed together at a concert? Would that have been sexier than the two of us in a confined space, surrounded by…

“Reams of paper,” Josh continued. “Did you hear what I said, Dana? Reams… ”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Anyone could find us,” I reminded him, thinking that at least one of us needed to act professionally. “If they open the door, they’ll see.”

“But nobody will notice for a while,” he countered. “It’s Monday. Everyone’s in their own personal hell, walking into walls, recovering from the weekend.”

He stroked a tape dispenser. I bit my lip so as not to spill over with laughter. He held out a handful of pencils as if the fine yellow stalks with the pink rubber tips were a bouquet of roses. They might as well have been. I plucked the pencils from his grip and pretended to breathe in their fragrant aroma.

“What if they never find us,” he said, changing his tactics effortlessly. “What if we grow old together in this closet, always wondering what might have been, neither one of us daring to make the first bold move.” I thought of kissing him at that moment. I’d always wondered — daydreamed and fantasized — about what fucking him would be like.

“There’s not a lot of room here.”

At my words, his eyes lit up. “The lady’s talking logistics,” he said excitedly. “That’s a step forward.” He looked around as if a bed might miraculously appear, as if there could be some hidden secret door to a hotel room that we’d overlooked.

“If I move the bucket,” I said, “and we spread out the canvas tarp the painters left, you know, between that file cabinet and those boxes of paper.”

“What if we stay standing,” he countered. “You put your hands on that shelf… ”

We were already making love in our minds. I could see the image growing clearer by the second. I’d face the wall of writing tools and Josh would be behind me, lifting my skirt and lowering my panties, which had grown dramatically wetter with every word. Were we actually going to do this? What would happen if Shelby came looking for a new nib and found us in a compromised position? What if Helen wanted coffee filters or Marcus needed a fresh eraser?

Josh said, “I think about your lips.”

At his words, I became intensely aware of my mouth. I licked my bottom lip while he watched. I pursed my lips together and then tried to remember what my mouth normally did when at rest.

“What do you mean?” I managed to whisper. My voice had become husky with raw desire.

“The way they’d feel on mine,” he said. The joking quality had completely disappeared from his voice, and he was standing even closer to me. There really wasn’t much space there. I could sense his body heat, and I wanted to touch him all over.

“I once had this dream,” I said breathlessly, explaining my fantasy: He’d found me outside watching the rain and ducked under an umbrella with me. I’d needed a break from the office space, and I’d wanted to see the storm. Our proximity led to a kiss, with the drops patterning the shiny black fabric, and then both of us had stared at each other, surprised. Maybe even elated. The kiss had felt natural, the right thing to do…

We kissed now, with no rain, with no wind. We kissed in the closet, his hands roaming my body, stroking my small breasts through my lilac sweater, cradling and caressing me. My heart beat faster. My whole body felt as if he’d plugged me in, lit me up in some new and magical way. There was no longer anything typical about this Monday morning. We’d turned typical on its ass.

Josh pinched my nipples through my sweater and my bra. I wanted to feel his hands on my naked skin. I wanted him to bend down and catch my nipples between his teeth, tug on them, twist them. I wanted him to make me moan.

I started to tell him, started to put my desires into words, when I heard the telltale sounds of high heels clicking on the marble floor outside. I froze in place. Josh did, too. Was someone coming? Yes. We broke apart, and we both waited. One of our coworkers was definitely approaching. I grabbed a ruler. Josh held a box of pens. How silly did I feel? The footsteps stopped. I looked at Josh, panicked. We had no time at all to make a decision. Be caught? Hide? He motioned toward the rear of the closet. I understood his silent command and ducked quickly behind the battered army-green file cabinet. He flicked off the light, and in the glow coming in from beneath the door, I saw him bend himself into the small space between the wall and a towering stack boxes. The door opened. I wondered who was there. I didn’t dare peek. I held my breath. I imagined Josh doing the same. Whoever had opened the door didn’t even bother to turn on the light. He or she simply grabbed some unknown item and departed. There was that click once more, but this time it was the sound of safety. We were on our own again, trapped. Exactly how we wanted to be.

“He ground his body against mine, moving his cock inside me at a powerful pace.”

I heard Josh rustling. The light came on. I emerged from my hiding spot. Neither one of us said a word. We no longer desired rescue. The footsteps retreated. We’d definitely crossed into new territory. Partners in hiding, we were on the lam from office drudgery. Josh said, “That was close.”

Then we got closer. It was as if the fact that we’d almost been discovered started a ticking clock. We had to work fast. I started to undo the buttons on his shirt. He reached to slide the zipper on my skirt. In seconds, I had my hands on the broad expanse of his well-muscled chest and he was gripping my ass through the filmy plum panties I’d chosen several hours earlier. I was no longer concerned with the small confines, the lack of space. We didn’t need space. We only needed to connect. His cock was hard in his slacks, and I wanted to feel him. I manhandled the silver buckle on his belt. He stayed still for me, and in no time, I had his slacks down and his rigid cock in my hand.

This is what I’d wanted for so long: to know the feel of him, the texture of his rod. I brought my palm to my mouth and licked the flesh, then started to work him once more. My wet fist was like a silk glove around his shaft. He groaned, and I looked at him, alarmed. “No,” I hissed. “You can’t make any noise. You have to be quiet.”

“I can’t be quiet with your hand on me like that. God, I love your hand. I could kiss every finger.”

“Then I wouldn’t be able to hold your dick like this.”

“You’ve got two hands.”

He brought my left to his mouth while I slowly, rhythmically, pulled on his cock with my right. He licked the tip of each of my fingers, and my knees threatened to give out. I could imagine his tongue between my thighs, could almost feel the rotations of the tip of his tongue around the ridge of my clit. But that would have to wait. There was no time; there was no place.

“They’ll find us,” I managed to say, trying to stay focused. The golden haze of my arousal was threatening to take me away, lift me higher.

We’d become “us and them,” we two against the rest of the working world outside. He steeled himself. I jacked his cock. He let his head fall back. I worked my fingers steadily up and down his gorgeous length. Then he was returning the favor, tugging at my panties, pulling them to the side so he could finger my slippery split. His touch invigorated and excited me. He drove a finger into my pussy and my inner muscles contracted around that lone digit. He then corkscrewed one finger over another and began to gyrate them within me. With almost no effort, he stroked all the right places, moving in a perfect rhythm and turning every nerve ending to “on.”

“I started to come. The orgasm was so powerful my whole body shook.”

Now, I was the one who had to try not to make noise. I felt embarrassed for having chided him seconds before, because he seemed to instinctively know how to touch my pussy. I wanted him to tear my panties down. I wanted us to get to business — to the serious business of fucking. Josh held me closer to him, and he bit the side of my neck. I felt myself melting into him. When I’d gotten dressed that morning, sex hadn’t even flickered through my thoughts. If it had, I might not have put on the garters. I’d definitely not made things easier for us. Josh guided me around and slid my panties down my thighs. I gripped the shelf in front of me and steeled my body to take his. He didn’t rush. He used the tip of his cock to trace the opening of my pussy, making one large circle, then another tighter one. As I stared at a stack of inkpads, Josh set his firm hands on my waist and pulled me back against him.

He was right, I supposed, office supplies were aphrodisiacs. Or maybe it was simply the proximity to Josh — my office crush — that made me so turned on. I gripped the shelf and shut my eyes. He ground his body against mine, moving his cock inside me at a steady, powerful pace. To a rhythm I felt deep within myself.

“That’s right,” I whispered to him, “just like that.”

“Like that?” he echoed, and then he made a change, pressing in even deeper before thrusting at a faster clip. “Or like this?” I stifled a moan against the side of my arm. He said, “I can’t wait until we can go somewhere else together. Somewhere we can be loud. Somewhere you can really let yourself go.”

I wondered if we’d connected in a different location — that fictitious bar or imaginary coffee shop — if we might have wound up in a similar situation. Maybe locked in a bathroom stall or squirreled underneath a shelf of books. I thought of the way I would stare at Josh at meetings, and how every so often he’d look my way and smile, as if he could see each one of my filthy thoughts hanging out on a line, fluttering in the breeze of my mind.

I wanted to see his eyes now, and I said so, pulling forward so that I could win a little room, then spinning around. Face to face, we hesitated. Take things slow, a voice whispered in my head. Take your time. But, no, we didn’t have time. We had to go fast. We had to connect, to join forcefully to one another, to wring every last drop of pleasure out of this fierce, fast ride.

Josh lifted me up, holding me to him. My thighs went around his waist, and he was inside me once more, bucking hard and driving home. I bit his shoulder to stifle my cries. He panted, his breath coming fast as he took me closer and closer to the edge.

“Why the hell did we wait so long?” he asked.

I didn’t have an answer to that. I only knew we would not wait again. This was the start, the beginning of something big. He ran one thumb along my split, and I stilled entirely, frozen by the pleasure. Then he pressed his thumb dangerously against the hood of my clit, and I started to come. The orgasm was so powerful my whole body shook. Josh wrapped both arms around me as I clung to the pleasure, and he began to slide his cock even faster inside me until he reached his climax, too. I could imagine some time in the future — like, maybe later tonight — when he would be loud with me. In my room or his. Away from the office and the worries of being caught, we’d be untamed, unleashed. As it was, he buried his face against my hair and sighed, his entire body trembling as the orgasm washed through him.

Then were we quiet and still, gathering our wits and our breath and our very selves back together. What had we done? Fucked like animals in an office supply closet. How would we be able to face the rest of the workday? I had no idea. My panties would be dripping wet. Every time I saw Josh, I’d be thinking of his cock in me, and the way he’d felt, and the sounds we’d made in our efforts to make no sounds at all.

Thank God we were finished because the footsteps of someone approaching echoed once more. Josh pulled out of me and quickly tucked himself back into his slacks. I slipped back into my skirt in record time. I guessed my cheeks were pink. There was no mirror. Josh ran a hand through his curls. I swept my hair back into a ponytail.

The footsteps stopped outside the door. I looked at Josh. He smiled at me. Our coworker flung open the door and then stared at us in shock.

“Oh, my goodness,” Helen said, looking aghast. “I thought I heard something before. How long have the two of you been locked in there?”

“I have no idea,” I said, turning to smile at Josh as I stepped into the hallway. “It didn’t feel very long, did it?”

Josh shrugged and checked his watch as he crossed the threshold. “I’d say seven minutes, give or take.”

Seven minutes? That’s all we’d had together? To me, we’d just spent a lifetime — from foreplay to fucking.

Helen gave me a strange look, as if she sensed something was slightly amiss, but she didn’t want to say anything. I glanced back, saw that my panties were under the lowest shelf, and hoped like hell that our coworker hadn’t noticed. She reached past me for a fresh box of pens, and then headed off down the hall.

Josh met my eyes. I said, “You know, after all that, I forgot the paper I was after.”

“I think I forgot the paperclips,” Josh said.

We stepped back into the closet together. He was the one to pull the door shut behind us.

Click.

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