Tech Support
by Sommer Marsden

“I’ve done it again,” I whisper into the phone. Extension eleven is lit up; Tech Support. The hot little red button that matches my wildly beating heart and the moisture in the crotch of my panties. “Can you come quickly?”

Well, not too quickly, I think and grin. 

“I’ll be right there, Doris,” he says and I can hear the smile in his voice. For some reason, his voice reminds me of sinful dark chocolate melting on my tongue. 

I wait and cross my legs. That’s not good. I uncross them and swivel my seat. I bounce my knee and I wonder how long it can take him to walk down the hall. It has been an eternity since I hung up the phone. Hasn’t it? 

I hear the heavier walk of a man. Women swish and sway down the centre aisle all day, but when a man walks past it’s different. A different vibration and different rhythm. The cubicle walls shake just a bit more when a man walks by. I hold my breath and only release it when I start to feel lightheaded. 

There he is, dark hair and glasses. Brown eyes and a tired smile. He has been working overtime and the sleep deprivation is showing in the lines around his eyes. A little too heavy, a little too pale, a little too average for my normal likes. My heart kicks up into overtime and I feel my pussy clench just a bit. I am way too worked up. 

I take a deep breath. “Sorry,” I say softly. I am lying through my teeth. I am not sorry at all. Not one little bit. But he thinks I am and his cheeks flush with red and he smiles. He shakes his head. 

“Believe it or not, I’m grateful for you, Doris. As long as you work here, I have job security.” He moves into the tiny confines of my cubicle and the air grows charged around me. At least my nipples think so, because they stand at attention and rub against the warm white silk of my blouse.

“Glad I can help,” I joke. I brace myself for what will come next. The top three buttons on my blouse undone, I am prepared today.

“Doris, Doris, Doris, what am I going to do with you?” Mike asks.

Fuck me? But I don’t say it. I hold my breath instead and his arms go around me. He stands behind my office chair and reaches his arms around on either side of mine. There they are. His hands. On my keyboard. All the while his breath is on my neck because his head is next to mine. I can see the fluorescence reflected in his glasses as he fixes my mangled program. I was never really good with tables. They stump me. So it is not hard for me to fuck them up to earn a visit from Mike and his hands.

“You can click and drag this over here, you know?” he says and I watch him work that mouse. To me, it’s like watching porn. The dark hair on his knuckles makes me weak in the knees. The way the tendons flex just below the skin. And the scar on his right index finger that looks like a crescent moon has starred in many of my fantasies. The way it would disappear as he fucked me with his fingers. The flash of white flesh dipping into my pink recesses. I shiver. 

“I didn’t know that,” I say to prolong exposure.

“Yes, you did. I told you last time.” His hot breath slides down into the vee of my blouse, caresses my cleavage. 

“Oh. Oops.”

“I need an admin assistant to work this project tomorrow. Can you help? Faye is busy and she’s a pain in the ass anyway. I know it’s Saturday but please. Can you do it?”

“Me?” I say to his middle finger. Then I tear my gaze up to his open, friendly, clueless face and say, “Sure. What time do you want me? Should I be here! What time should I be here?”

“Seven.”

“I’ll bring donuts for everyone,” I say. He punches a few keys and I watch his big fingers dance over the tiny keys. I squeeze my inner thighs together and a warm ribbon of pleasure fills my pussy.

“What everyone? You and me, kid. Skeleton crew.”

My mouth goes dry and I feel like I might faint. Go all girly and pass out and slide right out of the chair. “Oh,” I manage.

“You’re all fixed up.” He squeezes my shoulder and the pressure from his strong hands stops my breath. “See you in the morning?”

I nod. The moment he is gone, I scamper off. Run to the small private bathroom as fast as my two-inch heels will let me. I slump against the mauve-coloured door, prop one heel on the sink and get myself off. One orgasm, two orgasms, three orgasms, like brightly coloured poppies blooming just for me. 

I walk back to my desk. Cheeks flushed, heart erratic, body warm. I cannot believe I have just done that. There’s no telling what I’ll do tomorrow when it’s just me and Mike. Nothing. Nothing at all. I will control myself and act like a pro. Mike has no interest in me. Sadly.

“I did it again,” I say and stare at the red indicator on my phone. Only, this time, I really have done it and not on purpose. “I don’t know what I hit. The whole thing is gone. It’s gone!” My voice is going up and my eyes are tearing up. Damn.

“I’ll be right there,” he says and laughs. His easy laughter makes me feel worse. Here we are on a Saturday working overtime and I screwed up. I lost the document because I wasn’t focused on the inventory list. I was focused on my vivid dirty movie of me and Mike. And his fingers. The way he would pinch my nipples before running his finger slowly down my chest, between my breasts, and over the flat of my belly. How my stomach would do that fluttering thing it does when something almost tickles but doesn’t quite and…

“What’s gone?” Mike says and stands in the doorway of my cubicle with his hands on his hips. His watch band is thick black leather, like a biker. I’ve never seen him in jeans. He looks completely normal and totally different.

“The spreadsheet for inventory.”

He walks forward, grinning. “I doubt it’s gone.”

“It is. I was typing and poof! Gone! Blank document.”

Mike reaches around me. A move that should be very familiar but somehow never grows old and says right in my ear, “Just minimize it. You must have hit Control N by accident. New document. Remember?”

Now I feel stupid. But the wave of goosebumps that has gone up my neck lets me forget how stupid I feel. My nipples peak in my pink and black skull T-shirt and I am fighting the urge to squirm. We are alone. In the office. Completely. I can’t seem to swallow. “Sorry.” I say it so much, I should get it tattooed on me.

“I like this,” he says and I notice that his voice sounds different. More assured. Deeper. 

“What?”

“This T-shirt. The snaps right here –” He takes his hand off my mouse and slides one finger down into my cleavage. His finger is hot and hard and I watch it dip between my breasts and I am mesmerized.

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. But I’d like it better open,” he says and tugs.

The final two silver snaps let go with a pop! pop!

I shift in my seat and it doesn’t help. It does nothing to dampen the pulse that has started to beat steadily between my thighs. I close my eyes and focus on the inhale. 

“And I like the way you look when you get all flustered. And the way your breasts move up, up, up when you are trying to get a deep breath. Like right now,” he says right against my earlobe. Then he dips his head and kisses me right above my heart. His lips are warm and soft and I can smell his shampoo.

“Oh,” I say, brilliantly.

His hands come back in and gather me up. Wrap around me and then tug me to my feet. I go very willingly. Like some pretty boneless thing. “I like these jeans. They are well loved,” he says, hooking his hand in the front. Then he tugs and my little silver buttons give up the ghost. I am bare inside my denim and his hand slides down into my pants and covers me. He presses just his middle finger to the cleft of my sex and puts a hard pressure on my clit. I sink back against him.

Mike pushes my jeans down, but only to my knees. I go to kick them off and he steadies me with his hands. “No, leave them there.” 

So I do. I am bound by my own pants when he tilts me forward slightly and from behind pushes a finger into me. He adds another and my cunt flexes around him, welcoming. Damn. And I can’t see it.

“You can watch my fingers next time,” he laughs and I feel my eyes roll back. So he does know. I smile.

I close my eyes and picture the crescent moon scar being swallowed by my red-flushed pussy. I hang my head down and the computer fan kicks on with a whir. Mike strokes me slowly until I feel that tightness start. His other index finger rests with still but firm pressure on my clit. I’m making little sounds in my throat now.

“Almost there, Doris,” he says and I feel the velvet head of his cock nudge me. I push back and try to widen my stance. “No, no, nice and tight together,” says Mike, pushing against my hips with his palms. Holding my legs together so tight that my knees and ankles touch. He pushes again, tilts me forward more and slides home. One finger back to my clit and he starts a slow steady stroke that accents the intense friction. The chair rolls a little and he steadies us.

He puts his finger in my mouth and I lick at it. His fingers have the heady perfume of sex and attraction. He continues to stroke and rock and I come. Easy and sharp like a firecracker going off in the summertime. 

He lets me hold on to the chair now and it rolls forward until it bangs the desk. I am now stretched out like a trapeze artist, my legs still snug in my denim cocoon. “Say it for me, Doris,” he says.

I don’t get it. Say what? But that is mostly because my brain has gone shiny and white with endorphins and I am slow on the uptake. 

He’s thrusting high and hard now, panting with his eagerness. His breath fans out over my back and my nipples grow even harder as the fine hairs on my neck stand. He gives me a clue. “Tech Support,” he says in his professional voice.

I’m right there again. His finger is pushing me closer to the edge. His pressure is hard. Almost too hard. Just as I like it. I get it, now.

He lets out a groan as I whisper, “I’ve done it again.” 

I come around him and Mike’s loud orgasm follows close behind. He thrusts all the way until the last flicker works through me. Then he laughs and smacks my ass lightly.

“Why yes, Doris. Yes, you have. And I hope you’ll do it again.”

Oh, no worries there. Mike can count on me.