The Copier Room

The Copier Room

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Christina, new to her job and feeling insecure and stale in her marriage, develops a fixation on a colleague. Finally she consummates the affair. But has she been unfaithful? All is not what it seems..... an erotic short story (4000 words)

Summary

Christina, new to her job and feeling insecure and stale in her marriage, develops a fixation on a colleague. Finally she consummates the affair. But has she been unfaithful? All is not what it seems..... an erotic short story (4000 words)

Content

Submitted: April 13, 2013

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: April 13, 2013

A A A

A A A


The Copier Room

 

By Michele Christie

 

Copyright 2012 © Michele Christie

 

Published by Michele Christie

 

ISBN 978-1-909512-14-6

 

(4000 words)

 

www.michelechristie.co.uk

 

 

 

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organisations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

 

 

This story contains explicit acts between consenting adults. It is not intended for minors under the age of eighteen.

 

 

 

I had been in my new job five weeks now and was thoroughly enjoying every minute of it. It wasn’t so much the job as the effect that one of my workmates was having on me. I had noticed Zak not long after I had joined the company,  his blond good looks, his self assured swagger, the way he held my eye just a little longer than was necessary. I found myself taking more care over my appearance and smiling to myself whenever I thought of him. I actually started wearing matching sexy underwear and swapped from tights to stockings, my heels just a little higher, my skirts just a little tighter and my lipstick a shade more scarlet. I had found myself inventing excuses to pass his desk or meet at the water cooler.  And I knew I was having a similar effect on him. I would catch him watching me and I would give him a small secret smile and carry on my way. The air had crackled between us as we had danced around each other, relishing the heightened sense of awareness that our mutual attraction brought. I told myself that I wasn’t looking for anything to come of it, after all I was married to a great guy Ed and anyway, office gossip had told me, that Zak too had a girlfriend. But I loved the way it made me feel, the spring in my step, I felt alive and sexy in a way that Ed had never made me feel. It was the usual cliché.

And then I got the first text, telling me that he wanted me, not signed and from a number that I did not recognise but I knew it was from Zak and I flushed immediately. I had glanced in his direction, caught his eye, he gave an imperceptible nod and I had admired his cool assurance. I redoubled my efforts at that point, working out even harder at the gym, every step I indulged myself with thoughts of Zak, imagining his strong hands on my body, his lips pressed to mine. He was good at controlling his emotions, our only contact our eyes, lingering and smouldering in our secret. The texts continued, slowly gathering pace, I rushed to check my inbox at every opportunity, never replying, just letting the words affect my body in the most delightful way. This was an affair of the mind; in no way did I feel unfaithful to Ed. After all Zak and I hadn’t done anything, but dangerously, I had started to consider what would happen next, would I go to the next level? Would I risk hurting my husband? Would I sleep with Zak? Every fibre of my body was screaming “Yes!”

I had felt myself spiralling into a dream world where Zak and I made mad passionate love; my body had never felt so tingly, so on edge, so desperate for satisfaction. He was like a drug; the craving was so great and so consuming. And as I grappled with these physical feelings, my raw emotions ranged over what would happen if I gave in and tasted the forbidden fruit. And all through this, Zak was careful to only speak to me on work matters, never verbally acknowledging our text liaison, which only served to increase the frisson of desire sparked within me. I was grateful for his discretion. Every small gesture, his hand brushing mine whilst passing me a document, the lingering looks, knowing smiles all bound me to him. I indulged in noticing everything about him, the hairs on his arms, the line of his jaw; the way his hair grew at the nape of his neck, his fingernails; no detail escaped my desirous gaze. Many a time I resisted the urge to reach across and actually touch him. I was constantly aware of him, always knowing exactly where he was in the open plan office space. I had no need to look, I could smell him, sense him, feel him. It was a heady feeling and I was completely intoxicated. I was certainly committed to playing the game, to following his lead and being led slowly and gently and deliciously to the eventual conclusion.

And he played the game so well, with such finesse and intimate knowledge of the female psyche, there was no pressure or inappropriateness, no rushing, just pure tantalisation. No lewd suggestions, just a gentle caress of erotic words conjuring images that I wanted to be part of. I wanted to strip myself bare, physically, mentally, spiritually, to open my being, my soul, my body. I wanted to completely surrender myself to this man, to the idea of this man. In moments of lucidity I was well aware that I did not know him at all, I had never had a personal conversation with him, I did not know what he liked to eat or drink, his hobbies, his dreams; all I did know was that I wanted him to possess me and me to possess him. And on and on his texts sucked me into his web of erotic desire and then, mysteriously, they stopped. Just stopped dead! I kept checking my inbox feverishly and frantically. My desire was at an all time peak and no fix of my favourite drug was forthcoming. I kept glancing at Zak, looking for some clue as to this new turn of events but his behaviour had not changed, he was not going to give me any hint of his thoughts. My whole body was like an over strung guitar, taut, stretched tight. I struggled to go about my work, and as the days passed with still no further word, everything started to feel unreal. I wondered was this part of the game or had he grown tired. Perhaps I should have answered his messages but his correspondence had not demanded a response, I began to panic. Was this it? Should I say something? No! Wait and see?

None of this was lost on Ed, he was constantly asking me what was wrong. What was happening at work? Why was I so distracted? Naturally I could not share any of this with him and I explained away my preoccupation as being caused by the stress of settling into my new job. He didn’t look convinced and as I was not inclined to sleep with him since I had given in to my erotic thoughts of Zak, I am sure he was doubly hurt by my behaviour. I was acutely aware of the risks I was taking and the potential ruination of my marriage but I had hit the self destruct button and I was not inclined to try and cram the genie back into the bottle. And so I felt my world imploding around me. I had distanced myself from my husband and now I also seemed to have lost Zak. I felt forlorn, confused and strangely bereft for something I had never even had. My work too was suffering; I had stupidly allowed this strange affair to completely dominate me, my every waking thought, my dreams, my hopes and aspirations had become subsumed by a sexual desire so strong and nerve tingling that at times I could hardly breathe for the sheer power of it. Perhaps Zak was right; perhaps it was time to stop.

And so I tried, I tried very hard to re normalise my life again but it was very difficult, something in me was awakened and I was loathe to put it back to sleep. I liked how it felt. I liked the sharpness and lightness of being that it imbued. I liked to feel that I was sexy and desired. I liked how bright the colours were around me, I liked the feelings of passion in my soul. I liked how my body felt when I ran my hands over its firm rounded outline, imagining Zak’s hands following the same path. I felt that for the first time that I just really liked being me. And then as I struggled with these myriad thoughts, out of the blue, I received another text, throwing me once again into turmoil. “I do want you!”

My heart had leapt as I tentatively read it and with a sudden rush I felt I understood the hiatus, a chance to be sure, to commit to going forward or retreat to the safety of my marriage. I knew that I had no choice; I was going forward, carried along on the crest of a wave of unstoppable, pure desirous passion. I decided to send a reply, I wanted Zak to be sure of my intention to proceed, I wanted no misunderstandings, no missed opportunity. And so I replied, “Yes!” just that one small word to convey a depth of meaning that I was powerless in the face of. I held my breath as I hit the send button, completely aware of the enormity of the gesture and then I waited, my breath coming in small gasps, bright shards of light flashing in my eyes, hands clenched together. I didn’t have to wait long, my inbox vibrated; I savoured the moment before reading the message and then hit the view button. “After work tonight, photocopier room, keep your back to the door and don’t look around.”

This was it. The rest of the afternoon was a write off, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t sit still, my hands were shaking but not once did I consider not going through with it. Ed would sometimes pick me up from work but today he was away on business and so the coast was clear. As the work day drew to a close and my colleagues drifted off home, I was left alone in the office. Zak too had made a show of packing his brief case and saying his goodbyes, just nodding in my direction; I admired his coolness and was pleased that he had thought to avoid suspicion and awkward questions.

It was time; trembling, I made my way to the photocopier room. It was small and brightly lit; I turned off the light, leaving the door ajar. The main office lights provided enough illumination of the copier and the shelves beyond. I approached the machine, keeping my back to the door and placed my hands on the top of it. My palms were sweating; I quickly rubbed them together and once again placed them flat on the top of the copier. And then with ragged breath I waited, my ears straining for the sound of Zak returning. My body was ready, I felt wanton and debauched, ready to do everything and anything to gain satisfaction. My nipples strained at the silk of my bra as I thrust my breasts forward, my buttocks were pert and well displayed in my tight skirt, my legs long and shapely. And I was wet, oh so wet. My heart was hammering in my chest, the pulsation echoing throughout my engorged body. I felt like a whore, a harlot and I was revelling in these sensations. And then, quietly, ever so quietly I heard the swish of the door, I resisted the mounting urge to turn and watch Zak come through the door, focussing instead on calming my wildly beating heart. And then, his soft footfall right behind me, moving quickly. He took me by surprise, his breath right on my ear, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Stay as you are, do not turn around.”  I felt him behind me, my aura bristling at the closeness but he had not touched me. “Close your eyes.” He commanded and I obeyed as he deftly blindfolded me with a soft enveloping cloth. I opened my eyes but he had been thorough and I could not see even a chink of light through the dense fabric. I maintained my position, breathing heavily with anticipation. Zak started to undo the buttons on my blouse but seemingly taking care not to touch me in any other way. I was desperate to feel his hands on my skin but he was clearly going to tease me. With all the buttons undone he slipped the blouse off and in one swift movement he had unhooked my bra, exposing my aching swollen breasts to his gaze. I gasped, a sharp inhalation of breath but still he did not touch me. I slipped the bra down my arms and dropped it to the floor. Then he was unzipping my tight skirt and shimmying it down over my hips, followed by my skimpy thong; when they fell to the floor, I stepped out of them and I heard him kick them to the side of the room. The cool air was caressing my body, cooling my burning skin. I imagined Zak’s eyes upon me, feasting on my naked flesh but I maintained my pose, arms forward on the copier, buttocks pushed up and back, breasts hanging free with large, erect, expectant nipples. I was stark naked except for my stockings and heels but clothed in anticipation. I strained my ears to hear what Zak was doing but he was quiet. I could feel him there in the small space with me; I could just discern his steady breathing. I shifted slightly, the position becoming a little uncomfortable and my impatience grew for what was to come. Unexpectedly my ears were assailed with the whirr and click of a camera; he was taking pictures of me! My mind raced, was this a good idea? But my desire overcame my reasoned mind and I found myself posing in the way I had seen women posing in porn magazines. I sensed a movement of air and standing stock still, I listened carefully but I heard nothing more and sensed that he had gone. I did not dare to move immediately but my disappointment mounted and I finally had to admit that Zak had left me alone. I had pulled off the blindfold, my cheeks burning with indignation and unresolved need. I retrieved my clothes from where he had kicked them and was shocked to see that an hour had passed. My mind was racing at this turn of events, my body was aching with having kept my pose and throbbing with a deep desire but I had no choice, I now felt vulnerable and exposed, so I had hastily dressed, bagged the blindfold and fled the office.

I was grateful that Ed was away so I would not have to hide or explain my consternation and had spent the night tossing and turning, sleeping fitfully, drifting in and out of nightmarish dreams of a masked lover interspersed with strong flashes of a camera bulb and images of the laughing faces of my colleagues. I felt and looked rough as I went to work the next morning. This heightened and prolonged sexual desire was taking its toll and I knew I was close to breaking point but at the same time I had never felt so alive, I had never heard the birds sing so sweetly or felt the warmth of the sun on my body in such a sensual way. It was heady and addictive and I was not ready to quit.

I felt my phone vibrate as soon as I arrived at the office. I pressed the view button with clammy hands. There were pictures, pictures of me from the previous evening, pictures of a wanton whore, thrusting her buttocks upwards and outwards, head thrown back, breasts pushing out, nipples large and erect. My hand flew to my mouth. What had I expected? I knew Zak had photographed me but to see the result so graphically displayed and to see my desire so clearly defined. Immediately I was wet, which surprised me, as I thought I would be outraged but on the contrary I wanted him, I wanted him so very badly. And the message beneath caused my breath quicken and my guts to contract with expectation. “Same time, same place, same pose, blindfold on and naked.”

Zak was giving nothing away, apart from a small wink when I passed him in the corridor, and I had kept my distance from him, relishing our secret and wishing the day away. And then it was time. Once again I was alone in the office, I waited to be sure the coast was clear and then I made my way to the copier room. I double checked that I was indeed alone and stripped off down to my stockings and heels as before. I pulled the blindfold down over my eyes and contemplated leaving a small gap to allow me to see Zak but decided against it, the game was delicious and I was utterly surrendered to it. I placed my hands on the photocopier and waited, shifting from foot to foot and feeling the coolness of the air conditioning on my warm skin. I did not have to wait long, I could feel him rather than hear him as he entered the room and I held my breath. I could hear him fumbling with what sounded like a belt buckle and I prayed that satisfaction would be forthcoming. The rustle of fabric and zip as he dropped his trousers to the ground, a small groan demonstrating his matching desire, more rustling which I imagined was him removing the rest of his clothing. As each second passed my mouth grew drier and then I felt him, the first touch, his cock nudging gently between my buttocks. I involuntarily pushed back to feel him more, I felt the heat emanating from it, I felt the size and soft virile hardness of it, I wanted him to just push forward and enter me but he had other plans. Having allowed me that brief teasing contact he moved away. Then his hands were on me, cupping my breasts and teasing my engorged nipples and I gave myself up to the sensations, I was an addict having my fix and it felt so good. I maintained my pose as his hands ranged down over my body, examining me as though I was a prized brood mare. The flare of my buttocks, the curve of my spine, the weight of my breasts. He felt down my legs rolling the stockings as he went, digging his thumbs into the sensitive skin on my inner thighs. He avoided my hot wet place that craved his touch most. I thought I was in heaven, I was possessed, nothing else mattered, everything had melted away, I was his. He swung me around and pushed me back against the copier which creaked its protest, pressing up against me his hands cupped my breasts, his tongue insinuating into my mouth, his cock hard between us, jutting onto my abdomen. He was everywhere.

I lifted my hands and started to feel the hard muscle of his taut body, the muscular definition, the sweep of his back; I grasped his buttocks and squeezed him to me. I responded to his questing tongue, I licked him, I nipped him. The blindfold heightened everything, the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of him. I was a Goddess, I felt ten feet tall. His urgency had risen, I felt him lean past me and lift the copier lid and then he had grasped my body and lifted me up so that I was sitting on top of it. He must have hit the copy button as the machine fired into action but I hardly noticed so lost was I in the scenario. He roughly pushed my legs apart; then he was between them, his erection pushing gently but insistently. I leant back against the wall pushing my hips forward to allow him entry, careful not to over tip the copier. He was in; I nearly swooned with the intense pleasure, the culmination of weeks of longing. He paused, buried deep inside me, throbbing and hot, his breath deep and even, his muscles tense and bulging. He leant forward and latched his lips onto my sensitive nipples, flicking them with his tongue whipping me into an even higher frenzy. My body was convulsing, clenching and unclenching. He must have sensed my need for he started to move in and out, slowly at first but gathering pace, lead by my rhythm and urgency. I braced myself on the copier, meeting his thrusts, my satisfaction imminent. I started to come, weeks of frustration concentrated into that moment, I abandoned myself to it, allowed it to wash over me, it shook me to my core. And then I leant forward and grasped his muscular arse, forcing him into me even deeper as he too came, pumping into me with quick short breaths.

I fell back against the wall to rest, I was exhausted, I was sated, I was ecstatic. Zak grew limp and I was vaguely aware of him moving away from me. I remained blindfolded, too weak to move from my awkward position. Evidence of our coupling smeared on the glass of the copier.  My breath had slowly normalised. The feeling had returned to my numb limbs. And then the silence save for the buzz of the office strip lights,  bringing me back to reality; focussing my mind once again on the present. Had Zak left? I tore off the blind fold, I was alone. I slid down from the copier taking care as my legs were wobbly and gathered my clothes. I went home in a daze, stinking of sex and sweat and stale perfume, refusing to think about what I had just done and what it would all mean. I was satisfied, the aching longing had been soothed, reality was starting to reassert itself. I straightened my clothes, tidied my hair and prepared to see Ed who would be home from his trip. I let myself in; Ed was in the shower, his bag thrown casually in the hall. I felt a stab of guilt but quickly pushed it aside and busied myself with preparing supper. I dashed into the shower as soon as Ed had finished, scrubbing hard to wash away all evidence of my debauched activities. For the first time in weeks I had slept soundly and woke refreshed with a renewed enthusiasm and sense of purpose. But then the realisation of what I had done gripped my stomach and I felt physically sick. I wondered about Zak, would he expect more? Would I want more? Could I keep all this from Ed?

Luckily, Ed had an early meeting and had already left for work leaving me to my musings and mounting feelings of guilt. I had gotten myself ready, leaning in close to the mirror to examine my face. I didn’t look any different; I don’t know what I expected, possibly to have my guilt etched on my forehead.  I had a strong coffee and then with a deep breath I shouldered my handbag and went to grab my car keys from the hall table. My eyes were drawn to an A4 picture under the keys; I popped the keys in my bag and picked it up for a better look at the grainy image. Oh my God! It was the photocopy! The copy of me from last night and handwritten below it, “I still want you!”

Ed? Had this been Ed all along? My mind was racing, so I hadn’t been unfaithful? Well, not unless you count wanting to and ‘thinking’ you had been? I couldn’t get to work quickly enough to see Zak. He was there and his demeanour was as cool as usual and then the scales fell from my eyes and I understood, I had allowed my attraction to Zak to be amplified and magnified out of all proportion and my husband, my good, decent, intuitive husband, realising my need for something more in life, in our relationship, had tapped into it and fed it and nurtured it and finally in the most memorable and exciting way, had fulfilled it. I went to the copier room to see where I had enjoyed such pleasure with my husband; a sign had been put up, “please could all spillages be cleaned up promptly to avoid damage to the copier.” And I smiled a deep satisfied smile.

 

 

 

About the Author

 

 

 

Also by Michele Christie -

 

Adventures in Hades - an erotic novella, following Pluto and Proserpine as they explore BDSM together. Pluto (Tristan), is a thirty something, eligible bachelor who takes the naïve Proserpine (Tania) and leads her into a submissive lifestyle; training her to be his perfect slave. Enjoying her body for himself and ultimately sharing her with others.

 

 

 

Also the best selling - Pictures at an Exhibition, a collection of erotic short stories based on works of art by the Great Masters but with a contemporary twist.

 

 

 

Press release for Pictures at an Exhibition:

 

 

 

New Book Sees a Clash of Art and Erotica

 

 

 

London 22nd October 2012. Today, Michele Christie announced the launch of her new eBook on Amazon Pictures at an Exhibition, hot on the heels of E.L.James’ “The Fifty Shades of Grey” trilogy and up there with the best that Black Lace has to offer.

Repackaging and reinventing the erotic stories behind some of the World’s greatest Masterpieces by such artists as Titian and Waterhouse; Ms. Christie’s short stories from her series Eroticism in Art, have already provided a taster of her work and Pictures at an Exhibition sees the full collection brought together. “This era of e-readers has opened up a whole world of possibilities for erotic fiction and for women in particular to buy and read it discretely,” she said. “I have also avoided the usual clichéd, explicit, slightly tacky covers that typify the genre,” she added.

Her stories certainly pack a punch, quickly setting the scene and cracking right on with the steamy action, whilst all the while keeping an eye on her characters thoughts and feelings. Pictures at an Exhibition is available now from Amazon as an eBook or for more information please visit Michele at

 

www.michelechristie.co.uk. Or email her at erotica@michelechristie.co.uk

 

 

 

Follow Michele on:

 

Twitter - @micheleerotica

Facebook – Erotic words

Website/Blog – www.michelechristie.co.uk

 

 

 

Your review would be very much appreciated.

 


© Copyright 2017 Michele Christie. All rights reserved.

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