Naomi Lawson-Smith had mentally left the building. In her mind, she rolled on crisp white cotton sheets with a naked Saskia, tweaking her pink pearl nipples as their bodies brushed against each other, soft girl bodies that felt the same. Saskia talked about career opportunities with parted legs, no underwear and a visible, neatly shaved, pussy. Christian Lawson-Smith covered his bulge with his clipboard and upon spotting the sensual strip of flesh between her legs, set himself free, quietly unzipping his fly. He tried to think about other matters, but he couldn’t quite help himself and before he had the time to mull it over, his hand stroked and pulled at his throbbing cock. Naomi Lawson-Smith could weep for the love of that pretty pussy under the skirt; she was so full of longing for a taste of the delicious sweet nectar, aching to insert her tongue inside, as far as it would go. Jolts of arousal hit her in the crotch, as her finger secretly rested there, under the clipboard, poised. I replayed every moment over and over, only it wasn’t distracting. It was like a familiar movie playing in the background while you work. You can still hear it without focusing on it. When I had a moment to spare, I would shift focus and think about the extraordinary events of the night before. But I was always able to return to my work with ease. I reached a good stopping point in the late afternoon, and as I was walking to my car I received a text message from Miranda. Picking up pizza on my way home from the library, in case you don’t have plans. I replied a simple, Thank you, and noticed that I was quite hungry, having worked through lunch. I arrived at the house before she did and even had time to shower before she arrived, pizza in hand. It was only when she walked in the door that I felt a sudden surge of awkwardness. This woman had seen me naked. She had seen me behaving animalistically. What was more, I had seen her (mostly) naked. How could I look at her again, knowing what.
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