How To Catch A Coworker

Charlie aims the laptop camera at her spread legs and starts filming. Her fingers work slow circles over her clit until her breath gets jagged. Then she pushes two fingers deep, talking filthy to the screen like she already has her coworker trapped. When she's soaked and shaking, she saves the clip, drags it into the folder named 'Private,' and shuts the lid. She leaves a sliver of light on so the screen glows like an invitation. Summer shows up with her files, all proper smiles and small talk. They work at the kitchen table until Charlie stretches, grabs her keys, and says she has to grab coffee. The second the door clicks, Summer is up, creeping down the hall, laptop open before she can talk herself out of it. The file is right there, waiting. Summer clicks. The first sound out of the speakers is Charlie's wet, filthy moan. Summer bites her lip, thighs squeezing together. In seconds her hand is under her skirt, rubbing fast over cotton already soaked. She doesn't hear the quiet shuffle behind the doorframe. Charlie watches from the hallway, one palm pressed hard over her own cunt through her jeans. Summer is losing it now, two fingers pumping, breath stuttering every time Charlie's recorded voice says her name. Charlie steps back in, loud this time. Summer yanks her hand free, cheeks burning, blurting nonsense. Charlie cuts her off with a grin, closes the laptop, and admits the setup. "Wanted to see if you'd bite." She steps closer, hooks two fingers in Summer's waistband, and tugs her forward. They crash together hard—teeth, tongues, greedy hands—then Charlie spins her onto the table and dives between Summer's legs. They fuck like the whole afternoon has been foreplay, Summer gasping Charlie's name louder than any video could catch.