Overworked and Worked Over

"Working late, Lara?" a deep voice rumbled over the din of the 5pm exodus at her job. Lara Spencer looked up from her computer monitor and smiled at her newest coworker, Malcolm. "Yeah, I've got to finish this new project."

"Well, don't work too hard—I'll, see you Monday."

"Bye, Malcolm, have a good weekend," Lara said, staring up into his chocolate brown eyes. He held her gaze and she shivered. His full lips curled up into a smile.

"Thanks, you too."

Lara turned back to her work and sighed. Malcolm was 34 years old, single, and had just been hired as a junior attorney at the firm where she worked as an accountant. He was the talk of the office—attached to those chocolate brown eyes and sensual lips was a 6'4" frame and the body of a linebacker. Focus, Lara, she told herself—you can drool over the new attorney some other time.

She was supposed to leave in thirty minutes so she could meet her boyfriend, Seth for their anniversary dinner. They'd been dating for a year and were supposed to relive their first date at The Melting Pot. She'd worn her best push-up bra and matching G-string for the occasion. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to happen. Lara's boss had given her a stack of invoices an hour ago that she needed to review, data enter, and run reports on. It was going to take her at least another 3 hours to get done. She picked up the phone to call Seth.

"Hey, babe—you getting ready to leave?"

"Seth, I'm sorry. Something came up and I—"

"You're serious?" he interrupted angrily, "Lara, you have worked late every fucking night this week. I'm not going to sit around and wait for you to have time for me anymore."

"Seth, I told you I was sorry. This is important—I need to do well on this project so I'll have a shot at the promotion."

"I could care less about your promotion," Seth said, "I'm just going to be blunt. I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean you could care less? This is important for both of us, Seth. I'm doing this for us!" Lara whispered, furious at him.

"You plan your life with your job. I'm going to plan my life with an actual human being. I'm glad I found out how it's going to be now, rather than ten years from now. It's over, Lara."

"But, wait, what do you mean—" Lara said, stopping only when she heard the dial tone.

How dare he do this to her now! Lara was fuming but turned back to her work. She did not have time to worry about Seth now. Lara pulled a granola bar from her drawer, took a sip of water, and turned her cell phone off. She was going to focus and finish this project if it killed her.

Three hours later, Lara had already emailed the final versions to her boss and was just printing out the hard copies for the finance meetings Monday morning when a large clap of thunder sounded and the abandoned office was lit up by lightning. "Shit," Lara said, jumping, and then laughing at herself. The office was deserted; even the cleaning crew had gone. But hell, it was just a little storm. Lara left the document as it finished printing and ran to the restroom, then to the coat closet to try to scrounge up an umbrella. She headed back to her desk, turning off lights on her way there. She still had to print off several dozen pages so she finished walking around the office to run off lights. She was heading back to her desk when she realized that every room in the office was dark—except for one.

Malcolm must've forgotten to turn his light off, Lara thought to herself. She pushed the door open and stuck her arm in to hit the switch. Before she could fumble against the wall to find it, she felt someone grab her by the wrist. The thunder boomed at the same time, lightning flashed, and then the office went pitch black.

Lara's scream was silenced as she was pulled against a hard chest and a hand clapped over her mouth.

"Shhh...." the shush came out seductively and Lara's eyes widened in the darkness.

"Lara. I'm going to take my hand off of your mouth, okay? Don't scream, it's just me. Malcolm."

He released her and she took a deep breath, squinting through the darkness to try and confirm his identity.

He was flicking the switch on and off. "No power," he said, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, you just scared the shit outta me," Lara replied, still shaky, "What are you doing here?"

"I left my cell phone—I knew I couldn't last without it all weekend. I just slipped in a few minutes ago and was trying to wait for the rain to let up a bit before I trekked out into it again," he explained, "did you get your reports finished?"

"Yes, they're finishing printing now."

"Um, I hate to say this, but I doubt that they can print when the power is out."

Lara groaned and ran out to her desk to check on the printer's progress. Malcolm followed her.

"Shit!" Lara said, picking up the documents, "Shit! Shit! Shit! Mr. Singer is going to KILL me!"

"What's it looking like?" Malcolm asked.

"Well, I've got page 22 of 39 on the first copy. The first copy! I need TEN copies!" Lara snatched the paper drawer open—empty. She sank down into her chair.

"I don't even have a complete copy to take to Kinko's. What the hell am I going to do?"

Malcolm looked at his watch and then outside at the pouring rain.

"You're going to stop worrying about it until tomorrow. Just run back up here and finish the printing once the power comes back on."

"Yeah, that'd be great, except that when I leave the building, the doors lock behind me and though Mr. Singer trusts me with every financial aspect of the company, he doesn't trust me with a key to the building."

"I've got a key."

Lara's spirits rose for a minute but she pushed them down. "Malcolm, I can't ask you to come back tomorrow just to let me print off the documents."

"You're not asking. I'm offering. And just for the record, if this isn't done, Mr. Singer is going to be a total asshole next week, isn't he?"

"You have no idea."

"Well, then I'll be doing us both a favor. I don't want to deal with an asshole next week. Come on, I'll walk you to your car and we'll meet back here in the morning. Say, 10:30? I'll bring coffee, you bring doughnuts?"

Gratefulness rose up in Lara's chest and a great relief. "Malcolm, I don't know how to thank you. That sounds wonderful."

Lara picked up her purse, the rogue umbrella, and let Malcolm help her into her trench coat. They walked through the dark office and out into the storm still raging in the dark night—apparently, the electricity had gone off down the whole street.

The umbrella didn't do a damn thing—she was soaked by the time she reached her P.O.S. car. She saw Malcolm darting to an SUV with the hood of his raincoat pulled up. She threw the umbrella down and plopped into the seat.

Malcolm Grayson slid into his black Suburban and turned to grab the towel from his gym bag in the back seat. He wiped his face down and started the engine. He turned on the heater and then the wipers so he could make sure Lara's car started and she got on the road safely.

Malcolm had heard the office gossip about Lara—several of the other attorneys had tried to date her but she'd stayed faithful to her boyfriend. Of course, because they'd been turned down, they had some not-so-nice things to say about her. They'd made ignorant comments about her weight (she was thick), her hair (she was killin' 'em with the super short cut), and her ass—Malcolm had never seen such a fat ass on a white girl. It wasn't that ugly, cottage cheese fat either—it was smooth, round, and bounced seductively in those skirts she'd wear. He'd nearly lost his mind when he realized it was her on the other side of his office door. He'd had a split second of indecision as to whether he should take advantage of the blackout and bend her over right there. But he'd left those days behind him.

Malcolm snapped back to attention when Lara pounded on the passenger side window of his SUV. He immediately unlocked the door and she climbed in out of the rain—her short hair was plastered against her head, mascara smudged under her eyes, and her chest was heaving, trench coat stretched open and blouse soaked underneath. Malcolm forced himself to focus on Lara's face—she looked upset.

"What's wrong, Lara?"

Lara tried to catch her breath—aside from running across the parking lot through the rain in her heels, she was also awestruck by the sight and smell of the virile man just a foot away.

"My car won't start—it won't even turn over. I was wondering if you could let me use your cell phone? I can't find mine, can you believe it?"

Malcolm dug through his pockets until he found the phone he'd just retrieved from his office.

"You don't mind if I call information?"

"No, but what do you need information for? Isn't your boyfriend available to come and pick you up, get your car started?"

Lara cringed and looked at her feet, "Um, actually, no. He's not my boyfriend, I mean, he's not—shit—I can't call him."

Malcolm pondered this—not her boyfriend? Well, well, well...

"Do you need anything out of the car, Lara?"

"Um, yeah, my purse. But I'll get it before the cab comes," she said, reaching for the phone.

Malcolm tucked the phone back in his pocket, grabbed the car keys Lara had been nervously fingering, and put the truck in gear. He drove over to Lara's car and was in the process of retrieving her purse before she could protest. The thunder and lightning had gotten worse and the rain was still coming down in buckets.

Malcolm climbed back in and passed Lara her purse and keys. He grabbed the towel again and pulled out a clean one for Lara.

"So, where am I taking you? We can worry about getting your car started tomorrow. I can just pick you up in the morning, if that's ok?"

Lara nodded, thanked him, and gave him the address—they had only gone a couple of miles before the next issue arose.

"Oh no!" Lara wailed, leaning forward to peer through the sheets of rain hitting the windshield, "We can't make it through."

Police, ambulance, and fire trucks were everywhere. Cars were turning around in the middle of the street. Malcolm pulled up far enough to reach a cop—the road was flooded and there wasn't a detour into Lara's neighborhood. By this time, it was 9:30pm. Lara was exhausted and starving to death.

"Just take me to a hotel Malcolm, if you don't mind?"

"I've got a guest room—if you don't mind, I'll grab some Chinese, we can eat and then crash," Malcolm said, smiling at Lara, "It'll save me a trip in the morning and save you some money for a room."

Lara hesitated but what he said made sense—if Mr. Singer trusted Malcolm with a key to the office, surely she could trust him too.

An hour later, she was showered, had on a pair of Malcolm's sweatpants and one of his t-shirts, and was curled up on the buttery leather couch with a carton of chicken lo mein and a glass of coke (and just a little bit of rum). Malcolm was sitting on the floor across from her, clad only in a pair of sweatpants as well, and leaned up against a plush armchair—he had finished his food but fixed himself another drink. There was a movie on the huge flat screen TV but neither seemed to be paying attention to it.

"So," Malcolm began, "I know this might be kind of rude, but, what happened with your boyfriend?"

The drink had done wonders in loosening Lara's tongue—she told him the whole story, even some intimate details that she was shocked she'd revealed.

"He never wanted to do what?" Malcolm said, smirking.

"He never wanted to, you know, go down on me," Lara said, blushing and taking another gulp of the liquid courage she held in her hand.

"Hmm," Malcolm said, shaking his head. He pushed himself up from the floor, snagged Lara's nearly empty glass, and walked back into the kitchen.

"Wait!" Lara said, "What does 'hmm' mean?"

She heard Malcolm chuckling in the kitchen and ice clink in her glass.

"Nothing, Lara, it's nothing." Malcolm couldn't believe that it had been this easy to get Lara to take the conversation in this direction. He also couldn't believe her breasts could look that good in his old t-shirt. A couple more drinks and he'd have her in his bed, screaming his name.

Lara had never been more turned on in her life. Malcolm's body was incredible—her pussy had gotten wet the instant he'd walked into the living room wearing nothing but his sweatpants. Watching him walk back into the living room sent another thrill straight to her pussy.

Lara took another big drink and didn't realize that Malcolm had sat down next to her on the couch.

"How long has it been, then? You know, since a man ate your pussy."

Lara's heart pounded in her chest—if her pussy got any wetter, it'd leak out onto the leather she was sitting on.

"Um, I'd been with my boyfriend for a year. So at least that long."

Malcolm leaned back, draping one arm behind Lara on the couch.

"And, so the guy before him, he knew how to eat your pussy?"

Lara had to pause to think about it. Malcolm chuckled.

"It wasn't any good, was it?"

Lara blanched—she tucked her head. Had she ever had her pussy eaten the way she really wanted?

"You've never had anybody eat it right, have you?"

Lara didn't respond.

Malcolm took her drink from her and placed it at her lips, forcing her to take a big drink. He finished it off and sat the glass on the coffee table. And then he leaned in and kissed Lara. Thoroughly kissed her. Kissed her so good, she forgot where she was. He leaned into her, dipping his tongue into her mouth, tasting, caressing hers with his.

Lara moaned into his mouth and tipped her head up to meet his. He hadn't touched anything more than her lips and she was already on fire.

He slid his arm under her knees and pulled her legs up so she was lying down with a leg on either side of his body. He pulled his mouth from hers and kissed her neck, just below her ear. His tongue traced the tendon to the base of her throat and sucked, then lapped the spot with the flat of his tongue, then sucked, alternating sucking and lapping. Lara's moans turned into grunts—she sounded animalistic. Malcolm's dick pulsed. He licked up and bit her earlobe gently before starting all over again.

After a few minutes of the blissful torment, Lara felt like she was going crazy. She was frantically pulling Malcolm toward her, rising up to meet him but he wasn't having it. He held her down and tortured her with his tongue. When he stopped, it was to grab the front of her t-shirt and rip it right down the front. Her breasts heaved. Malcolm dipped his head back down and licked a nipple. A few more minutes were spent on each breast. Lara's moans and grunts had turned into a chant, please, please, please...

Malcolm looked down at the buffet spread out in front of him. Her soft, sensuous lips were puffy from being kissed. He could see the bruises already beginning on her throat. Her breasts were so sensitive, a lick, a touch and he had this chick going crazy. He planned to kiss his way down her soft belly before going to town on her pussy. He focused on her erratic breathing and bent back down. She squirmed as he kissed and licked her belly.

"Be still, Lara."

She kept trying to pull away.

"Lara. Be still."

And then he slapped her breast. She gasped and clutched the breast. He pulled her hands away and she struggled some more. So he slapped her breast again. She froze. He resumed his path, sliding the sweatpants over her curvy hips and thick thighs, and pulling them completely off.

He could smell her cunt as he got closer—sweet and tart, like an unripe peach. She was hairy—he buried his nose in the crinkly black hair, inhaling and exhaling. Her hands clutched his head and she lifted her hips.

He pulled her hands away and lifted his head, pushing her hips down at the same time.

She clutched at him.

"Please don't stop, please don't stop, please don't stop!" she pleaded.

"What did I tell you to do, Lara?"

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"Did I tell you to grab my head or grind your pussy into my face?" Lara looked confused.

"'Lara. Be still.' Isn't that what I said?" Malcolm growled.

She nodded.

"Then stop fucking moving."

She nodded again, holding her hands up to her face. Her hips still squirmed, but didn't lift. Malcolm resumed his position between Lara's legs.

Malcolm kissed the insides of her thighs, pushing her knees slowly up and out. His tongue darted out and nestled against Lara's clitoris. She moaned. It darted out again and her legs started quivering. He flattened out his tongue and lazily licked her up and down, down and up, drifting in and out of her pussy lips and against her clit. Then more darting. Her hips started a slow roll. And then Malcolm stopped playing—he dove into her, using his tongue, teeth, lips, nose, chin, fingers, breath, everything. Lara's hands stayed above her head, but her hips were grinding against his face and Malcolm wasn't stopping her.

Oh my God, he's going to kill me—he's going to kill me with his tongue and I'll never get to feel his dick, Lara thought to herself silently, and I'm not going to care. The orgasm that she'd been building for the past half hour was about to crash over her. She'd never felt so much built up pressure in her pussy. Malcolm had a steady pace going—sucking, then licking her clit, then plunging two fingers in her pussy to tease her G-spot, over and over and over. It hit her suddenly. Her hips rose, Malcolm pulled his mouth away and started strumming her clit. She screamed and a spray shot out of her. Malcolm didn't stop, keeping the orgasm going and going. Finally, his fingers slowed, her muscles relaxed, and her hips dropped back to the couch. She struggled to catch her breath, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Malcolm pushed himself up and hovered over her, then brushed his lips softly over her cheeks, lips, forehead. "Hey," he said softly, "You ok?"

Lara nodded, then reached up and pulled him toward her for a real kiss. She tasted her pussy on his lips and moaned again.

Malcolm pulled away, saying, "I'll be right back."

He headed for the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth and a couple of towels. The bitch squirted, he thought to himself proudly, the bitch fucking squirted. His dick was hard as a rock. He had nearly nutted in his pants when he saw and felt her come so hard. He grabbed a condom from the medicine cabinet and stuck it in his pocket before going back in the living room.

He bent down, lifted her hips, and laid a towel down underneath her to mop up the juices she'd expelled, then wiped her clean with the warm cloth.

He finished, draped the other towel over her pussy, and then retrieved new drinks for both of them before sitting down on the couch next to her, keeping one hand cupped protectively on the towel over her mound.

Lara scooted up enough so she could take a sip of her drink.

"Malcolm?" Lara said, feeling the heat from the rum trickle down her throat, "What are we doing?"

"Well," he started, after draining his own drink, "Right now, we're relaxing on the couch."

She scoffed, "You know what I mean."

"I don't know, Lara—I thought we were having a good time. I don't know about you, but I've wanted you since the first time I saw you in the office."

She looked him in the eye and slowly nodded her head, "Me too."

"But since you had a boyfriend, I wasn't going to get in the way."

"We broke up."

"I know."

Lara had taken several sips of her drink and she sat up even closer to Malcolm. She leaned forward and stretched the loose sweatpants up and over his massive erection. She positioned herself so that her mouth was directly over the head of his penis. She kissed the tip and then slid her lips open. The ice cube in her mouth had nearly melted but the coolness of her tongue as it wrapped itself around his dick caused Malcolm to shudder.