The texting started that same night.
Me: Thanks for the drinks… and the napkin
Marcus: You left wet. I could tell.
I stared at my phone, cheeks burning, p***y throbbing again even after two orgasms. I was still naked on my bed, fingers lazily circling my c**t.
Me: Maybe I did. What are you going to do about it?
Marcus: Next Friday. Come early. I’ll take care of you properly.
From then on, the messages got filthier every day.
Tuesday afternoon, while I was stuck in a boring meeting:
Marcus: Been thinking about bending you over my bar and f*****g you in front of everyone.
Me: I’m in a meeting right now and I just got wet.
Marcus: Good. Keep thinking about my c**k while you pretend to work.
By Thursday the tension was unbearable.
Marcus: I got hard last night just remembering how
