A quick story about the opportunities afforded by working from home.
It’s 11 a.m., and I’m perched at the kitchen table in my usual “work-from-home” ensemble: jogging bottoms, a loose T-shirt that might as well be pyjamas, and an old coffee mug that’s more decoration than necessity at this point. My laptop’s open, displaying a spreadsheet full of marketing data for the IT company that employs me. It’s riveting stuff, really, optimising landing pages, engagement metrics, and all that jazz.
But let’s be real. Half the tabs open on my screen have nothing to do with marketing.
I’ve got a second window discreetly tucked behind the work one, filled with a more exciting type of content. That’s where my side gig thrives, writing the kind of fiction that would make even the spiciest marketing campaign blush. Yeah, I write erotica, and it’s far more fun than drumming up emails about firewall security.
I take a sip of my coffee and grin at the current scene I’m working on. Let’s just say things are getting particularly heated between an adventurous couple and a pool table. The kind of scenario that’s guaranteed to keep me glued to my chair, definitely not safe for work. But here I am, in the blissful comfort of my own home, indulging in my favourite perk of remote work: multitasking between “work-work” and “fun-work.”
My laptop buzzes, pulling me out of the steamy paragraph I’ve just typed.
Marketing Weekly Meeting – 30 minutes.
"Brilliant," I mutter, rolling my eyes. Time to temporarily stow away the pool table shenanigans and switch back to drafting a newsletter about the latest in cloud computing.
I click back to my professional screen, but not before archiving the latest draft of my erotica. My mind’s still half in the scene, and the grin doesn’t leave my face. One of the benefits of working from home: no one’s here to tell me I’m not supposed to be having this much fun during office hours.
Right on cue, I hear the front door open and Nick’s voice calling out. “Katie? You in here?”
“I’m always in here!” I shout back, fingers still flying over the keyboard, toggling between describing a seductive smirk and a cloud-based solution.
Nick strolls in, looking all sharp and professional in his gray suit, with that laid-back smile plastered on his face like he hasn’t spent the whole morning arguing about contracts and property law. His tie’s already loosened. Must’ve been a fun morning at the office.
“Should’ve known. Got the marketing stuff down?” he asks, nodding towards my laptop as he helps himself to the fridge.
“Oh, absolutely. Just finished a very engaging section,” I reply, leaning back in my chair. The way I say "engaging" is enough to make Nick raise an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“You mean firewalls and conversion rates, I’m sure,” he quips, grabbing a bottle of water. “You’ve got that look on your face.”
“What look?” I ask, feigning innocence, though the smirk I’m wearing probably gives me away.
“That ‘I’ve just written something incredibly filthy and I’m still half-living in it’ look.”
I shrug, twirling a loose strand of hair around my finger. “Maybe. Maybe not. Don’t worry, I’m still getting paid to push out emails about how secure their IT systems are. It’s just that some parallel work is happening too.”
Nick chuckles, leaning against the counter as he takes a swig of water. “God, I love how your version of ‘multitasking’ is juggling corporate jargon with outright filth.”
I stretch, exaggerating it a little, feeling his eyes on me as my T-shirt lifts just slightly above the waistband of my jogging bottoms. “That’s the beauty of it, babe. One minute I’m knee-deep in client data, and the next I’m diving into a wild orgasmic orgy, or a night of transcendent sex on the beach. All without leaving the kitchen table.”
He laughs, setting the bottle down. “And here I am, stuck in meetings all day while you’re at home getting creative.” Nick crosses the room, stopping just behind my chair. His hands settle on my shoulders, thumbs gently massaging the tension there. “Mmm, and to think, I used to worry about you getting distracted at home.”
“I’m not distracted. I’m focused,” I tease, leaning into his touch. “Both the marketing and the pool table scene are coming along nicely.”
His hands pause briefly, then he lets out a low whistle. “Pool table, huh? You always were the creative type. Want to run that scene by me for quality assurance?”
I snicker, twisting in my chair to face him. “Oh, Nick, it’s all professional over here, promise. But I could use a little help, refining some of the details. You know, making sure it’s realistic.” My grin widens as I add, “Since you’re all dressed up, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little lawyer consultation.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I’m not sure that’s the kind of consulting they taught me in law school, but I’m intrigued.”
“You always are,” I say with a smirk, sliding the laptop closed as he pulls me to my feet.
Nick may deal with the fine print, but I’ve mastered the art of distraction. And right now, working from home feels like the best job in the world.
I leaned back in my chair, turning the laptop to face him with a sly grin. “Alright, you asked for it,” I teased, opening up my latest work-in-progress and tilting the screen towards Nick. “Here’s the pool table scene I’ve been working on.”
Nick leaned in, his curiosity turning into something else as he started to read. “Well, well,” he murmured, his voice dropping into that low chuckle I knew all too well. “You weren’t kidding when you said ‘creative.’ I’m not sure I’ve ever played pool quite like that.”
I smirked, watching the way his eyes lingered a little too long on the screen. His breathing shifted, just enough to tell me everything I needed to know. I could see he was definitely enjoying the scene. “You like it?” I asked, pretending to be innocent, though I knew exactly what I was doing.
Nick cleared his throat, but the grin stretched across his face betrayed him. “Oh, I love it,” he replied, a little more breathless than usual.
My eyes drifted down, and it was obvious he wasn’t the only one feeling enthusiastic about my latest work. Raising an eyebrow, I let my gaze hover on his suit trousers for just a beat longer. “Well, looks like you’re giving me a standing ovation,” I teased, folding my arms with a smirk.
Nick nudged me playfully. “What can I say? You’ve got a way with words.”
Before I could fire back, his hands found my waist, pulling me out of the chair and into his arms. His lips brushed the side of my neck as he whispered, “Think you could give me a live reading of the next chapter?”
I giggled, feeling a shiver of excitement race down my spine. I turned in his arms, more than ready to tease him right back, when that unmistakable chime from my laptop ruined the moment.
My eyes went wide as I glanced at the screen. “Oh no. The meeting,” I muttered under my breath. I quickly smoothed my hair, giving Nick a light push with a laugh. “You’re terrible. I have to go.”
Nick stepped back, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave. For now.”
I scrambled to sign into the Zoom call just as the host started speaking. Sliding back into my chair, I gave myself one last look, making sure I looked at least somewhat professional, or as professional as you can when you’re wearing jogging bottoms and a loose T-shirt.
I barely have time to straighten my shirt before the meeting starts, my fingers still tingling from where Nick had been gripping my waist a moment ago. I shoot him a warning look, but he just grins like the mischievous troublemaker I married. I press the unmute button and force my voice into some semblance of professionalism.
“Good morning, everyone!” I say, my voice a little too chipper. “Hope you all had a good weekend.”
I can already tell this meeting’s going to drag on. It’s the usual Monday grind, analytics updates, marketing strategies, the kind of stuff that should interest me, but I can barely keep my attention on the screen. Mostly because I can see Nick crouching down and stopping just below me, out of sight of the camera, far too quiet to be innocent.
I keep one eye on the presentation and the other on my chat window, pretending to pay attention while I type out notes. Meanwhile, Nick’s hand slides up my thigh, his fingers sneaking beneath the waistband of my joggers. I shoot him a look that screams not now, but he just gives me that cheeky grin.
Of course, he’s never one to back down from a challenge.
I stifle a gasp as his fingers glide slowly over my skin, teasing and light. The camera catches the slight shift in my posture, but thankfully, no one notices. My colleagues drone on about ad spend and conversion rates, but my mind is rapidly slipping elsewhere.
I cough lightly, forcing myself to focus. “Right, I think we should consider adding more A/B testing options to see which copy resonates better with our audience,” I say, trying to sound authoritative.
Nick’s fingers dip lower, testing just how much I can handle while staying in front of the camera. His touch is delicate, maddeningly so, and every time I think he’s going to stop, he just keeps going, brushing over me with a slow, deliberate pressure.
I’m barely keeping it together.
His fingers move up and down my slit, tracing the contours of my pussy lips. My clit stands hard against his fingertip, begging for attention. I can feel him getting closer to my entrance, teasingly rubbing just around it before he finally dips inside.
On the screen in front of me my team is shifting into an important part of the discussion, our big campaign for next month. I can’t afford to zone out now, but my body has other ideas. Nick’s fingers are relentless, moving with just enough skill to send waves of warmth rushing through me, the kind of warmth that’s impossible to ignore.
The sensation is electric. His fingers are barely inside me just relentlessly teasing and touching, sending ripples of pleasure through my body. My legs tremble slightly, and I feel like I might lose control at any moment. But there's something about this intimate act in front of the camera that makes it all the more intense; having to hide my reactions when I want to start moaning, bucking and squirming.
I clench my thighs, trying to keep my breathing even as I nod along with the presentation. “Uh, yes, good point. We should, um, push that live by next week,” I manage, my voice tightening slightly.
Nick knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s keeping quiet, careful not to make any noise that would alert the others on the call, but his movements are anything but subtle to me. His hands tug lightly at the waistband of my joggers, and before I can react, he’s sliding them down just enough for him to have full access.
My heart races as I fight to keep my expression neutral, my fingers gripping the edge of the table. I glance down briefly, just a quick, panicked look, and sure enough, Nick’s eyes are full of mischief as his mouth moves closer.
Oh no. He wouldn’t.
Would he?
I stifle a sharp inhale, quickly muting my mic as Nick’s lips brush against my skin. His tongue moves softly, teasing me in a way that has me digging my nails into the table. I unmute again, desperately trying to compose myself as the meeting continues.
“And, Katie, do you think we should extend the campaign to Q4?” someone asks.
Of course, they ask me now.
I feel the warmth of his tongue against my clit, an overwhelming sensation that it takes all my willpower not to squirm and moan in front of the camera. His fingers continue their relentless tease, pressing into me deeper each time he pushes them inside, stretching me open wider for his mouth.
I swallow hard, forcing a smile onto my face as I try to speak. “Y-yes, I think it’s, uh, a good idea to extend through Q4, depending on the, ah, the data we collect.” My voice falters for a second, but I manage to push through, somehow sounding halfway coherent.
But Nick’s pace is picking up, his fingers working in tandem with his mouth, and I can feel the pressure building rapidly inside me. My body’s betraying me, responding to every move he makes, and I’m biting the inside of my cheek to keep from making any noise. The more I try to stay professional, the harder it becomes.
Every nerve ending in my body seems to be on fire, every muscle tense and straining to respond but being forced to stay still through force of will. I can't help but let out a low moan, quickly covering it with a chough, unable to contain the pleasure building within me. The combination of his fingers inside me and his mouth on my clit feels like an explosion, each sensation amplifying the others until I'm sure I'll burst.
“Great! Let’s go over the analytics for that then,” my colleague says.
I nod vigorously, praying they don’t notice the sweat gathering at my temples. “Uh-huh, sure, sounds good,” I reply, my voice breathless. I’m hanging on by a thread now.
I glance down at him, silently begging him to stop, or at least slow down, but he just smirks, his tongue working its magic with a precision that makes me want to both scream and laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
I’m seconds away from release, my legs trembling beneath the table as Nick’s touch pushes me over the brink. The meeting is still going, voices droning in the background, but I can’t focus on a single word. My world narrows down to Nick’s mouth, his fingers, and the intense wave of pleasure building inside me.
And then it happens. The release hits me like a tidal wave, my entire body shuddering as I grip the table, doing everything I can not to make a sound.but I somehow managed to stay outwardly composed, a single bead of sweat slipping down my temple. I bit the inside of my cheek, hard, suppressing the moan that threatened to escape. My thighs trembled under the table, my head tipping back just slightly before I caught myself.
My vision blurs for a moment, and when I come back to reality, I realise everyone is still talking, completely oblivious. I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding, trying to gather myself.
I unmute the mic, clearing my throat. “Great points, everyone. Let’s make sure to, uh, circle back on those analytics next week,” I say, my voice surprisingly calm for someone who just nearly lost it in the middle of a client meeting.
Nick chuckles softly beneath the table, his lips brushing my skin one last time before he sits back, utterly pleased with himself. I quickly glare down at him, though I can’t stop the grin tugging at my lips.
As soon as the meeting ends and I close the laptop, I turn to him, still breathless and flushed. “You are the worst,” I say, laughing despite myself.
Nick just stands up, adjusting his suit jacket with a smug grin. “The worst, huh? Didn’t sound like it.”
I throw a pillow at him, but I can’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love it,” he says, giving me a quick kiss before walking towards the door, leaving me to recover from the most intense meeting of my life.