Her name is Lena, and I've had a crush on her since the day she transferred into my building.
I'm in my twenties. I've been working in the warehouse a couple of years now -- long enough to know it's a dead-end job, but not long enough to care.
Lena transferred from our head office. She shares a small office with Kara.
Kara's eight years older than me. Lena's ten.
I've been fucking Kara for a couple months now.
She knows I have a girlfriend.
She doesn't care.
I could tell from the start Kara was hungry -- the kind of hungry that doesn't give a shit about rings or promises or anything else.
I took my shot.
Turns out some women just want cock, no strings attached.
But Lena?
Lena's different.
She's married. No kids. Always flashing that easy, flirty smile like she doesn't have a care in the world.
And every time she looks at me -- every time she lingers just a little too long -- I get the feeling she wants it too.
Wants me.
Maybe I'm fooling myself.
Maybe she's just one of those women who flirts for fun, not for the kill.
That's fine. I don't mind being the one who brings that smile to her face.
But deep down, I can't shake the feeling there's more there.
Something dirty.
Something she's dying to let out.
One day at work, it almost happened.
I was chatting with my boss in the office, wasting time before heading back to the floor.
I ducked into the little private bathroom to wash my hands -- left the door open without thinking.
No big deal.
Until Lena walked in.
She leaned against the doorframe, eyes gleaming, and said, "Okay. Here's your chance. Take me."
I froze.
I just stood there, staring at her like a fucking idiot.
Couldn't move. Couldn't speak.
My eyes dropped to the floor.
She laughed. Walked away like it was nothing.
I've been kicking myself ever since.
Would she have let me?
If I had grabbed her -- pinned her against the sink, slid my hand up under that little pencil skirt she always wears -- would she have let it happen?
I don't know.
But I can't stop thinking about it.
Every time I see her, it flashes in my head.
Every time I jerk off, it's there -- replaying, rewriting, making it dirtier in my mind than it ever could have been in real life.
Since that day, the flirting's never stopped.
It's the best part of my day -- walking into Lena and Kara's office, shooting the shit, throwing little lines at both of them just to see them smile, see them blush.
They giggle like schoolgirls.
They love it.
And it makes going to that miserable job not suck so much.
An opportunity came up at work for me to take a supervisor position on the afternoon shift.
I was young -- too young, probably -- and nowhere near ready for that kind of responsibility.
But I figured, fuck it. I was already there. Might as well take the money.
Turns out, taking that job was the smartest move I ever made -- at least when it came to Lena and Kara.
The new position meant I spent a lot more time in the office.
And I swear, the more time I spent around them, the dirtier their flirting got.
It only got worse when the summer hit.
Kara and I kept fucking -- sneaking around like a couple of horny teenagers.
Neither of us had our own place.
We made it work.
Fucking in her car.
At her parents' house when they were out of town.
Sometimes even at work -- after hours, after everyone had left -- me bending her over the office desk, taking her fast and rough with the lights off and the door locked.
(Perks of having the building key.)
But back to Lena.
One afternoon, I walked into their office and overheard them talking about a party Lena was throwing that Saturday night.
I made a big show of being offended -- clutching my chest, pouting -- and they laughed, teased me.
Lena said something about me "not being able to keep up with the grown-ups."
But I got the invite anyway.
I knew it would be an older crowd.
I knew Lena's husband would be there.
Didn't matter.
I wasn't passing up the chance to see her outside of work -- to see what she was like when she wasn't wearing that professional mask.
The day of the party, I made sure I looked my best.
Slim, tan, fresh haircut.
Good jeans, fitted tee.
I knew how to dress. I knew how to play the part when I needed to.
Kara offered me a ride -- she didn't drink -- but I told her I'd drive myself.
Didn't want to be trapped.
Didn't want anything getting in the way if the night turned interesting.
I got to Lena's place around eight.
It was nice.
Nothing flashy, nothing huge -- but you could tell it was a home.
It had that warm, lived-in feeling.
The kind of place where every little picture frame, every throw pillow, had been touched by Lena's hands.
Everyone was out back.
It was mostly neighbors, friends.
Older couples.
People laughing, smoking, drinking beers under the string lights.
The second I got there, I learned Lena's husband had gone out of town the night before for work.
I tried to hide how happy that made me.
I think I played it cool.
Maybe.
Lena and Kara looked incredible.
Different types of gorgeous, but both dangerous in their own way.
Kara -- short, curvy, dark.
Chubby, but carried it well -- those big, perfect tits framed by a tight little summer dress that clung to her body in all the right ways.
She hated her body.
I fucking loved it.
And Lena -- taller, leaner.
Wearing tight, light-wash cropped jeans and heels that made her legs look endless.
Her top was loose, light -- and it didn't take a genius to figure out she wasn't wearing a bra.
Her nipples were hard, clear outlines under the fabric every time she laughed, every time she leaned in to talk.
It was impossible not to stare.
And she noticed.
Every time my eyes dropped, every time my gaze lingered a little too long, Lena just smiled -- slow and knowing -- like she didn't mind at all.
As the night went on, I made my rounds and talked to just about everyone at the party.
I'm not the life of the party type, but I think they liked having a younger guy around -- someone to laugh at when I didn't get their dated references. The men appreciated my stories, all the shit they'd already lived through. And the women?
They were all like Lena and Kara -- married, slightly tipsy, and intrigued by the young guy who still thought about sex every five seconds.
Their husbands were all obsessed with golf, fishing, fantasy leagues -- anything but them.
Meanwhile, I was standing right there, eyes and ears wide open, ready to give them the kind of attention they hadn't had in years.
Everyone was outside, but the booze was inside -- which meant any time I went in for a refill, there was a chance I'd end up one-on-one with someone.
The first time I went in for a beer, two of Lena's neighbors were about to do shots of tequila.
They saw me and asked if I wanted one.
Fuck yes.
We threw one back and started talking shit. One of the guys -- short, stocky, probably a virgin when he got married -- started going off about how his wife thought I was "cute."
It got a little awkward. I half-expected him to ask me to fuck her.
Instead, he grinned and said, "Can't wait to get her home and fuck the shit out of her."
I thought, yeah, I'm sure she'll love those two minutes.
The second time I went in, I needed to piss.
To my surprise, Lena was just stepping out of the bathroom as I was stepping in.
