Urgent Business Corner Office

Mark loosened his tie and exhaled as he slumped back into the bar chair. He grasped the cold pint of beer the bartender had just poured, enjoying his first calm moment of the day. He'd flown out to Las Vegas two nights ago for a conference two days ago, and between the constant networking jet lag, he was exhausted.

"If didn't know any better I'd assume were a soldier with that 1000 yard stare," the voice was woman's, faintly familiar. Curious, Mark turned around to see a woman standing behind him with a knowing smirk on her face. He stared for several seconds before it hit him.

"Camille? Holy shit, what's it been, 10 years?" he got up and hugged her, still stunned to see his old college fling in the bar.

"Of all the gin joints in the world," she said, smirking again. "How's it going Mark?"

"You look amazing," he said, taking her in and clearly missing her question. Camille had always been a knockout, but somehow she was even more stunning now. In some ways, she was still the same girl he knew in college - at 5 foot 2 inches she was that rare kind of petite with a phat ass and curves in the right places. But what stole his attention now was what had changed - the woman standing before him exuded professional confidence - she beamed in a suit that unabashedly hugged her curves, her wore her long, dark hair in a tight bun and carried herself with a confidence that came through years of experience dealing with ogling men.

Realizing he was still staring, Mark gestured for the chair next to his, "please, sit. And I'm as well as can be expected, in town for a conference. How about you?"

She sat down, gently hanging her purse on the hook in front of her. She looked up at him as he took his seat with her big eyes, smiling genuinely. "Same here. Given the way you were staring at that beer there I'm going to guess you're also here for Change Management?"

"Listen, I'll buy you a drink as long as we never mention Change Management again," said Mark, pressing the cold beer against his temple in mock exhaustion. "If I hear one more sentence I'm going to pass out."

"You look good, Mark," she replied.

Mark had filled out well since they dated in college. He was just shy of 6 feet, with blue eyes and a face full of scruff. He kept himself in good shape and took pride in the work he put in.

"Thanks, doll," he said with a wink.

Camille rolled her eyes, "don't let it go to your head or anything."

He motioned the bartender and then looked at Camille with a raised eyebrow "please tell me I'm not about to order you a...god, what were those shitty shots you used to love?"

"Kamikazes. No, I will have a red wine, though."

"Kamikazes!" Mark said with a snap of his fingers. He grinned, "well, seems like you've grown up. In more ways than one."

The bartender, who'd just walked up, made a face "you want kamikazies?"

"No thank you, sorry, sometimes this one gets carried away," Camille said with an exaggerated sidelong glance at Mark. "I'll have a red wine please...and," she glanced at his glass again, now half-empty, "he will have another beer."

"Well, you were always a woman who knew what she wanted," Mark said as the bartender walked away, "but I do hope you know you're not fooling anyone in those high heels."

She gasped in mock outrage "I do know what a want, and they certainly don't include frat boy observations about my height."

"Besides," she looked at him with a glint in her eye, "I don't recall you objecting to me wearing heels."

"You've got me there. Some things don't change, I guess, even over 10 years."

"So, are you still living in New York?" she asked.

"Yep, right downtown."

"That's great, we'll have to do lunch, I just transferred to our Manhattan office."

"Moving up in the world, I see," said Mark. "We should definitely do lunch. And maybe some kamikaze's for old time's sake."

"Old time's sake, huh," she looked at him innocently. "What else would you like to do for old time's sake?"

Mark cracked a smile and tried to think of something clever to say two men ten years his senior motioned at Camille from across the room.

"Camille, there you are!"

Camille's face fell when she saw her bosses moving through the now crowded bar.

"Well, I guess fun is over. We're on a plane back to New York tonight," Camille said matter of factly. She took out a notepad, conveniently picked up from one of the event booths, wrote something in it, and handed it to him. "I ran out of business cards, unfortunately," she said with a shrug.

"And things were just getting interesting," Mark's voice trailed off.

She smiled at him again, turned around, and walked towards her bosses. He watched her hips swaying, and noted the ample curve of her ass in her tight fitting skirt.

One thing was for sure, he found himself thinking as he looked down at the scribbled number in his hand: he'd never tire of seeing her walk away.

* * *

1 Week Later

Mark had had stayed a couple extra days for some meetings., but he was now back in New York, back to the daily grind. He sat in his office reading through some briefings, but couldn't stay focused.

He found his mind wandering to Camille. He'd texted her the night she gave him her number, but she never did respond. Of course, the fact that he replayed the sight of her walking away from him over and over again in his mind didn't help with his focus.

"Texted too soon," he grumbled to himself. But he knew better. The truth was she was almost certainly seeing someone, and he had no place attaching any importance to the fact that she gave him her number. Hell, he had no place to think of her the way he was. He had a girlfriend himself. He shook his head.

His thoughts drifted back to college, the steamy, drunk nights they'd stumble into one of their littered college apartments and fuck like unrestrained convicts on a conjugal visit. They treated every night like it was the last before their execution.

But it hadn't been just because they were young college kids. They'd fucked because they fit one another like gloves. He used to palm her bubbly ass in his hands just to admire the jiggle, and often wondered aloud at her enamorous hip to waist ratio. She reveled in every moment of that attention. At times, he thought that she had just as much a love of her ass as he did, and that turned him on as much as anything.

He felt a bulge pressing up against the confines of his suit pants, and reached down to stroke it gently.

He sat up again and shook his head. He knew he was building a fantasy in his head. Time to focus.

His phone buzzed. He reached over and dragged it closer, unlocking the message. "Well, I'll be," he whispered

-So. How about that lunch?-

It was Camille.

* * *

"So, your old fling asks you out to lunch, and you take her to a...food truck," Camille didn't seem amused.

"It's worth it, I promise," responded Mark.

"And here I thought I was going to get lunch with a high powered corporate exec," she said sardonically, emphasizing exec and rolling her eyes. She had a talent for that.

"Well, we'll take lunch up to the corner office, how about that? It's a great view. I have lunch meetings with clients there all the time."

"Oh you have a corner office do you? Fancy shmancy," she paused, a sly look coming over her face. "I like the idea of being your client. I have high standards for my business partners you know."

He looked ahead, the line was moving now. "I'd expect nothing less."

* * *

They walked into his office and he closed the door after telling his assistant that he wouldn't be taking any calls. He could tell Camille was impressed by the room, with its floor to ceiling windows and magnificent view of Manhattan, 42 floors from the street. He had a large desk against the windows on the left, a sturdy, reclaimed wood conference table next to it, and couch sitting across from some lounge chairs to the left of the door.

"Mark, this is incredible," she said, walking up to the window and looking out at the view. She turned around to face him. "Did I mention I really like being your client? Hopefully we've got a lot of business to do together."

Mark laughed and pulled up out one of the lounge chairs, inviting her to sit. He locked eyes with her and arched her back just so as she sat.

He poured them each a glass of scotch and sat down in the lounge chair opposite her. He left the food on the coffee table, untouched.

"You're trying to get me drunk, aren't you?" she asked, raising her eyebrows playfully. "Those were the days, weren't they?"

He smiled again, "I will be perfectly honest, I didn't take you up here to eat lunch."

"Of course you didn't. We could have done that in the park," she said, standing up. She was wearing a tight knit blue dress with a low cut neckline that hugged her magnificently. Her eyes sparkled as she walked past him, slowly, letting his gaze follow her figure as she walked up to the large conference table, grabbed the edges, and leaned over it just so.

He set is scotch down and approached her confidently. She had her hair down today and he brushed it away from one ear, "as my business partner, I have certain expectations," his voice was low, commanding.

"I'm eager to please," she arched her back against him, rubbing her ass on his crotch. He ran his hands up her body, over her dress, firmly past her perky tits to lightly grasp her jaw, tilting it upwards when his lips met hers.

Camille moaned in pleasure and reached behind her to feel his ample bulge through is pants.

"Well well, Mr. Executive, 10 years is too long to go without servicing this cock."

She turned around, kissing him and slowly undoing his belt and zipper. She dropped his pants and his long, hard cock sprang forth, its girth and shape so familiar to her. She maneuvered him to sit in one of the conference room chairs, got on her knees in between his legs and took his girth into her mouth slowly, savoring every inch.

He ran her hands through her hair as sucked on the head of his cock, guiding her pace and enjoying her wet, energetic mouth. Every hair on his body stood on end as her familiar tongue lapped his cock so perfectly, and he groaned as she used new techniques she'd learned over the intervening years.

She slowly kissed down his balls to his cock, "you have no idea how much I've missed this cock," she said, sucking on his balls slowly.

She stood up, slowly turned around, and slowly took her dress off, revealing a tiny, laced red thong that her ass absolutely ate up. She took her thong off and threw it to him with a smile. She left her heels on, he noticed approvingly. She approached him and grabbed him by his tie and pulled him forward, kissing him. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down, savoring the sweet, soft familiarity of her mouth and tongue. Electricity coursed through is body.

He pulled her onto the chair and she straddled him, rubbing her dripping wet pussy against his cock, teasing one another. He grabbed her ass cheeks in both hands and spanked her. Too softly. He pulled back and lifted her chin so her eyes met his, and then he brought his finger to his lips indicating a shushing sound. He reached over to the intercom on the center of the conference table.

"Maggie, please cancel the rest of my appointments this afternoon. And how about you take off and enjoy the rest of your Friday. We're about done here and the office is a ghost town."

"Absolutely! Thanks Mark, enjoy your weekend!"

Camille had been busy unbuttoning his shirt, running her hands down his chest as he spoke. After he hung up the intercom she pushed it to the end of the table, stood him up, and pushed him back on the length of it. She climbed over him, positioned his cock, and slowly lowered herself, enveloping his length in her warm slit.

"Holy fuck did I miss this," she repeated, smiling.

"You have no fucking idea," he responded grabbing hold of her hips and cupping her jiggly ass. He brought her down to kiss her and then she pushed herself up, slowly gyrating on his cock, back and forth, back and forth.

He spanked her, hard this time, trusting the thick walls and knowing anyone within earshot of the door was long gone by now. She moaned and told him to do it again.

"You like that, you little slut, don't you?"

"Mm yes, Mr. Executive, I love it."

She put her hands on his chest and slowly raised her ass up, lowering down the length of his cock. He groaned and thrust upward as she lowered herself a second time. She picked up speed, bouncing hard on his cock. The office filled with sound of skin slapping on skin.

He grabbed her around the waist and sat up, bringing himself into a sitting position. He clasped her ass and pulled her in, dictating the pace with his strong arms.

"That's right, fuck me hard," she said through gritted teeth. Their passion was hard now, serious. He stood, relishing how easily he could maneuver her petite frame, and laid her back on the table. He brought her legs over his shoulders.

"Now it's your turn to get fucked," he stated simply. He fucked her in long, hard strokes, making sure she felt the entire length of his girthy cock. The sound of skin slapping on skin was loud now, and she arched her back, biting back a moan as the waves of pleasure shot through her. He fucked her like this for several minutes, and then drew his cock out of her wetness.

He got on his knees and draped her legs over his shoulders. He did not waist time with teasing her, not now. His lust was too far gone. He pressed his face into her pussy, tasting her sweet mound, her raised, inflamed clit. He kissed, licked and sucked rhythmically, and she came hard on his faced.

"Oh you LOVE IT you naughty man," she said excitedly, grabbing him by the back of his head and sitting up, "I forgot how much you loved this."

He grunted in response, grabbed her by the waist, hoisted her over his shoulder and brought her over to the window. He put her down and pushed her up against the glass, spreading her legs.

"Do you want me to fuck you against the glass?"

"Yes," she whispered.

He pulled her hair back, "say it to me."

"Mm you just want to hear me say it," she said, smiling wide. "Fuck me with your thick cock against your office window."

He groaned and entered her from behind, reveling again in the magnificent arch in her back. He grabbed her perky tits and then pushed them against the window, enjoying the site as the city of New York bustled by 42 floors below them.

"I'm fucking you against the glass where the whole city might see you," he said.

"I'm nasty and I love it," she responded.

He fucked her hard, watching her phat ass jiggle as he pushed against her. He could feel the orgasm coming, a warm hurricane rushing forward, he grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her head back again, fucking her harder and harder against the glass. He pulled out and came, shooting cum all over her ass and lower back, a stream of pleasure that had built up for far too long.

He took her face in his hands, kissing her again, and they both laughed against the window.

"Let's eat," said Camille, "then I'd like you to introduce me to this couch of yours."