Zoom Room

The sun has set while we've been closeted away in the conference room, reviewing endless spreadsheets for this very particular client. I look up from my laptop as she returns, carrying drinks, and closing the door behind her. I rub my eyes and stretch, as she goes about pouring. She's liberated the bourbon and glasses from my desk, I note, as well as some seltzers. She sips hers, and switches on the lamp in the corner, while flicking off the horrific overhead lighting.

"I think that's enough for today, don't you?" she asks, looking critically at the two large screens on the wall, currently displaying a variety of spreadsheets, slides, and reports.

"Yes," I reply, pushing back from the table, and accepting the glass of bourbon she's handing me. The burn of the alcohol revives me a bit, and I unfasten the top two buttons of my shirt. My fingers still on the second, when I notice that she's now shifted her gaze from the screens to me, like a cat watching a mouse. She slinks around the table until she's standing so close our clothes are brushing, keeping eye contact the whole time. She clinks her glass against mine with a smirk, and we both take a drink. She shifts even closer, slipping between me and the table, and now her body is pressed lightly against mine. I take another sip while she sets her glass down on the table behind her. Her fingers dance over my third button.

"The conference room table, really? That's such a cliché, you know," I tease, as she proceeds to open all of the buttons, and runs her hands up my chest to push the shirt off my shoulders.

"Yes, it is," she admits, now tugging at the hem of my t-shirt. I hand her my glass and pull the tee over my head. "Will you forgive my shameful lack of originality?" I reclaim the glass for another sip, then set it aside.

"I think I can make an exception this time," I tell her, pulling her close and kissing her. She tastes like vanilla from the bourbon, and I feel her smile as she strokes my bare chest. I slip my hand under the hem of her blouse and up to cup her breast. Her hips press against mine reflexively as I squeeze. She pulls back slightly to start on her own buttons, as I slide my hand up her back to unclasp her bra. She's kissing me again as we fumble the shirt and bra off, and then her bare breasts are pressed against my chest, and I'm groping her with both hands. She's suddenly two inches shorter, and I realize she's kicked off her heels. I paw at the waistband of her skirt, and she obligingly wiggles out of it, losing her hair clip in the process. I run my thumb over the tattoo on her hip, and take a moment to just *look*. She's all messy hair and flushed cheeks, peaked pink nipples, and long legs as she lounges against the edge of the table. Her panties have a picture of mistletoe, directly over her pussy.

"Bringing ALL the cliches today, aren't you?" I ask, dropping back into my chair, and she snickers. I pull her panties down an inch at a time, savoring the reveal like I'm opening a Christmas present. Once she's naked, she sits up on the table, leaning back on her hands, and I scoot forward while pushing her thighs apart.

Motion across the room catches my eye, and suddenly on the two big TV screens, rather than spreadsheets I see—her. Twice; once on each 65" screen. Oh, yes. This is good. My laptop has gone to sleep and the room's webcam, mounted just across from us, is now the default display. I nudge her slightly sideways, so the camera is catching more of her profile. She hasn't noticed the show behind her, but I'm transfixed. I keep one eye on the screens, visible just past her hip, as I begin to explore her pussy with my fingers and tongue. It's a completely different experience, to see her back arch when I curl my finger inside her, and have it echoed by the women on the screens. I'm looking back and forth between her real breasts above me, and the side view of them on the TVs; her thigh beside my head, and my hand gripping her bare leg on the screens. I always like to see the way she looks when she comes, but in triplicate like this, it's magnificent.

She's catching her breath as I stand up, and pull her up with me. I turn her around, and she jumps, startled by the nude women on the giant screens. The zoom on the camera is fairly close, and her body is nearly life-size. I watch over her shoulder, as my hands slide from her hips, up the curve of her waist, to her tits. She gasps and leans back against me as I play with her nipples. My erection is straining through my pants, but I need to see her come like this.

"Touch yourself for me," I whisper to her. "Like we do on the phone." I feel a tremor run through her body at that, and then her hands begin to move.

It's strange and amazing, to see her on screen like I have many times before, but to also have my hands on her body at the same time. She's watching us too, and looks absolutely enthralled. Her left hand drifts up to join my hand caressing her breast, and her right hand moves between her legs. Her first touch is light, but then I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her tighter against me, and suddenly she's more secure and decisive. Watching the two copies of her on the screen, I see her index finger slip into her pussy, and she spreads that wetness up and strokes her clit. She's making little satisfied hums, clutching my arm, and moving her hips, and now I'm dying to feel her. With one hand, I unbutton my pants and shove them and my boxers down. Now my cock is pressed against her bare ass, and I hold her tight against me and groan at the friction. Her movements are becoming a little more frantic, and I watch her strokes on the screen doubles speed up until she's suddenly tensed in my arms for a few long seconds, and then she relaxes.

I'm trying to decide how I want to fuck her when she bends forward over the table, and, watching my reaction on the TVs, spreads her legs a little and reaches between them, to line my cock up with her entrance. I have no regrets about her choice as I thrust into her.

It's overwhelming; feeling her hot and tight wrapped around my cock, while I watch the two couples on the TVs fucking as well. It's more than watching porn; it's experiencing it. I can see her tits bouncing on the screen as I pound into her, and then I can see my hands grab them, and I can feel her nipples hard against my palms. She's moaning, and I brush her hair aside so I can see her better, run my hands down her back, grab her hip with one hand, and watch myself reach around to touch her clit with the other. It works; she comes again in a few moments, and while her pussy is squeezing my cock, I empty my load into her.

I blink a few times to clear the post-orgasm haze, and realize we're bent very awkwardly over the conference room table. I brush a kiss against the back of her neck, and see her image on the TVs look up at me and smile.

"Ok, the gross part," I warn her, and she laughs as I pull out and begin searching for my boxers. She sits up and plucks my button-up from the nearby chair, slips it on, and picks up her previously-abandoned bourbon. She drops into her chair and sips the drink, watching me stumble over one of her high heels as I untangle my underwear from my pants. Then she freezes, with the drink halfway to her mouth.

"Oh my god!" she bursts out, grabbing my arm. "Do you think that was automatically recorded?!" I feel a surge of panic, and drop my pants as I grab the control tablet and begin checking the app. She locates the remotes and turns off the screens (whatever good that would do), and I let out a sigh of relief when I find the correct settings.

"No, it didn't. Jesus Christ, that didn't even occur to me!" I tell her, mildly horrified. She's laughing now.

"I'm actually a little disappointed," she says, finishing her drink and giving me a sassy look. "I could've used a copy of that for when I'm alone. Maybe we should do it again?"

"Well, you know the drill," I reply dryly, pulling up my pants. "Just find a spot on my calendar and book it. But if you really want to make a good video, we should check out the A/V room. It has much better lighting!"