Hotel hallway, 2 a.m. I step out for ice and nearly crash into her (the quiet coworker from accounting who always wears those tight pencil skirts). Same floor, same company badge dangling from her wrist. Her eyes flash, she smirks, grabs my keycard and whispers “wrong room, try mine.”<br>Door barely shuts before she’s peeling off her blazer, pushing me onto the king bed still in her stockings and heels. “No one from the office ever finds out,” she says, climbing on top and sinking down raw onto my cock with one slow roll of her hips.<br>City lights stripe across her body while she rides hard, headboard banging the thin wall, both of us past caring who hears. We fuck like the trip ends at sunrise (missionary against the window, doggy on the desk, her legs over my shoulders on the floor) until I finally unload deep inside her at 5 a.m., both laughing<br>Next morning in the elevator she’s back in perfect professional mode, coffee in hand, not a hair out of place. “Good meeting later,” she

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