Daydreams and Dirty Texts

Writer’s note: name changed to Danielle :)

POV: Alternating Intimate Third Person

8:42 A.M.

The office was still half-asleep — printers humming to life, keyboards tapping lazily, and coffee machines sputtering their first sacrifices of the day. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, but his eyes weren’t on the screen in front of him.

They were on her.

Danielle. Petite. Quiet. Unassuming to most — but not to him. Never to him.

She walked across the office in a high-waisted skirt and an ivory blouse, barely tucked, her hair tied in a loose ponytail. Every step she took was deliberate and unaware at the same time. And that was the worst part — the most dangerous part. She didn’t dress for attention, but his mind stripped her anyway.

Ping.

His phone lit up on the desk.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Guess what colour panties I’m not wearing today.”

He nearly groaned aloud. His thumb tapped against the keyboard, but it was his cock that responded.

⸻

DANIELLE

She smiled to herself as she settled at her desk, eyes darting to the glass-walled office across from her. She could see his jaw clench even from here. Her legs were crossed, but only just. She’d already slid the lace down in the elevator and pocketed it — just as she’d promised.

A new message buzzed.

“My guess? Black lace. The ones with the little bow I told you not to wear again unless you wanted to be bent over the meeting table.”

She smirked, cheeks flushing.

“Close. But wrong.”

“What are you wearing under that skirt then?”

She took a photo from under her desk — just thigh, no panties. The inner curves of her bare skin, parted slightly. A hint of softness already beginning to glisten. Send.

⸻

HIM

He swore under his breath.

There she was — this innocent, helpful little thing in front of everyone. But under her desk? Wet. Teasing. Slutty for him. Only for him.

His fingers danced across the screen again.

“You’re such a brat.”

“You want to be caught, don’t you?”

“Imagine if I called you into my office right now and told you to kneel under the desk. Tongue out. No sound.”

She was typing. Then stopped. Typing again.

“I’d obey.”

He stood. Adjusted his slacks. Took a breath.

Then another message appeared — unsent, but visible for a second through a flurry of group chat notifications. She hadn’t meant to send it there — but he caught a glimpse. And oh, it was delicious.

“Still wet from yesterday’s fingering. Might squirt if you just breathe on me today.”

That scene replayed in his mind: her back against the cold elevator wall, his fingers buried deep inside her, her small hand over her mouth, trying not to scream as her thighs shook violently. The crowd around them, none the wiser.

He had felt her warmth, the way she fluttered, and then gushed. That moment — a fucking masterpiece.

⸻

DANIELLE

She couldn’t work. Every tap of the keyboard was a distraction from her pulsing cunt. Her nipples had tightened beneath her bra, brushing against the thin material of her blouse with every slight movement.

She reached between her thighs and slowly rubbed two fingers against herself. Just one stroke. Enough to make her bite her lip and stifle a moan.

Another message lit up.

“Tonight. Dinner.”

“Wear red. No bra.”

And one more:

“If I taste Foxy Affair between your thighs again, I swear I won’t stop until your legs go numb.”

She let out a small gasp, clenching around nothing. Her head spun, her body thrumming with anticipation.

“I’ll be good,” she typed.

“For now.”