“We’ll be meeting in the rear conference room, Ellen. Send her right in,” he said into the speakerphone before standing & nervously pacing about.

A minute later, she appeared, briefcase at her side. She smoothed out the front of her blazer, making eye contact with him.

“Very good, ma’am, shut the door, please,” came out of his mouth as he started walking over to her.

She shut the door and before she could turn around, he pushed her over the top of the table.

Pressing his upper body against her back, pinning her tightly to the table, he whispered “these walls are thin,” into her ear. One hand reached into her hair and yanked her head back as he nibbled the nape of her neck. She groaned. “You’d best not make a sound,” he admonished, pulling harder and wriggling his hips against her ass. His erection evident through her skirt and his suit. She gave up any vestiges of holding her body off the table, collapsing down.

His hand still firmly in her hair, he stepped back and reached around her ass, finding the zipper at the side of her skirt. Deftly, the zipper was undone and she wriggled. The garment dropped to her feet.

“You have no idea how badly I want to spank you,” he whispered, kissing her ear as his hand explored her bare ass. “And nice touch on arriving commando,” he added.

“I do so enjoy surprising you,” she returned, pressing her palms onto the glass-topped conference table, lifting her upper body just a modicum from its surface. She arched her back, and, with her eyes closed, let her right hand move down to her midsection. She unbuttoned, first, the jacket and then the dress shirt as he continued grasping her hair and fondling her ass.

Releasing her hair, he reached around cupped both breasts in both of his hands. “Bra?” he asked.

“This damn blouse, the buttons don’t always stay buttoned,” she answered, just as his fingers worked under the under-wire of each cup, forcing the undergarment over her breasts. As one, both bodies collapsed onto the table, his hands pinned between her chest and the glass. She wiggled her ass against the pressure he applied from his hips.

With a yank, he freed his hands and stepped back one step. Pressing her down against the table with his left hand, his right reached between her thighs. Making a Spock-hand-gesture, he parted her thighs and, brutally slowly, inserted his thumb into her well-lubricated vagina. Hooking his thumb down, he pressed against her clitoris with three fingers and started rubbing, slowly.

“Remember, little one, not a sound,” he whispered.

Ever so gradually, he started rubbing faster and harder as she started to pant, her hips gyrating in time to his digital coreography.

“Mgphmp,” she replied, biting her lip before lifting her feet off the ground for just a second and then collapsing against the table. Had it not been for his arm against her back, she’d have fallen right to the floor.

After a second to catch her breath, he withdrew his fingers from her sex and his arm from her back, stepping back and breaking all contact with her. She turned her head and opened her eyes, looking at him as he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. In a second, she was on her knees in front of him, taking his full length in her mouth.

Coming up for air, she whispered “it’s been far too long.”

“Yes, it has, my pet,” he replied. “Get back over the table.”

She released his member and positioned herself, ass high in the air.

Leaning over her, he whispered “spread your cheeks. Make me know you want this.”

And she reached back, parting her ass cheeks, opening herself as wide as she could, reaching the entry of that *other hole* and presenting herself. “Please, sir, take it,” she whispered, panting, looking back at him.

He reached into his suit jacket, pulled out a slim bottle, and squirted some lube down the crack of her ass. One finger pushed in as she tensed, closed her eyes, and accepted his finger. And he then withdrew his finger, stood behind her, and slowly guided his cock into her.

“Not a sound,” he whispered behind her as she struggled down swallow down a groan.

And he was fully inside her, pressing his bodyweight down, onto her, pinning her to the table, forcing her to grow accustomed to him.

His hands slid up the small of her back, over the rear of her ribs, and underneath her, cupping each of her breasts. And with a vice-like grasp, he squeezed; he started pumping his hips.

She started to release a high-pitched whine as he increased pressure on the the mounds in his hands (days later, fingerprint bruises would remain), and as she opened her mouth to let out an audible gasp, the first transgression of the “stay quiet” rule, he came. Releasing her breasts, he pulled his hands back to her hips, forcing himself even deeper into her as his orgasm overtook him. Her upper-body collapsed, like a rag doll. In truth, she was eager for the cold pressure of the glass-topped conference room table against her, now aching, tits.

“Well, Ms. Moneypenny,” he said, pulling his trousers up from around his ankles as gracefully as one can perform such a maneuver, “that’s all the time we have for right now. Are you staying at the Hilton? We can continue over dinner. I’ll pick you up around, say, 6?”

She opened her briefcase, taking out a compact and, touching up her make-up, replied “looking forward to it, sir.”