Almost Got Caught

The sun had begun its slow descent when Naomi stepped out of Damon’s office, her blouse smoothed back into place, her hair carefully finger-combed into the sleek bun she’d worn that morning.

She had practised her face in the mirror on the way down, neutral, professional, maybe a little tired from a long day. Nothing that hinted at the whirlwind she had just survived upstairs.

The elevator ride down felt endless. The chrome walls reflected a composed woman in a pencil skirt and heels, clutching a folder like a shield. Inside, however, her heartbeat was still drumming, her lips still tingling from the imprint of Damon’s mouth, her skin still humming where his hands had been.

The office floors passed by in a blur: finance, operations, legal. By the time the doors opened on her floor, she had rehearsed her cover story three times.

The hum of the department greeted her as she stepped out. Desks littered with paper, muted chatter about deadlines, the smell of brewed coffee gone cold, everything looked ordinary, but the air shifted as soon as her colleagues saw her.

“Ms Naomi? You’re just getting back?” Didi blinked up at her from her desk, pen frozen mid-air.

Naomi gave a small laugh, struggling to keep from showing how nervous she was. “Had to deliver the daily report to Mr. Damon personally. He wanted a quick rundown on the numbers.”

Her voice came out steady, thank God. She kept walking, heels clicking against the polished floor.

Paul looked over his monitor. “At this hour? Must have been important.”

“It’s part of the job,” Naomi replied, keeping her back straight. “Numbers don’t wait for the clock.”

The lie was smooth on her tongue, but inside she was still in Damon’s office: on the desk, against the window, Damon’s voice low and rough in her ear. She tightened her grip on the folder to steady herself.

“Is it about our performance?” Rose panicked.

Before Naomi could reply, her phone chimed with a text message from Damon.

Damon: You left your panties on my desk.

Naomi's eyes grew wide, fuck! How could she forget that?!

“Ms Naomi?!”

Naomi fumbled with her phone, turning it off in time to flash Rose who was now approaching her with a small smile.

“Are we in trouble? Is that why you took so long?” Rose asked, pulling a stop right in front of her.

“I sorted it out. Don't worry.” Naomi smiled before heading to her office.

She walked into her office, leaving the door and blinds wide open for her coworkers to see. She sat and forced herself to go through motions, typing a quick follow-up email, aligning the scattered papers on her desk while trying to push the thoughts of Damon's lips on her neck as far away as possible. But she could feel eyes on her. Especially one pair.

Tita.

Tita sat two cubicles away, eyes studying Naomi like she knew exactly what she'd done. She said nothing, but her pen stopped moving each time Naomi looked up. There was a gleam in her gaze Naomi didn’t like, almost like Tita could tell something was wrong or amiss.

Naomi forced herself to smile faintly at her screen and ignored it. She knew what the gossip mill in this place could do; one hint of a scandal and the whispers would bloom like weeds.

She knew Tita wouldn't let slide and something horrible could happen if she decides to dig further. Naomi swallowed, she'll have to be careful. She picked up her phone, sending a quick text.

A small notification popped up on her screen: Closing Hour: 5:30 PM. She glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes. She could make it.

Around her, the office began its end-of-day shuffle. People closing laptops, stacking files, murmuring about evening plans. Naomi joined the ritual, sliding documents into her bag with deliberate calm. She slipped her phone into the pocket of her blazer and rose.

Tita’s gaze tracked her. Naomi felt it on the back of her neck as she walked to the door. “Goodnight, everyone,” she said lightly.

“Night,” a chorus of voices replied, but Tita’s voice was absent.

Naomi kept walking. The hallway was cooler, quieter. She pressed the elevator button and let out a slow, measured breath. Almost out. Almost safe.

Behind her, the soft click of heels echoed. She didn’t have to turn to know who it was. Tita. Naomi’s stomach tightened, but she kept her face neutral as the elevator doors opened. She stepped in, Tita following a moment later.

The descent was silent. The mirrored walls reflected them both: Naomi with her composed smile, Tita with a knowing look on her face. The elevator chimed and opened on the ground floor.

“Late evening,” Tita said suddenly, her voice light but edged. “Long day?”

Naomi offered a polite nod. “You could say that.”

Tita’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Mr. Damon keeping you busy?”

Naomi’s pulse flickered but she didn’t falter. “He keeps everyone busy,” she said with a small laugh. “Goodnight, Tita.”

She stepped out into the lobby before the conversation could continue. The security guards at the front desk nodded at her, accustomed to her routine. She exited through the revolving doors into the private lot.

Her car was parked a few rows away, but tonight she wasn’t heading to it. Her phone buzzed softly in her pocket.

A text from Damon

Damon: Lower level, second bay. Patrick will distract her.

Naomi adjusted her bag on her shoulder and headed toward the ramp leading down to the underground parking. Her heart beat faster, not just from the secrecy but from the echo of the afternoon in Damon’s office.

She could still smell his cologne on her skin if she breathed deeply enough. She wondered if anyone else could.

She didn’t look back, but she felt Tita’s presence. Footsteps following at a careful distance.

Naomi descended into the underground lot. The lighting was dimmer here.

A black sedan idled near the far corner, Damon at the wheel. The rear door opened as she approached. She slid inside quickly, the leather seat cool against her skin.

Patrick gave a small, respectful nod in the rearview mirror but said nothing. He knew his role. Damon had made sure of that. Naomi exhaled, a mixture of relief and tension, and allowed herself to lean back.

Damon glanced back at her. “Hey..”

Naomi exhaled, trying to return his smile. “Hey..”

“Patrick will handle it, I promise.”

Naomi nodded but her eyes were fixed on the window, waiting for Tita to make a turn around the corner so she could see her.

Up above, at the mouth of the ramp, Tita had stopped walking. From her vantage point she could see Naomi approaching a cat but before she could get a better glimpse….

“Ms Tita?!”

Tota turned in shock, it was Patrick and he looked rather irritated. She forced a smile.

“Mr Patrick!”

“You do realise that this parking lot is for executives only right?”

Tita swallowed, fuck. She shouldn't be in here, especially now that she isn't part of the executives anymore.

“My apologies sir. I was following Ms Naomi..”

“And what is that? Weren't you suspended for assaulting her? Is that why you're here?”

Tita waves her hand defensively. “No sir! Not at all. I was just..”

“Just what?” Patrick snapped

Tita bows her head. “I'm sorry. I'll leave. Right away…”

Tita turned on her heels and walked out of the private parking lot.

Naomi exhaled in relief, leaning back on the leather seat.

“I told you I would handle it.” He said. She sighed, thank goodness!

Her eyes flickered over to Damon in the driver's seat and her eyes went over to the gear, a pink lacy underwear hanging on the stick.

Her cheeks coloured, that was hers! The same ones she left on his table hours ago.

“Damon!”

“What?”

“That's mine.”

He smirked. “Who else would it be?”

“Take it off.”

Damon runs his hands over the gear with her panties. “I kind of like it exactly where it is..”

“Damon Sinclair!” Naomi called, trying to hide her laughter.

“I'll take it off if you bribe me.”

Naomi leans back. “How?”

“Damon leans back on his seat, one hand in the wheel and the other on his crotch. “I'm a simple man with simple needs.. “

“Damn you!”

“We don't have a deal then.” He chuckled, igniting the engine.

A smirk curved on her lips. “I suck at it.”

“You don't.”

“And you're sure you won't crash us both.”

“Promise.” He smirked.

Naomi switched seats, settling in the passenger's seat in the front while Damon drove them both out of the parking lot. She pulls her hair up in a bun.

“You asked for it..” she reminded before pulling his belt off and then his zipper. He was already hard, ready for her. She licked his tip and Damon's grip on the wheel seemed to tighten.

Maybe he was wrong…he might actually crash them both..