Elena didn’t go home after she left the conference room. She went down two floors to the women’s executive restroom, locked herself in the largest stall, and stood there with her back against the cold tile while more of Marcus’s come slid down the insides of her thighs. She could still feel the stretch in her ass, the residual burn, the way her cunt kept clenching around nothing. She pressed two fingers inside herself, scooped up what was leaking out of her, and pushed it back in like he’d done. Then she washed her hands, fixed her hair as best she could, and went back to her office to work until the building emptied. At 7:52 she returned to the thirty-second floor. Marcus was already there. Jacket off. Sleeves rolled. Tie gone. He had the term sheet spread across the table and a single glass of something amber sitting near the edge. When she walked in he looked up slowly, eyes tracking from her face to the open collar of the same blouse she’d worn all day, now wrinkled and fa
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