The copy machine had been acting up all week, and of course, it broke down again on Friday evening. I was the unlucky one stuck trying to fix it. Everyone else had already left for the weekend, the office eerily quiet except for the buzz of fluorescent lights.
I bent down and opened the side panel of the machine. The paper was jammed deep inside, and I cursed under my breath as I tugged at it. That’s when I heard footsteps behind me.
“Need a hand?”
I looked up and saw Rachel standing in the doorway. She worked in accounting, short skirt, fitted blouse, glasses that gave her that sexy, serious look. She leaned against the frame with a playful smirk.
“Damn machine,” I muttered. “Keeps eating paper.”
She walked closer, heels clicking softly. “Maybe you’re too rough with it,” she teased, her voice smooth and low.
I grinned, wiping my hands. “Maybe it just needs the right touch.”
Our eyes met, and the silence that followed was heavy. She bent down beside me, her shoulder brushing mine as she reached into the copier. Her perfume filled the small room, sweet and intoxicating. I tried to focus on the paper jam, but the warmth of her body so close made my heart race.
“Almost got it,” she whispered, tugging the paper free. But when she pulled back, our faces were inches apart.
Neither of us moved. Her eyes flicked down to my lips, then back up again. That was all it took. I leaned forward and kissed her.
At first, it was soft, hesitant. But then she kissed me back, harder, hungrier, like she had been waiting for this moment. Her hands slid up my chest, gripping my shirt. I pushed her gently against the copier, my body pressing into hers.
“You’re trouble,” I murmured against her mouth.
“And you like it,” she shot back, her breath shaky.
Her blouse buttons came undone easily under my fingers, revealing a lacy bra that made me groan. She bit her lip, eyes daring me to continue. I kissed down her neck, sucking lightly, making her moan softly.
The room was small, the door half-closed, but the risk of being caught only made it hotter. She hopped up onto the edge of the machine, spreading her legs just enough to pull me closer. My hands slid along her thighs, lifting her skirt higher as she wrapped her legs around me.
“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?” she whispered, her voice teasing but shaky with desire.
“Every time I see you at your desk,” I admitted.
Her laugh was breathless. “Guess I’m not the only one.”
I kissed her again, deeper this time, our tongues tangling. Her hands tugged at my belt, fumbling with urgency. The copier beeped under us, lights flashing like it disapproved, but we didn’t care.
She gasped when I slid inside her, her nails digging into my shoulders. “Oh God…”
The copier rocked under our rhythm, squeaking and rattling with every thrust. She clung to me, whispering my name, urging me not to stop. The heat in the cramped room made sweat drip down my back, our bodies sliding against each other in perfect sync.
Her moans grew louder, echoing off the walls, and I kissed her to muffle the sound. She shuddered in my arms, her body tightening as release tore through her. I followed, groaning into her neck, the world narrowing to just us and the forbidden heat of the moment.
We stayed tangled for a moment, catching our breath, the copier humming beneath us like it had just printed the dirtiest secret.
Finally, she laughed softly, fixing her blouse. “Well… guess this machine isn’t the only thing overheated.”
I grinned, zipping up. “Pretty sure that’s the best use this copier’s ever had.”
As we walked out, the hallway felt different, like we carried a secret no one else could know. Her hand brushed mine, and she gave me a sly smile.
“Same time next week?” she asked.
I smirked. “As long as the copier keeps breaking down.”
