Heather, middle aged, stands at the copy machine, bored.
Heather: I had sex on my lunch break yesterday with Bill from accounts receivable. We did it in the supply closet in my area. I hadn't been fucked in over a year, one whole year. I used to get laid all the time. He was lousy. Got the back of my blouse all sweaty. He's married, unhappily, obviously. Still he started crying afterward, like a little boy, a puffy little boy. I wanted to cry too because it only lasted three minutes. I had to get myself off after he left. I don't know what would have been more embarrassing, getting caught with him heaving himself into me or having someone walk in while I stroked my clit. Could you imagine that --me with my hand stuffed down my pantie hose like some low life degenerate? Like those wierdos you see on the train. I swear to God, last week I made eye contact with this guy. I know he was jerking himself off. I almost died. I suppose it was a pretty stupid thing to do, having sex with Bill. They could fire us. How do you explain to people that you got the boot for fucking? There wasn't any real danger though. Apart from the janitorial staff, I have the only key. The office was pretty empty that day too. He wants to see me again. God he's a loser. You know he wore Crocs last Friday? I can't believe I did it with a guy that wears those awful things. Still, I'm horny and he's got a decent cock. Fuck. I'll just remind him masturbate before he leaves the house that morning so he doesn't come so soon. I'll tell him it'll get me hot to think about him thinking about me. He'll buy that. Yeah, buy that.