He was much too weird for her taste. Too wild, too sloppy, too unrefined, not at all domestic and definitely not husband material. In short she had no interest whatsoever in bearing his children.

This, however, raised a peculiar dilemma, because for reasons she could not fathom, reasons not related to domestic bliss or child-rearing, or even compatible personalities, or similar tastes, she wanted him. She wanted him sexually. She wanted him raw. She wanted him on the desk and against the door and on the couch and on the floor and pressed against the window for all the world to see.

It was an urge that had to be fought at all costs. An urge that was very difficult to fight when he was staring at her across that same desk.

Usually she was able to keep her sex drive under control. Usually she could hold out until everyone else had gone home, until her husband could get there, until her husband could fuck her silly in every corner of her office. Until she was pregnant again, and the men in the office started thinking of her as a perpetual mother, a baby-making machine, and not the sex machine she really was.

Except this one. He didn't seem to care. If anything the idea of impregnating her seemed to excite him. Which really scared her because, as mentioned previously, she was very sure she did not want to bear his children. Who, she kept thinking, would want children with those eyes, eyes that bored through you and into you, cutting your soul away from your body and dragging it out of you? Dragging it out of you, she shuddered, every time she thought it, dragging your soul out of you willingly, to be taken, to be defiled, to be pleasured beyond all imagining.

Desperately she looked around the room for a place to hide, to hide her soul, to hide her sexuality. to hide her eyes. But this was a practical impossibility. She was a product manager, and he was a project leader. She was required to talk to him, to clarify things for him, to answer questions, give commands, take her dress off for him...

No, damn it, she was not. She was stronger than that. She did not have to spread her legs, or lick his cock, or finger herself, or sit in his lap, or offer him her upturned bottom. She didn't even have to think about such things if she didn't want to.

But she did. She did keep thinking about it. She kept wondering about it. She kept wondering about him, and why he stared at her, what he was thinking, what he wanted to do to her. Which meant, she realized with a shudder, that if she did not have to, if she did not have to, and yet she was, then she must want to, that she must want him to do those things to her, to do her, to take her, to fuck her, to make her come, to knock her up, to impregnate her. She knew, without sense or reason, that she must lie on her back on her desk and draw him in, draw him in as deep, as close, as naked, as exposed and as penetrated as she had ever been before. She knew the time was now, that she was ripe, that her husband, no matter how orderly, attractive, supportive, and satisfying he might be would never bring her the intense pleasure she could achieve from the disorganized, disturbing, disruptive man who was thanking her for her time, who was standing up, who was telling her he would get back to her.

She stared at him, watching him rise, and start to turn, watched with the thrill of getting rid of him and the horror of losing him, jerked back to reality and the present with nothing to hold onto, with her cunt throbbing, her nipples hard, and her heart aflutter. She reached for the phone to call her husband, to order him to her office, to satisfy her needs, to impregnate her again before she strayed, but she realized, as the man who had disturbed her so much stepped away from the desk, as his hand touched the doorknob, as he was about to step out the door, that she did not need her husband, that she was stronger than that, that she could make her own decisions, could satisfy her own desires, could control her own urges and take charge of her own sex life. Realizing all that she put the phone, undialed, back into the cradle and without fully appreciating the enormity of what she was doing called out to the rumpled lunatic with the soul-ripping eyes "Hold on. Come back. And lock the door behind you."