Walking The Line Ch. 04

Chris's job is boring. Mind-numbingly boring. Soul-crushingly boring. Earth-shatteringly boring, but not in a cool way - a boring way.

Chris slumps down in his office chair as he stares blankly at the screen in front of him. The Excel sheets are taunting him, reminding him of looming deadlines and the near end of a fiscal quarter. Prime time for annoying people.

He's not even in sales; he works in the tech sector for his company. Some cybersecurity, but mostly running around and helping people wake up their computers. Those are the most exciting parts of his day, and even then, there's never a technical issue interesting enough to be considered rewarding. He's not sure why he should be patting boomers on the ass for figuring out that their computer going to sleep is in fact, not actually Chinese malware.

The day is nearing its end, and Chris sighs deeply. He's alone in his office, courtesy of being one of the only tech people hired on-site. It provides him with certain privileges, such as an inordinate amount of privacy when something strange happens.

There are times when he needs to utilize his privilege, but they are few and far between. But once in a while, the fates smile down at him.

Chris's phone buzzes, and he groans aloud. He can be as pissy as he needs to, because he's alone. He's usually much more mindful around his colleagues, lest he lose his job and make an ass of himself in one fell swoop.

He reaches into his trousers and fumbles around for a moment. He raises the phone to his face and squints, wondering who could be texting him during work hours.

His eyes nearly pop out of his skull in a cartoonish fashion once he sees who it is and what she's sent. He chokes a bit on his saliva, hacking away into his elbow as he scrambles to stand up and shut the door.

A colleague who's rounding the corner gives Chris a pointed look. "You good there, man?"

Chris flashes him a thumbs up, but continues to cough. The coworker must sense that now's a bad time, so he simply shrugs and continues about his business.

As his coughing subsides, Chris idly thanks God for non-nosy people.

He hurries back to his desk and plops down in his chair. He opens his phone and reels at what he's seeing, his mind going completely blank as he struggles to form coherent thoughts.

A: Like what you see?

A: 352294_PNG

A: Sorry, that was cheesy. But my question still stands.

Chris sputters at the nude photo in front of him. It's tasteful, artsy in a way befitting of a model or photographer, but it's obvious that Avery took it on her own.

She's lounging against a bed, underwear tactically pulled off and pushed to the side as she bites her lip and winks at the camera. It encompasses most of her personality nicely, but now isn't really the time to be assessing artistic merit.

C: I'm at work. I already gave you my schedule.

A: I know

Chris pauses, thumbs hovering above the screen, undecided on how to proceed. He had just assumed she forgot and was being careless. But if she knows that he's at work, then why is she...?

C: Then why did you send it?

A: You really are clueless huh

A: Variety is the spice of life

C: Spice is the spice of life.

A: You're not being fun

A: Show me your cock

Chris blinks slowly, but otherwise manages to contain his coughing fit. He was taken aback last time, but he's learning how to anticipate her moves. He won't cause a scene in the office, no matter what she throws at him.

C: You've already seen it

A: Need a pic to get me through the day

A: Pleaseeee

Chris runs a hand through his hair as he considers the idea. It's insane. Completely inappropriate and unbecoming of a professional. He hasn't "relieved" himself in public since his high school years. And back then, it was more a necessity due to his changing body than anything else.

He glances around his office nervously, as if there could be hidden cameras watching his every move within the confines of his boring beige office. Of course he doesn't find any damning evidence of anything that could stop him, should he choose to stay the course.

His blinds are closed, and his door is locked. Nobody is watching him now. There are no meetings he has to attend, no support tickets to close out.

Practically speaking, it's just him and Avery in the room right now.

Especially as his phone begins to ring.

"What?" He hisses, already knowing who's on the line.

"You were taking too long to respond, figured I'd check in."

"You know my wife doesn't even go this far."

"Because she is a boring person. Now are you going to let me help you jerk off or what?"

Her words strike a chord in Chris as he remembers how he was behaving ten minutes earlier. Bored to tears, practically banging his head against his desk. Not all days are like this, but when they are, boy, they're rough.

When was the last time Hazel called to check in on Chris? Or even ask him anything about his work? Anything beyond the normal required questions, that is.

"These walls aren't made of lead. I won't be able to talk much." He whispers harshly into the microphone, mind already made up long ago, though he wants to protest the thought.

Avery giggles and claps, apparently having him on speakerphone. "I knew you'd want to!" Chris can practically feel smugness emanating from her side of the line, and it's as mildly irritating as it is endearing. "I'm bringing out your wild side."

"You're bringing out something." He mutters, not even sure what he's grumbling about at this point. He holds the phone to his ear as he takes his fumbling hands and undoes his zipper. The sound is way too loud to his ears, but he's in too deep to think about much else now. He's already sporting a decently sized erection.

As it would turn out, all roads do indeed lead to Rome. He was probably doomed from the moment Avery sent the picture.

"Is it out?" Avery asks, giddy and oddly excited about the whole ordeal. Chris can visualize her bouncing up and down eagerly, and the thought is rather cute considering the circumstances.

"Yes." He breathes out, voice barely above a whisper.

"Are you hard already?"

Chris sniffs, feeling like his pride might be on the line if he's truthful. "Not answering that."

He keeps his language short and to the point, so that if anybody had their ear against his door (for some unknown reason), it might sound like he's on a conference call, and not actively masturbating to a woman who is not his wife.

Avery laughs, clearly tickled by his attitude. "What would you do if I were there with you?"

"Call security," Chris says through gritted teeth, only half serious. Avery laughs again, and Chris smiles. It's nice that they share a similar sense of humor, even if it is often at odd times.

He begins to languidly stroke himself, letting a pleased breath escape his nose. He's fully hard by now, envisioning Avery naked in the same space as him. Ideally, after hours, because he truly is not an exhibitionist, and doesn't want a repeat of the party fiasco. He doesn't get off on the idea of being caught, even if most of his actions speak to the contrary.

"So they can handcuff me?" Avery takes his suggestion easily and molds it into something else entirely. She's gifted in the art of crafting innuendo, and Chris can admit to being drawn to such a thing.

He closes his eyes as he focuses on the weird mental image in his mind paired with Avery's words. He's envisioning her beneath him now, naked and cuffed, blowing him like she did that first night.

"Ideally." He says, barely making conversation as he picks up the pace.

"I'll keep that in mind." Avery hums, as if actually considering bondage in some way. "Maybe you just want some more control," she purrs, voice dropping all pretenses and turning unbelievably sultry. "I know I pampered your cock so good at the party. But it wasn't enough, was it?" Her tone is low and enticing, far too seductive. Chris swallows loudly as he imagines her here now. But instead of his hand, it'd be her lips wrapped around his cock. Her tongue massaging him, dragging his orgasm from him with finesse.

"You want to take charge, right, Chris? You want to hold my head and facefuck me." Chris's hand stutters for a moment as his pleasure spikes. She draws something hot and visceral from him, and he groans quietly. He's not sure how she's working such magic with just her words, but he doesn't care. He swears he can feel her breath on his skin, her fingertips ghosting his cock. "I'd let you, you know. You could pull my hair and force me to choke on it. I'd love it." She whispers the final part out, and Chris's lips tremble.

His hand is going unbelievably fast now, and although they've just started, he can feel his orgasm rapidly approaching. It must have been her intent the entire time, though. She might be crazy, but even she respects some boundaries. They don't have all the time in the world while he's at work.

"I have an impeccable gag reflex. You could shoot your hot load all the way down my throat and it wouldn't bother me at all." Chris swears that he can hear the smile in her voice as she finishes her thought. "I'd drink down Every. Last. Drop." She punctuates every word with an unbearable finality, and Chris can imagine the words coming to life. He sees himself thrusting wildly into her mouth, her taking it with elated tears in her eyes; evident of a gag reflex long tamed.

He gasps as all the words and sensations mix and become far too tangible. He groans quietly as he comes into his hand.

The pleasure drains from his body slowly, lasting longer than his usual sessions alone do. He only stops once he feels fully satiated and thoroughly tired.

"That was crazy." He says, a bit out of breath as he sits up and tries to get his bearings.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Avery says, cheery as ever. Her persona switches so fast that it gives Chris whiplash. "Send me a picture of the aftermath, kay?" She giggles and then hangs up the phone, leaving Chris to sit and wallow in his confusion.

He feels a mix of satisfaction and disgust. Mostly with himself, considering his hand is dirty. But for some reason, he doesn't feel genuine shame. Though he hates to admit it, the call was kind of fun. Avery is quite good at everything to do with sex, even sex adjacent acts like dirty talking over the phone.

He takes a shaking hand and snaps a quick photo of his now wilted cock and hand covered in come and sends it to Avery. She replies with a drooling emoji, and Chris is only left to wonder what it is exactly in that photo that entices her.

He sighs as he grabs a tissue. Women are too confusing to understand, so he really ought not to try. If she wants something, he can simply give it to her without needing clarification. Maybe she'll get off to it, perhaps it's a trophy of sorts, knowing that she got him to come from her voice alone. Whatever the reasoning, he'll give her this win and try to be more amenable to her crazy asks in the future. Because after all, he's only benefiting thus far.

Chris wipes his hands down and then puts himself away. He scurries off to the bathroom and washes them vigorously before returning to work. Nobody stops him along the way, and nobody comes barreling into his office later either.

For all intents and purposes, they just got away with everything scot-free.