Chapter Text
Helena looks up from her desk and smiles, waving me in. "Hey. I had hoped you'd come by."
I close the door to her office behind me, balancing the two coffee cups, and hand her one.
"Thank you, Sofiya." She is the only one, apart from my grandma, who calls me by my full name, instead of just Fia like literally everyone else - not that I mind. I briefly wonder what it would sound like if she moaned it while cumming.
I drop a stack of folders on her desk. "Need a few signatures from you. And I finished reading your paper. Left a few notes."
She carefully sips on her coffee. "Verdict?"
"Very good, as usual. I don't agree with all your conclusions though."
"Then I am very much looking forward to going through your objections later. Thank you."
"Anything for you," I joke. Well, technically joke. Practically... let's not go there.
"Anything?" Helena raises an eyebrow. "Then how about you finally stop wasting your potential."
Rolling my eyes at her, I laugh. "Yeah, yeah..."
That's what you get for dropping out of college half a semester before getting your Masters because you just hate it all so much you quit. And then end up working in academia anyway, somehow. We've had this conversation before, she thinks I should stop being a glorified secretary - sorry, 'Administrative Coordinator' - and get that damn degree. Highly unlikely. But it does stroke my ego a little that the smartest woman I know thinks that highly of me.
She opens her window and sits down on the window sill, I join her as usual while she starts rolling a cigarette. Good thing her office is so far off the well-traveled hallways that she is still getting away with it. I always love watching her do this, there is something very erotic about the way she licks the paper, and those long fingers would feel so good inside me.
Maybe I should stop being such a creep, leering after my friend slash coworker. I once again wonder if Helena notices how fucking into her I am - and if she cares. She probably doesn't, that's one of the things I like so much about her. She rarely gives a fuck and does her own thing. It's probably not the only reason I want her so bad though. Maybe it's the fucking Russian accent, that always gets a bit stronger when we are alone for some reason? Or maybe I have mommy issues, being so incredibly horny for a woman twenty years older than me.
Helena just said something, unfortunately I was too distracted watching her smoke, staring at her lips, and imagining her mouth on my pussy. "Sorry, what?"
She chuckles and takes another drag. "A lot on your mind?"
If you only knew.
"A million tiny things, as usual." I wave her off and change the topic. "You're coming to that department party later, right?"
Helena makes a face. "I actually intended to sit that one out." I had feared she might say this. She's not exactly a party person.
"Aw, come on, don't leave me alone with all those assholes." Not that I hate all my coworkers - some were actually pretty okay people, overall - but those 'social functions' somehow manage to bring out the worst in some of them.
"You could also just skip it," she suggests, finishing her cigarette.
"And never hear the end of it from Harold?" Our dear boss had made sure to remind me multiple times today already, God knows why this stupid thing was so important to him all of a sudden. "Nah, I have to at least show up for a little bit. And so should you, by the way."
She raises an eyebrow. "Oh, why is that?"
"So your dear friend Fia doesn't die of boredom. And you can keep me from strangling Steven when he starts telling the same three stupid jokes again."
"Not sure I'd want to prevent that, actually."
Very understandable, but still.
"Come on, we'll have a drink or two, get seen and acknowledged by Harold for brownie points, and then fuck off again before anyone gets too drunk." Maybe make out in a dark corner if the opportunity arises, and I finally have the balls to make a move on you.
"I don't need brownie points, I have tenure."
If she wants me to start begging, I am certainly not above that. Definitely running out of smart arguments by now.
But apparently I am lucky, and she feels generous. "...however, as a special favor to you, I will come by. Briefly. Two drinks maximum, and if anybody asks me to dance or something equally ridiculous, I am out."
I beam at her. "Deal."
Helena gets up from the window sill, chuckling and shaking her head. "The things I do for you, my dear Sofiya..."
---
I am standing at the counter of that bar where we have our silly little get-together, sipping on my beer, eyes on the door, and almost start to wonder if she's not showing up after all. Which I could totally understand, but it would certainly be a pity.
"Fia! Shots!" Steven pops up beside me and slams two glasses on the counter, it's a miracle he doesn't spill the contents. "Heh, should have gotten you tequila. Fia Tequila!"
"Steven, that doesn't even make sense," I groan and grab one of the glasses, while he can't stop laughing about his own terrible joke. Apparently getting drunk really is the only way to survive this evening.
The alcohol burns in my throat and I barely suppress a cough, which earns me an appreciative slap on the back from Steven. I hope this makes him move on to his next victim now.
"Having fun already?"
The voice of my savior. I turn around to Helena, who gives me her typical amused raised eyebrow.
"Hey. Glad you're here."
Steven, who unfortunately still hasn't ventured on to other people, wedges himself between us and puts an arm around each of us.
"Helena! Now we can get this party started! Imma get you some vodka!"
"Thank you, I'm good. Maybe later though," she informs him with a forced smile, and for some reason this actually seems to satisfy him.
He slaps both our backs again and grins widely. "Gotcha, later then! I'll hold you to that!"
With that, he finally moves on to some other group of unsuspecting targets, and I sigh loudly.
"God, I hate this guy."
"Told you I'm not going to keep you from strangling him," Helena chuckles. Then she looks me up and down. "You look nice."
I jokingly make a little curtsy. "Thank you."
Figured I should at least be presentable for this whole thing, so I decided on a dress - short, but still vaguely classy. Perfect length if someone would decide to spontaneously bend me over the counter and finger me... And it makes me unreasonably tingly that she compliments me.
Helena on the other hand apparently didn't consider it necessary to get changed, and is still wearing the same outfit from work earlier, plain black shirt and slacks. God, I want her out of those clothes so bad.
---
An hour and a half later, Helena has finished her second drink, while I got talked into more shots, somehow. I am not drunk drunk, but certainly drunk enough that I am walking a bit unsteady.
She's leaving, just as she said she would, so I have no reason to stay either. We make our way outside, and I realize I really, really don't want her to go. The booze makes me stupid, and without thinking I finally give in to the urge to kiss her. Or rather, I try - she's still pretty sober, and apparently not a fan of my little stunt, because she grabs me by the throat and pushes me against the wall.
It takes every last bit of self-control to not moan directly in her face, because this turned me on so much more than her just reciprocating the kiss ever would have.
Helena leans in closer, looking slightly amused. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Kissing you."
"Why?"
"Because I want you so fucking bad."
A smile creeps into her face, and she licks her lips. There's this glimmer in her eyes. Hunger. I feel like a prey animal facing the big bad predator. And right in this moment, I want her to devour me.
"Is that so."
"Do you have any idea how many times I masturbated to the thought of you..." I really shouldn't tell her this, but at this point I am too drunk and too horny to care. "I want you so bad."
"I was not aware of that," Helena chuckles.
I can suddenly feel her ice-cold hand on my thigh, lightly trailing up and vanishing under my skirt. When she reaches my soaked panties, her eyebrow rises. It's driving me crazy that she is keeping eye contact the whole time, and when she pushes the fabric to the side and brushes over my very wet cunt, I can't suppress a moan anymore.
"You weren't kidding." She's enjoying this too much.
"Hmm."
"I don't think that's a good idea, though."
"Feels pretty good to me," I whimper. She's still teasing me, just lightly rubbing my wetness around, and if we don't go somewhere else soon, I will leave a puddle here.
"I'm too old for you."
"Nope."
"We're working together."
"Don't care." Talking is starting to get really difficult.
"And I don't think you would enjoy the kind of sex I have."
"Or maybe I would." I am not particularly impressed by her arguments so far, what she's doing to me feels way too good.
Helena suddenly puts one hand over my mouth, and before I can protest, she shoves three fingers of her other hand into my cunt without warning. It hurts and it is uncomfortable, and it turns me on so, so much. Good thing she had the foresight to muffle my moans, because right now I am way past caring about the noises I make, or who could see us. Any moment our boss or one of our coworkers could walk by, which would really suck, but somehow that makes it even hotter. If she wanted to fuck me in the middle of this bar, right over the billard table, I probably wouldn't complain. Brain turned off, pussy thinking.
She removes her fingers again and I can't help but let out a pathetic little whine, making her chuckle.
"Or maybe you would," Helena remarks, then casually licks her fingers, as if it were no big deal. It is so unfair that she's so calm and composed, while I'm a fucking mess holding myself up by the wall, legs trembling.
"So, your place?" I pant. I need her back inside me and I need to cum for her until I can't breathe anymore.
She laughs and shakes her head. "No."
"Mine?"
"No. I am not going to fuck you while you are this drunk."
"I'm not-" I try to protest, but she puts a finger over my mouth to shush me. It's such a condescending gesture, which I would usually hate - but I don't hate it right now. Quite the opposite. That her fingers smell like my pussy isn't helping.
"Tomorrow night. My place, 8 pm. Don't be late."
Without even waiting for an answer Helena turns around and strolls away, as if she wasn't knuckle deep inside me a moment ago. I am still leaning on the wall, barely able to stand, with my own wetness dripping down my thighs, trying to process what just happened.