Chapter One

18+ | Explicit content

The story starts with the worst decision of my life.

I’m in a small office at the bottom of a building in North London. It’s dark beyond the windows, where chimney stacks and the neighbouring pub’s roof make jagged angles against the sky. Piled on the desks are stacks of promotional CDs, and the walls are covered with posters of musicians and album covers.

Kneeling before me is a colleague. She’s looking up at me, my dick in her right hand, working it a little. The moment is hyper real, too bright. And there’s a threshold, a line I knew existed – and then we’ve stepped over it: my dick is in her mouth.

This had all started with a text message. When I’d received it, I’d been moving through a snowy, mountainous landscape, sitting in the back of a taxi. My girlfriend was beside me, beyond the empty middle seat of the people carrier’s back row. The atmosphere in the car had been sleepy, the result of a long journey. My heart thudded as I’d opened the text. It was explicit: an offer to do something, in the office, when I got back. I’d deleted it and put the phone back in my pocket. It was just an offer. I didn’t have to accept it. The possibility itself could be enough.

But I was never going to resist. I thought back to something my mother had told me that my father had once said: ‘If sex was offered on a plate, he’d take it.’

So, a week or so after that text message, here I was, in the office, after hours, the door locked from the inside. This moment was always going to happen.

This woman is younger than me. She has dyed black hair and large eyes, which she’s using now to stare up at me as she moves her head rhythmically. She’s tall, thin, and long limbed, a little gangly.

The sensation of her wet tongue and lips on my cock is almost too much, and I groan.

She stands up and smiles and begins removing her clothes. I’m struck by how quickly she can do this. Suddenly she’s standing before me completely nude, palely luminous in the half light.

The office is a small rectangle with a desk at either end and another in the middle. She kisses me deeply with her tongue, then bends over the desk furthest from the door – my assistant’s. There might still be one or two others in the building, and this is the only one that can’t be seen from outside. As I move towards her splayed buttocks, she rings my cock with her fingers and guides me into her.

There is nothing more exciting than this. The first time, with a new woman. It’s better than drugs, drink, anything.

The smell of her pussy rises into my nostrils and I fuck her harder. When I look down, I see my cock gleaming in the darkness each time I pull back, the inner lips of her cunt sticking to me as I do so. She spits softly onto the fingers of her right hand, reaches back for my dick again and this time, to my surprise, she guides it into her asshole, carefully regulating the speed at which I enter her. My brain pops and fizzes with pleasure. The guilt and anxiety I’d felt about this encounter are banished. I remember what a friend who dallied with heroin told me: ‘It silences the inner monologue.’ Well, so does this.

The woman moans as I fuck her, softer, more intimate sounds than I’m used to from her – this joking, cackling woman who delights in her brashness.

She pulls off me, her asshole contracting thrillingly. ‘Go and wash your dick,’ she says, grinning again. ‘I want you back in my pussy.’

I make my way up the tightly spiralled staircase beyond the door, trembling, my body near weightless. I wash myself quickly but thoroughly in the tiny loo and go back to her. She grins at me again – a wide smirk – and then she bends over again and I’m pushing myself back into her.

I come inside her, my thrusts slowing, a hot, spent feeling spreading within me. The smell of her is still strong in my nostrils as I slowly pull out.

Afterwards, we dress quickly and leave the office a minute or so apart. We meet again on the path that runs through a small park between the office and the Tube. We’ve got away with it. There hasn’t been time for the guilt to set in. It’s just a one off, after all.

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