The Atrium Lights

The atrium lights were supposed to be off by ten.

Callum kept one bank on anyway. Thirty-eighth floor, Bristol. Rain on the glass. The building made a low electrical hum when it was empty, like it was thinking.

He was thirty-eight and should have gone home two hours ago. The model on his screen was a lie he had been polishing since six, a glass facade that would look honest in the render and complicated in the weather. Across the atrium, through two walls of glass, the west conference room was lit like a shop window.

He had stayed late three Thursdays running. The first time he had told himself it was the deadline. The second time he had admitted, walking to the lift, that Elise left the blinds open on purpose. The third time was tonight, and he had stopped pretending the facade study needed him.

Elise was in there.

Forty-one. Partner track. The sort of woman who made a pencil look expensive. Nate from structural sat on the edge of the table with his tie already wrecked. Neither of them had closed the blinds.

Callum told himself he would look away.

He did not.

Elise said something he could not hear. Nate laughed and then stopped laughing because she put her hand on his thigh and left it there. The glass turned the whole thing into a silent film. Callum's mouth went dry in a way that had nothing to do with the late coffee.

They knew the building was not empty. His desk lamp was a small, stupid sun. Elise looked straight across the atrium, found him, and did not flinch.

She lifted her chin a fraction. A question.

Callum could have packed his bag. He could have taken the lift and been in the rain in four minutes.

He left the lamp on.

Elise's mouth did something private. Then she kissed Nate like she wanted an audience for it. Not shy. Not performing for a camera. Performing for one specific man sitting in the dark with a half-finished facade study.

Nate's hands went to her hips. She let him pull her between his knees. Her blouse came out of her skirt in two impatient tugs. Callum saw the pale strap of her bra and then the bra itself hitting the back of a chair.

He was hard enough that the edge of his desk hurt.

Elise turned Nate. Made him look across the glass. Said something close to his ear. Nate's face changed, surprise first, then a dirty little understanding. He raised a hand. Not a wave. An acknowledgement.

Callum's throat worked.

Elise went to her knees on the conference room carpet.

There was no soundtrack. That made it worse. Callum watched her open Nate's trousers with the same tidy competence she used on a client deck. Nate's cock came out flushed and obvious. Elise wrapped her fist around it, looked once more across the atrium, and took him into her mouth.

Callum's hand was in his own trousers before he decided to put it there. He did not pretend this was accidental. He stroked himself slowly because if he went fast he would finish in a minute and miss the rest.

Elise sucked Nate like she had all night and no reputation to protect. Spit shone on her lower lip when she pulled off. She said something. Nate nodded too fast. She went back down and took him deeper, one hand braced on his thigh, the other working what her mouth could not.

Callum's breath fogged a small patch of his own glass. He wiped it with his sleeve like an idiot.

When Elise stood, her mouth was wet and her hair had come loose. Nate tried to turn her to the table. She stopped him with two fingers on his chest and pointed, not at Nate. At Callum.

Then she crooked those fingers.

Come here.

Callum sat frozen long enough to feel ridiculous. Then he stood, cock still out, and had the presence of mind to tuck himself away before he crossed the bridge.

The conference room door was unlocked. Of course it was.

The air inside was warmer. It smelled of raincoats and Elise's perfume and the unmistakable salt of a blowjob in progress.

"You took your time," Elise said.

Her voice was lower than it was in meetings.

"You left the blinds open."

"I know."

Nate looked between them, flushed, trousers open, cock wet. "If this is a problem,"

"It isn't," Callum said.

Elise's eyes flicked down. "Show me."

He undid his fly. His cock sprang out, darker than Nate's, already slick at the head from his own hand. Elise made a small sound that was not professional in any universe.

"Good," she said. "You can watch from closer. Or you can use my mouth. Nate stays in it either way. Those are the options."

"Christ."

"Pick one."

Callum stepped in. Elise dropped again, easy as sitting down to dinner. She took Nate back between her lips and held her other hand out, palm up, for Callum. He put himself in it. She stroked him while she sucked

Nate, then switched, and the wet heat of her mouth closed over Callum with a filthy little hum.

Nate watched her do it and swore under his breath.

Callum put a hand in her hair. Not shoving. Holding. She let him. When she gagged softly he eased back, and she chased him, which nearly ended him.

"Table," she said, standing, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist. "Nate. Now."

Nate sat. Elise climbed into his lap facing away from him, facing Callum, skirt rucked to her waist. No underwear. Callum had a second to clock that before she reached back, lined Nate up, and sat down on him in one slow, shaking drop.

The sound she made was not quiet.

Nate held her hips. She held the edge of the table and looked at Callum while she started to fuck herself on another man's cock, two metres away, under the same ugly recessed lighting they used for budget meetings.

"Come here," she said again.

Callum did. She took him in her mouth at the same time Nate thrust up into her. The geometry was obscene and perfect. Callum felt every muffled noise she made around his cock. He watched Nate's hands bruise white on her hips. He watched her tits bounce and then still when she clenched.

"Harder," she told Nate, pulling off Callum just long enough to say it. "He wants to see you fuck me. Don't be polite."

Nate was not polite after that.

The table inched. A mug of dead tea jumped and did not fall. Elise came first, suddenly, with Callum still on her tongue, her eyes squeezed shut and then open again as if she needed to check he was still looking. Nate followed with a groan that sounded dragged out of him. Callum lasted three more strokes into her mouth and came with his fingers tight in her hair, watching her swallow what she could and let the rest run down her chin.

For a moment nobody spoke.

Rain again. The building hum. Elise laughed once, wrecked and delighted, and reached for the box of tissues they kept for presentations.

"Blinds next time," Nate said, breathing hard.

Elise glanced at Callum, then at the open glass, then at the dark floor of desks beyond.

"I don't think so," she said.