Overtime at the Office

The office was unusually quiet that night. Most of the staff had left hours ago, leaving behind empty desks and the soft hum of the air conditioner. The glow of the computer screen cast a pale light across the room, reflecting in my tired eyes as I typed away, finishing the report that couldn’t wait till morning.

I thought I was alone—until I heard the faint click of heels on the tiled floor.

She appeared in the doorway, balancing a stack of files against her chest. The dim lights made her silhouette even more striking. Her blouse clung to her in ways that made me swallow hard, and the way she brushed a loose strand of hair from her face made the room suddenly feel warmer.

“You’re still here?” she asked softly, a note of surprise in her voice.

“Deadline won’t wait,” I replied with a tired smile. “What about you?”

She stepped inside, dropping the files gently on the desk across from mine. “Same story,” she said, her voice carrying that subtle weariness we both understood. Then she leaned against the desk, arms folded, eyes lingering on me a little longer than usual.

Minutes slipped by in a strange rhythm—typing, silence, stolen glances. The kind that say more than words ever could.

At some point, she walked over to my side of the desk to look at the screen. She bent slightly, close enough that I caught the faint scent of her perfume. Her hand brushed against mine on the keyboard—accidentally, at first. But neither of us pulled away.

The hum of the air conditioner faded, the entire office shrinking to the space between us. Her breath warmed my cheek as she leaned closer to whisper, “You work too hard.”

I turned my head, and for a moment, our eyes locked. The air thickened. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t professional. But the attraction we’d both tried to ignore all this time snapped loose like a stretched rubber band.

She kissed me first—soft, hesitant, testing. I froze for a heartbeat, then melted into it, my hand finding her waist. She let out a small, almost inaudible sigh as my touch deepened the moment.

Her body pressed against mine, the desk behind us now forgotten. The world outside the office could have burned down, and we wouldn’t have noticed. In that instant, under the glow of the computer screen, the quiet office became something far more intimate.

By the time we finally pulled apart, breathless, she was smiling, cheeks flushed.

“Guess overtime has its perks,” she whispered.

And I couldn’t disagree.