The Last Reservation

"Christ, Tanaka, you're still here?"

I looked up from the receipt I was pretending to balance, and there she was — Sato Reiko, my new boss, leaning against the hostess stand with her jacket already off. The restaurant was dark behind her, chairs stacked on tables, the last of the kitchen steam ghosting through the pass.

"Just finishing the closing report," I said.

She walked toward me, heels clicking like a slow countdown on the tile. "You've been 'finishing' that report for an hour. Nervous?"

"A little."

"Don't be." She stopped beside me, close enough that I could smell her perfume — something sharp and floral, like yuzu and rain. "I've been watching you all week. You're good with the customers. Quick hands. Shame to waste that on paperwork."

I opened my mouth to say something professional, but she reached past me and unbuttoned the top button of my shirt. Just one. Her fingers were cool.

"Boss—"

"Reiko," she corrected. Her voice was low, unhurried. "We're closed. The cameras are off. And I've had a very long week." She undid the second button, her knuckles brushing the hollow of my throat. "So I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to answer honestly."

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to fuck me?"

My breath caught. Her eyes were dark, patient, and there was the faintest smile at the corner of her mouth, like she already knew the answer.

"Yes," I said.

"Good." She stepped back and turned around. "Zip me down. Slowly."

My fingers found the zipper at the back of her dress. It slid with a soft hiss, revealing the line of her spine, the black lace edge of her bra. She shrugged the dress off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor in a whisper of silk. She wasn't wearing stockings. Just black panties, a thin strip of fabric, and the pale curve of her ass.

"Touch me," she said.

I did. My hands came up her sides, thumbs tracing the dip of her waist, the sweat sheen on her skin. She exhaled, a long shaky breath, and leaned back into me.

"Your cock," she murmured. "I felt it pressing against my ass through your pants all evening. Every time you leaned over to clear a table."

"You knew?"

"Honey, I was counting your breaths." She turned, reached between us, and unbuttoned my trousers. Her hand slipped inside my boxers, closed around my cock, and I hissed through my teeth. She stroked me once, slow, from base to tip, then thumbed the head until I saw stars.

"You're already wet for me," she said, a fact, not a question.

I didn't answer. I just pulled her into me and kissed her — deep, hungry, tasting the champagne she'd had with dinner. She bit my lower lip, hard enough to sting, and I groaned into her mouth.

She pushed me back against the table, and I sat on the edge, my cock standing up in the dim light. She knelt — and for a second I thought she was going to suck me, but instead she hooked her thumbs under her panties and slid them down her legs, slow, deliberate, showing me everything: the neat strip of dark hair, the glistening line of her slit.

"See what you do to me?" she said. "I'm soaking."

She climbed onto the table and straddled me, her knees on either side of my hips. Her pussy hovered over my cock, teasing, just the heat of her, the slick brush of her lips.

"Please," I said.

"Please what?"

"Let me in."

She sank down. Slowly. An inch at a time, her inner walls parting around me, hot and impossibly tight. I gripped her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, and she let out a low moan, head falling back.

"God, you're big," she breathed. "I could feel it through your pants, but— fuck."

She began to move. A slow, rocking rhythm, her hips rolling in circles, taking me deeper with every pass. Her hands pressed flat on my chest, and I could feel her heartbeat through her palm. I reached up and unhooked her bra, and her breasts spilled out, full and heavy with dark nipples already peaked.

I took one in my mouth, licking the salt from her skin, biting down just enough to make her gasp. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me off, forcing me to look at her.

"You're mine tonight," she said. "Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I'm yours."

She smiled, then leaned forward and kissed me, slow and deep, while her hips picked up speed. The table creaked beneath us. Her wetness coated my thighs. She rode me harder, her breath coming in sharp little gasps, and I slid my hand down between us and found her clit, swollen and slick.

"Right there," she gasped. "Don't stop."

I circled it with my thumb, and her whole body shuddered. She bit down on her lip, trying to stay quiet, and I could feel myself losing control, the pressure building low in my belly.

"I'm close," I said.

"Inside me," she ordered. "Cum inside me."

I flipped her onto her back. The table was cold against her skin, and she gasped, then laughed, then moaned as I drove into her, hard, deep, the angle perfect. Her legs wrapped around my waist, heels digging into my ass, and she clung to me, nails scratching down my back.

"Fuck," she whispered, "like that, just like that—"

I came with a groan, buried to the hilt, my face in her neck. She tightened around me, clenching, and I felt her come too, a shuddering wave that made her cry out and go limp beneath me.

For a long moment, there was only our breathing.

Then she laughed, softly, and pushed her damp hair out of her eyes. "Not bad for your first week."

"Tomorrow," I said, "I'm going to be very distracted."

"Good." She kissed me once, quick. "I'll bring the report to my office. We can finish it there."

CATEGORIES: [Japanese woman, Office, Boss, Just the Two of Us, Restaurant]