Heat, Work It

"Why don't you an' Kyle get warmed up? We'll get the camera's running once you get hot."

Holly looked over. Kyle, a twenty-eight-year-old stud, was sculpted. Shaggy hair and trim, nearly black beard juxtaposed kempt and unkempt, simultaneously man and boy. The set, in front of the green screen, was gym equipment. In their little porn story, Kyle was supposed to be her personal trainer.

Holly quirked an eyebrow at Kyle. "You need any help with that?" His dick was half limp.

Kyle pumped his shaft once or twice. "Sure boss, maybe you can give me a raise. Then I could sue you for demanding sexual favors." He pressed up to her, trapping his shaft between their bellies, and claimed her mouth. There was a surprising amount of chemistry and, holy hell, his fingers knew what they were doing.

After a moment or two of plundering her mouth, Kyle moved lower and dragged his tongue along the underside of her areola. Holly's peaks stiffened.

"Fuck Kyle--" Holly shoved her beast against his lips. "--no foreplay needed." She huffed a desperate breath or two. "I'm a sure thing."

Kyle grinned around the nipple he was nibbling. "It's sometimes rather surprising, given we're both paid to fuck on camera, how different our jobs are. I have to stay hard, and thus not cum, while you have to cum and cum and cum. Not fair, really."

A finger fish-hooked Holly and explored until it found her special place. "Well I think--" Holly breasts rose and fell in several rapid cycles. "--it's about time there was a female friendly industry."

Kyle straightened, abandoning her aching nipple. "So what's your secret? Every woman has one."

"My secret?"

"Yeah, that place, the secret touch, that whispered word, that'll turn you into a puddle of fuck."

Holly was already vibrating like a plucked guitar string. "Stroke my ear."

"You mean like--"

Holly went up on tip-toes and smashed, tits to chest, with her sculpted 'personal trainer.' She moaned into his shoulder and fought the urge to bite down. Kyle probably wouldn't appreciate a hicky, not before filming.

"Yeah," Holly said a few dozen galloping heartbeats later, "like that." She clung to Kyle for support. Her legs felt like rubber.

"Hey, you two fuck-bunnies," Steve hollered, "we need her to cum cowgirl. Bonus if she cums in your lap, doggie, missionary, scissored from the back and railed over the couch."

"Yeah, yeah," Holly said. She splayed her fingers over Kyle chiseled pecks and pressed him back with her palm. He edged into a weight bench and sat. Holly pushed him down and straddled him. She ground her juncture against his throbbing shaft. After a few pussy slobbering slides, Holly drew up too far, rotated her hips and slid onto Kyle's shaft, hands free. His heat added to her heat and he, like the need within her, swelled.

"Kyle's got this."

***

Instant sweat beaded under her bra the moment Katie stepped out of Dr. Stoddalman's office, it was that hot. She straightened the masochistic garment as she strode rapidly across the parking-lot towards Curtis' -- screw that -- her Ford Raptor. Her salary had paid for the dick compensating monstrosity after-all.

Not that Curtis didn't contribute, but industrial pump mechanic didn't measure up to architect/civil engineer -- even if, as she was certain she wasn't being paid as well as the similarly qualified Jason or Hugh. Just another year and she could get her SE-PE and architectural license, assuming she could pass the tests. Strange how lawyers made more money but had an easier test.

But, I guess, she mused, if you make the rules, you make them in your favor.

Katie reached the truck. She was by no means short, in fact, she was on the tall side for a woman, but it was still a climb to get into the cab. By the time she'd settled in the inferno heat incubated by her truck's windshield, not only was sweat beading in her cleavage but the dew-point in her panties had climbed fifty points.

Well, this is going to be fun. Katie fired up the monster underneath her. Masturbating for Dr. Stoddalman had been-- She gnawed her lip. --hot. She was looking forward to getting plowed by Curtis later. But three more hours at work, while irrigating her panties, that was going to be a problem. Every man with a nose was going to be pawing about her like she was hotdog-bun at a tail-gate party. This Heat stuff Dr. Stoddalman had given her was no joke.

Fortunately, that joke, took a back seat as Katie drove towards the heart of the city. She occasionally had to press a finger to the seam of her jeans while sitting at a stoplight but, for the most part, other than the time she got honked at, for sitting at a green, while daydreaming about a drool worthy pedestrian, the smoldering burn that'd taken root in her clit faded to the background.

At the office, some dipshit, namely her boss, had parked his Tesla in the only space that was easy for her to get her my-dick-ain't-big-enough truck into. Katie drove around to the back row of the lot and backed into a too tight space hoping some schmuck wouldn't open a door into her husband's new girlfriend.

Shoving her keys in her clutch and her clutch in her purse, Katie dropped from her truck and sashayed across towards the office side entrance. Wait! What? She adjusted her stride to a power walk. Swaying like that in the nearly all male engineering office, it was a one-hundred-percent certainty that she'd be eye-fucked -- that is, eye-fucked more than normal. For a moment, that almost sounded fun, but getting slapped on the ass was sure to be a career killer -- and not just for the man with the wayward hand.

She was half way to her office when Scott MacCaffrey yelled down the hall. "Hey Katie, you got a moment?"

Katie rolled her eyes. Scott was her boss. She always had a moment. "Yes," she said, stepping into his space. His office was thrice the size of hers, with actual windows. As always, the room held a slight masculine musk, and the feel of wannabe-alpha-authority. Her core clentched.

Holy shit, really? He was her boss, bald, twenty years her senior, a misogynistic perv and -- really? Ew.

"What you workin' on this afternoon?" Scott gave her no chance to answer. "Hugh's on paternity leave an' construction out at the Layton Temple wants to take a one inch notch out of a load bearing cord. I need you to recalculate the ASCE static and live loads on the north-east tower to make sure it's not goin' to be a bust."

"Hugh's on paternity leave?" Did such a thing exist at Nerd and Oblivious Chauvinistic Engineer's incorporated? She hadn't even known Nicole had been pregnant. There were no previous kids. Hugh'd never said anything. They were friends. Weren't they? Sorta? Maybe?

"Yeah, baby."

"Awe, what is it?" Katie's tear ducts burned and her 'awe' sounded fake in her own ears. Her sinuses turned liquid. She sniffed, as quietly as possible.

Scott blinked at her. "A baby." His words were slow, like he wasn't sure, or he was talking to a child.

Indignation dried Katie's eyes. How was it that Scott knew Nicole'd given birth but not found out the deets? "I mean, boy or girl?"

Scott shrugged. "Don't know--" His expression said, "Don't care." "--About the calcs?"

"Can you give it to Jason, or maybe, Clyde? I was finishing the Serman's Project. It's due next Friday. And this, I've never seen the prints, never been in on any the meetings--" Not that she hadn't wanted to be involved, because, hey, it was a temple, dedicated to her religion. Hugh wasn't even Mormon. "--it's going to take me at least until Wednesday to check the calcs, especially if I have to do them manually. Our software doesn't support cutting one-inch notches out of I-beams."

"Can't, Jason's just got that Clearfield Wallmart and Clyde's off next week." Scott's brow furrowed. He pulled up a spreadsheet. "What project did you say you were on?"

"Sheman's" You should know, you assigned it to me...and then never once asked about how it was going.

"Sherman's, Sherman's...ah, that's a small one. It can slide a few days."

No shit Sherlock, you always give me the little jobs. "They're still customers and I'd like to do right by them. Maybe they'll give us more work."

"It won't affect our rep. Projects fall behind."

But it'll affect mine! Within this Company! The effects of Heat were entirely forgotten. There was tension in her core alright, but not the pleasant kind. She could hear it now. "Look, another one of Katie's projects is late." No one ever looked at why. Leadership never saw that she was late because she was constantly bailing others out, usually the man sitting right in front of her. All they saw was that she was late! Which then, fuckin' justified, giving her the little, unimportant, projects.

"You realize," Katie said, "it probably can't be done. It's an engineered I-beam. We should just say no."

"It'll save the contractor a lot of time."

"Like how much? It's their mistake, let them fix it."

"A couple of days."

"A couple of days? Didn't just hear me say this was going to take me until mid-next week?"

"An unlicensed engineer-architect in-training is cheaper than a ten man crew, and, there's the materials to consider too."

"Fine--" She wanted to scream. "--give it to me."

Scott handed her a mountain of calculations and prints. They were disorganized which meant he'd already rifled through them and decided it was going to cost him too much effort. "North-east tower, lateral load bearing cord, detail B-1."

"Thank you." Katie's voice sounded pinched. At least the dipshit knew that much.

Scott turned back to his work, totally oblivious to her fury. Katie stalked to her office. Matt, one of the drafters, stepped into the hall, likely to say, "hi," or maybe ask a question, got one look at her and dodged back into his cubical. Last second, she stopped herself from slamming her door as she stormed into her office. She belted the drawings down on her desk, threw herself into her chair and sat, right in her wet panties.

"Ugh!" Katie pushed her face into her hands. Bone grinding tension wormed its way up from her gut, through her breast and escaped her throat as an insane giggle. And, miraculously, with that utterance, she felt better. She'd stood in that dipshits office dripping with desire and despite the ache that was already nibbling down below once more, that was a man that no matter how much Heat she consumed would never get into her pants.

She got up and went to the restroom, mostly to clean up before her jeans leaked through. She also rubbed out a quickie while she was there. Upon returning to her desk, she bit back her burning desire and started sorting through drawings. Two and a half hours later had her pouring over calculations, gnawing on a pencil, catching-flies between her thighs and absently strumming her button. Somewhere down the hall she heard Howard, one of the partners say, "...Don't get too close, got a bad cold."

"ASCE Table 4-1 Live Loads," she read. "Apartments, Access Floor Systems, Office use, Computer use, Armories and drill rooms--" Katie's gaze followed a pastel painted nail down the table. "--Assembly areas and theaters--"

An explosive sneeze echoed down the hall.

Katie's head snapped up. Her breasts heaved. "Oh shit." The pencil dropped from her lips.

Something wound impossibly tight around the pearl in her pants. Katie's nipples hardened within her bra. Katie's fingernails bit into the armrests on her chair. Her thighs spread. Her back contorted. She rocked her hips so as to press her seam into the button fly of her jeans. A cauldron heat pooled low, low in her core and dammed up behind her lips. She clenched, praying to God she didn't wet herself.

"Fuck," she breathed on an exhale. A lightning explosion arced from her pearl to her lizard-brain and back again, where it detonated. Katie's trembling body bent double. The dark sheets of her hair curtained her view.

Katie heaved three desperate breaths before the tickle in her nose overpowered her.

"No." The word was a desperate, drawn-out whisper. Katie writhed in her seat as her mind melted with crotch drenching pleasure. The moment conscious thought returned she grabbed a Kleenex, blew like she was trying to remove her brain and pinched her nostrils. An insane itch prickled her sinuses, but one, two, three heaving breaths and it abated.

Katie looked down at herself and groaned. Anyone that saw her would think she peed her pants, or, perhaps, that her water had broken. Except she didn't look pregnant, because she wasn't pregnant, unlike, apparently, fuckin' Hugh's Nicole whose husband, after a whole God damn nine months, hadn't seen fit to tell her Nicole was pregnant. Katie was either going to have to run for it or work until everyone else went home.

That wasn't even an option. Tonight was date night and she'd subjected herself to Heat precisely so she'd be all over Curtis that evening. She was going to cum so hard, so often, so helplessly that her man would never again question his performance. The male ego was such an annoying, delicate thing.

As it was nearly five anyway, Katie shoved her things in her bag and ran. Matt said something as she passed his cubicle but she didn't catch what. She made it to her Raptor without knowing anyone had seen. Katie hoped to hell there were no stories come Monday.

Throwing her shit up into the cab, Katie clambered after. After firing up the monster, she pressed her head against the steering-wheel. The damp below was cool but she was again beginning to heat.

Just then her phone rang. Dreading who it was, she pulled it from her purse. Relief bled through her veins when she saw that it was Curtis.

"Hey, honey. Man -- fuck -- date night. I'm sorry. I'm on a job down in Provo. I'm goin' to be home late."