He loves to torture me when it is least convenient. Sick bastard gets off on it.
He'll call me on my work phone, purposely. Not my cell phone, where I could see that it was him and ignore it. No, he's an evil asshole. He'll call me at my desk, catch me off guard. Where I have to keep the phone crooked in between my neck and shoulder as my hands multi-task to the others I am responsible for. The others that surround me, bombard me.
He'll hear the phones, he'll hear me holding two conversations, and I can almost see him grin. The busier I am the greedier he becomes with my attention. He'll start talking. Talking about how much he needs me and how he is going to have me. He'll start telling. Telling me about what he wants to do with me and how he is going to do it.
Kisses-tongues-sucking-biting-licking-wetness-fingers-spreading-gripping-fucking.
The more it becomes apparent that I can't talk back, the more inconvenient his phone call becomes, the more he continues. Purring in my ear like a fucking cat. My mind spinning. My panties wet. Concentration shot. My nonchalant "mmm hmm's" and "uhh huh's" turning into muffled moans as my head drops into my hands. Closed eyes masked by long hair hanging down.
There comes a point when I can't take it for another minute. When I realize my hand has snaked between my thighs. When I know that I will answer "fuck me" out loud. When I think that I will cum in my seat. It is at that point that I lean over and slam the phone down. When I shake my head and say "fucking asshole" to the people around me they assume it was that jerk of a client again.
If only they knew they weren't all that far off.