Moroccan Nights

It was nearly 9pm, and M was still hard at work in her office. She had long since taken off her pumps and unbuttoned her blouse just a bit, her nearly sheer cream lace bra peeking through the opening. She had let MoneyPenny go home long ago, and she was happy for the silence; the stress of this Tavares business was starting to get to her, and she felt like she was going to spontaneously combust. M rested her head back against her burnt orange slim Italian leather desk chair, and unbuttoned her grey tailored trousers. She slid her hand in and massaged her clit, as she let her mind wander. She began to think about how good James looked earlier that day, especially with his hard-on. M started to moan, making herself wetter and wetter. She could feel her orgasm building; her nipples pushing against her bra and aching to be sucked. Her body began shake, and she gasped as a warm stream of cum began to trickle down her leg.
“Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep.” M looked at her Blackberry, two missed texts. One was from her husband Richard. It simply read, “Coming home?” The other was from James; she ignored it, but didn’t delete it. No, not yet, she thought. Before M left for the evening, she sent a quick email to a few of the agents, including OO7:
You have been chosen, as some of the best in the agency, to work on the Moroccan assignment. Please be in the situation room at 6am sharp to receive the necessary information & equipment from Q. Your flight will be leaving at 9:30am, and you will not be hearing from me, or anyone else until you have already established contact in Morocco. Best of luck.
M.
She let out a deep sigh as she closed her laptop, and then called down to Andrews in the garage to bring her car around. As she rode in the backseat in silence, she took out her Blackberry and read Bond’s text.
“M, please, I want to be alone with you. Come to my place tonight.” A sly smile crossed her face. She loved knowing she had this kind of sexual power over someone half her age; she hit delete, and closed her eyes. By the time she got home, it was after 10pm. When the private elevator reached her penthouse, she tossed her things on the sofa, kicked off her heels, and went straight to the bar and made a gin and tonic. Richard heard her come in, and called to her from the office.
“Hello love. I was getting worried.” M didn’t answer. Richard went to the kitchen to make sure she heard him.
“M? Darling? What’s the matter, rotten day?” He asked as he grabbed her waist from behind and hugged her, burying his nose in her neck and inhaling her sweet sent.
“Hmm, something like that.” She said as she finished her drink.
M could feel his hardness against her bum. She turned her head slightly and took his mouth with hers. They kissed, deep and hard, tongues clashing, and M felt herself go all wet. She bent over, leaning against the black marble counter. He pulled off her trousers and lace panties in one swift move. He didn’t know, but this was the last thing M wanted to do. She was dying to get some sleep.
“Oh darling. It’s been ages since we’ve fucked.” Richard said fervently into her ear as he pulled his hardness out of his pants and thrust it into her wet sex. M jumped a bit, shocked by the force. He took her breasts in his hands, and started to rub and pull her hard nipples through her bra.
“Oh Richard. Richard!” She moaned, beads of sweat collecting at her brow.
He sighed, and began to pump himself in and out of her. Slowly and torturously, he continued until he could feel her muscles clench and relax. They both came so strong that they slammed against the counter, their bodies shaking in orgasmic pleasure. That night in bed as she lay cuddled up with her husband of thirty-five years, M realized that yes, indeed, she loved this man and he undoubtedly loved her. What was she thinking getting involved with a subordinate? Was she mad? Off her rocker? She was not one for foolish behavior, and she knew her relationship with James had to end. Indefinitely.

‡