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It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t languorous.


It was hard. Unexpected. Liquid heat coursing through her veins. It was sweat gathering behind her knees and a crimson flush painting her heaving chest.


It wasn’t anything that Vera had ever associated with lovemaking.


It was everything she could have ever hoped for.


It was sweaty hands clutching at wrinkled uniform shirts. Joan’s hair being haphazardly yanked out of its bun by Vera’s insistent fingers. Vera’s skirt being pushed up by Joan’s curiously trembling hands.


It was sweat-slicked thighs squeaking and burning against the polished surface of Joan’s executive desk. Feet slipping off the edge of the desk as desperate hips swayed forwards in time with Joan’s thrusts. It was hands finding purchase in coarse, greying hair and sheer delight at the howl it produced from her lover’s lips.


It was a shiver slicing down Vera’ spine at the feel of Joan’s lips whispering her name over and over again against the taut skin of her neck. A suffusing heat low in Vera’s belly as she felt Joan’s hips sway in time with the rhythm that their frantic coupling set. It was the brief, agonizing pleasure as Joan’s long fingers brought the symphony of sensations inside of Vera’s body to a gorgeous crescendo.


It was cold loneliness as Joan, wide-eyed, and taken aback by her momentary loss of self-control, removed herself from atop Vera. Torment, most inhumane, as Vera watched Joan pick up the remnants of her impervious mask, piece by piece, and secure them back into their place.


It was a crushing weight rolling on top of Vera’s gentle heart as she solemnly pulled her stockings back on and as Joan hastily fixed her uniform shirt, all whilst refusing to meet her eyes. Hot, growing embarrassment as Vera felt herself becoming increasingly desperate for Joan to look at her, speak to her, reach out to her…


It was pain, so fierce, so unrelenting in its demanding ache that Vera could not stop the tears which spilled forth from her stinging eyes.


It was bitter defiance, as Vera plucked her wet panties from the floor of Joan’s office, and dropped them deliberately on her regretful lover’s desk.