Susie takes a sales guy home, shuts down his kink request then fucks him. Afterwards she studies her nude body and finally sees the effect she has on people.
Three days after the police incident, Susie walked into the mid-morning sales meeting with the same easy smile she always wore. The conference room smelled of coffee and dry-erase markers. A large wall screen at the front of the room was already live, cycling through recent station promos and a muted news loop. An advertising client had specifically requested Susie for a special paid promotional package, a series of short on-air spots that would run during the evening news. The client wanted “the face people already trust.”
As people settled, the screen switched to a short update package. The anchor’s voice was low but clear: overnight, police had taken the second suspect from the Eastbridge Avenue incident into custody. Clean footage from Susie’s live cross played for a few seconds, her standing at the tape line with flashing lights behind her, before the feed moved on.
A couple of the sales guys nodded at the screen. One of them, a lean man named Chris who handled mid-market accounts, glanced over at Susie and said, almost casually, “Looks like they cleaned up everything from that day.”
The comment hung for longer than it should have. Susie only smiled and took her seat. She did not think much of it at the time.
When the meeting wrapped, most of the room emptied quickly. One of the sales guys, Derek, stayed behind. He was mid-thirties, clean-cut, the type who closed deals by being likable rather than aggressive.
“Susie, got a minute?” he asked. “I want to walk you through a couple of the client notes before we lock the script.”
She stayed. The conversation started professional: tone, wardrobe suggestions, how many takes they might need. Then it loosened. He asked how the police story had gone. She gave the polished version. He nodded at the right places. Twenty minutes later he suggested they continue the discussion over a drink after work. Susie considered it for a bit and then said yes.
They met at a quiet bar three blocks from the station. The place was only half full, low lighting, wood paneling, the kind of spot where people from the newsroom sometimes drifted after late shifts. A television above the bar played the evening news on mute. As soon as Susie walked in, a woman at a corner table glanced up, leaned toward her companion, and whispered something. A man at the bar did a double take, then smiled in recognition. When the bartender came over he said, “You’re a reporter for from the TV station right?” Susie confirmed it with a polite nod and ordered a drink. Two more people looked over before she and Derek found a booth. She was used to it. The recognition was mild, friendly, the soft public version of the same attention she got at work.
One drink became two. The talk stayed light, but the look in his eyes was not. Susie felt it the same way she always did, that soft pull of attention that people rarely bothered to hide around her. She had never thought much about it before. Now, after Laura, she noticed.
When he offered to drive her home she did not object.
Susie’s apartment was a loft-style space on the third floor of a converted warehouse building. High ceilings, exposed brick along one wall, and tall windows that let in the last of the evening light. The decoration was tasteful and restrained: a low charcoal sofa, a few carefully chosen art prints, soft rugs over polished concrete floors. On a narrow shelf near the kitchen sat a small cluster of childhood mementos. A faded team photo from her high-school track days showed a younger Susie in the front row, long legs already noticeable even in the baggy uniform, her arm around a teammate and a medal hanging crooked around her neck. Beside it stood a chipped ceramic cat she had made in seventh-grade art class, the glaze uneven, one ear slightly misshapen, but still carefully kept. Next to that was a framed snapshot of her at twelve, gap-toothed and grinning, standing beside her father at a local summer fair, a half-eaten cone of cotton candy in her hand and a plastic medal from a ring-toss game clipped to her shirt.
Susie set her bag down on the kitchen island and turned to face Derek. He stepped closer, kissed her once, then again with more intent. She kissed back. Clothes began to come off in the short walk toward the open bedroom area at the far end of the loft.
When she unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall. She was wearing a dark lace bra that lifted and framed her full, perky tits, and matching bottoms that sat high on her hips and cut clean across the curve of her ass. Derek stopped for a second and stared.
“Oh,” he said, voice lower. “That’s not what I expected.”
Susie tilted her head, half smiling. “What did you expect?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he reached for her, hands already sliding under the lace. She let him for a moment, then guided him toward the bed. When they were both naked he muttered something about wanting to try it a little rougher, maybe restrain her hands, maybe turn her over and take control completely.
Susie looked at him evenly. “No.”
The word was calm and final. He blinked, then nodded. She did not explain further. She reached into the nightstand drawer, pulled out a condom, and held it out.
“Put this on.”
Derek hesitated. Susie kept her eyes on him until he took it, tore the packet, and rolled it down his cock. Only then did she move.
She pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. Her full, perky tits hung heavy above him as she reached down, wrapped her fingers around his sheathed cock, and guided him between the slick lips of her pussy. She sank down slowly, taking every inch until he was buried inside her. A soft breath left her mouth. Then she began to move.
Her hips rolled in a steady, powerful rhythm. The muscles in her long thighs flexed with each rise and drop. She braced her hands on his chest and fucked him with controlled strength, grinding her clit against him on every downward stroke. Her tits swayed and bounced with the motion, nipples tight. When he reached up to squeeze them she let him for a while, then took his wrists and pinned them to the mattress, keeping the pace exactly where she wanted it.
She changed positions without breaking rhythm, rolling onto her back and pulling him between her open legs. She locked her ankles high around his waist and met every thrust with her own, hard and timed. The wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of her filled the room. Sweat gathered between her tits and in the hollow of her throat. She hooked one long leg over his shoulder, opening herself wider, and used the leverage to pull him deeper. Her pussy clenched around him in tight, deliberate pulses.
When she wanted control again she pushed him onto his back once more and rode him with short, athletic strokes, ass flexing, tits moving heavily above him. She came first, a sharp, full-body climax that made her thighs lock around his hips and a low, broken moan leave her throat. Her pussy tightened and fluttered around his cock as she kept moving through it, not slowing, until he finished with a rough groan a minute later, pulsing inside the condom.
She stayed on top for a few extra breaths, then eased off and lay beside him. Derek reached down, pulled the condom off in one careless motion, and tossed it toward the small trash can near the nightstand. It missed and landed on the floor. He didn’t bother to pick it up.
After a minute he sat up, found his pants on the floor, and pulled them on. “Bathroom?” he asked.
Susie pointed toward the short hallway. He walked off. When he came back a few minutes later he gathered the rest of his clothes, dressed fully, and gave her a polite kiss.
“I’ll send the revised promo notes in the morning,” he said.
Susie only hummed in answer. Her body felt loose and satisfied, but her mind was already elsewhere. She thought about how quickly he had wanted her, how little resistance she had offered once the decision was made, and how easily the whole evening had tilted from work talk into this. She thought about Laura’s face in the van, the sudden hunger there, the apology afterward. The two moments sat side by side in her head and refused to separate.
After Derek left, she locked the door and walked into the bathroom, and turned on the light.
She stood nude in front of the full-length mirror and looked at herself the way other people seemed to look at her.
Her full, perky tits sat high and round on her chest, soft and heavy, the pink nipples still slightly tight from sex. The undercurve of each breast was smooth and full. Her waist narrowed cleanly before flaring into hips that carried a soft, feminine weight. Between her legs her pussy was still flushed and wet, the outer lips a little swollen. Her legs seemed to go on forever, long and smooth and strong, the kind of legs that made people stare when she walked. Even her bare feet looked elegant against the tile.
She turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder at the curve of her ass, the clean line of her back, the way her tits shifted when she moved. For a long moment she simply studied the body that made strangers trust her on sight and made coworkers lose their composure.
Her eyes drifted back to the reflection of her own face. She thought about the condom lying on the bedroom floor where he had thrown it without a second glance. The small carelessness sat with her longer than it should have. It was nothing, really. And yet it felt like another quiet piece of the same pattern: people wanting her, taking what she offered, then moving on without much thought for what they left behind.
She wondered, not for the first time, how much of the trust she inspired had always been mixed with want.
At the station the next day Laura passed her in the hallway and offered a careful, professional nod. Susie returned it. Neither of them mentioned the van. But Susie felt the weight of the other woman’s eyes for a second longer than necessary, and she did not look away first.
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