Word of Mouth

She Wouldn’t Stop Running Her Mouth

I used to roll my eyes when Mia started talking. We’d be at our desks or in the break room and she’d lean in like she was just venting.

“Jamal had me screaming in the car again last night. Had me bent over the seat with my face in the headrest, nut leaking down my thigh when I walked in the house. That nigga don’t play about putting it in me.”

The other girls would laugh and beg for more details. I just shook my head. But every time she opened her mouth my pussy got wet. I started going home and touching myself while I replayed the shit she said. How deep he gets. How nasty he talks. How he makes her beg for it. It stayed in my head.

One afternoon she showed me a text he sent and I couldn’t hold it anymore.

“You really be doing all that or she just running her mouth?”

Jamal was standing right there. He looked at me slow.

“You asking because you want to know… or because you want to find out?”

I didn’t answer. But I didn’t look away.

After that everything shifted. I started wearing shorter skirts on days I knew he might come through. I started finding reasons to walk past him in the hallway. One time I brushed against him on purpose.

A couple weeks later we had a big deck due. Everybody stayed late. Mia left early saying her stomach was fucked up. By nine it was just me and Jamal on the floor.

I kept glancing over. Sleeves rolled, tie loose. My pussy was already throbbing.

I got up for water and when I came back I stopped at his desk.

“You really putting it down like she says?”

He looked up.

“You still don’t believe it?”

I licked my lips. “I need proof.”

He stood up, came around the desk, grabbed my wrist and walked me down the hall into the dark conference room. The door didn’t even close all the way.

He had me against the wall fast, hand up my skirt, fingers pushing my panties aside and sliding straight into me.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You been wet like this all night?”
I grabbed his wrist and pushed his fingers deeper. “Then stop talking and prove it.”
He yanked my panties down, bent me over the table and pushed his dick in hard in one stroke. I had to bite my own arm. The stretch was nasty and perfect. He held my hips and started fucking me like he was trying to shut me up for good.

Every thrust made the table creak. My pussy was loud and sloppy around him. He reached around and rubbed my clit while he fucked me deep.
“This what you been touching yourself about?” he growled. “This what you been wanting while Mia was running her mouth?”

I pushed back on him, meeting every stroke. “Shut up and fuck me.”

He did. Hard. One hand in my hair, the other gripping my hip. We heard the elevator ding once and both froze, but nobody came down the hall. The second the footsteps faded he started pounding me again. I came so hard my legs buckled. He held me up and kept going until he pulled out and shot thick all over my ass and the back of my thighs.

We cleaned up quick with paper towels. I pulled my panties back on with shaky hands and went back to my desk without looking at him.

The next day Mia caught me in the break room. She closed the door behind her and just stared.

“You let him fuck you.”

It wasn’t a question.

I didn’t say shit.

She stepped closer, voice low. “I knew you would. Soon as you started asking all them questions I knew you was gonna try it.” She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “He told me you been looking. Told me you was wet just from hearing me talk.”

My stomach dropped.

Mia tilted her head “So… was it everything I said it was?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded slow, eyes locked on mine.

“Good. Now you know. But don’t get comfortable thinking it’s yours.” She turned to leave, then looked back. “And don’t ever bring that shit up again unless I ask.”

She walked out and left me standing there.

I stood there in the break room after she left, legs still shaky, panties still damp from what he did to me earlier.

That’s when it really hit me.

Mia hadn’t just been running her mouth all those weeks. She’d been feeding me those stories on purpose. Watching me get quiet every time she talked about how deep he gets. Watching me start dressing different. Watching me get wet. She wanted me to want him. And the second I took it, she let me know he still wasn’t mine.

I should’ve felt fucked up. I should’ve felt guilty as hell.

Instead I was already standing there wondering how soon I could get him alone again… and how Mia was probably going to make sure I never forgot who he really belonged to.