The brightness of the laptop screen is painful against my eyes, out of the window, the city shines with artificial light that strengthens with the final descent of the sun. It is two weeks before the multi billion pound development is unleashed to the consumer, an email has sent the board into a state of panic, the software has been leaked to an outside actor.

No public announcement has been made, clips of the software are circulating on social media, parts of the software worth millions in development and coding cost and time, are being exhibited free of charge and fueling speculation among the public, and more importantly, the shareholders.

I was one of the developers of the landmark product that made the company I work for, their fifty billion pound portfolio, elevating me to upper management and creative director. The legal team are drawing up demands for the messaging applications to give up their access logs so the thief of the software can be found.

Tonight is unfortunate as we were planning to go for drinks in the bar on the first floor of this building, you as the daughter of the CEO who has hesitantly given us permission to date. The bar closes at 11pm and my fingers ache at sending another crafted message to delay our planned meet, knowing you have a tight and precise schedule between high end shopping and business appointments for your new start-up.

New emails surface at the top of my inbox, getting more agitated in tone, some of them addressing me personally as replies to a CC chain involving some of the top players in the software industry. The legal demands can take days to be responded to, and the leaker is dropping a new clip every three hours.

I take a sip from my second cup of coffee, delivered from the local Starbucks, because only they would allow me to fill it with a genuinely energising amount of caffeine, the room starting to become stuffy as the air conditioning for the building is starting to shut down as they are programmed only to be on during the working day in a building notoriously under equipped for air flow.

Suddenly, I get an urgent message on my phone on the internal communication app, the leaker has made demands of the company as a bargain for not releasing any more footage, including cancelling fees for early cancellation of subscriptions, making physical disk copies available with the full software on the disk and not hiding features deemed essential in previous versions behind a pay wall.

This has sent the board into a frenzy, even implementing the demands would take at least three months of development time, increasing costs and lowering the stock price. I await the email telling me what I need to do, where the sky meets the mountains outside, the grey clouds become an orange gold as the sun is now under the horizon.

My phone shows the icon in the top left of the screen that a call is incoming before it cancels itself, I go to my call record and it was the CEO who had obviously cancelled when the call screening kicked in, I imagine the conversations in the room as I prepare myself to cancel our meeting in the bar, knowing full well not staying in the office will cost me my job and cancelling you will end any chance of another meeting.

Suddenly, an alarm goes off in the building, my laptop screen goes black and the word “LOCKDOWN” appears in big red letters across the screen.

My heart rate spikes as the exhilaration of the moment has me intellectually paralyzed, pressing any key on my laptop won’t make the alarms cease, as I hear shutters come down in the doors in the hallway, thankfully not to the exit to my office.

I reserve myself as I know our meeting is off, all the sheer beauty of your presence as you choose me, will have been a waste at the hands of some obese basement dweller eating pizza paid for by welfare. I pick my phone up to update you, provided by the business and thankfully has stopped going berserk.

The monotony of waiting to hear from me has you unimpressed, the queue of high powered business men lining up to take you out has increased in recent months, the recent floating of your business on the stock market and resulting media coverage has raised your profile beyond that of just the CEO’s daughter.

Your phone goes off, sitting in the Black Lane chauffeur car, stationary outside your Kensington flat as the driver is on standby – the details of your visit to the bar are confidential with instruction to not divulge to your associates.

You read my message, telling you what the situation is and with unreserved apology, you have an idea, one that is costly and grand, getting the helicopter to the roof of the skyscraper. You check the availability of the helicopter on your families proprietary vehicle availability app and you see it is booked for later this evening so you send an “on demand” request and the pilot approves.

You reply back to my message, updating me on the plan and I am shocked that you are going to these lengths, as an urgent bulletin appears on my laptop screen, an emergency protocol has been activated to stop any information or data leaving the building, all out bound emails and instant messages are blocked by the network and all staff must stay over night.

I move to my personal phone to message you, letting you know what is going on before your father tells you and he does moments after you get back to me, the board room is now a war room.

Your chauffeur acknowledges your request to take you to the helipad with an intentional suspicion of the situation, his actions firm and the journey direct.

The chopper is all ready to go as you scan your key card on the reader as the metal gates open, walking down the narrow walk way to the pad, the pilot hands you your helmet and follows the regimented procedure for take off.

The trip is short, the clouds clear and suddenly reveal the pad at the top of the skyscraper, the door down into the building is unassuming and cold to the touch as the co-pilot goes and opens it for you, as you throw your ten grand genuine handbag from a collection of many, over your shoulder.

Your high heels weren’t exactly made for these stairs, realising you need to be careful and that at the bottom of this stairwell is the hallway past the board room, hoping your father doesn’t catch you above the half tint of the glass wall that encloses the room.

Your father’s eyes laser focused on updates on his laptop from the network team on what can be done to stop the spread of leaks further as you swoon past the glass wall, his eyes glance for a brief second, the potential for the share price to crash pulls his awareness back to his screen before he can register it’s you. The firms current line of credit is dependent on a covenant that the share price mustn’t go below a certain value before the bank want the debt paying in full.

You are presented with a row of doors, of which one is my office, having no time to communicate with me which door number is mine, you make a guess and you are correct as your palpitations subside.

I circle my chair round towards you, smiling as I hold my hands out and stand up, you skip towards me and we embrace, my shoulders broad and firm as you get a whiff of your favourite cologne on me.

The hug is long and warm compared to the now imposing heating in the room that the board have requested maintenance turn on. My top is soft yet allows you to feel my back with the precision that you need as you go up to hold the back of my neck.

The stress of the situation has made me disinhibited, as I kiss under your right cheek, sending the sweatiness into a tingle the drops butterflies into the pit of your stomach, the firmness of how I stand and the pure allure of my physique means me holding you is doing a lot of the work for your ability to stand.

The corner of my office has an antique sofa, the upholstery a dark green, restored professionally on the instruction of one of the shareholders who particularly profited in large part to code I wrote five years ago, the base and legs are wooden with a slight creak when things move on it.

We sit for a while with you on my lap on the computer chair, the situation unfolding with me unprepared for any alerts, as I hold your stomach, your hands flat against mine as the stars outside start to shine and the hour grows later, the next 24 hours are uncertain with scant details coming from above.

We decide to go and sit on the sofa for a bit, you hold my hand and lead me as I notice how nice your legs look under the skimpy black satin dress that holds you together, my brain finally allowing me to relax for a bit as the feeling of love at first sight comes over me once more.

We share another glass of champagne that the company forbids me from drinking on official business, getting closer as you rest your head on my chest, your index finger circling the top of your glass, the back of our minds expecting another urgent message to come through and I’ll have to leap into action at my desk.

The feeling of my breathing on your head has you impatient, as if the trauma of your father finding out you used the helicopter to come and mingle obscenely with me, wouldn’t have been worth it.

You place your hand on my leg, me knowing full well what happened last time, as I whisper for consent to which you gratefully agree.

I rest on my knees on the floor facing you, sliding your dress up as you watch me perfectly pull my top off to reveal my torso that you had craved today, your fingers slide at the side of your knickers as I take over, a black, upmarket g-string pulls away from your beautiful thighs and over your feet.

My mouth servicing you with an almost impossible amount of precision that has you grabbing the top of the sofa, my hands holding your legs in a way that means no atom of effort is needed by you to maximise the pleasure.

My groaning compliments your now moaning, the moment your breasts grow fuller do my hands caress your left one, the dress barely containing them as your nipple then comes from under the dress as you breathe deeply with a moan.

You just know your sweet spot is being hit but we must take a break to get your dress off and for my jeans to come off, revealing the most perfect cock you’ve ever seen.

We get into a doggystyle position, the tip of my cock against your flower is making you ecstatic as you enjoy that excitement showing in me as well.

I hold your breasts as I insert myself and begin thrusting, the sound of the thrusts is like a rare heaven for both of us as my body slaps against yours.

The sofa does its well known creaks, more regular than I have heard before, with how well built this building is, its impossible the knocks of the legs can be heard on the floor below.

I lightly smack your arse as a pure guess of what you are into and it awakens something in you that even the fear of being caught couldn’t as you beg me to spank you, slapping your own bum with the demand.

My thrusts get faster as I spank you a few more times, my groans becoming more primal as you enjoy every last one.

We change position into a sitting missionary, with you relaxing in the center of the sofa, me on my knees with your flower against the long edge of the sofa.

Holding my shoulder with your arm, every thrust sends a jolt up your body as the closeness to orgasm is becoming unbearable as our sweat and movement mixes.

I make one last home stretch burst of thrusts that makes you lose control in a pit of erotic abandon that the mere sensation of existing is an after thought, I hold you tighter as you get closer and the heat shows in your face.

One, deep thrust that allows you to feel my full physicality sends you over the edge as the climax is mutual and almost life changing for the next 24 hours with us locked in here, the board have promised us all food and drink deliveries are on the house until the leaker is found, plenty of time for “other stuff”.