It is her smile that invites him.
It is the slight curve of her sensuous mouth, almost sweet and unassuming at first. It is the way it drifts up to her eyes, delicately creasing their corners, betraying her intensifying desire. It is the way it both illuminates and clouds her face as her gaze travels approvingly the length of his strong, lean body, as it finally recognises the hunger of his own need.
Yes, it is her smile.
And then slowly, just as softly, it is the parting of her thighs, the gleam of the sheer nylon under the violence of fluorescence, the heat and the wetness and the pungency of the lust he can sense even now dripping from her sex as he sits quietly on the opposite side of the boardroom, his cock thickening and hardening and leaking, out of sight and underneath the oversized mahogany table, at the vision of his fingers shredding with practiced ease the damp gusset of the pantyhose in preparation of her violation.
Yes, it is her smile that he meets once more as the temptress taunts him over her shoulder, her buttocks grinding into his shaft, silently challenging him to take her then and there on every surface of the now emptied office. It is her wanton smile that he kisses roughly off her lips once he turns her slight frame to face him, as he pushes up the trailing hem of her skirt to place his cock between the cunt lips pouting with lascivious greed through the ragged opening, before plunging himself selfishly into her clutching velvet depths in one slick, throbbing, measured stroke.
Yes. It is her smile, the one now completely overtaken by the ecstasy etched on her face, the pink, lustrous mouth grasping for his name and for breath, the fine hands clawing at the brick wall as he fucks her with hard and decisive thrusts from behind, as possesses her tight little cunt for the third time that night, metres from the bustling crowd in the shadows of the city alleyway.