After Hours

The office building was nearly empty at 9 PM, with only the soft hum of computers and the distant sound of the cleaning crew echoing through the halls. Emma had stayed late to finish the quarterly report, determined to impress her new supervisor with her dedication.

She was surprised when she heard footsteps approaching her cubicle. Looking up from her screen, she saw David, the marketing director, standing at the edge of her workspace. His tie was loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and there was something different about his usually professional demeanor.

"Working late again?" he asked, his voice carrying a warmth that made her pulse quicken. They had exchanged glances and brief conversations over the past few weeks, but tonight felt different—more intimate in the quiet, empty office.

"Just trying to get ahead," she replied, suddenly very aware of how alone they were. The tension that had been building between them during meetings and casual encounters seemed to intensify in the dim lighting of the after-hours office.

"You know," David said, moving closer to her desk, "I've been meaning to tell you how impressed I am with your work. And..." he paused, his eyes meeting hers, "how distracted I've been by you."

Emma felt her cheeks flush. The professional boundary they had maintained during business hours seemed to dissolve in the intimate atmosphere of the empty building. When he reached out to touch her hand, she didn't pull away.

"We shouldn't," she whispered, but her voice lacked conviction.

"I know," he replied, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her wrist. "But I can't stop thinking about you."

As the city lights twinkled beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, Emma realized that some of the most compelling connections happen when the rest of the world has gone home, leaving only the electric charge of possibility in the air.