Ikea After Hours
Working at Ikea is not for the faint of heart. When Tamara first began five years ago on the loading docks, the sky-high towers of cardboard boxes used to fill her with dread. Bend over, lift with the thighs, cinch your abdominal muscles, feel your biceps burn. Repeat. After a day of work she’d come home and collapse on her newly purchased Haugsvär mattress, her body a twisted spire of frazzled nerve endings and over extended tendons.
Things got better when she was transferred to customer service, then was given a position in management. Through the years she’d seen it all. Hundreds of employees come and go. Women going into labor while picking out birch kitchen islands. At least a dozen meltdowns per day between couples, parents and children, college roomies. Ikea was a world where humans went in and shells came out, and what happened in between was different for everyone. Some went giddy at the sight of lingonberry jam priced half off. Others experienced waves of crippling anxiety in the lighting showroom. Which lamp diffused light more gently? Was the shade too baroque? This other one too sparse and masculine? As much as Tamara’s job was to memorize a limitless codex of Swedish monikers, it was also to play emotional goalkeeper for ping-ponging customer hysterias. And she was good at it. She soothed and advised and remained a rational pillar of calm. Until Noah came back on the scene.
Fucking Noah. If there was one person who was going to mess with her work vibe it was him. Noah Sparks, the first person she’d toyed at workplace romance with. Her loading dock right wing, Noah had bent and heaved and struggled with oversized packaging alongside Tamara for almost a year. During that time, theirs was a passionate, strangled affair. Of course it was. Noah was married.
His marriage was never something they’d discussed in great detail. Five years in. No kids. Little sex. Lots of tension. Divorce on the horizon. Oh, and his wife was having an affair too. That was about all Tamara had ever known, and frankly she didn’t want any more information. Part of the thrill of Noah was the knowledge that theirs was an ephemeral collision, one that required they often had to get creative. They’d fucked on the loading dock at sunset. In her car at high noon in the parking lot. After hours in the kitchen showroom (on a dining table with wheels, no less). Their year long affair had been filled to the gills with raunchy, risky, forbidden fucking that had driven Tamara wild. And then it ended. Noah moved to another city and got a job at the Ikea there. That was it. No more Noah. Tamara had been sad, briefly, but what was the point of grieving someone she’d never really had in the first place?
So when Noah walked back into Tamara’s life after two years, the first thing that happened was Tamara went slick between the legs. The second was that Tamara was informed she would be Noah’s higher up, and was in charge of placing him where she saw fit on the floor. This gave her a little thrill. Somewhere close to her, but not so close that she seemed desperate to rekindle something from years ago. Although she was. One look at him and it was clear time had treated him well. He was tall and sleek as ever, though with a few new tattoos scattered along his forearms. His black hair still gathered in small curls at the base of his neck, and behind thin wired glasses, green eyes gleamed. A small patch of dark chest hair peeked out of his button down shirt, and even though it was a blue and yellow striped Ikea number, Tamara still found it sexy.
The first day they were back on the floor together felt like Christmas. They greeted one another in the employee break room. He was holding a mug of coffee with both hands, and Tamara noticed right away that his wedding ring was gone.
“Tamara, wow. Hi.”
“Noah. Hey.” Her mind flooded with the litany of things she wanted to say to him. I’m so happy to see you. Damn, you’re still fine as fuck. Take me now. You have a speck of Styrofoam on your shirt. They looked at each other for a moment, not speaking. Then he grinned and stepped a bit closer.
“So I hear I’m your underling now? Hope you treat me nice.” He winked over the rim of his coffee cup and walked away. Fuck.
The day passed in a daze for Tamara. Customers asked her where Örfjäll chairs or Svenshult cabinets were located, and she could barely muster, “Showroom five, first thing on the right,” while peering at Noah from behind a display shrub. The hours passed unbearably slowly, and still they had hardly spoken. Was he ignoring her? Did he want her to leave him alone? Then what was up with the flirty punch line that morning in the break room? Hope you treat me nice. Oh, she could think of a few ways to do that.
Finally, as it crept closer to close and the crowds started to thin, Noah wandered over to her.
“So, you been keeping busy?” He was leaning on a wire rack that looked perilously unable to support his weight, and Tamara shooed him off of it with a gentle smack on his forearm.
“You’re gonna break that. And…yeah, you know. Work stuff here. I’m now an expert at assembling an entire home’s worth of furniture in five hours flat with a miniscule screwdriver. Great life skill.”
“It actually is.” Noah said. A moment of silence passed.
“So, no wedding ring?” Tamara ventured.
Noah’s smile slipped. “Nah, no more of that. It’s been about a year now. It’s for the best though, you know how it was.”
Tamara nodded. She didn’t really, but she did remember the sensation of his rock hard cock slipping in and out of her beneath a beach umbrella in a storeroom. She remembered sitting on his face on a pleather ottoman before open one morning. She remembered him fingering her beneath a table in the cafeteria and saying something naughty about Swedish meatballs. There were other things she knew about him that had nothing to do with his ex-wife, and she wanted a reminder.
Feeling brave, she took his left hand in hers. She held it up, examining it. “I think it looks better this way. Bare.” An announcement buzzed over the loud speakers. Attention shoppers. Ikea will be closing in fifteen minutes. Please complete your purchases and make your way towards one of our exits. Thank you! Come again. Tamara and Noah looked at one another, their eyes heavily lidded and coy with thinly veiled intention.
“Shall we?” Noah asked.
Tamara stepped toward him and wrapped her arm around his waist. “For old time’s sake.” As customers streamed out, the two of them walked deeper into the store.
The lights dimmed, and Tamara and Noah did what they’d always done – crouched inside one of the children’s play castles until everyone was gone. There were so many employees nobody noticed a rogue one or two gone missing. Besides, the risk of being caught was what had always turned the both of them on.
Tamara felt Noah’s hands inching up her thighs, snaking around her waist. He was kissing her neck and nuzzling his face into the cascade of her curls. She was still peering out the tiny turret at the top of this thing, making sure all the stragglers had found their way off the main floor. She backed into him, pressing her ass against the hardened bulge in his pants. He brought his hips forward too, grinding into her.
“Okay, finally, Jesus,” she whispered. They busted out of the play castle and made their way to the showroom devoted to bedding. All around them artificial worlds rose out of the corners. A fully furnished living room with a futon made ready for sleeping. A California King Size plush with furry throw pillows beneath a makeshift window. A bed with very efficiently arranged storage flanking both sides of it. They crashed onto a showpiece with a large four post frame, Tamara pouncing on top of Noah the second their bodies hit the mattress.
She straddled him, grinding her pelvis against his while unbuttoning her work polo.
“I can’t wait to get this shit off,” she said through a rumple of fabric as she tugged the shirt over her head. Her breasts sat pert and eager in a slinky bra, the black fabric sheer enough to expose her taut nipples. Noah leaned up and bit one through the fabric, hard enough to make Tamara yelp, but still playful. Tamara stretched her arms over her head, arcing her back and pushing her breasts further into Noah’s face. He took one in each hand, the flesh of them just enough to fill each of his palms, and buried his face between them. He moaned her name into her tits, into her breastbone, between her ribs. She rolled her head back and let her hand wander down to begin touching herself through her jeans.
Suddenly Noah was pushing her back and working at the zipper of her pants. Tamara’s hips buckled underneath his hands, eager and writhing with need. She’d fucking missed this. Nobody had ever made her orgasm like Noah. Well, nobody except herself. And even then, he was a close second. Noah was still wearing his glasses, and just before he buried his face between her legs he took them off and placed them on the nightstand to their side.
“How convenient,” he mused, and then bent his head to begin the work of getting Tamara off.
She stretched her legs long on either side of his face, bringing them up into the air and then back down on the mattress. She felt Noah’s kisses begin on her inner thighs, his hands wrapping underneath her to grip her ass. His fingers dug into her flesh, and his tongue began to softly penetrate her. He dipped in and out, tasting her, gathering her wet, then drew his tongue long down the length of her slit, slurping. Tamara was writhing, her pussy a pleasure dome of sensation and carnal lust. She could feel herself dripping onto the duvet beneath them, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care, it didn’t matter, her mind was void of concern and anxiety. This was what Noah did. He took her to the edge of pleasure, where her brain emptied and all she knew was her body pulsating beneath his and the waves he was building steadily within her.
He took her clit between his lips, sucking. He twirled his tongue in rapid circles, then applied a heavy suction. He slipped a finger into her and curled it inwards in a beckoning motion, stroking her G-spot as he continued to eat her. She screamed. Her hips twitched rhythmically. She knew she was starved enough for this to come multiple times, three, maybe four. That was her body’s pattern. Restraint, resistance, celibacy. Then full throttle backbreaking sex that took her pussy to another planet. Noah was back. It was a changing of the seasons.
Tamara came in a quick burst and pushed Noah’s head away as she collapsed in on herself. She felt her lungs rise and fall at a frantic pace, her blood beating furiously in her temples. Beneath her a small pool collected. She closed her eyes and steadied herself. They were far from done. Noah stroked her back and began kissing her ass. He was, somehow, still fully clothed.
Tamara gestured up at the four posts that rose above their heads. “Should we take advantage of this?” Noah answered her by stripping his shirt off and laying himself prostrate before her. This was going to be fun.
Four tape measures. That was all they needed. One of Noah’s wrists tied to the top of a post at the base of the bed, then the other hand likewise to the adjacent post at the bed’s end. His feet she did the same way until Noah was naked and spread eagle before Tamara like a bound starfish. Which he was. He was exactly that. The tape measures dangled off his wrists and ankles like little tags, and Tamara took one in her hands, playing with it. She pulled gently, allowing the tension in the tape to build until the metal strip was cutting just slightly into Noah’s skin. He winced. She bent over and picked up a fake palm frond that was displayed in a pot next to the bed, and whipped him over the stomach with it.
“Fuck yes,” he said, “I missed you getting creative with all this shit.”
Another smack with the palm, this time across his thighs. Noah’s dick was standing nearly vertical it was so hard, and his swollen tip leaked a pearl of precum. Tamara bent on all fours and licked the droplet off, making sure he had a clear view of her spreading it over her lips with her tongue. Noah jerked his hips forward as far as his constraints would allow, pushing his cock towards Tamara’s face. She batted it away.
“No, no. Not yet. I need to have some fun with you first.”
Noah laughed, those gorgeous, full lips parting into a lazy grin. “Be nice to me, Tamara. I’m a little out of practice.”
She hopped off the bed and walked around him, palm frond in hand. “I’m always nice to you, Noah.” Smack. The palm landed hard across his ass. Noah’s hands went slightly limp.
“Hollllly shit that’s good,” he moaned.
“I know what you like, baby.” Smack. The back of his thighs. Noah’s cock was so hard it looked painful, the tip more ruddy and red than before. He groaned again, a low growl that emanated from somewhere in the depths of his stomach. Tamara knew that sound. That was what Noah sounded like when he was entering into another plane of pleasure, one merged with so much physical sensation that his limbs were going numb and his balls were ringing. She knew. This part of him she knew all too well.
Back in front of him on the bed, Tamara took Noah’s cock in her hands and ran her nails lightly down the length of it. Not enough to scratch, but enough to make him ride the line between discomfort and pain. Noah shivered, and his eyes rolled back in his head, lips parting. Tamara bent down and took his balls in her mouth, sucking and rolling them alternately over her tongue. She began to stroke Noah’s cock, which was quivering in her palm.
She moved up to his tip, her tongue circling the ridge of it to tease him before gagging herself on the entire length of it. Tamara could feel Noah’s cock against the back of her throat, and as she worked him with her mouth she took his balls in hand, squeezing just enough to make his hips writhe. The sounds of Tamara gagging herself echoed down the empty halls of the showroom, and when she reached around to smack Noah’s ass again with the palm frond, the echo seemed to bounce and reverberate off of every surface.
When she pulled away, a long silvery thread of saliva and precum trailed from her mouth to the tip of his dick. She used this to lather him up, then reached down and did the same to herself. Tamara stood up and pressed her body against Noah’s chest, letting his rigid cock slip between her thighs. She moved her body side to side, feeling him slip and slide between the soft skin of her legs.
“Should I fuck you now, Noah? I don’t think you can hold out much longer, look at you.” A slight smack with the palm across his stomach.
“Please fuck me, Tamara. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.” His lips were trembling, as were his hands, his legs. Poor thing. Tamara felt a pang of pity and reached to unbind him. Noah collapsed forward on all fours, his ass skyward and head buried between his arms.
“There, there.” Tamara stroked his back, kissing down his spine, “I’m going to take good care of you now.” She flipped him over and mounted him. She was so wet there was an audible sound when she sat on Noah’s cock, the sound of fluids running rivers over her lips and slit. She began to pump, working him in a steady build and then relenting, pausing, dangling him over the edge and then stopping right when he seemed ready to burst.
Her cunt was purring again, pleasure pulsing in rings throughout her clit and insides. She gripped Noah’s chest, her hands digging firmly into the skin of his stomach. She was rocking him, her tits bouncing in a steady dance in front of his face.
“You’re on some other shit, Tamara. Holy shit, look at you.” She felt herself radiate outwards, bold in her skin, confident love-maker, ass that could bring people to their knees. Tamara was feelin’ herself. Her self-assurance warmed her even further, melding with her pleasure and bringing her to a state of utter euphoria. She felt Noah’s hands grip her ass with a new urgency. He was close.
Tamara reached down and began working her clit, still sensitive from her earlier orgasm. It didn’t take much, and as she began to feel the swell of another one within her Noah thrust deeply and then took her by the hips, pulling her up and off. She came in the air, her fingers twitching against her slick pussy. Noah’s cum went skyward as well, then dripped heavily onto the expanse of his stomach. The lay panting against one another, saying nothing but letting their hands travel the landscape of each other’s body.
Finally, Noah licked his lips and swallowed as though parched after a grueling marathon. “Jesus Christ. Why did I ever leave? That’ll do for a welcome back.” Around them lay a rumpled and soiled duvet, a tattered palm frond, and some sad looking tape measures.
Tamara sighed, “Nothing like fucking on some ready-to-assemble furniture after hours. Those customers don’t know what they’re missing.” She pinched one of his nipples, teasing him.
“So…” Noah said, “Since I’m your underling now does that mean this whole palm and tape measure routine can be a regular thing?”
“Excuse me, don’t get ahead of yourself. We’ve got other territory to explore. There’s lighting, cabinetry, Småland, the warehouse. Honestly we’ve got our work cut out for us.”
Noah rolled on his side and traced a finger over Tamara’s nipple, down her chest, over her belly. “You’re not that great of a manager, you know? Letting me get away with all these shenanigans, watching me corrupt the integrity of company products. So bad.” He pinched her nipple this time.
“Yeah, well, long as I treat you nice, right?”