"I do love a good soirée!" Rarely was Cordelia in such a fine mood, spinning on a pair of stilettos and giving her plump backside a final onceover, "and to have a outfit that can stretch! Splendid!"
A cream-colored, sequin dress clung to Cordelia's bountiful booty, emphasizing the wide hips that she had been blessed with. The bodice was tight enough to make it obvious that she was not wearing a bra, and the hem hugged her fleshy thighs, leaving plenty of meat on display, "And you look – ravishing – darling." Cordelia's voice was a purr, manicured fingertips gliding along the collar of my blazer.
I groaned, "I hate these office parties."
"Nonsense, human. You clean up quite nicely, when you try, which is far too seldom."
We'd ducked off into a private restroom, Cordelia eager to adjust my suit fitting to her liking; the dark elf debutante was peculiar about our appearances as a couple.
"You know, back on Azren, the galas of the Underdark were lavished affairs. Crystalline ballrooms, feasts fit for a clan matron, dancing and drinking all night long. I miss those days terribly," Cordelia sighed wistfully. "But alas, we must settle for what we can get, eh?"
"This is a Christmas party, Delia; sorry to burst your bubble."
Her hands roamed to my waistline, fiddling with a few of the suit jacket's buttons, "We are yoked now, human, and you must keep your coat closed at formal events. It emphasizes the...What is this?"
In a deft motion, Cordelia retrieved a frosted gingerbread cookie from my pocket. I'd tried to indulge myself while sparing the sugar-addict of her own vices; that plan had backfired.
Since we'd started dating, Cordelia and I had been working through her inherent addiction to the artificially-sweetened confections of the modern world.
"It's nothing," I dismissed half-heartedly, yet Cordelia's crimson orbs continued to widen into vacant saucers, "Delia, you can't be serious. It's one cookie! Can't you restrain yourself?"
"Oh, but they're so delicious, darling. So sweet and buttery, like biting directly into a piece of heaven." She licked her lips, just one nibble...maybe a bite...where did you get these? Two couldn't hurt..."
"No," I gripped the exposed flesh of her strapless shoulders, "You need to focus."
"B-But, human! Please, tonight is a special occasion, no? Allow me this single, sugar-spiced biscuit and I will," her brow knitted in desperation, before relaxing with coy confidence; I could feel her digits slip against my inner thigh, "indulge both our appetites." Cordelia nodded to an adjacent stall, the conditions of her proposal not lost upon me; a cookie for some nookie.
Fuck. How could I resist this mocha-skinned temptress?
"Delia, you – just eat it; you know what I want in return." We clumsily slipped into the empty stall, the door locking with a click.
Her face broke out into a smile, "Oh, you are such a tease, human. You know I am always ready to please." She slid her hand down to my crotch, rubbing my firm bulge with her fingertips, "Let us see if your trousers are as accommodating as you are."
Sure, we'd hooked up in the office plenty of times – hell, it was something of a ritual – but there was something about shacking up in a bathroom while our lifeless coworkers made small talk outside; twas the season to be a bit naughty.