I’m late again. I tried to sneak in a quick visit to see Mom before work, but I underestimated the terrible traffic. I should have left earlier but it’s always tough saying goodbye; now I’m going to be late. Not that anyone will notice of course. I’m invisible. Only one person at the firm has showed me any attention and I’m doing my best to avoid him as much as possible.

Every night, I wait for him to leave his office and then sneak in to clean quickly while he’s in the kitchen or bathroom. Then he caught me. I should be able to handle a few glances from my boss, but it’s different with Damon.

I used to wonder why women would risk their entire careers to throw themselves at their boss. Now I know. He has an aura. He doesn’t have to speak to me or even look at me. Just being in his vicinity is enough to make me feel warm and tingly.

Samantha noticed the glow to my cheeks when I got home the other night. She’s only ever perceptive when it comes to my sex life. I could move out of the apartment and she wouldn’t notice until the landlord started chasing the rent. However, the second I develop a tiny bit of a crush on someone, she’s the first to notice.

Once the traffic clears up, I hit the gas and drive a little bit faster than I should to make sure I’m only ten minutes late for work. The law firm is quiet and most of the office doors are open revealing empty offices.

All but one.

Does he sleep here?

I grab my supplies and start cleaning some of the empty offices while I wait for Damon to leave his office. This is stupid. I can’t do this every time he stays late in the office, but I also can’t let him treat me the way he did the other day. Just because I’m a cleaner, doesn’t mean he can treat me like shit.

I’m going to do something.

No I’m not.

Screw it, yes I am.

I storm towards Damon’s office like a woman possessed, which is not that far from the truth. I’m about to burst into his room, but at the last second I decide to knock.

“Yeah,” comes the gruff reply.

I walk in and stand up straight. Damon doesn’t so much as look up from a memo he’s reading.

“Sir?”

“Don’t call me ‘sir,’” he replies, still not acknowledging me.

“Mr. Caldwell.”

“Damon.”

My throat feels dry all of a sudden. I swallow, which only makes it worse. Damon still hasn’t looked at me. Have I annoyed him somehow? I suddenly feel out of my depth. This could all go very wrong, but I’m committed now.

“Damon,” I say firmly. “I know I’m only a cleaner here, but I still deserve to be treated with respect. I shouldn’t need to worry about getting ogled at work by the resident ladies’ man.” I trail off not knowing what else to say. I should have planned the speech out a little. “We need to keep things professional,” I continue. “I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

Seconds pass like hours while Damon continues reading his memo.

“Are you quite finished?” Damon asks, finally looking up at me. There are bags under his eyes, but he’s still so God damn smoldering.

I nod sheepishly and wait for him to speak. I keep waiting and waiting.

Should I say something? Should I apologize?

“Close the door,” he says firmly.

Oh shit, I’m going to get fired. This was a really bad idea. Why the hell did I come in here and tell off my boss?

I don’t technically need to close the door because there are only two other attorneys in the building and they’re at the other end of the floor. This doesn’t seem like the time to argue.

“Lock it,” he adds.

I do as he says. My stomach contracts as the lock clicks into place. I turn back to face him and try to look stern. If he thinks I’m weak then my little speech will have all been for nothing. If I’m going to get fired, I might as well go out with a bit of pride.

“Come here,” he commands.

My legs move without any order from my brain. I stand opposite him on the other side of the desk. He shakes his head and points to the floor next to him.

I stand where he tells me, but I don’t know why. Damon leans back in his chair and just stares at me. This isn’t what I had in mind when I gave my speech about being professional.

“Why did you come in here and give that little speech?” Damon asks eventually.

I’m wondering that myself. I came in here to tell him off, but now I’m not so sure. That’s the excuse I used, so I’ll have to stick with it.

“I want to maintain a professional relationship,” I say calmly, looking slightly above his head as I talk. I can’t look at his eyes—or anywhere else on his body—without going weak at the knees.

“What part of our relationship wasn’t professional before?”

“Well, uh… you kept looking at me.”

Christ, Kara, do you have any idea how stupid that sounds? You’ve come in here and made a big fuss because you think your boss is looking at you funny. I’ve had bosses and teachers with wandering eyes in the past, but none of them have looked like Damon. He has higher standards than overweight cleaners.

“I look at a lot of people, Kara. It doesn’t mean I plan to fuck them.”

Plan to fuck them. Not want to fuck them—plan to fuck them. I wonder if a woman has ever turned him down?

“I think you’re confused,” Damon continues. “From my point of view, it’s not me who needs to act professional; it’s you.”

“I don’t understand.”

Damon reaches out and touches the soft cotton of my blouse. His fingers come within inches of my breasts. I hold my breath, but he only fingers the material before moving down to my skirt. He brushes the fabric without applying any pressure to my skin. This is so wrong, but I don’t consider stopping him.

“You dressed casually your first day on the job,” Damon says. “Now you’re dressing to impress. Do you deny it?”

“I… I’m just…”

“I’ll take that as a no. I’m the only one in the office when you’re here, so it’s not hard to figure out who you’re trying to impress. So, I have to wonder, why go to the effort of dressing up for me if you’re going to come in here and insist I don’t pay you any extra attention.”

This is all Samantha’s fault. She’s the one who made me dress up for work to look nice for Damon. I mean, I didn’t exactly put up much of a fight, but it’s still her fault.

“I like to look nice at work,” I reply. “That’s not a crime.”

“You wouldn’t be the first woman to dress up to impress me.”

“I’m not—”

“It’s not professional to lie to your boss. Are you sure you want to finish that sentence?”

I stand there open mouthed, unable to complete the lie. “Would you like me to dress more plainly?” I ask.

“No, I like you like this. However, there is one more thing you should do if you really want to impress me.”

“What’s that?” I ask. Whatever it is, I’m not going to do it. I’m just curious. That’s all.

“I prefer my women not to be wearing any panties. They just get in the way.”

I nod even though I don’t understand. Surely, he doesn’t expect me to come to work without any panties on?

“Do we have an understanding?” Damon asks.

I nod again, my body completely betraying my better judgment. Why the hell am I going along with this crap?

“Then you can leave,” he adds. “I have work to do.”

I walk slowly and calmly out of the office, but the second the door is shut, I run straight to the bathroom and throw cold water over my face. It doesn’t help. I’m burning up inside and it’s nothing to do with the temperature or even embarrassment.

I lock myself in a stall and hitch up my skirt. I lean against the side, my left hand on the toilet paper dispenser for support as my right hand slides quickly under my soaking-wet panties.

I’ve never needed relief this badly before. I’m going to explode if I don’t come. I imagine Damon’s fingers sliding up my skirt and ripping my panties off, before sliding his fingers inside me. My fantasies are usually slow, romantic, and methodical, but there’s no time for that. I’ve barely touched my clit when I feel my legs shaking uncontrollably as the heat spreads through my core. My imagination skips forward to me lowering my pussy down on Damon’s massive cock

I quickly reach over and flush the toilet to create some noise. I stay silent for the initial explosion within me, but eventually a deep groan escapes as the subsequent tremors work through my body.

I sit on the toilet for ten minutes until my breathing has returned to normal and then I get back to work with a constant feeling of guilt clouding my emotions. What came over me? I’ve never done anything like that at work before?

Damon demeaned me and showed no interest in me whatsoever. Do I get off on that kind of thing now? If so, I need to quit this job, because Damon is trouble.

Trouble is the last thing I need right now.