Executive Privilege Ch. 07 (Patreon)

Hey Friends! Hope everyone is well. I can't believe we are already halfway through 2025 already! That also means our Patreon page is a year

Hey Friends! Hope everyone is well. I can't believe we are already halfway through 2025 already! That also means our Patreon page is a year old!!! Thank you to everyone for making this dream come true. I am truly at a loss for words. I want to celebrate the milestone with something fun, maybe a series of polls similar to like The Oscars or High School superlatives. If anyone has ideas, feel free to send them my way. I'll share another post about it when I get it more ironed out.

On the writing front, I'm nearly done with the Insider version of Newlywed's (hoping to wrap it up no lately than Wed), with plans to get it to this group by the end of the month. I have a few other shorts I'm in the process of working on as well and hope to get those worked back into the schedule soon.

Can't wait to hear what you all think of this chapter. Enjoy!

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"So, Jon, the last time you were here you talked about Wendy going on an unexpected trip to New Orleans and how that could have brought up some troubling memories from your past." Dr. Carson adjusted his glasses, his brown eyes studied Jon. His weathered hands were folded neatly on his notebook. "How do you think that trip went?"

The burgundy armchair Jon sat in was stiff, and made him reposition himself several times before answering. He knew Dr. Carson would take it as a sign that he was uneasy, but the truth was, he wasn't. Jon and Wendy talked multiple times during the trip, he even tried to get her to go out and enjoy the city, but Wendy was just too focused on work to care about that.

"Honestly," he started, trying to focus his attention on the facts instead of the nervous twitch of his leg. "I think it was great. Wendy said the presentation was a huge success. She even got special recognition by our CEO during our company all hands."

The scribble of Dr. Carson's pencil was all that could be heard as he nodded softly, taking detailed notes. "That's great, Jon. But," he sat his pencil down and turned his attention back to his patient. "I mean on a personal level. How do you think it went for the two of you?"

Jon managed a laugh, more nervous energy. "Oh, it was fine. I mean, she stayed pretty busy and when we talked it was mostly around work." He shifted in the chair again. "I did tell her she should get out and see the city a bit, but she's just so focused on her work."

"I see. When you two spoke, how was the conversation? Was there any tension? Did you argue at all?"

"Not really. I mean," he paused, and turned his attention to the window watching a plane fly by in the distance.

Dr. Carson watched him, making a note of the stall tactic but allowing Jon to take the time he needed in order to process the thought.

"There was one small argument," he finally admitted. "But it was nothing really. Just a miscommunication."

"What kind of miscommunication?"

"After she told me about the meeting and how successful it was I got excited for her. I told her she should start thinking about the analytics of the market and how the demographic is different."

Dr. Carson cocked his eyebrow, he could already tell where this was going. Emotional maturity seemed to be Jon's Achilles Heel as of late. It was something he was determined to work through with Jon.

"She sort of snapped on me and said she just wanted to celebrate."

"That's a perfectly reasonable request, don't you think? How did you respond?"

"Yeah, I guess it is." Jon ran his fingers over his face letting out a long breath. "I told her I thought we should go out and celebrate when she got back."

"That's great, Jon." Dr. Carson smiled, he was making progress. "And did you?"

There was a pregnant pause, and the moment of pride seemed to leave the doctor's face.

"No," Jon finally admitted. "I mean, I meant to, but then everything got so crazy at work."

Dr. Carson set down his pencil entirely. "What happened?"

"After Wendy's promotion, Marcus put her in my office. There wasn't any empty space available, and he said since we had the same title now it would make sense." Jon's fingers found the arm of the chair, drumming a nervous rhythm. "But for that first week she was back, Wendy was in high demand."

"How so?"

"Everyone seemed to be stopping by, running ideas past her. People who'd never given her the time of day before were suddenly asking for her input on their campaigns." Jon's voice carried a note of pride mixed with frustration. "It was incredible to watch, honestly. She'd light up every time someone asked her opinion."

"But?"

"But it was distracting. I fell behind on my own work, had to stay late most nights just to catch up." Jon hung his head, realizing how selfish it sounded. "By the time I got home, we were both exhausted. The celebration dinner kept getting pushed back."

Dr. Carson leaned forward slightly. "And how did Wendy respond to that?"

"She said she understood. That work had to come first." Jon's voice grew quieter. "But I could tell she was disappointed. I could see it in her face."

The facial expression of Dr. Carson never changed, but Jon could tell he was deep in thought. After nearly a whole minute of awkward silence the doctor casually removed his glasses. "I'm proud of you, Jon. You were able to tell she was disappointed, and that's a good first step."

Jon continued to run his fingers over the coarse fabric of the chair, he already knew what the doctor was going to say next.

"let's change gears," Dr. Carson said, surprising Jon. "We've talked a lot about you since Wendy came back from the New Orleans trip. What about her? How's she been acting?"

This was a test, Jon could see it from a mile away. Dr. Carson had harped on Jon's ability to read the room and understand emotions, he was checking to see if he'd been doing that.

"She's actually been a lot more confident at work, assertive even." Jon couldn't help but smile, There was no way Dr. Carson would be able to tell him he wasn't making that emotional connection. "But then there's little things."

"Such as?"

"Like... it's probably nothing, but Wendy has always been real particular about how she dresses." He ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth as he watched Dr. Carson's expression. "I mean, she has made it a point to try to dress down so she doesn't draw attention. She doesn't want to be known for how she looks." Jon squirmed in his seat. "But since she's been back I've noticed she leaves the top button of her blouse undone. It's dumb I know, but... it's different."

"Do you think maybe she's just more confident now that she's found success?"

"Yeah, I mean maybe."

"And how does that make you feel? Knowing that she has that confidence?" He couldn't help but smile at himself for the old cliche.

"Proud. Impressed, even." Jon straightened up in the chair, puffing his chest out. "She's always been brilliant, but now she's not hiding it anymore."

"So, why are you here?"

The question seemed to take the wind out of Jon's sails.

"Wha... what do you mean?"

"Well," he sat down his notebook and grabbed a glass of water that sat on the table beside him. "You seem to be able to tell when you've done something to upset Wendy and you say you're proud of her. So then why make the appointment?"

"It's just..." Jon sank down in the chair a little more, his hands suddenly clammy. "It's... well I told you about Michael." Dr. Carson nodded. "She went on the trip with him, which is fine. I mean I trust her."

"But?" There was always a but in situations like this.

"But since she's been back, on top of dressing different, she's been defending him." Jon shook his head. "I know how that sounds, I do. But you should have seen her before, she hated the guy. She called him arrogant, inappropriate, said he made her skin crawl." Jon's fingers curled into a fist on his knee. "Yesterday, I mentioned that he'd been particularly demanding lately, working people too hard. She got defensive immediately. Said he was just passionate about excellence, that not everyone understands his management style."

"So, you're jealous. You think she's cheating?" Dr. Carson's tone was calm. They'd talked about this in their first meeting and Jon completely dismissed it. Now, it seemed to be a common theme.

"No. God, no." Jon's response came quick and emphatic. "Actually, according to research from the Journal of Marriage and Family, sixty-three percent of people who engage in extramarital affairs show decreased sexual interest in their primary relationship." He leaned forward slightly. "Wendy's been the complete opposite. She's more... eager. More adventurous. Sometimes she initiates twice in one evening."

Dr. Carson's eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly. "And that concerns you?"

"It doesn't concern me, exactly. It's just unexpected." Jon's cheeks flushed slightly. "She's always had a healthy appetite, but this feels different. More... intense."

Dr. Carson made another note in his notebook, but Jon couldn't figure out what it said. "Ok, so if you don't think she's cheating why does it bother you?"

"Because it's such a complete reversal. Six weeks ago, she was ready to file a complaint about him over a holiday party mishap. Now she's defending his character."

Dr. Carson set down his pen, leaning back in his chair. "Jon, isn't it possible that working closely with someone on a successful project might change your perspective on them? Perhaps Wendy saw a different side of Michael during their collaboration."

"I suppose." Jon didn't sound convinced.

"What I'm hearing is a man whose wife has experienced significant professional growth, increased confidence, and renewed passion for their relationship. These are positive changes, yet you're seeing them as a negative." Dr. Carson's voice carried gentle challenge. "Do you remember the cognitive reframing exercises we discussed in your last visit?"

"Yes, and I've been doing them, but-"

"I want you to keep working on them, Jon" Dr. Carson looked at his watch. "You seem to still be looking for problems that aren't really there. Why do you think that is?"

Jon chewed on his lip. This was different, he knew it was, but then hadn't he thought that last time as well? "Because I'm terrified of being blindsided again. With Olivia, I missed all the signs until it was too late."

"But you didn't miss signs with Olivia. That's the problem, Jon. You created them, much like you seem to be doing now. You analyzed her behavior until you convinced yourself of a narrative that wasn't real." Dr. Carson leaned forward. "Are you going to make the same mistake with Wendy?"

"No. I won't." Jon's voice carried conviction, but Dr. Carson could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

"Here's what I want you to do." Dr. Carson picked up his pen, scribbling on a prescription pad. "Stop analyzing. Start trusting. Take Wendy out this weekend, it's not too late for that celebration. Ask her how she's enjoying her new position. Listen to her, connect with her."

He tore off the paper and handed it across the desk. In his scribbled handwriting, it read: Trust her. Trust yourself. Connect.

He stood up and extended his hand to Jon, marking the end of their session. "And Jon, stop looking for problems in your marriage. Sometimes the best thing you can do for love is simply let it flourish."

***

Three weeks had passed since New Orleans, and the intoxicating rush of people coming into the office with congratulatory smiles, meetings with executives, and champagne toasts had slowed to a halt. For three weeks, Wendy was the talk of the office, the rising star with a bright future, then in the blink of an eye, she was just another face.

She knew she should be content. Her promotion was official, she was now an Account Manager with a nice raise. She even got to share an office with Jon, a perk Michael was none too thrilled about when they got back from their trip. She'd overheard him and Marcus arguing about it one night after hours. Michael had insisted the best place for Wendy was in Michael's office where he could properly mentor her. It was a thought that made the hair on her arms stand up. In the end however, Marcus pulled rank, saying Jon was one of the best account managers on the team and Wendy could learn plenty from him. Plus, sharing an office with the director could not only be looked at as favoritism, but would also distract Michael from his duties as a leader.

Those first weeks back from New Orleans had been an adjustment. Michael had tried his usual tactics, putting his hand around her waist when they worked together, late night office visits reviewing documents, comments about her appearance. But she'd maintained her boundaries, kept things professional, just like she said she would.

Since becoming account manager, Wendy was now in charge of four different accounts. Everything from the creative strategy, to the budget and projected revenue. She should have been happy. This was exactly what she wanted. Still, she couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment as Jon strolled into their shared office with a cup of coffee and a smile.

"How's the Wellness campaign?" He asked, as he set the coffee down on her desk.

"Just putting the finishing touches on the budget," she replied, faking a smile. In truth, she missed the rush of the Fireball account. This account, a regional dog food chain, had a budget of 250 thousand dollars. It wasn't anything to turn her nose up at, but it was peanuts compared to Fireball.

She closed her eyes, a smile forming on her lips as she recalled the way Jack had looked at her when she entered the office that second day in New Orleans. She shifted in her chair, absentmindedly rubbing her thighs together, remembering the way she caught the CFO staring at her before she casually mentioned his wife. That was true power, it was exhilarating. This was...

"Everything okay?" Jon asked, as he opened the blinds in the office to let the morning sun shine through like a spotlight on her most inner thoughts.

"Yeah, fine," Wendy said, sliding her hand over her neck and unbuttoning the top button of her red blouse. "Just... hot."

"Oh, did you um..." Jon lost his train of thought for a second as he watched Wendy pop the button open on her blouse, her silk, black bra beneath coming into view. He swallowed the lump in his throat, remembering Dr. Carson's words and fighting the urge to ask her why she was suddenly more secure about her appearance. "Did you want me to crack a window?"

Before Wendy had a chance to reply, Jon continued. "The pollen index is unusually high for this time of year, and the humidity is 82%, well above normal."

"No, it's fine." She stood up from her desk, her chair pushing against the wall. "I'm going to go refill my water."

Before she could take a step, Michael's laugh boomed down the hall making her pulse spike before she could stop it. "You keep up that sort of initiative, Jenny, and I'm sure I can find a spot for you on the Fireball team." Her fingers balled into a fist, sliding across the heel of her palm one-two-three-four. One-two-three-four. One...

The office door burst open without so much as a tap, Michael's presence immediately shifting the energy of the room as his gaze fell on Wendy, or more specifically, the open button of her blouse. His eyes lingered for a moment on the silk beneath.

"Just the couple I was hoping to see," he said with a laugh, before shifting his focus to Jon. "I have a Fireball update."

Wendy's face lit up, and she stood a little straighter, not bothering to fix the button of her blouse. Finally, a chance to return to the big leagues and to show just how much more she had to offer.

"Just got off a call with Jack Peterson." Michael's focus stayed on Jon. "All three Nashville venues have confirmed for the launch in two weeks. All that's left is to run the numbers and confirm our projections match the projections of the venue managers."

Wendy dropped back down into her chair, her fingers clicking away on her keyboard. "No problem, I can—"

"Actually," Michael interrupted, "I was talking to Jon." Wendy felt the air leave her lungs. "Now that the initial hype of the project has died down, we need to shift into more of a team mindset."

The dismissive nature of his comment made Wendy want to scream. After all they'd been through, after proving how capable she was, after New Orleans...

"I can have the preliminary numbers for you by the end of the day," Jon said, oblivious to the storm of emotions going on in Wendy's chest. "Venue managers tend to lowball their numbers, usually by as much as seven percent. I'll make some phone calls."

Wendy watched the exchange with growing frustration, waiting for Michael to outline her role in the process. When the silence stretched too long, she cleared her throat.

"What do you need me to do?"

Michael's attention shifted to her with what looked like mild disinterest. "The creative is locked, Wendy. Jack loved what we developed. Now it's just execution."

"But I can—"

"Listen," Michael's tone grew more authoritative, "now that the preliminary development is finished, Fireball's going to be more of a team effort. Jon can handle the analytical side, you focus on what you do best, the creative elements." His smile seemed perfunctory. "In fact, Jenny, the new hire, has some really great ideas. Maybe you should—"

"I can handle the creative," Wendy said, more defensive than she'd have liked. Heat flooded her cheeks, equal parts embarrassment and anger.

Michael threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Fine fine. I'll let you figure it out." He took a step closer to Wendy, his gut pushing over a jar of pens on her desk, his gaze clearly fixed on her chest. "Unless you just miss spending so much time with me. In which case, I'm sure I can think of something that requires more... hands-on collaboration."

Heat crawled up Wendy's neck, she looked over her shoulder at Jon, she couldn't believe how blatant Michael was being. Fortunately, Jon was already hard at work doing what Michael had asked.

"I'm... I'm fine," Wendy said, her fingers already spinning her wedding ring without realizing it. The ding of an incoming email grabbed her attention. The dog food chain had approved her budget. They were ready to move forward with the campaign.

When Wendy looked back up from her screen, Michael was already gone, disappointment filled her face.

"The team approach makes the most sense," Jon said, sensing her frustration. "The division of labor will mean no one gets burnt out and Fireball will see they have the full force of the company."

Wendy nodded in agreement, but her facial expression went unchanged. Three weeks ago she was the queen of the castle. Jack Peterson was hanging on every word she said, Brian was talking about her taking his job one day, Michael couldn't get enough of her... she chewed on her lip dismissing that last thought.

She wasn't naive, she knew this was the normal progression for large clients. Jon was right, this made the most sense both for the company and for Fireball, but Wendy couldn't help but feel like she was being sidelined. For a brief second she allowed herself to wonder what Gold Dress Wendy would do in this situation. The thought of it made her nipples harden slightly, poking against the fabric of her bra.

"Plus it means no more late nights at the office. Maybe we can finally have that celebration dinner."

"Yeah," she whispered. "That sounds nice." She stood back up from her desk, a determined look on her face. "I'm going to go refill my water now. I'll be back."

***

Wendy made her way down the hallway toward the break room, the chatter of the other people in the office drowning out the click of her heels against the tile. As Wendy filled her water bottle she replayed the way Michael had looked at her, had dismissed her. She knew he was challenging her, seeing how far he could push before he broke her. She wouldn't let him win, not now that she'd seen what success looked like. The cold liquid of the water splashed against her skin, snapping her from her thoughts before she overfilled the water bottle completely.

Three weeks ago, executives hung on her every word. Now Jenny, whoever the hell that is, gets to share ideas with Michael about HER campaign. She'd barely been at the company a month, and now she's stealing Michael's attention. There was only one reason why that would happen and Wendy was sure it wasn't because of her creative skills.

"You look... different."

Wendy turned to find Ava leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed and her lips curved into a half smile. The playful banter was no longer there, replaced by something that was still friendly but distant.

"Hey." Wendy straightened, suddenly conscious of her unbuttoned blouse. "How are you?"

"Fine. Busy." Ava's gaze lingered on Wendy's neckline, then traveled back to her face. "What happened to not wanting to be the girl who uses her looks to get ahead?"

Heat colored Wendy's face, but she swallowed the anger down. Ava had a right to be upset with her. "Just trying something new," she said looking toward the floor. "Look, Ava, about what I said."

"No, you were right," she said, flatly. "I should focus on my own career. You clearly know what's best for yours."

"I didn't mean—"

"It's fine, Wendy really." She turned to leave then paused. "But seriously, when you're ready to talk about what's really going on. I'm here... and so is Marcus."

Tears stung the back of Wendy's eyes as she watched her friend disappear down the hallway, leaving her alone with the steady hum of the water cooler and a growing sense of isolation. Part of her wanted to call out, to confess everything about New Orleans, but she didn't. Besides, what would she say, that Michael had convinced her to dress more appealing for her audience and as a result she landed the deal? Or that she, not Michael, was so wound up by all the success that she let him bring her to orgasm on the plane? No, this was Wendy's cross to bear. She was just playing the same game everyone else had been playing for years as they passed her by. She was using everything at her disposal to her advantage, Ava was just too short-sighted to see it.

She made her way back toward her office, her mind churning with fragments of frustration and wounded pride. As she passed Michael's office, the sound of laughter made her pause. Through the open door she could see Michael sitting behind the desk, his hands behind his head like he was the most important man on earth. In front of him was a smaller frame with shoulder-length brown hair. The woman looked young, maybe early-twenties, with a youthful excitement in her voice when she spoke.

Jenny.

Wendy's stomach dropped as she watched the interaction. Jenny was pointing at something on Michael's screen, her giggle like nails on a chalkboard. As Wendy watched the interaction, she couldn't help but notice that Michael was looking at Jenny's body more than the screen.

While Jenny was certainly younger, she didn't have Wendy's natural beauty. She was more of the traditional girl next-door. Her dark hair and eyes, coupled with her conservative clothing didn't make Wendy understand what Michael had seen in her. Then she saw when Jenny laughed, she reached out and touched Michael's chest, her head thrown back in joy. She watched Michael's smile grow, clearly enjoying the attention of the younger woman.

Before she could second-guess herself, Wendy knocked on the door frame and stepped into the office.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, putting on her best smile as both heads turned toward her. "But I was thinking more about what you said in the office."

Jenny straightened, her expression shifting from enthusiasm to polite confusion. Michael's eyes swept over Wendy, a look of satisfaction on his face.

"What about it?"

Wendy swallowed, her hands shaking slightly as she leaned forward on his desk, allowing her shirt to open a little more than usual. She saw Michael's gaze fix on her chest, and she felt the same rush of power spill over her she'd felt in New Orleans.

"I was hoping to go over a few new strategies for the rollout with you. We've always seemed to... click when running ideas past one another."

"I'm sure we could schedule something," Michael replied, a look of satisfaction growing on his face as he forgot all about Jenny.

"This afternoon, maybe?" She fidgeted slightly. She knew what it sounded like she was suggesting. She just needed to figure out a way to keep him interested while not crossing any more boundaries.

"Unfortunately, my afternoon is packed solid." Michael looked back over at Jenny with a hungry gaze before focusing back on Wendy. "But if it's that important to you, perhaps we could meet tomorrow evening... After hours, when we won't be interrupted."

"That um... that would be perfect," Wendy said, shifting her feet. The sense of uneasiness being replaced by the satisfaction of winning his attention.

Jenny shifted uncomfortably, clearly recognizing her dismissal. "I should probably get back to my desk anyway. Thanks for your time, Michael."

"Of course, Jenny. I'll circle back with you soon."

As Jenny gathered her materials, Wendy couldn't resist letting her hips sway slightly as she moved toward the door. The younger woman shot her a look that was equal parts confusion and irritation, but Wendy just smiled serenely.

"Six o'clock tomorrow then?" Michael called after her. "And Wendy?" He paused meaningfully. "It'd be nice to see the girl I saw in New Orleans. She had... fire."

Wendy nodded, almost on instinct alone. A warmth spread from her core as she replayed the events of New Orleans. She knew she couldn't let that version of herself loose here, but maybe, just maybe, there was a happy medium she could try to find.

As she walked back to her office, Wendy felt a renewed energy. She had a chance to get back into the action for the Fireball campaign. Not only did she successfully remind Michael what she brought to the table, she asserted her dominance over Jenny. She may have been younger, but no one could replace Wendy Taylor when she decided she wanted something.

She knew what Michael thought she was agreeing to, but it wasn't about that at all, she told herself as she sat back down at her desk. This was about strategic positioning, about not letting her star power fade. In New Orleans, she'd gotten results. She got out of her own head and it was an overwhelming success. There was no reason she couldn't channel that confidence again.

"How'd the water run go?" Jon asked, glancing up from his screen.

"Fine. Just ran into a few people." Wendy opened her laptop, already planning what she'd wear tomorrow. Something to push Michael's buttons, but conservative enough that she didn't feel dirty doing it.

Jon's phone buzzed, and his face lit up as he checked the message. "Great news. I managed to get us a reservation at Marcello's for tomorrow night at seven. Figured it was finally time for that celebration dinner we kept postponing."

Wendy's stomach dropped, the celebration. She'd completely forgotten about it. "That's so sweet of you, but..." She turned in her chair, and reached out to touch his arm. "Michael needs me to stay late tomorrow night. Something urgent with the Fireball account."

"Can't it wait until Friday?"

"You know how he is when he wants something." The words carried more weight than she intended, and she quickly looked away. "But maybe we could do something special tonight instead? Head to the casino to people watch and eat burgers?"

Jon's face brightened at the suggestion. "That sounds even better, actually. I wish I'd thought of it."

"Perfect." Wendy leaned over and kissed his cheek, letting her hand linger on his shoulder. "I'll make it worth the wait for that fancy dinner."

As Jon turned back to his computer screen, Wendy felt the warm glow of satisfaction. Tonight she'd be the perfect wife. Tomorrow, she'd remind Michael exactly why she was irreplaceable. Gold dress Wendy would be proud.

---

Wendy smiled as she slid into the burgundy colored booth at Lucky's Diner, a burger joint in the middle of the casino overlooking the casino floor. The ding of slot machines and muffled conversations filled the space with background noise as Jon slipped into the worn booth across from her. When they were dating they'd spent countless hours here together, people watching and enjoying each other's company as they laughed about statistics and human nature. A warmth washed over Wendy, having not realized how much she'd missed this.

"Remember our third date?" Jon asked, as the waitress dropped off their beer order. "You corrected my probability calculations on that basketball game."

Wendy laughed, shaking her head. "You mean your March Madness bracket where you had Duke winning it all based on their free throw percentages?"

"Hey now, statistical analysis suggested they had the highest probability of winning based on clutch performance metrics." Jon's mock defensiveness made her nearly shoot beer from her nose. "Then you pointed out that half their starting lineup was nursing injuries and their best shooter had a girlfriend who'd just dumped him."

She gave a playful shrug. "Human psychology trumps spreadsheets every time." She needed this more than she realized. All of the politicking at the office was taking a toll on her. It was nice to just be Wendy for a minute. "You looked so shocked when I was right."

"Not shocked. Impressed." His gaze from across the table caused her to bite her lip. "I'd never met anyone like you before." He stood up and slid into the booth next to her, putting his hand in hers. "I still haven't."

Wendy chewed on the inside of her cheek, guilt creeping into her conscious thought for the first time. She hated that she was going behind Jon's back with Michael. It was never her intention, not initially anyway. If it hadn't been for that stupid IOU...

Movement in the crowd caught her eye. A woman in a sequined top that hung way too low was feeding bills into a slot machine.

"Recently promoted middle manager," Jon said with a laugh, falling into their old routine. "Probably celebrating a bonus from work."

"Recently divorced," Wendy countered, relief flooding her system as the sense of guilt washed away. "You can see the tan line where her ring used to be. Probably just finalized and is looking to blow off some steam."

Jon studied the woman more carefully, then nodded. "You're right. She keeps looking around, hoping someone notices her."

"Everyone's hoping someone notices them." Wendy placed her hand under the table, finding Jon's knee. "The question is whether they're brave enough to do what it takes once somebody does."

Their food arrived, a couple of burgers with cheese, lettuce and tomato, no pickles. Jon hated pickles. Just the smell of them made him want to vomit. As they bit into their overly greasy food, Wendy sank deeper into the booth.

"God, why is this so good," she laughed, closing her eyes and savoring the taste.

"Guilty pleasures," Jon said, taking a bite for himself. "Our brains are hardwired to enjoy things we shouldn't. It's the thrill of doing something forbidden that gives you a fresh shot of dopamine."

The words hit closer to home than Wendy realized. That rush he described so matter-of-factly, was the exact feeling she had when she stepped into the conference room in New Orleans. When she made Jack listen to her, when she called out the CFO, on the plane when she used Michael to... Her pulse quickened at the thought of it.

She took another bite, the greasy indulgence suddenly feeling like a pale substitute for the real forbidden pleasures that had been occupying her thoughts.

"I've missed this," she said, stealing one of his fries. "Just us, no late nights or presentations or—"

"Work drama," Jon finished. "I know I've been distracted lately. Between the new projects and everything with your promotion..." He squeezed her hand that was still resting on his thigh. "I'm proud of you, you know. Watching you come into your own like this has been incredible."

"Thanks for this. I know it hasn't been easy on you. The promotion, me going out of town. Now I'm stealing your office."

Jon brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Sharing an office together just means we get to spend more time with each other."

As they watched the casino floor, Wendy felt emboldened by the intimacy of the moment and the beer warming her blood. Her hand slipped beneath the table, fingers trailing along Jon's thigh, higher than before.

"Do you think," she whispered, leaning closer, "anyone's watching us the way we watch them?"

Jon's breath caught as her hand moved higher. "Wendy..." He looked around the crowded restaurant. It didn't seem like anyone was paying them any attention at all, but then he could never be too sure.

"What if they are?" Her fingers traced the outline of his shaft, feeling him respond despite his obvious discomfort. "What if someone's creating a story about us right now? What do you think people would say about us? About me?"

"Seriously," Jon said putting his hand on hers. "People might see."

"It's too dark here for them to see." She kissed his neck. "And even if they did, who cares." Her polished nails pressed against his sac. "Maybe they will think we are newlyweds who can't keep our hands off each other." Her nails traveled up his slacks, feeling the wet spot at his tip.

Jon grabbed her wrist, pulling it away, closing his eyes as his shaft swelled. "Later, when we get home."

But Wendy didn't pull away. The rejection stung more than it should have, awakening something restless and hungry inside her. She was tired of getting rejected, of getting put on the backburner. In New Orleans, she'd felt powerful precisely because men couldn't help but look, couldn't control their reactions to her presence. Here, Jon was asking her to dim that light, to contain what she was beginning to recognize as her most potent asset.

"All this time people watching," she slid her hand back between his legs. "I didn't know you'd be so shy about being watched yourself."

"Well I am." He pulled her hand away again. His thumb stroked her wrist apologetically. "Let me get the check. We can go."

Wendy forced a smile and withdrew her hand, but frustration simmered beneath her composed exterior. She understood his reasoning intellectually, but emotionally, it felt like another request to shrink herself, to be smaller and more manageable.

They returned to people-watching, but the nostalgia from earlier was gone. The sequined woman had moved to a different table, and their game of creating backstories felt hollow. Wendy found herself watching Jon instead, noting how his gaze stayed respectfully away from the cocktail waitresses, how he sat with perfect posture even in a casino booth. How... bored she suddenly felt.

"That guy," Jon said, pointing to a younger-looking kid in sunglasses. But Wendy didn't bother looking. She was still feeling the sting from earlier.

Jon grimaced. Noticing the shift in her demeanor, he retreated into the comfort of his burger. Silence settled between them as they finished their meal, and while Jon signaled for the check, Wendy's thoughts had already escaped the restaurant. Unlike Jon, Michael showed no interest in protecting her from herself. His gaze carried uncomplicated hunger when it fell on her, never asking her to be smaller, to contain herself.

Jon left a generous tip and helped her with her coat, every gesture considerate and caring. Walking to the car, his hand warm at the small of her back, Wendy felt the familiar comfort of being cherished.

But as they drove home through the Columbus night, she couldn't shake the growing realization that being cherished wasn't always what a woman needed. She crossed and uncrossed her legs as she considered her meeting tomorrow with Michael.

***

The sun was barely up when Wendy stepped from the shower and moved to her closet. Her night with Jon ended pleasantly enough. As promised, when they got back to the house they made love and fell asleep in each other's arms. However, something felt off since the casino. The way Jon had resisted her advances, the way he shied away from the public display of affection bothered her more than it should have.

Her mind was already on today's events and the meeting with Michael later. She wanted something that would be bold, maybe not the gold dress, but something that would grab Michael's attention. Her fingers slid across the cool feeling of the hangers. Her navy dress was too corporate, the cream-colored blouse too conservative. Her hand paused on a red blouse she'd worn years ago when she and Jon were dating. It was a little darker than "Fireball-red", but the neckline hung a little lower than her usual tops and it gave her the same dangerous feeling as New Orleans. That paired with a black pencil skirt would look perfect.

Walking over to her dresser she remembered the disappointed look on Michael's face as he tried to glance down her shirt. A vicious smile formed on her lips as she opened her dresser drawer where she kept her bras then closed it just as fast. If he wanted a taste of New Orleans Wendy, then that's what she would give him.

"Coffee's rea..." Jon stepped into the bedroom and upon seeing his wife, nearly dropped the two cups onto the floor. "You look... I mean... wow."

The compliment sent an adrenaline rush straight to Wendy's core. That was exactly the type of response she was hoping to elicit. She walked toward Jon, her gaze glued on his as she watched the way her chest moved in the form fitting top, the three buttons still undone. She threw her arms around his neck, kissing him on the cheek. "You like?" She said with a grin, not waiting for a response as she grabbed her coffee from his hand.

"I um... I mean... yeah. Who wouldn't?" Jon was more than a little uncomfortable with Wendy's dress choice, but his time in therapy had taught him it was best to leave that unsaid. It was like Dr. Carson said, Wendy's getting more comfortable with her body, Jon should be supportive of that.

"I had a great time last night," Jon said, moving the conversation to the kitchen where he grabbed his wallet and keys off the table. "It felt like old times."

"Yeah, it was nice," Wendy replied already feeling the tension from last night returning. How was it possible he didn't see how his repeated rejections last night affected her?

Jon seemed more than happy with her response and headed toward the door, turning off the kitchen light behind him.

They drove separately to the office due to Wendy's late meeting. She used this time to try to clear her head and put together a plan of attack. She knew Michael loved her chest, he'd made it more than obvious every time they were together. That was ultimately why she decided to go braless. She could use a similar tactic that she used in New Orleans. Tease Michael a bit by letting him get a peek, after all it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before, and then get him to agree that they don't need Jenny or anyone else. Wendy was more than capable of handling things on her own.

She also considered the fact that Michael may try to take things further, after all it wouldn't be the first time. She was determined however to set boundaries, she'd already crossed so many before it was time to rein them in. He could look, maybe even a casual touch here and there, but absolutely nothing like New Orleans. This wasn't about using her body to get ahead, she had the brains for success. This was just... strategic presentation. Like wearing the right outfit for a client meeting.

The Buckeye Building was already alive with the hum of every day work as Wendy stepped off the elevator. Her hand went to the one undone button of her blouse, nervously tugging at it as doubt started to creep into her head. Maybe she should button it back, she already felt so exposed without a bra. The heel of her shoes felt too tall, like she might topple over at any minute. She took a deep breath, gathering her nerves and trying to summon some of the courage of New Orleans to make it through the rest of the day.

"Wendy."

Michael's voice cut through her thoughts like a blade. He stood at the elevator door, coffee mug in hand, taking in her appearance with an appreciation that both made her skin crawl and her blood turn to liquid fire.

"Perfect choice," he said with an approving nod. "And just in time too. I have a status meeting with Brian this morning. Walk with me."

Heat crept up her neck as her legs seemed to move on their own. She'd dressed for exactly this reaction, yet receiving it felt both validating and deeply unsettling. "Brian? I didn't..."

"You wanted to be more involved right?" They stopped just outside Brian's closed office door. "I'm just holding up my end of the bargain."

"Yeah, but my outfit. I mean..."

"About that." Michael stepped closer, invading her personal space like he'd done dozens of times now. "There's just one small adjustment."

Before she could respond, his thick fingers were at her blouse, working the second button free. The silk parted further, revealing the curve of her chest. Cool air rushed into the open space, making Wendy suck in air as her nipples responded shamelessly.

"There," he said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "Much better. Now let's show Brian what he's been missing."

Wendy stood frozen, caught between mortification and a dark thrill. Last night, Jon had shut her down because people might see, his careful consideration feeling like rejection. Now Michael was boldly undressing her in a public hallway, claiming her body as his to adjust, and the contrast sent conflicting waves of shame and arousal through her system.

Brian was sitting behind his desk looking out his floor-to-ceiling window when Michael and Wendy walked in. He swiveled in his chair as he heard the creak of the door, his smile wide. "Michael, thanks for meeting with me. Marcus had something he had to take care of this morning. I was just hoping to," his gaze landed on Wendy, taking in her new look for the first time. She immediately felt the weight of Brian's stare, her fingers curling into the palms of her hand as she reminded herself to breathe.

"No trouble at all," Michael said, striding into the office like he owned it and taking a seat on the sofa near the window. "I actually just got off the phone with Jack this morning. He's excited about the Nashville launch."

Brian nodded absently, his focus still fractured between Michael's words and the woman standing uncertainly near the door.

"He's heading out there personally next week to observe some of the fanfare," Michael continued smiling as Brian struggled to focus. "I hope you don't mind, I brought Wendy along this morning. She's better with the numbers than I am."

The sound of her name seemed to snap Wendy out of whatever daze she was in and she smiled warmly at Brian, who jumped slightly like a kid getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"The only real hiccup, it's minor really, is the venue projections. They came in a bit under-whelming. They've estimating twenty-five percent below our initial forecasts."

The effect was immediate. Brian's scattered attention snapping to Michael. "Twenty-five percent?" His voice boomed across the office making Wendy take a step backward. "That's not variance, Michael. That's borderline incompetence."

Wendy's fingers ran over the heel of her hand in four quick circles. Did Michael bring her here to make her the fall person?

"If Jack Peterson discovers we've fundamentally miscalculated market penetration—" Brian's words came faster now, his anger building momentum.

"Wendy, please, sit," Michael interjected smoothly, gesturing to the cushion beside him.

Wendy was like a deer in headlights as both men looked at her. Her legs felt like they may give out as she made her way to the sofa, bending down to take a seat next to her boss.

The simple request fractured Brian's building tirade. As Wendy moved across the room, her movement causing the silk to shift and reveal even more of her cleavage. Brian's train of thought derailed completely. His mouth remained open mid-sentence, his previous tirade completely forgotten as he struggled to tear his eyes away from the parting fabric that was now in his direct eyeline.

"Fortunately," Michael continued as if nothing had happened, "our team anticipated venue conservatism. Wendy's been developing alternative projections with Jon."

Still visibly struggling to regain his mental footing, Brian looked to Wendy expectantly, though his gaze kept drifting downward despite his obvious efforts to maintain professional eye contact.

"Venue operators consistently underestimate traffic patterns for experiential events," Wendy began, her confidence returning as she realized the power she had over the CEO. "Jon's demographic modeling shows they're applying pre-pandemic metrics to post-pandemic consumer behavior."

Brian nodded his eyes still unable to meet hers. "Right... behavioral shifts."

"Exactly. That, mixed with everyone still using pre-pandemic numbers, more than accounts for the delta between our projections. Our analysis of comparable launches this year indicates venues typically underproject by fifteen to twenty percent when introducing premium experience elements." She leaned forward slightly resting her hands on her knees, and Brian's eyes flickered downward before he forced them back up. "The twenty-five percent shortfall they're projecting actually translates to realistic performance within seven to ten percent of our original estimates."

"Seven to ten percent," Brian repeated, though his tone suggested he was processing more than just numbers. The mathematical explanation seemed to wash over him while his brain handled the competing demands of business analysis and biological response.

"Well within industry standards for launch variance," Michael interjected, as Wendy settled back in her chair smiling.

Michael wasn't setting her up for the fall at all. He was giving her back the power she thought she'd lost. Her skin tingled with excitement as she watched the CEO go from fury to agreement with just a few simple movements and facts from Wendy.

"Yes," Brian said after a moment. "That's... comprehensive analysis. Strategic thinking."

Michael's satisfaction was evident as he watched the tension drain from the room. "Wendy's market intuition combined with Jon's analytical framework has been invaluable."

"Keep me informed about final confirmations," Brian concluded, his earlier fury completely dissipated. "Excellent work, both of you. You two are becoming quite the dream team."

"I couldn't have done it without Wendy," Michael said reaching over and grabbing her hand. The touch felt natural, earned, and Wendy squeezed his hand in response, oblivious to the pooling fire between her thighs.

Walking back toward their offices, Wendy felt the intoxicating rush of wielding influence through multiple channels simultaneously. She'd neutralized a potential crisis using her intellect while her presence had created the emotional conditions for acceptance. The combination felt more powerful than either element alone, a realization that thrilled her even more than she realized.

The afternoon stretched endlessly as Wendy tried to concentrate on campaign revisions. But work felt mundane after the electric rush of her meeting with Brian. Every routine task paled in comparison to that moment when she'd watched a CEO's composure crumble with a simple lean forward. The ordinary interactions with colleagues felt colorless now, lacking the intoxicating charge of wielding influence through presence alone. She found herself craving that feeling again, watching the clock with a growing sense of anxiety.

At five-thirty, Marcus appeared in their doorway, his jacket slung over his arm. His warm smile encompassed both of them, but his attention lingered on Wendy.

"Heading out early," he said. "Promised the wife I'd actually make it home for dinner tonight."

"Give Sandra my best," Jon said, not looking up from his screen.

Marcus's gaze found Wendy's, and for a moment neither of them said a word. Finally, Marcus broke the silence. "Brian told me about your meeting this morning. Nice job with the numbers."

Wendy sat up a little straighter, validation washing over her even as Marcus's face remained somber. "But Wendy," he continues. "My door's always open if you ever need... to talk. About anything. Work, projects, whatever's on your mind."

Wendy forced a smile, the sense of celebration was gone, replaced with a guilt she didn't want to admit. She wondered if Marcus could see it written all over her face. How was he able to see parts of her that even she didn't seem to see?

"I appreciate that. Really."

He lingered another moment, as if weighing whether to say more, then nodded and disappeared down the hallway. The brief interaction left Wendy feeling exposed, and she glanced at Jon, thankful that he was powering down his computer, oblivious to the whole interaction.

"I'm going to head out too," he said, sliding over to give Wendy a kiss on the cheek. "Good luck in your meeting tonight. I hope it goes well."

"Thanks, I'll get home as soon as I can," she said, accepting his kiss while the guilt she felt from her conversation with Marcus grew.

***

At five fifty-five, she gathered her presentation materials and made her way down the hallway toward Michael's office. Each step amplified the competing voices in her head: the intoxicating memory of Brian's fractured composure, Marcus's knowing concern, Jon's trusting kiss still warm on her cheek. The rational part of her mind told her this was a mistake, that she should turn around and go home. But another part, a darker part, insisted this was just business. She was simply playing by the same unspoken rules that everyone else had played for decades. She was being strategic, she told herself, using every available asset to secure her professional future.

Michael was standing by his desk when Wendy arrived. Unlike their previous late night meetings, he had all the lights in the office on, the soft hum of the fluorescent light drowning out the outside noise of people leaving for the day. Wendy had done a lap around the floor before arriving, just to see who else was in the building. Like always, it was a ghost town.

"I was starting to think you got cold feet," Michael said, closing the door behind her as she entered. "You were quite the asset earlier. I think that meeting with Brian would have gone completely different if you weren't there."

Wendy couldn't help but smile. Michael needed her, and he was finally starting to see it. "The numbers needed to be explained. So I explained them."

"Oh, I think it was a bit more than that." Michael pushed past her, his fingers dancing across her arm as he fell into the chair beside her. "Don't sell yourself short, Wendy. You had him eating out of the palm of your hand and you know it."

"So, I'm back on Fireball full-time? No more of this team bullshit?" She shocked herself with her words. She was rarely ever that unprofessional, even with someone like Michael.

Michael let loose a boisterous laugh that seemed to rattle the windows. "I put the team together because ever since we got back from New Orleans you seemed content with mediocrity, I was just preparing to pick up your slack."

Wendy opened her mouth to protest, but Michael pressed on.

"But today, you surprised me." His fingers went to the neckline of her blouse. His sausage-like digits tracing her neckline and causing her heart to skip several beats.

The touch sent electricity through her nervous system. She should pull away, establish boundaries, but the combination of his praise and proximity left her paralyzed. His fingers continued its path along her collar, dipping slightly beneath the fabric.

"I've been waiting to see the girl from New Orleans. I'm glad Brian got to see her today too. That's the version of yourself that's going to get noticed. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if you had my job soon."

The world felt like it was spinning. She knew Michael would try something when she came in. She thought she was ready for it. But now... could she really be a director? She knew Michael was just feeding her a line, after all she only just got promoted, but as Michael's meaty fingers traced lower to the curve of her chest, she felt her body respond. Heat pooled in her core as her nipple harden against the soft fabric.

"That's... I mean... I can be this person." The words left her mouth before she could process what she was saying. She wasn't even sure what she was agreeing to. All she knew for sure, what that today was the best day she'd had in the office in weeks.

"I know you can. You just have to get out of your own way. That's what I'm here for."

Wendy held her breath. Michael's fingers stopped their descent just inches from her aching nipple. His fingers pushed into the soft flesh causing her lips to part in a silent moan that seemed to go unnoticed. Then without warning, he pulled his hand away completely as if nothing had happened.

"Now, for our call with Jack tomorrow." He stood from the chair, making his way back to the other side of the desk, leaving Wendy feeling disoriented. "You need to impress upon him the covid theory. That was smart."

She watched as he clicked though some files. She almost felt disappointed that he'd moved away from her so abruptly, but she dismissed the idea. It was the validation, the understanding that she didn't need a team behind her, that was making her feel this way.

"Come over here, take a look at this," he said, barely turning the screen toward her." Once she was leaning next to him he continued. "These are the projections Brian was talking about. You can see here Nissan Stadium specifically is projecting a decline of over twenty percent. Jack won't be happy about that."

"I talked to Jon about that already this morning. He's pulling data from Bank of America Stadium to show comps. We..." She froze mid-sentence as she felt Michael's hand on her bare leg. His thumb rolled over her calf, causing her eyes to flutter shut for a second before she regained her composure.

"We um, we think that number is actually closer to seven percent and even then when you take into account that Fireball Whiskey is just superior to other brands it will likely be closer to break even."

Michael's paw continued up her leg, and Wendy gripped the side of the desk to keep from falling. She rationalized with herself that Michael was just testing her, just seeing how she would react before committing to giving her more responsibility. Her legs parted on their own as he made his way up the back of her knee.

"And the bars on Broadway? Those are the real money makers." Michael clicked to another slide that showed sales declining at about 12 percent.

"We thought of... um... that as well." Wendy squirmed, her knuckles turning white as she bore down on the desk. Michael's thumb had just slid across the top of her thigh and pressed ever so gently into the wet fabric of her panties.

"Bars have notoriously been under-selling projects but as much as... fuck." His fingers brushed across the fabric again making her knees buckle.

"As much as what?" Michael asked with a laugh before he withdrew his hand completely.

The rational part of her mind told her this was only the beginning. He was going to keep pushing and keep tormenting her until he got what he wanted. But as the contact of his skin left hers she couldn't help but feel a wave of disappointment as the throb between her legs began to grow.

"As much as um... fifteen percent."

"Fifteen percent would be enough to get us from a decent campaign to an overwhelming success."

Wendy watched the wheels turning behind Michael's gaze. He was calculating something more than just market trends and profit margins. She couldn't help but be impressed with his business acumen. As much as he could be a creep, he was even better at his job. She wished she could see what he was thinking now, to understand his next move.

"Alright, you keep this level of... commitment and I'll hold off the team formation as long as I can."

Pride and accomplishment bubbled up in Wendy's chest. She'd done it. She had come into the meeting today with a plan, and she was accomplishing it. Just like she knew she would.

"What about Jenny?" She asked, unable to hide the jealousy in her voice.

"What about her?" His smile was equal parts amusement and satisfaction. Jenny had played her role perfectly and was completely oblivious to it. "I think it's safe to say she's nowhere near your league." His hand found the small of her back, causing Wendy to turn to face him. "That is, assuming you can handle this level of exposure."

Fire shot through her body, not just from his hand but his words. The double meaning wasn't lost on her, yet instead of feeling disgusted by it she felt a sense of pride from all that she'd been able to accomplish.

"Good because this campaign can be awful demanding." The pressure he was applying to the small of her back was gentle but insistent and she found herself leaning forward slightly.

"I'm more than capable of meeting the demands of this campaign, Michael." Her voice was strong, matter-of fact, as she bent to being eye level with him. "I'm confident I can give Jack what he needs."

She didn't mean for her words to sound as sexual as they did, but the moment they left her mouth she heard it. She bit her lip, unable, or perhaps unwilling, to break eye contact with Michael.

"You do have a way of giving people exactly what they need. It's one of the things I love about you, Wendy. Speaking of which..."

More pressure was added to her back causing Wendy to fall to her knees in front of Michael. Her heart was pounding in her chest as her hands came to rest on his thighs. The sound of Michael's belt buckle being undone echoed in the quiet office like a gunshot.

"And let me guess, you want something like this?" It felt like an out-of-body experience for Wendy as her fingers slid up his legs to the front of his pants. A dark thrill washed over her as she watched Michael's eyes flutter shut a satisfied smile forming on his lips.

"Going forward, I'm part of every phone call with Jack." Her hand wrapped around his boxer-covered length. She still couldn't believe how thick his shaft was. Her face grew a shade redder as Michael's hips lifted just enough to slide his pants down his tree trunk legs.

"Copied on every email. No more talk of team delegation," Wendy continued, her hand pumping his shaft faster.

"Of course," Michael agreed, reaching out to touch her face, but Wendy pulled away.

"I get to make the rules, Michael. Remember?"

Michael let out a dissatisfied grunt. Wendy still thought she was the one pulling the strings. Somehow in her twisted mind, she thought she was in control. A gasp left his lips, as Wendy's grip tightened around his cock, coaxing a bead of pre-cum from the tip.

"Whatever you say, but I think you know I need a deeper level of commitment than this." He leaned back in his chair slightly, allowing Wendy better access to his growing erection.

Gold dress Wendy was taking over, all rational thought escaping her as she made her demands. With her free hand, she undid the remaining buttons on her blouse, then, releasing his manhood, pulled her top completely over her head, bringing her naked chest into view.

"Is this better?" She asked, her hand returning to his cock and bringing it between her breasts.

She'd done this before, she rationalized, it wasn't like she was crossing any new lines. But, as the warmth of his manhood pressed against her smooth skin, she couldn't help but feel her own arousal start to grow.

Michael's breathing grew heavier, his head tilting back slightly. "You're really fucking good at that."

Pride swelled in her chest despite the circumstances.

"But here's the thing," Michael continued, he reached back out brushing his hairy knuckles against her hard nipple. A shudder tore through Wendy as she struggled to back away in time. "Markets change, attitudes shift." He pinched her nipple, smiling as goosebumps formed on her chest. "What was acceptable in the past, doesn't always work in the future."

She bit her lip, her chest pausing at the base of his cock. "What do you mean?"

"I mean repetition gets boring. Pitching the same ideas to clients cause them to second guess you. It displays weakness." His hand left her nipple causing her to sigh. His thumb traced her full lips, pulling the bottom one down slightly. "That's where Jenny came in. She was so eager to please. Showed lots of promise."

The comparison to someone like Jenny made her stomach clench. Michael had already said she wasn't in Wendy's league why would he bring her up now? There was something she was missing, some connection she wasn't able to form because of the onslaught of attention from Michael.

"I've already told you. We don't need Jenny. I'm more than capable..."

"Oh, I couldn't agree more," Michael said with a shit-eating grin as his hand tightened in her hair.

"Ahh," Wendy cried out at the sudden aggression, her eyes closing momentarily. Michael used this to his advantage, thrusting his hips forward. Before she could process what was happening the crown of Michael's cock pushed into her mouth.

The invasion only lasted a second before Wendy pulled her head back, but it was enough for her to taste Michael's desire. It wasn't as tangy as she remembered as she subconsciously swallowed the small amount that bathed her tongue. But her eyes blazed with fury from the utter disrespect he had shown.

"What the fuck, Michael?" She wiped her mouth with shaking fingers. "I told you, I don't do that. Not even with Jon."

Michael rolled his eyes, his palm still tangled in Wendy's hair. "Relax, you're acting like I just asked you to commit murder." He massaged her scalp gently and on reflex she nestled into his hand. "I told you, repetition kills deals. You've got to move forward." As he spoke he gently pulled her head back toward his waiting cock.

She placed her hand around his shaft, more as a defensive mechanism than anything else. "I can still get you off. Just... not like that."

"Look, it already happened now. You can't put the toothpaste back in the tube." With his free hand he reached down and mauled her exposed chest. Pinching her nipple in a way he knew she'd grown to like. "You need to start acting like the badass I saw in New Orleans. The one that gets shit done."

He pulled her nipple from her body, causing her to yelp and at the same time press her chest into his hand. "You're not some sheltered little housewife. You're the woman who makes powerful men forget they have power."

Wendy tried to think rationally about this. She told herself before she came to the office today that she wasn't leaving without guarantees. She had that now, but for long? She'd already crossed so many lines, what was one more? The arithmetic of sunk cost ran through her head. She'd already sacrificed so much, she couldn't afford to turn back now.

"I... I want something in writing. Proof that I have final say over who we bring onto this project." Her hand stroked him a little faster. She watched through her peripheral vision as Michael pulled up a new document on screen. His fat fingers hitting the keys on the keyboard with too much force.

She was doing this to secure her future, nothing more. It was a sacrifice she was making to ensure everything she did in the past wasn't done in vain. She was making boss moves. Yet, even as she told herself that she couldn't shake the feeling of sadness. Not because she was doing this behind Jon's back, but because Michael's hands were no longer on her.

"Done," he said with a grin, and bringing his hands back to her hair. A warmth spread through Wendy's body as she leaned forward whispering a silent "I'm sorry" into the air before she extended her tongue and licked the underside of his cock.

Wendy's tongue worked up the length of his shaft with a tentative pace. She could see Michael squirming, growing impatient as she worked up the large member. When she finally reached the head, she swirled her tongue around it like a lolli-pop.

"You're supposed to suck it, not just lick it," Michael said impatiently, fisting her hair and forcing her to take it into her mouth.

Wendy gagged for a moment, her jaw stretching to accommodate him, while her hand held his base.

"Mmmm much better. I knew your lips would feel good wrapped around my dick."

She wanted to be angry at the vulgar language he was using, at the way he was man-handling her, but the truth was it just seemed to turn her on even more. She worked up hand toward her mouth, twisting it the way she'd done to Jon hundreds of times, while she took another inch of him into her mouth.

"Fuck that feels good. You sure you don't normally do this?"

His cock slipped from her mouth with a 'pop' as she looked up at the ogre of a man through her lashes. Her tongue extended again teasing his head. "Just cause I don't normally do it doesn't mean I'm not good at it."

A low chuckle left his mouth as he applied pressure to her head. "Balls".

Wendy wanted to protest, but she was already sinking lower. Her tongue traced circles around the orbs, while the vast amount of hair tickled her throat. Michael couldn't believe what he was witnessing. He expected more of a struggle. After Lisa he wasn't sure he was ever going to have this opportunity again. Now, it seemed like he had struck gold.

He pressed her head forward even more. Wendy got the hint and opened her mouth taking one of his nuts into her mouth and sucking gently. Her hand continued to pump his shaft enthusiastically as she switched to the other testicle.

Her free hand found the inside of her thigh. Despite the degrading manner she found herself in, her pussy was on fire and she found herself wishing Michael would touch her.

She rose back up on her knees, her hand making contact with her soaked panties. "Mmmm fuck," she moaned happily taking his cock back into her mouth.

"You look so good like that. So fucking powerful." As he spoke, Wendy took more of his cock into her throat. Her index finger was lightly rubbing her clit, making the fire in her core grow to an untamable blaze.

Something about Michael's words rang true. She did feel powerful. Not only was she getting exactly what she wanted from a business perspective, but something about the way she was able to handle a cock of this size made her feel more alive. She wanted to see how much of it she could take... if she could make him cum.

"It's so fucking big. So... hard." Spit ran down her chin as she fought to catch her breath. She remembered how much he liked dirty talk from New Orleans. She pumped him faster, her grip getting tighter. "I can see why you're so confident. Guess what they say about big dick energy is true."

Wendy dipped back down, smiling as more than half his cock disappeared into her throat. She took his balls into her hand, massaging them with the same force she was applying to her clit.

"You're doing a good job. I know you're not used to handling something so large."

The dig was supposed to hurt Wendy, but she was beyond caring. Her fingers worked inside her panties, stuffing two of them deep inside her core while she concentrated on not choking. Even with so much of his shaft in her mouth there was still enough room for her to pump his base with her hand.

"Mmmm fuck. Just like that, Wendy. I'm going to cum soon."

"Oh fuck," she gasped, pulling her mouth off. "Not in my mouth. You have to pull out."

"Sure, sure," he laughed, guiding her head back into his lap. "You love that don't you. You love sucking my big dick, while you play with yourself."

Wendy didn't respond, she couldn't. Her eyes were closed, her orgasm starting to build. She ran her tongue along the shaft in her mouth, opening and closing her mouth around it like she was making out with it.

"That's it baby. Cum for me. Cum for Michael while you suck that cock." He thrust his hips forward, causing Wendy to panic slightly as her breathing was cut off. He only held her there a second, before relaxing his hips and moaning in delight as Wendy's lips worked his shaft.

Glug Glug Glug, the sounds of her nearly choking filled the room, accompanied by the wet squishy sounds of her fingers in her pussy. The orchestra of sex filled the room just as she felt Michael's cock start to swell.

Feeling his impending release brought Wendy over the edge. She pulled her mouth from his manhood right at the last second, the first jet of cum plastering her face. At the same time, her thighs clamped around her hand, her head falling limply on his lap.

"Fuck, oh God. Yessss," she hissed, as she watched the second rocket shoot from the tip of his cock into the air and land on her cheek. She knew she should move, but her body was still convulsing. Her sex twitched around her fingers as she laid in his lap another glob landing on her chin.

"Arrgh, Fuck!" He roared, replacing her mouth with his hand as he worked rope after rope onto the beautiful woman's face.

The shock of the entire situation seemed to string her orgasm out as her knees buckled and she continued to grind into her hand. She struggled to catch her breath as she watched the once impossibly hard cock start to deflate before coming to a rest on his thigh, inches from her mouth.

She fought the urge to lick her lips, her orgasm finally subsided, as a glob of white goo dripped past the corner of her mouth.

The satisfaction of her climax began to fade, reality seeping back in like cold water. Wendy blinked, Michael's cum cooling on her skin as awareness returned. What had she just done? Her fingers trembled as she pushed herself up from his lap, the movement suddenly awkward and ungraceful.

"Jesus," she whispered, the weight of her actions crashing down. Her hand flew to her face, feeling the sticky evidence of her compromise. She looked around frantically for tissues, for anything to clean herself with.

Michael leaned back in his chair, tucking himself away. "That document's already in your inbox," he said, his fingers finding her bare skin under her dress. "As promised."

Wendy pushed his hand away. "No more," she said, but it sounded more like a request than a statement.

"Very well. I just thought you may—"

"Wendy?"

Ava's voice from the doorway caused them both to freeze. How long had she been there? What all did she see?

Wendy's heart stopped as she met her friend's wide-eyed stare. Her fingers spun her wedding ring frantically, the four-count pattern accelerating with her panic. One-two-three-four-one-two-three-four.

The expression on Ava's face told her everything she needed to know.