"Fuck, yeah."
Dora heard a moan outside her boss's office, and her stomach knotted. Her eyes widened.
It wasn't because her boss was screwing someone in his office. It was because she couldn't move.
What the heck?
She tried to move her legs, but it was as if they were glued to the marble floor. Her heart flipped. What if someone saw her here—or worse, Mr. Durmore himself?
And then suddenly, something washed over her. Her legs tightened, her nipples hardened, her stomach churned with desire.
Her body moved on instinct, but her mind screamed for control.
"Yes, yes."
The moan inside became louder, and fire surged within her. She had never felt anything like it—so raw, so consuming, so invasive.
She clenched her thighs against the pleasure building up inside her as she felt like touching herself.
What the hell was this?
Mr. Durmore growled from his office, and Dora's hand slipped down her skirt and between her legs.
Something was happening to her.
Something unexplainable.
Something burned inside her.
She rubbed her clit and dipped a finger inside herself.
Faster.
Faster.
Mr. Durmore's moan grew louder, and her pace increased. She needed help stifling the fire inside her.
Move.
But her legs didn't give in. And her hand didn't stop either.
She dipped another finger inside. Her slickness drove her wild. Mr. Durmore's moans drove her crazy.
"Ah!" Mr. Durmore shouted, his deep voice thick with pleasure.
Her nipples pressed hard against her silky bra, and she felt like they were going to burst through her blouse.
Faster. Quicker.
She ground her own fingers, her heart pounding, sweat dripping down her face.
She bit her lip, stifling the moan that threatened to come out.
If someone saw her here, masturbating to her boss's moans, she was done.
But she couldn't even move. She couldn't control the heat inside her. How was she supposed to explain that to someone?
Mr. Durmore released with a final grunt—and so did she. She came, pouring onto the floor, her release dripping down her pencil skirt.
What just happened?
"Who's there?" Mr. Durmore asked, his voice sharp and thick with exhaustion.
Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was adrenaline. But her legs finally responded. Dora ran, her heart hammering as she rushed to the nearest restroom.
Once safe inside, she placed a hand on her chest, trying to steady her breath. She walked to the mirror and dabbed water on her face.
"What was that?" she questioned her reflection.
It was as if her body had acted on its own. Like Mr. Durmore's body had taken control of hers.
It was like something had gripped her from the inside. Was it him? Or was she just losing her mind?
The heat faded and was replaced by a cold sweat of shame.
"That was disgusting," she chided herself, dabbing more water on her face.
She had always had a crush on Mr. Durmore—he was hot, tall, with a deep voice that made her legs buckle.
But she had buried those feelings. It was wrong to desire your boss, especially when you were engaged to be married.
And she had won over those emotions for a very long time—until now.
Shame curled inside her, and so did guilt. She had pleasured herself to another man's moan. It felt like cheating.
What kind of person does that? What if Henry found out?
She rubbed her face, trying to smother the emotions welling up inside her.
Henry didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve a fiancée who got hot for another man.
She had to talk to him about it. It was the only way to feel better.
She cleaned herself up, and with one final look in the mirror, she left the bathroom.
"Where have you been?" Liora asked as soon as she got to the reception area.
Liora was the closest friend she had at work—and even then, she couldn't possibly tell her what had just happened.
"I… went to use the restroom," she lied, her cheeks burning.
Liora's eyes narrowed, but she didn't press.
Dora returned to her desk, adjusting her hair as she sat. Her mind spun with what had happened.
Why hadn't she been able to move?
Why couldn't she control herself?
Before she could even begin to process anything, a man stood in front of her.
"Hello," he said, his voice shaking a bit.
Dora plastered her professional smile and straightened up. "Welcome to Evermore Club. I'm Dora Reed, the assistant manager. How may I help you?"
The man's lips tightened as he shifted uncomfortably. "I… am going to the VIP section."
Dora's smile faltered as she observed him. He wore a tattered jacket that stretched at the wrists. His hair was full and messy, like he badly needed a haircut. His lips were cracked, and his eyes sunken, like he had just woken up from a nap on public transport.
Weird visitors weren't unusual at Evermore, but how would she say no without offending him?
"Our VIP section is by invite only," she said politely, keeping her smile steady. "But you might want to try the regular part—"
"It's the VIP I want," he interrupted, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.
"Sir—"
"Welcome, welcome," Phillip, the manager said, stepping in and touching the man's shoulder like he was an old friend. "Don't mind Dora here. She's very new."
Dora's brow furrowed. What was Phillip talking about? She had been working here for almost two years. She wasn't new.
She stood, ready to challenge him. "Phillip—"
"I'll handle this," Phillip said, interrupting her again. He turned to the man. "Come on, I'll take you to the VIP section."
Dora's eyes widened. What was that about?
Phillip turned to her. "Have you told Mr. Durmore what you wanted to?"
Her cheeks flushed instantly. "No."
"Go do that right away," Phillip said, leading the man away.
"Shoot," Dora muttered, her heart picking up again.
She was going to talk to Mr. Durmore before all that happened.
She stood and made her way to his office. She knocked, biting her lip as she waited.
"Come in." Mr Durmore's voice was stiff as always.
She swallowed hard and entered. Mr. Durmore's head was buried in his laptop. He didn't look up.
"Mr. Durmore…" she breathed, her throat suddenly tight. "I… Phillip…"
What was wrong with her?
"If you don't have anything to say, leave," he said, his voice sharp.
Dora burned with embarrassment. "I just wanted to let you know I'll be heading out early—wedding errands with my best friend."
Mr. Durmore kept clicking on his keyboard, still not looking up. "And you came to tell me that in person because?"
Her cheeks flushed. "I called your line… but you didn't answer."
He said nothing. The room went silent except for the tapping keys.
Dora stood still, her heart beating fast.
Was that a yes or a no?
Should she leave?
She was still debating her next move when Mr. Durmore suddenly looked up.
She gasped and dropped her gaze quickly.
Nobody ever looked Mr. Durmore in the eyes.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor as he approached. Her heart thundered with each step.
"Eyes on me." His command was firm.
Despite the tremble in her limbs, she obeyed. She looked into his black eyes, and her legs tightened again.
It was happening again.
That unbearable urge to touch herself.
What was wrong with her?
Mr. Durmore stepped closer. He lowered his nose to her neck and began to sniff her.
"Mr. Dur—" Her protest died when his nose dropped to her waist.
He lingered between her legs. Far away, yet close enough to make her drip in her panties.
She held her breath, fearing she would cum from just his presence.
She wasn't the type to get flustered easily. But this was something else. Something deeper.
He straightened up and adjusted his jacket. "You can take the day off," he said flatly, returning to his desk.
Dora froze, her chest squeezed.
What just happened?
She bit her lip and waited for him to say more. When Mr. Durmore didn't even look at her again, she left.
In the hallway, she panted.
She was hot again.
Her body craved his.
This was strange. This had never happened before. But then again, she had never been this close to Mr. Durmore in her years of working for him.
She reached her desk and grabbed her bag.
She and her best friend Jeanne were supposed to go shopping for her wedding dress.
Jeanne had been her rock through all the wedding stress. She even helped Dora pick Henry's engagement watch.
"Jeanne will have to wait," she muttered, tidying up her desk.
She couldn't walk into a bridal shop like this—sweaty, flustered, dripping with guilt. She needed Henry to take this heat out of her.
Just as she was done with her desk, her phone buzzed with a message.
It was from her dad.
"Don't forget to take photos of every dress you try on. I want to see all of them."
Her heart softened.
She knew she ought to invite her dad to the dress fitting, afterall he was her only parent, but she wanted this whole experience to be different.
Her father had always done everything with her, and she just wanted to do one thing on her own before becoming Henry's wife.
Her heart raced with guilt as she thought of Henry.
It was so stupid of her to react that way to Mr. Durmore.
She shook off the thought as she passed Liora's desk. She waved without stopping.
She would talk to Liora tomorrow. Right now, she needed Henry.
She drove fast and reached Henry's house in no time. He wouldn't be expecting her this early, he probably thought she was still at work.
She chuckled, wondering how he would react to her early visit.
She punched in the code, and the front door chimed open.
Something was off.
There was a love song playing somewhere inside the house.
Henry never played love songs.
"Henry?" she called, dropping her bag on the couch and kicking off her shoes.
Maybe he was sleeping?
She climbed the stairs leading to the bed. Then she paused.
She heard moans.
No... that had to be her imagination.
Curious and tense, she pushed open the bedroom door.
Her mouth fell open.
Jeanne was on the bed, pounding Henry and moaning.