A very "normal" day at work - Diana's POV

Chapter 3

Diana POV

The thought hit me the moment I stepped through the office doors: I need to ask Lidia for the final design. The presentation was at ten, and without it I had nothing to show.

I’d been working as a project manager at the agency for years, and our newest campaign was for Birdie, a company that had burst onto the market with a simple idea: organic prepared meals for adults. The two women who’d founded it had built an enormous following among young people, mostly because they ran their own YouTube channel where they showed how every dish was made. And, on top of that, they were a couple. As a marketing strategy, that alone put them miles ahead of everyone else. But the campaign we were building was meant to widen their reach even further, with television, Facebook and TikTok, so that the older audience would finally find them too.

I was thinking about all this when the elevator doors opened and I found my boss inside.

Mr. Rodriguez was a thin man, barely five foot seven, with hair dyed jet black, curly but cropped short and neat, as if even his curls had been instructed to behave.

“Good morning, Diana. How are the preparations for Birdie coming along?”

“Very well. I just have to pick up the final design proposal from Lidia, but everything’s perfect.”

We stepped out together.

“Their product is already popular,” he said, “but I hope this campaign really makes them take off.”

“So do I.”

He nodded and disappeared into his office, and I went on until I reached Lidia’s desk.

Lidia was twenty-one, a redhead, studying advertising, and she saw her job as my secretary as a first step toward a place on the team someday. She still had a lot to learn, but what always caught my attention was the way she dressed: gothic, always. Today it was a black corseted dress covered in tiny details, with a plunging V-neckline that drew every eye straight to her breasts. There wasn’t a strict dress code at the agency, and I’d had my own provocative phase when I was young. But as I got older I’d learned that if you want to be taken seriously, you have to dress seriously.

“Good morning, Diana! I have the files for the meeting. I’ll email them to you right now.”

“Thank you. And, Lidia, please knock on my door when it’s time for the meeting, and don’t let anyone interrupt me until then. Tell the team that anything that isn’t strictly about the presentation can wait an hour, or they can sort it out themselves.”

“Of course.”

I went into my private office, closed the door, and sat down in front of my computer. I put in my earbuds, the ones that connected to the laptop as soon as it woke up. Then I opened WhatsApp Web, saw the link my son had sent me, and clicked it.

The screen loaded for a few seconds. Then the video began, with colors…

A knock at the door pulled me out.

“Diana?” Lidia’s voice came through the wood. “It’s time for the meeting.”

In front of me, the video and the music were still dancing.

I was hot. So hot. My whole body hummed with it, a damp, restless heat, but there was nothing I could do. I was at the office, and I couldn’t lose my job. Work is important. With real effort I closed the tab, and WhatsApp Web came back with my son’s conversation and, above it, a new message from my husband.

But first, I had to tell Brian how much I’d liked his new video, even if I hadn’t managed to finish it. I typed:

“So good, even better than the last one! Though I still haven’t been able to finish it.”

Then I opened Michael’s message.

“Brian sent me his video. I spent an hour in the bathroom at work watching it. Our son is really a genius.”

“I know,” I answered.

I closed the laptop and went out. Lidia lifted her head from her screen as I passed, studied me for a second, and said:

“Diana, you have something at the corner of your mouth.”

I wiped it away with my thumb and thanked her. Drooling again… I thought, and walked toward the meeting room.

The presentation went excellent. Afterward I held a second, smaller meeting with the team to finalize the changes that had come up.

At lunchtime I went down to the cafeteria and ate with them for a while, because team building matters. But I told them I had to get back to work quickly, there was still so much left to do on the project. They said goodbye, and I went off toward my office.

First, though, I stopped by the restroom.

I locked myself in a stall, put my earbuds in, and checked my phone. Two messages from Brian were waiting.

“I hope you can finish watching it.”

And right below:

“There are a lot more where that came from.”

I reacted to the second one with a heart, and wrote back, “Can’t wait to see them.” Then I tapped the link he’d sent me that morning. It was the perfect moment to finally finish the video: in the bathroom, on my lunch hour, nobody would say a word.

The colors and the music began…

My hand was wet.

My left hand, soaked, and I was so hot. On the screen, the video had come to its end, the replay button glowing at me. But I couldn’t. Not now. I had work, and work was important.

When I finally looked away from the phone and saw what state I was really in, I realized that at some point my skirt and my thong had slid down to my knees, and my left hand was rubbing furiously between my legs. When had I started? I couldn’t remember. But my hand was so wet it looked like I’d peed on it. How long had it been since I’d touched myself? Probably since I was a teenager, before I met Michael. After we became a couple, sex had never been a problem with him beside me.

But Michael wasn’t the man he used to be. Not like Brian. Brian was a real MAN.

I let out a soft moan as I kept stroking, thinking about my son.

“Briiian…” I whispered, in a faint, sleepwalking voice as I came.

A few moments passed. Slowly I pulled myself together.

“I have to get back to work,” I said to the empty stall. “Work is important.”

I wiped myself with toilet paper, my pussy slick and swollen, and pulled up my thong and my skirt. At the mirror I straightened myself out, patting on a little of the makeup I kept in my purse, and then I headed back to my office.

I was about to go in when Lidia spotted me.

“Oh! I thought you were already in your office.”

“I was in the restroom,” I said.

She nodded and went back to her screen.

For the rest of the day I worked normally, until it was time to go home.

In the car, I remembered that today was Thursday, my yoga day. A woman has to stay in shape for HER MAN. I needed to tell one of the kids to start dinner, though I’d already told Michael to help them when he got home.

I opened the front door and found my son sprawled on the couch, watching anime. It seemed to be the same series as yesterday, though the characters were different. This time a brown-haired man with a ponytail and a blond man with an eyepatch were talking under a starry sky. I walked over to the couch.

“How’s MY MAN?”

Brian turned his head and looked at me. He paused his show on the image of the blond man with the eyepatch touching the brown-haired man’s forehead.

“Better now that I see my woman.”

A little tingle ran between my legs. It happened every time the MAN OF THE HOUSE said things like that. I couldn’t help myself. I sat down beside him, hugged him, and gave him a small kiss on the lips, a few seconds long and full of heat.

But the heat broke when I spoke.

“I need you to make dinner, I have my yoga class. Dad will help you.”

Brian smiled, stood up, and crossed his arms, standing tall over me with his huge erection tenting his shorts. My eyes went straight to it, and I couldn’t look away. He noticed, and an air of total superiority settled over him, so complete that it caught me off guard. I couldn’t find a single word, and he let me stare for a moment before he said:

“Is that my job?”

I stood there for a few seconds. Then I realized my mistake. That’s right! Cooking wasn’t Brian’s job.

“Valerie!” I shouted.

“What?” came the answer from upstairs, from her room.

“Valerie, if I call you, it’s so you’ll come down, not so you’ll answer me!”

Brian dropped back onto the couch, and I stood up to face the stairs. A door slammed upstairs, and then came the sound of footsteps coming down. I crossed my arms and waited.

Valerie was already complaining before she reached the bottom step.

“I only just got home because I had to take the bus, you know. And I was in the middle of talking to my friend. Whatever you need, can it be quick?”

“Can you make dinner with your father?” I asked.

“No way!” Valerie exploded. “I spent thirty minutes on the bus with my swim bag, and I still have homework!”

“Why doesn’t Brian help him?”

“That isn’t his job,” I said, quite clearly. “And Brian has things to do.”

“What do you mean it’s not his job?! What things?! All he does is sit on the couch watching anime!”

“Valerie Hartley, if I say your brother has other things to do, then he has other things to do. And if I tell you to help your father make dinner, you help your father make dinner. Is that understood?”

Valerie grumbled where she stood and muttered something under her breath.

“I hate you.”

My face softened. I stepped closer.

“And I only want the best for my princess.”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” she said, calmer now.

“One day you’ll thank me,” I answered with a smile, and hugged her. “Now, when your father gets home, I want you to help him. I have to change and go to class. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” said Valerie, reluctantly.

I went upstairs, leaving them behind.

I changed quickly into a pair of very tight yoga pants and a top that clung just as tightly, and pulled my hair into a ponytail. I looked at myself in the mirror. How long had it been since I’d put these pants on? A day or two ago I’d have sworn they were too small. Today they were perfect for showing off my ass.

Outside of work, I have to look sexy and appetizing for men. Especially for my man, the man of the house.

I was almost ready when the bedroom door opened and Brian came in.

“Mmm, you look good enough to eat.”

“Mmm. Do you like what you see?”

He walked over until we were face to face. His hand found my hip, then slid lower, and he squeezed my ass hard. I rubbed myself against him, against the hardness pressing at me through his pants.

“Bri… an… We… can’t… kee… ep…”

He stopped.

“This is wrong,” I said, breathless. “We’re mother and son. Even if you’re the man of the house, what would your father say?”

Brian stepped back, thoughtful.

“For now, that’s fine,” he said. “Go to your class.”

I walked past him toward the door, and he slapped my ass again, hard. I felt the echo of it ripple through me and settle between my legs, and I nearly came right there. But I kept walking, down the stairs and out the door, to my class.