A very "normal" day at work

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 leading my team 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 really is 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 Wednesday, 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 other 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.

That was truly the slap of a real man.

And Brian… Brian was the man of the house.Diana POV

What a tiring day, I thought as I parked the car after yoga. I was sweaty and my legs felt like jelly, but it was all worth it. A woman has to stay in shape for her man.

I opened the front door.

—I'm back!

—We're in here! —Michael called from the kitchen.

I followed his voice and leaned in the doorway.

—How are my chefs doing?

—Five more minutes —Michael said, stirring something without looking up.

—Perfect. I'll call Brian, and then I'll set the table.

I went up and knocked twice on my son's door.

—Brian, dinner's ready.

—Come in —came the answer from inside.

I opened the door, and what I saw froze me in place.

Brian was sitting in his gamer chair with his shorts around his knees and his cock, his beautiful cock, in his right hand. On the monitor in front of him, an anime girl was being fucked over and over, her cartoon mouth open in a cartoon scream.

—Brian…! —it slipped out of my lips before I could stop it. Then I pulled myself together, crossed my arms, and spoke in my most patient voice—. As the man of the house, you shouldn't be jerking off to that kind of thing, sweetheart.

—Oh, no? —Brian said, smiling, without letting go—. Then what should I be doing it with?

I didn't have to think about it. I kicked off my sneakers, pulled down my yoga pants and my thong, and held the thong out to him.

—This smells like a real woman.

Brian took it, lifted it to his nose, and inhaled deeply, his eyes half closed.

—Mmm. You're right —he said. Then his free hand slid up between my thighs and cupped my pussy—. Though I'd rather have the original.

That was when I realized I was standing naked from the waist down in front of my son. My cheeks flushed. I took a step back, turned around, and bent to pull my yoga pants up, giving him an unobstructed view of my entire ass without meaning to.

I had just finished pulling them on and straightened up when I felt him get to his feet behind me. His cock pressed against my ass, hot and thick, even through the fabric, and for a few seconds my knees went soft.

—Not yet —he whispered in my ear—. Right now we have to go to dinner.

Dinner! I'd forgotten the whole reason I'd gone up there.

—Go on ahead —my son said—. I'll be down in a minute.

I left the room.

I was setting the table with Valerie when I felt her eyes on my back.

—Mom, aren't those pants kind of tight?

I turned my hips a little and looked over my shoulder at my own ass.

—I don't think so. They fit me perfectly.

Valerie studied me for a second.

—Did you go out in those without underwear?

I froze. Only for a moment.

—No, no. I took it off upstairs just now. It was soaked in sweat.

My daughter made the face of a girl who had never heard anything so unnecessary in her life. She turned toward the kitchen door, where Michael was coming in with a tray of food.

—Dad, what do you think?

Michael set the tray down and looked from her to me and back again.

—I think your mother is a strong, independent, sexy woman —he said, in the tone of a man reciting a lesson—. She can do whatever she wants, because she's THE woman of this house.

—Very feminist of you, Dad —Valerie said, rolling her eyes.

Michael laughed, embarrassed, and scratched the back of his neck.

Dinner was calm. The only strange moment came when Michael told Valerie she needed to be tidier, and she shot back:

—Why does everybody keep busting my balls and nobody says anything to Brian about finding a job? At least I have school and swim practice!

Michael frowned at her.

—That's not Brian's responsibility, Valerie. He's started a new project with your mother.

I nodded along, but it bothered me. It was the second time my daughter had said it, and somewhere deep down a small voice agreed with her. Brian ought to have a job. But I couldn't have said why, and then the thought slipped away, because the truth was simple: it wasn't Brian's responsibility.

My phone buzzed in my lap. A WhatsApp from Brian. I looked up and he was already watching me from across the table, smiling. I pretended to take a sip of water and read it under the table.

“Here's the next video. You can't watch it until after you've showered. And since you didn't do anything around the house today, you're washing the dishes. Dad showers first.”

Underneath, a link.

I wanted so badly to press it. I held back.

When we finished eating, I stood and said I'd do the dishes. Something inside me murmured that this wasn't my job, but Brian had asked me directly, and that settled it.

—I'm going to take a shower while you wash up —Michael said.

Had Brian told him the same thing?

I was about to ask Valerie to help me clear the table, but Brian gave me a small shake of his head, and I understood without a word that I shouldn't. Valerie, who had already helped cook, announced that she had to study and fled upstairs before anyone could make her do anything else. That left Brian clearing the table while I ran the water.

I hadn't been washing for long when he stepped up behind me.

His erection was pressed hard against my ass. And then his hands slipped under my top, slowly, climbing until they closed around my breasts. All I could do was moan.

—You like it when I play with your nipples, don't you? Little slut?

Slut. That wasn't how you spoke to your mother. It wasn't how you treated someone you loved. But it was, definitely, how you treated A WOMAN.

—I love it —I said, grinding my ass against his cock.

For a second, I remembered that I shouldn't be doing this. That it was wrong. Then his fingers pinched my nipples again, and the thought went quiet.

—Do you want me to fuck you against the counter, you filthy whore?

—Yeeees… —I breathed, lost in it.

And then his hands were gone.

—It's still dangerous —he said. He thought for a second—. Later I'm going to send you a video to pass along to Valerie. It's about cosmetics. I don't care how you do it, send it to her and make sure she watches it. Understood?

He punctuated the question with a slap on my ass.

I didn't really understand why it mattered so much, but if A MAN like Brian said so, I would do it.

—Whatever you say, Brian.

The rest of the dishes passed without more interruptions, apart from a grope here or a smack there.

When I went up to our bedroom, Michael was coming out of the bathroom in a towel.

—Brian sent me a new video to watch —he said.

At that moment, Brian walked in behind him.

—You can go shower, Mom —he said—. I need to talk to Dad.

I went into the bathroom and shut the door, tuning out whatever was happening outside. Under the hot water, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I'd loved what had happened in the kitchen. How my ass had felt against the head of his thick, veined cock. How his hands had felt on my breasts…

I came twice before I got out.

When I stepped into the bedroom wrapped in a towel, I saw my husband lying on the bed with earbuds in, probably Brian's, his eyes locked on his phone. He was in his underwear. He had an erection. And he was clearly jerking off. Brian sat at the foot of the bed, waiting for me.

I stared at my husband, more confused than anything.

Brian followed my eyes.

—Relax. Dad and I had a talk about roles in the house, and we've come to the conclusion that I'm the man of the house.

I was in shock. But I couldn't deny it: Brian was much more of a MAN than Michael. The only thing in my head was one question, and I said it out loud.

—What does that mean?

—We're still defining it, Dad and I. But I think at the very least it gives me the right to do this.

He stood up and pulled at the towel around my body, and it dropped to the floor. I covered myself, burning with shame.

—Brian, I told you we can't…

—Think about it, Mom. I'm the MAN of the house and you're THE WOMAN of the house. Doesn't that give me the right to do what I want with my woman? For example— —his hand slid down, and two fingers pushed inside me— —to claim a pussy that was playing in the bathroom, thinking about me.

—Mmm —I moaned, the fingers moving in and out of me—. Maybe you're right.

—I always am. —He withdrew his hand—. But we said it's still dangerous.

He held out my phone to me, already prepared.

—Here's your video. I left a pair of earbuds by the bed. And don't forget to make Valerie watch hers.

I stood there completely naked and answered without a trace of doubt.

—What the man of the house says, gets done.

I lay down beside my husband and started touching myself.

Brian turned off the light and opened the door.

—I'll see you later.

The phone screen went dark.

The last thing I remembered was making sure Valerie watched her video. I couldn't be completely sure, but I knew enough about marketing to know how to hook my daughter with a little FOMO, and I assumed she'd opened it. And then… then I opened my video from Brian.

It was an excellent video.

There was a noise on my left, beside the bed. I looked, and Brian was there, stroking his cock in front of my face.

Mmm, what a delicious cock, I thought, and my instinct was to take it into my mouth. When it slid between my lips, I understood that this was why a woman had a mouth: to feel a man's cock. Not just any man's. My MAN's. The MAN OF THE HOUSE.

For a few seconds I only tasted him, until I felt his hands on my head, pushing me toward his hips. Then I began to suck his cock like I never had in my life. We'd never done it, Michael and me. I'd always seen it as degrading. And how could it not be degrading, when your husband is a beta male? But now, with an alpha, with a real man, I finally knew what it was to feel useful.

After a few minutes, I felt his cock begin to twitch. He yanked my head back by the hair, and while I opened my mouth, desperate, he came all over my face and my breasts. We stayed there for a moment, catching our breath, looking at each other.

Beside us, my husband snored, and we both jumped. We looked at him, looked at each other, and laughed under our breath.

—See you tomorrow, little slut —Brian whispered, and left.

I pulled out the earbuds, set my phone to charge, and lay back. The only thing I could think about was how badly I wanted to keep sucking that cock.

The alarm went off, and Michael groaned as he woke.

—Good morning —he said, rolling toward me.

—Don't tell me good morning —I said, without even looking at him—. You aren't man enough for that.

—You're right —Michael said, swallowing hard—. I'm not. I haven't been for a long time.

He cleared his throat, but his voice still cracked when he went on.

—Diana… I know I'm not worth your time, but… please… could I… could I lick your feet? Just your feet. I'll be quiet. I'll be so grateful. Please…

His eyes had filled with tears, and one slid down his cheek as he spoke. He looked truly miserable, as if every word cost him something. But below his waist, beneath the sheets, I could see a very visible erection, as though the shame itself was exactly what he couldn't resist.

I watched his cock twitch beneath the sheets, and I felt nothing but contempt.

I looked at him with disgust and let out a long, irritated sigh. Then I slid one foot out from under the sheets, let it dangle over the edge of the mattress, and lay back against the pillows. I wasn't going to lift a finger for him.

—Fine. Make it quick.

Michael scrambled out of bed and dropped to his knees on the floor, lowering himself until his face was level with my foot, and took it in both hands as if it were something holy.

—Thank you, thank you, thank you, Diana… Thank you so much… —he babbled, and his tongue ran along my sole from heel to toes, moaning with delight every time he thanked me.

I watched him with my nose wrinkled, wiggling my toes against his mouth and checking my nails on the other hand, while his cock twitched under the sheets.

—You're not a man like Brian —I said, flatly, not even bothering to look down at him.

—You're right… —he moaned between licks, lost in the pleasure of worshipping my foot—. You're right… you're right… —Then, against my skin, his breath shaking, tears dripping onto my foot

—That's enough —I said, pulling my foot away—. Go get dressed. You have to go to work, you worthless piece of shit.

—Yes, Diana. Thank you —he whispered, and climbed out of bed toward the bathroom, still smiling through his tears.

I went down to the kitchen completely naked to make breakfast. After I saw Michael off to work, I went to wake Brian.

When I opened the door, he was sound asleep. I was about to shake him awake, but then I thought: a real man should see a real woman when he opens his eyes. So I dragged his gamer chair beside the bed, sat down, spread my legs in an M with my feet planted on my son's mattress, and began to touch myself.

Brian opened his eyes. Maybe it was my moans. Maybe it was the motion traveling through the mattress from my feet. But I was sure of one thing: the first thing the man of the house saw that morning was my pussy, in all its glory.

—Good… morning, love —I said between gasps.

—Good morning to you too —Brian said, his voice hoarse—. What a pervert, waking up your son jerking off.

I laughed softly.

—Like you didn't do the same thing last night.

—Ha. Touché.

His hand reached out and settled on my inner thigh, then slid up, and he brushed his fingers lightly over my crotch. I shivered. He took his time, teasing me through that one soft touch, and then his fingers parted my lips and caressed my pussy, slow and sure, as if it already belonged to him. A moan escaped me before I could stop it.

He propped himself up on his elbows. In his boxers I could see exactly what my wake-up call had done to him.

—I think you need to take responsibility —he said, pulling them down.

—You don't have to say it twice.

I slid down to my knees on the floor and took his cock into my mouth, and there was only one thought in my head: this is my place in the world.

He was hot and heavy on my tongue, and the taste of him, salty, musky, so male, made my whole body go warm and loose. I let him fill my mouth slowly, savoring the weight of it, the velvet skin sliding over my lips, the veins pulsing against my tongue. Every time I took him deeper, a shiver ran from my throat all the way down to my pussy, and I felt myself grow wetter, my thighs slick against each other. It felt so good. It felt right, better than anything I had ever done, as though my mouth had been made for this and I had wasted fifty years not knowing it. I hummed around him, and when I heard him groan above me, a rush of pride went through me, sweet and dizzying. I was pleasing my man, and nothing in the world could have felt better.

This time, he came in my mouth. I swallowed while he spoke.

—I'm not going to college today. I have things to do.

—If you have things to do, then you don't have to go to college —I said, wiping my lips—. You're the man of the house. You decide what to do.

—I'm going to need the car. And I'm going to use the extension of Dad's credit card.

We never let him use that card. But Michael's job was to bring in the money, and Brian's job was to decide what to do with it, because he was the man of the house.

Even so, something else was worrying me.

—If you take the car, Valerie is going to be upset. And how will she get to school on time?

—That's where you come in, my little slut —he said.

Still on my knees in front of him, I watched him lean down from the edge of the bed and stretch out his arm until his hand found my pussy. I started to get up, because I could see how awkward the angle was for him, bent over like that. But I only made it halfway before I sank back into the gamer chair, spreading my legs again so he could reach me without any trouble. His fingers kept stroking me while he talked.

—You drive her, and then come back. We already learned she can come home on her own.

Mmm. I love it when he calls me that.

—But she's… ah… she's going to complain.

—Did you send her the video?

—Yes… mmh… I think she watched it —I managed to say, my voice breaking as his fingers circled me—. She texted me at one in the morning… ah… saying she loved it… and asking if there's… oh… if there's more.

—Then don't worry. She won't complain. Just tell her I need the car.

—O… okay —I gasped, hardly able to get the word out, my hips rocking against his hand.

I stood and turned to the door, and a hard slap landed on my ass. Behind me I heard him mutter, mostly to himself:

—I'll never get tired of that.

I hoped, sincerely, that he never would get tired of my ass.

I went to Valerie's room, and for the first time in months I found her still in bed. Her eyes were fixed on her phone, her mouth slightly open, a thin thread of drool at the corner of her lips.

I stepped closer. The hand that wasn't holding the phone was under her shorts. Is my daughter touching herself? Didn't she notice me come in?

I looked at what she was watching. The colors. The headphones kept me from hearing the music, but the colors were incredible…

No. I snapped myself out of it, put a hand on her shoulder, and looked away from the screen. I pulled the headphones off her ears.

—Valerie, stop watching that. You have to go to class.

—I have to go to class —my daughter repeated, in a flat, zombie voice. Then she blinked—. Mom? What time is it?

I glanced at the clock on her nightstand.

—Almost seven.

—Almost seven?! And I haven't even showered!

—Oh my God, I'm going to be so late! —she cried, shooting out of bed.

—Hurry up. I'm driving you today. Your brother isn't going to college, and he needs the car.

Valerie stopped and looked at me.

—Okay. And how do I get home?

—By bus. Your brother's decision.

—If the mas— I mean, if Brian said so.

She stayed a second longer, looking at me.

—Why are you naked?

—So I could wake up Brian.

—Okay —said Valerie, and she walked off into her bathroom.