The dream

The next morning, Tammy stood outside the office, clutching her takeaway coffee and telling herself to breathe. The night before had left her rattled, not just the attack, but John’s sudden, violent intervention. She had lay awake for hours, replaying the image of him striking those men down, hearing his voice in her head: You alright?

The words hadn’t been kind, not exactly. But there’d been a flicker in his eyes, a softness so brief she almost doubted it had been real. And for reasons she couldn’t admit, it had lodged inside her like a splinter.

She squared her shoulders and pushed the door open.

The office was already buzzing, phones ringing, the hum of printers, the chatter of voices with accents she was only just beginning to decipher. Tammy slipped into her chair, booted her computer, and pretended to be invisible.

But she wasn’t.

John appeared ten minutes later. She didn’t hear him approach, she only noticed when his shadow fell across her desk.

“Tammy.”

She jumped slightly, then looked up. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, posture military-straight. But his eyes softened when they landed on her.

“You did well yesterday,” he said quietly, almost so the others couldn’t hear. “Keeping your head. Most would’ve panicked.”

Her mouth went dry. “I… thank you. For stepping in.”

A flicker of something crossed his face. Then it was gone, his features settling back into their usual cool mask.

“Get on with your work,” he said, and strode away.

Tammy sat frozen, heart thumping. It had been nothing. A small kindness, a crumb. But it left her warm all over, her lips parted in a stupid little smile.

That smile didn’t go unnoticed.

“Well, well, someone’s getting the boss’s attention,” a voice sang from across the row of desks.

Tammy blinked up to see three women watching her with smirks. The one who’d spoken was tall, blonde, with a chest that seemed almost comically large beneath her fitted blouse. She leaned on Tammy’s partition wall, grinning like a cat.

“I’m Jill,” she said, sticking out a hand. “And you’re the Canadian everyone’s been talking about.”

Tammy shook her hand, flushing. “Talking about?”

“Oh, aye.” Jill winked. “New blood. And apparently John’s already got his eye on you.”

The others giggled, whispering behind their hands.

Tammy rolled her eyes, trying for breezy. “He was just being decent. Yesterday was… a mess.”

Jill’s grin widened. “Decent? Our John? You must’ve caught him on his one nice day of the year, love. We’ve been trying to pump him for years, but he’s too bloody grumpy.”

“Pump him?” Tammy echoed, half **** on her coffee.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked.” Jill laughed, tossing her hair. “Man looks like he’s carved out of fuckin granite, and he walks around with that scowl like he’s got a stick up his arse. Of course we’ve all thought about it.”

The other women nodded, one sighing dramatically.

“Maybe he just needed a Canadian Mountie to tame him,” another teased.

Tammy waved her hands. “No, no, no. Absolutely not. I’m married, happily married.”

That only made them laugh harder. Jill slapped her desk and grinned. “Don’t worry, love. We’re only winding you up. Still, if he gave me that look he just gave you, I’d be dropping my knickers under the desk.”

Tammy tried to laugh it off, but the heat rising in her cheeks betrayed her. She ducked her head, focusing on her spreadsheets while Jill and the others went back to their chatter.

But throughout the day, she caught Jill’s eyes twinkling at her, like the woman knew exactly what she was thinking.

By five o’clock, Jill leaned across Tammy’s desk again.

“Right, girls’ night,” she announced. “You’re coming.”

Tammy hesitated. “Oh, I don’t—”

“No excuses,” Jill interrupted. “You’ve been here a week, and all you’ve done is work and go home to your empty flat. You need to get pissed with us. That’s how you’ll really settle in.”

The other women chimed in, cajoling and teasing until Tammy sighed and agreed.

“Fine. One drink.”

Jill grinned. “That’s how it starts.”

Hours later, Tammy found herself squeezed into a booth in a noisy pub, pint glass in hand, cheeks flushed with both **** and laughter. The women had welcomed her in instantly, their banter quick, filthy, and relentless. Jill in particular had her in stitches, telling outrageous stories that may or may not have been true.

But somewhere between the third and fourth round, the conversation took a turn.

“So, Tammy,” one of the women slurred, “what do you think of our best perk?”

Tammy blinked. “Perk?”

Jill smirked. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

The others giggled. Tammy frowned. “Know what?”

“Our… breaks,” Jill said, drawing out the word. “Half an hour, every day, paid. You can take it whenever you like.”

Tammy tilted her head. “Breaks? Like… lunch?”

“Not lunch, love.” Jill leaned closer, voice conspiratorial. “Masturbation breaks.”

Tammy nearly spat her drink. “Excuse me?”

The table erupted in laughter.

“No, seriously,” Jill insisted, eyes dancing. “Half an hour, official policy. Most of us take it. There’s even a special room.”

Tammy stared at her, mouth open. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.” Jill smirked. “Productivity, stress relief, all that pish. But mostly it’s just fun. Pop in, lock the door, sort yourself out, come back refreshed.”

The others nodded, chiming in with their own tips and tales, all delivered between bursts of laughter.

Tammy’s face burned. “I… I couldn’t. Not in the office.”

“Oh, you will,” Jill said knowingly, tapping her nose. “Give it a week. You’ll be dying for it.”

The whole table roared again, and Tammy buried her face in her hands, laughing in spite of herself. But even as she laughed, a shiver of shock (and something darker) ran through her.

Later that night, drunk and unsteady, Tammy collapsed into bed in her little flat. The room spun, the city’s noises filtering in through the window. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to take her.

And then the dream came.

She was in the office, the lights dim. John stood in front of her, towering, his cold blue eyes fixed on hers.

“Strip,” he ordered, voice like steel.

Tammy’s breath caught. “I can’t—”

“Now.”

Her hands moved without her will, unbuttoning her blouse, sliding her skirt down. She stood naked in the office, skin prickling under his gaze.

“Bend over,” he said, pointing to the desk.

Her body obeyed, trembling, breasts pressed against the cool wood, ass raised. She felt him behind her, hot breath at her neck, the hard press of his body as he pushed into her.

Tammy moaned, helpless, his hands gripping her hips, driving her forward with each thrust. His voice growled in her ear

“You belong to me here.”

She cried out, half in pleasure, half in shame

And woke with a jolt.

Her heart hammered. Sweat dampened her chest. Between her thighs, she throbbed with an ache so sharp it made her gasp.

“No,” she whispered.

Graham’s face flashed in her mind, his smile, his touch. But her body still burned with the memory of John’s voice, John’s hands.

Tammy curled into the sheets, guilty and aroused all at once. Her thighs pressed together, **** for relief, but she **** her hands to stay still.

Eventually, she drifted into restless sleep, her last thought.

What’s happening to me?