They make a move on Greg

Greg stood by the side table, the Noninos lunch bag forgotten, his pulse a wild drumbeat as he clutched the remote, its weight a steady anchor in his trembling hand. Charlotte, Margaret, and Evelyn stood frozen—Charlotte’s blonde waves a radiant cascade, her black shirt a bold stroke against the room’s muted tones; Margaret’s burgundy velvet jacket glinting, her sleek updo a crown of dark elegance; Evelyn’s dark curls spilling over her daring black blazer, her poised stance a study in power. Each woman, reshaped by his will, hovered on the edge of awakening, their minds now tuned to the bold, affectionate settings he’d dialled into the remote.

With a steadying breath, Greg pressed the ‘Unfreeze’ button. A soft pulse of light rippled through the room, and the women came alive, their movements fluid, like statues stirring from a dream.

Charlotte’s pen clattered to the desk, her green eyes snapping to Greg with a warmth that sent a shiver down his spine.

Margaret’s scowl softened into a sly, knowing smile, her fingers brushing her polished bun as if savouring its weight.

Evelyn’s hand, paused mid-reach, dropped gracefully, her dark curls swaying as she tilted her head, her gaze locking onto Greg with an intensity that felt like a caress.

Their eyes met in a fleeting exchange, a silent agreement sparking between them, their bond as close friends now laced with a shared hunger. Charlotte’s lips curved into a playful smirk, her fingers trailing along the edge of her desk as she glided to the door.

“Sarah, hold all calls,” she called, her voice a low, velvety purr, before locking the door with a deliberate snap. Margaret moved to the windows, her burgundy jacket catching the light as she tugged the blinds down, the slats clattering softly, sealing the room in a warm, shadowed glow. Evelyn joined Charlotte, her black skirt swishing, her fingers brushing Charlotte’s arm in a gesture of easy camaraderie, their unity palpable.

“Greg,” Charlotte murmured, her heels clicking as she sauntered toward him, her black blouse clinging to her lush curves with every step.

She stopped close, her jasmine scent enveloping him, her fingers grazing the top button of her dress, popping it open to reveal a glimpse of lace that tightened his throat. “You’ve been holding out on us, haven’t you? There’s something… attractive about you.”

Margaret approached from his left, her movements fluid, her velvet jacket parted to reveal the silky blouse beneath, its neckline dipping to hint at the curves he’d sculpted. Her blue eyes gleamed with mischief and hunger as she tugged his tie loose with a gentle pull.

“She’s right,” she said, her voice rich, like whiskey over ice. “You’re not just an intern, Greg. You’re… intriguing.” Her smile widened as she undid another button, the fabric parting to reveal smooth skin, her confidence radiating like heat.

Evelyn circled to his right, her dark curls bouncing, her black blazer unbuttoned to expose the low-cut blouse beneath, the fabric barely containing her enhanced figure. She leaned in, her rose-and-spice scent mingling with the others, her lips brushing his ear.

“We see you, Greg. And we want you,” she whispered, her fingers trailing down his arm, bold and possessive, as she popped another button, her movements slow, teasing.

Greg’s heart pounded, their presence overwhelming, their transformed beauty and brazen affection a living pulse in the room. Charlotte’s hand found his chest, her touch firm yet tender, her nails grazing his shirt.

“We’re friends, Greg,” she said, her voice a sultry melody, her eyes flicking to Margaret and Evelyn with a knowing glint. “Good friends. We share everything.” She leaned closer, her lips hovering near his, her breath warm and sweet. “And we’ve decided you’re worth sharing.”

Margaret’s laugh was low, throaty, as she pressed closer, her thigh brushing his, the slit in her skirt revealing a flash of skin that sent a jolt through him. “You don’t mind, do you?” she teased, her fingers slipping another button free, the fabric falling open to reveal the curve of her chest, her confidence as intoxicating as her leather-tinged scent.

Evelyn’s hand slid to his shoulder, her touch electric, her dark curls grazing his cheek as she tilted his chin toward her.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she said, her voice a velvet command, her lips curling into a smile that promised both challenge and delight. Her blazer slipped open further, the blouse beneath barely containing her curves, each movement deliberate, designed to captivate.

Greg’s head spun, their boldness thrilling him, their transformed selves a vivid testament to the remote’s power. He grinned, his nerves giving way to a rush of delight, his voice steady despite the heat flooding his cheeks. “I… I’m not complaining,” he said, his hands twitching at his sides, torn between restraint and the urge to reciprocate their passion.

Charlotte’s laugh was soft, almost predatory, as she pressed closer, her body brushing his, her dress clinging to every curve. “Good,” she whispered, her lips grazing his jaw, sending a spark through his veins. “Because we’re just getting started.”

Now Greg’s pulse roared, the remote in his pocket a silent testament to the power that had shaped this moment. His grin, a blend of thrill and nervous anticipation, held as their bold advances pulled him deeper into their orbit.

Charlotte moved first, her green eyes locking onto his with a sultry fire. Her heels clicked softly, her red dress swaying like a flame in the dim light as she closed the distance. Her fingers, warm and deliberate, slid up his chest, tugging his loosened tie free, the silk whispering to the floor.

“Let’s start this right,” she murmured, her voice a velvet caress, her jasmine scent wrapping around him. Her lips met his, soft and teasing at first, a gentle press that coaxed a shiver from him.

The kiss deepened, her mouth moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm, her tongue brushing his with a playful flick, drawing a soft gasp. Her hands framed his face, nails grazing his jaw, guiding him into her pace with tender insistence. Her lips, tasting faintly of sweet wine, lingered, leaving him breathless as she pulled back, her smile a promise woven with warmth.

Margaret stepped forward before his breath steadied, her blue eyes flashing with a fiercer edge, her burgundy jacket glinting as she moved with predatory grace. “My turn,” she said, her voice low and throaty, laced with a whiskey-warm edge that sent a jolt down his spine.

Her hands gripped his shirt collar, pulling him toward her with a bold tug. Her lips crashed against his, more forceful than Charlotte’s, a hungry demand that left no room for pause. Her tongue swept into his mouth, bold and unyielding, exploring with a fierce rhythm that weakened his knees.

Her body pressed closer, the slit in her skirt brushing his thigh, the heat of her curves searing through his clothes. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly, a spark of dominance in her touch as she deepened the kiss, her leather-tinged scent flooding his senses. When she pulled back, her lips flushed, her smile sharp and triumphant, her breath a soft pant against his cheek.

Evelyn moved last, her dark curls swaying, her rose-and-spice scent cutting through the air like a blade. Her eyes burned with an intensity that outstripped the others, her black blazer parted to reveal the low-cut blouse clinging to her sculpted curves. “You’re ours now,” she whispered, her voice a sultry command, each word dripping with possessive heat.

Her hands seized his shoulders, fingers digging in with a strength that sparked through him. Her lips claimed his with a ferocity that eclipsed Margaret’s, her kiss a wildfire—urgent, consuming, unrelenting. Her tongue plunged into his mouth, demanding and relentless, her teeth grazing his lower lip with a teasing nip that drew a low moan from his throat. She pressed herself against him, her curves moulding to his frame, the fabric of her skirt whispering against his legs.

One hand slid to the back of his neck, holding him in place, while the other trailed down his chest, her nails scraping lightly, igniting sparks of heat. The kiss stretched on, fierce and unapologetic, her breath hot and ragged when she finally pulled back, her lips glistening, her gaze locked on his with a promise of untamed desire.

Greg swayed, his head spinning, the taste of their kisses—wine, whiskey, spice—lingering on his lips. The women stood close, their breaths mingling, their eyes glinting with shared excitement and unspoken agreement.