Late at night in Charlotte’s supervisor’s office.

Charlotte was twenty-two, just starting work on her Master’s program in electoral politics. Many of her professors had called her a genius, offering up glowing recommendation letters for the young woman, and she had had no trouble getting into the program. It was in her nature to succeed.

She had been assigned to Eleanor Travis, one of the newer profs in the department. Dr. Travis was thirty-seven, and, like Charlotte, she had been called a genius. It was what had earned her her full-time job only a year after she had gotten her PhD. The department board had thought that Eleanor and Charlotte would be a natural fit for each other, and they were right.

They often worked hard together until the early morning in Dr. Travis’ office, poring over studies and data with a fine eye for detail. Normally.

But a **** in Charlotte’s family had distracted her from her studies, and her work had suffered for it. Dr. Travis had noticed that this was happening and she had called Charlotte into her office for a proper explanation.

That was how Charlotte had ended up on her knees on the floor of her supervisor’s office late at night, her blouse discarded to show off her push-up bra, still not sure what she was about to do on her supervisor’s orders.