The next Day

Nicole stepped through the glass doors of the firm, the air-conditioned chill hitting her skin like a cold slap. The sterile scent of ozone and expensive cologne clung to the hallways, a stark contrast to the musky warmth of her bedroom from the night before. She sat at her desk, fingers dancing over the keyboard, though her mind drifted to the heavy weight of John's apology and the ghost of Jefferson's touch.

The intercom on her desk rattled with a sharp, jarring buzz.

"Nicole. In my office. Now," Jefferson's voice boomed, stripped of any professional courtesy.

Nicole swallowed hard, her throat feeling tight and dry. She stood, smoothing the charcoal fabric of her pencil skirt over her hips.

As she entered the office, the heavy mahogany door clicked shut behind her, sealing them in a tomb of luxury and silence.

Mr. Jefferson sat behind his massive desk, his bald head gleaming under the recessed spotlights. He didn't look up from his tablet for a long minute, letting the silence stretch until Nicole's heart hammered against her ribs.

"Close the blinds, Nicole," he commanded.

She obeyed, the slats snapping shut and plunging the room into a dim, amber glow.

"Did your husband enjoy the leftovers I left for him last night?" Jefferson asked, a slow smirk curling his lips.

Nicole flinched, her voice a mere whisper. "Please, sir."

"Please what? Please stop? Or please tell me how much you missed me?" He stood up, the leather of his executive chair creaking. He circled the desk, his presence looming over her, smelling of peppermint and power.

"You look flushed. Are you still thinking about the way I filled you?"

"I... I'm here to work," she stammered, stepping back until her calves hit the edge of the desk.

"You're here to serve," he corrected, his hand sliding firmly onto the small of her back, pulling her slender frame flush against his chest.

"Now, get on the desk. I want to see if you're still leaking for me."