Blackmail

As I look up, my heart hammers a jagged rhythm against my ribs. Scattered across the desk are photos of me from that summer before college—the evidence of me violating and breaking my new boss, Madison. She’s a busty blonde with long legs, and seeing her like that again makes my skin prickle with a cold, electric sweat.

I look at those photos and see a version of myself I thought I’d buried. I was just the fat kid everyone picked on in high school, and I’d spent my college years making everyone pay for it. I targeted rich athletes and bikini models, turning them into my toys with incriminating footage. Madison was one of them. I forced her to submit eight years ago, but standing here now, the air in the room feels thin. I’ve lost weight since then, but my well-tailored suit feels tighter and more restrictive than it did this morning.

I can still hear her voice promising revenge. Now she’s standing right in front of me, and the life I’ve built is balanced on a razor's edge. My wife—a gorgeous brunette and former cheerleader who turned the tables on me—is at home with our two children. My throat feels dry, like I’ve swallowed sand.

Madison leans over the desk, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "Deny it," she challenges. "Tell me it isn't you. Or better yet, give me an order so you can feel big again before I ruin you."

I try to speak, but the words catch in my throat. As I struggle to find my voice, she moves with a predatory grace toward the door. The heavy clack of the deadbolt locking echoes through the silent office like a gunshot. My palms are suddenly slick against the mahogany desk, leaving faint, damp prints on the wood.

She turns back toward me. "I have not been with another man since then," she says, her eyes locking onto mine, "and you will make it up to me."

She tosses a contract onto the desk. It slides across the polished surface, stopping right at my trembling fingertips. "You will sign it and become one of my vice presidents, or I will expose you as a sexual predator to your wife."

The air leaves my lungs as if she’d punched me. My eyes dart between the contract and the locked door, my vision narrowing until all I can see is her. My pulse is a deafening roar in my ears.

She picks up her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen. "I am calling your beloved wife for a meeting."