Page 33 of The Physical Attraction Seminar
I know the rules. We’re colleagues, a boss and assistant, bound by the constraints of tradition. Nothing more, nothing less. Yet, the late-night solitude and mental exhaustion seem to blur those boundaries for me.
She makes me weak in the best possible way. She consumes my thoughts during meetings. I make excuses to leave my office, craving the sound of her quick “hi” as I pass by. I can’t resist stealing glances at her, surpassing the limits of what is socially acceptable. And after work, my mind wanders, curious about how she spends her evenings and weekends.
I can’t tell if the two of us working together is affecting her because if it is, she’s holding herself together a lot better than I am.
Right now, all I can think about is eliminating the distance between us, placing her on my desk, and fucking her senseless. I want to hear her moans echoing off the walls of my office. And how she looks with her tits pressed against my floor-to-ceiling windows while I take her from behind.
Fuck me. I shouldn’t be doing this right now.
The tension between us simmers just beneath the surface as we continue our work in comfortable silence, the air thick with unspoken words.
Our eyes meet, and I sense a hint of something more in her gaze, a flicker of desire, like she can see right through my red thoughts. The chemistry between us is undeniable, an electric current crackling between us.
“I need a break,” Lyla declares, tossing down the stack of papers in her hands onto the chair next to her.
The tightness in my shoulders melts away. Maybe I can convince her to wrap up the night so that I can focus on finishing the rest of these financial projections without being distracted.
“It’s late. You should go home and enjoy your weekend.” I lean back in my chair, feeling the soft cushion against my back as I stretch my arms over my head with a yawn. “Lionel is waiting outside, he can drive you home.”
By the time he drops Lyla off at her apartment and makes it back to this side of town, my fingers will be sore from typing, and I’ll be ready to throw in the towel for the night.
“Don’t say that. We’re making good progress. What all do you have left?”
“I just have to finish this spreadsheet.”
“Exactly my point,” she pulls a face. “This is my last stack of papers. I’m just going to stretch my legs and grab some water from the break room, then we can leave together once we’re finished.”
I can think of a few other ways she can stretchher legs.
I shake my head, dismissing my lewd thoughts. Reluctantly, I nod in agreement. “Can you grab me a water bottle while you’re in there?”
“Yes, sir,” Lyla says off-handedly. I can see the shift in her face, the way her eyes grow wider the second she registers the words that just came out of her mouth.
Out of all the possible things she could’ve uttered, why did she have to say that?
Our eyes meet, and my face remains expressionless as I calmly utter the words, “Break room. Now. Please.”
Lyla scrambles away, her footsteps echoing through the silence, and I can finally breathe. Looking down, I can see the outline of my dick straining against my navy-blue dress pants. I take in a deep breath, leaning back in my chair, and wipe my hands down my cheeks.
Being around her is starting to feel unbearable. Will it always be like this? Am I always going to struggle to maintain my composure whenever she’s around? What’s going to happen when she eventually starts dating someone else? Or when I have to suffer through the sound of her and Camila giggling about the dude from her desk? Or worse, what if she brings the guy to a company Christmas party, and we have to make awkward small talk?
I’m getting ahead of myself, but it’s hard to think straight when she’s all I can think about. I don’t want to keep having to remind myself of the boundaries and that professionalism must prevail, but I refuse to fire her. If she wants to leave, she’s going to have to do it on her own.
I can hear the faint sound of Lyla’s footstepsapproaching my office. “You know what? On second thought, maybe we should call it quits.” She avoids making eye contact with me. Then, with a quick motion, she snatches her bag from the ground and proceeds to stuff it with papers. “I’ll take this last stack home and read them over the weekend. How does that sound?”
“Sounds good,” I agree, gathering my belongings and shutting down my laptop. “Lionel and I will still drop you off at your apartment.”
“Oh, no. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine getting home by myself.”
“Lyla,” my tone is stern. She looks up at me with wide, innocent eyes that make my chest ache. “I’m not letting you walk home alone this late, so please don’t fight me on this.”
A pretty pink flush creeps into her cheeks, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she continues packing her bag, the sound of zippers and rustling fabric filling the silence.
Outside, the cool night air hits my cheeks, and I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the tormenting what-ifs that linger between us. I open the car door, and Lyla slides across the leather seat, rattling off her address to Lionel.
The only sound during the drive is the steady, soothing hum of the car.
A few minutes pass, and the SUV lurches to a halt, signaling Lyla’s stop. She moves to open the door, but I quickly intercept and grab the handle before she does.
