I Fell for My Boss He taught me the tricks to getting promoted and a raise—up close and personal. Feeling the clash of our bodies, I sank deep into a web of self-deception… Blake Harrison was my boss, in a sharp tailored suit, his long fingers holding a pen as he stood in front of everyone delivering a speech. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses was a restrained maturity far different from us fresh-out-of-college grads. I watched his distinct knuckles push up his glasses, unconsciously crossing my legs. God, Mr. Harrison is so hot! Sexy yet so controlled—if only those hands could caress my body… Imagining that blush-worthy scene, my face flushed and my breathing quickened. “Emily Brooks, what do you think about Apex Corp’s profit this quarter?” The boss’s voice suddenly rang out. Startled, I jumped up from my chair. The movement was too sudden, making my well-developed curves bounce noticeably. “I… I…” “Boss, sorry, I don’t know…” I lowered my head in regret—getting caught fantasizing about the boss in public was so embarrassing! “Sit down. Come to my office after work.” Blake Harrison’s sharp gaze behind the gold-rimmed glasses nearly made my legs give out; it was like he could see through all my thoughts. But my body reacted under his stare, making me even more shy as I bowed my head and clenched my thighs. My face burned; it felt like his eyes scanned every inch of me, as if I were standing naked before him. Blake Harrison turned away, withdrawing his gaze from me, and continued discussing those boring numbers as if nothing had happened. I gripped my skirt tightly, feeling a mix of shame and anticipation, completely missing the dark glint that flashed briefly behind his gold-rimmed glasses.
After work, I lingered in the restroom for a long time before slowly heading to Blake Harrison’s office. I liked Blake Harrison; his handsome, mature aura deeply attracted me. Just thinking about being alone with the boss soon made me excited without realizing it. I deliberately hiked up my pencil skirt high, barely covering my perky backside, revealing my slim, long legs in sheer black stockings. My professional blouse was tailored a bit snug, hugging my perfect curves. I undid a few buttons, wearing a small silver star pendant on my long neck that subtly disappeared into my impressive cleavage. I ran my fingers through my hair a few times and pushed open the door to Blake Harrison’s office. “Boss…” I called out cautiously, entering and closing the door behind me. Blake Harrison was the son of the company’s largest board director, said to be here gaining experience before taking over as boss of this branch. He quickly became the dream guy for countless colleagues thanks to his striking looks and prominent family background. He sat at his desk reviewing files, perhaps tired, having removed his gold-rimmed glasses and set them aside. He looked up; without the glasses, his unguarded gaze swept over my chest and legs. To make the best impression, I straightened my chest to meet his eyes. Honestly, I was a bit scared, not sure what this behavior implied. I just genuinely felt that since I liked him, I wanted to show my best side. But in a flash, Blake Harrison looked away, patting the chair beside him for me to sit. He reverted to his serious, ascetic demeanor from the meeting. I slowly walked over and sat down; maybe I pulled my skirt too short, because sitting made only my tiny panties touch the chair. The cool sensation jolted my overexcited nerves, snapping me back to reality with a sudden fear. Feeling the man’s presence beside me, I grew tense, anxiously clutching my skirt. “HR says you graduated from Northwestern University?” “Um… yes.” Our school was just a regular undergrad program; I never expected to get into this company. I kept my head down, not daring to look at him, staring blankly at my smooth, exposed thighs. “Yeah, that’s right.” Blake Harrison paused, suddenly reaching out to pat and stroke my back. I trembled in fear, but he withdrew his hand and pulled out the report I’d submitted that morning: “There are some issues with this report. I think new hires need more practice. So every evening after work, come to my office to draft a report. I’ll teach you some simple techniques—are you willing?” He emphasized “techniques,” his eyes playful. Maybe I didn’t react fast enough; I looked up, staring at him dazedly. We were very close; he narrowed his eyes, a meaning and darkness I couldn’t read in them. I nodded in a daze: “Ah, okay. Th-thank you, boss.” “No need to thank me.” He smirked like he’d succeeded, suddenly placing his hand on my bare thigh, even rubbing it unconsciously a few times. “Then… let’s start with how to build a good relationship with leadership.” As he spoke, his large palm slowly moved up, touching the fabric under my skirt hem. The man’s breath suddenly neared my ear, his seductive voice whispering: “The quality of your relationship with leadership depends on two factors: one is the employee’s own abilities and qualifications.” He first lingered on my short skirt hem, then narrowed his eyes and suddenly reached under my skirt, touching my smooth core! “Ah! Sir, no!” I cried out in shock, trying to push his hand away, but he increased his force, trapping me in his palm. “Miss Brooks, dressing like this to see me—you want me to do this to you, right?” “I don’t!” I shouted angrily. “Shh—” His finger pressed my lips. “Baby, don’t resist easily. You know the consequences of resisting me.” He smiled, moving his other hand to my chest, continuing: “The second factor influencing the relationship is the employee’s attitude toward leadership—” He rubbed vigorously, I clenched my thighs, unable to hold back a moan. The boss I once admired was such a beast in a suit; I closed my eyes in despair, silently crying. Just then, the office door was knocked on a few times: “Boss, finance says there are a few issues needing your review—it’s urgent.” I looked pleadingly at the man before me, shaking my head. Blake Harrison frowned unhappily, continuing his force below while biting my earlobe: “Miss Brooks, private lessons—this is our little secret.” I quickly agreed, almost fleeing, but as I turned to leave the office, I locked eyes with the person outside. My expression shifted from panic to calm; unnoticed, I slipped a tiny recording device into his pocket— Looks like our fish has taken the bait.
I waited at the corner for a moment until the guy came out of the office. We exchanged a glance, then walked separately to an empty stairwell. “Emily, maybe we should call it off—it’s too risky.” The guy looked worriedly at the red marks still on my thighs, showing reluctance. “I’m fine.” I pulled my skirt down further. “Jack Bennett, I can’t give up. I always dream of Mia’s appearance that day—I can’t forget, I don’t dare forget.” My mind replayed those piercing scenes. My Mia endured far more than this—how could I quit here! Jack Bennett’s eyes reddened too; he took off his jacket and draped it around my waist: “Okay, I’ll stay with you.” Jack Bennett, Mia Thompson, and I grew up together as close friends in an orphanage. Later, though Mia was adopted, our bond remained as strong. Two years ago, after we graduated, Mia interned at this company, and the nightmare began then. I closed my eyes, filled with Mia’s sorrowful cries. Her last phone call in life was to me. Back then, I didn’t know what she was going through. By the time Jack and I arrived, she had no vital signs. The bathtub water was a glaring red; I’ve dreamed countless times of that blood-red water spreading to my feet, swallowing me again and again. I knew that was Mia’s unrest—the person who harmed her was still free; how could she rest in peace? Later, we found Mia’s diary, vaguely recording her admiration for Blake Harrison. Page after page documented a girl’s budding feelings; it also recorded a devil’s crimes. But when we tried to report it, Mia’s adoptive parents, who had always been distant and indifferent, only cared about saving face: “Flies don’t sting seamless eggs—Mia must have had issues herself! I advise you not to blow this up; we can’t afford the shame!” My Mia, in her stifled life, desperately pursued her love, only to be led step by step into hell by a scheming villain. Blake Harrison mentally controlled her, trapping her in endless confusion and fear, until she ended her life this way. But she was clearly in pain, yet in her diary, she brainwashed herself repeatedly, saying it was all for love. Is this love? This is a cage. Mia’s adoptive parents firmly refused to report it; her funeral was hasty. This past year, I’ve secretly investigated many people, realizing Mia wasn’t the only victim. Blake Harrison is cunning; he excels at toying with young girls’ emotions. With money and power, minor scandals pose no threat to him. So this year, while running several social media accounts, Jack and I worked hard to infiltrate this company—just to get the most direct evidence. I rubbed my reddened eyes, touching the small star pendant on my chest, gazing firmly at the darkening sky outside: Mia, none of this was your fault. The bad guys will get the punishment they deserve.
It was time for my appointment with Blake Harrison again; I awkwardly tugged at my skirt hem and entered his office once more. After entering, I followed his instructions and removed my loose outer coat. He still looked impeccably dressed, head raised, staring directly with playful eyes at my outfit today. He placed the chair I sat in between his legs, gesturing for me to sit. I clutched my report, taking small steps to avoid flashing anything. “Why so shy?” Blake Harrison chuckled; when I was a few steps away, he suddenly pulled me into his lap. I lowered my eyes, pretending to be scared. One hand gripped my chin, the other reached under the chair. A “click” sounded, and suddenly my lower body felt cool. The chair had a hollow center! His hand quickly reached in; I trembled involuntarily. He smirked even more playfully, his other hand flipping open my report. On the last blank page, his bold handwriting read: “After work, wear the clothes I sent you and come to the office.” He pressed against my back, hot breath on my ear: “I’ll check if our Emily has been a good girl and listened to the boss…” As he spoke, he reached into my clothes and under my skirt. I endured the discomfort, my voice mosquito-like: “Mr. Harrison… can we not do this?” The man paused, then intensified: “Why? Doesn’t Emily like it?” I bit my lip hard, burying my hate-filled face low: “Is the boss doing this because he likes me?” “Of course—I like every one of you.” He greedily curled his lips, flipping me over so my back was against his desk. “The boss likes young, pretty college girls like you the most.” His forearm hooked under my knees, slowly leaning down to kiss my chest. I grew anxious—if this continued, not only would I fail to get a confession, but my situation would become more dangerous. When Blake Harrison tried to remove my last barrier, I suddenly struggled, with real tears and hatred: “Please, let me go! Boss, please!” I fell to the floor; in the chaos, I even slapped him hard across the face. “You beast! Let go!” Blake Harrison froze, then laughed disdainfully: “You think you’re so capable?” “I’ve played with so many female students—didn’t they all end up obeying me?” He opened the nearby computer, clicking to pull up surveillance footage. He had cameras installed in the office, recording indecent videos of all the girls. He used these videos to threaten and lure them deeper into the abyss, with no way back. I glared at him with red eyes; he didn’t care: “At first, they looked at me with eyes like yours—didn’t they all submit in the end?” “I’ve seen too many girls like you. I advise you to drop that ridiculous pride. In a way, I’m your benefactor.” “You think you got into our company because of what? If not for your… assets… would I hire you?” Blake Harrison eyed my disheveled, exposed state greedily: “If you don’t use your strengths to serve us, what will you do later—get played by others anyway!” “Look now—using your body to work—isn’t that a respectable job?” “And aren’t you all coming to me willingly?” I shivered uncontrollably, not expecting Blake Harrison to be this perverted—this was a full criminal chain. And our bodies were the merchandise on display… I couldn’t help touching the star pendant hiding the recorder, my temples throbbing. Blake Harrison suddenly narrowed his eyes, glancing at the pendant in my hand: “Speaking of which, you remind me of a previous girl—not sure how…” He rubbed his chin, saying casually: “Too bad she wasn’t obedient—didn’t get to play enough before she died, hahahaha…” His cruel lips curled high, his ugly face twisting before me. I felt like falling into an ice pit. Mia… Mia didn’t commit suicide… He sneered, tossing a black card on the floor: “This Saturday night, 8 PM, Room 802. Don’t be late—this is your first ‘client.’”
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