In the aftermath of my son’s birth, my breasts frequently swelled during the breastfeeding phase, intensifying my sexual desires. My husband was engrossed in work and couldn’t fulfill my needs, leading to escalating conflicts between us. In a bid to soothe his wounded pride, he accused me of postpartum syndrome, proposing a specialized therapy abroad to ease my symptoms. Upon our arrival, my husband escorted me to an exclusive physiotherapy clinic. To my surprise, my therapist was a strikingly handsome foreign man. In a moment of heightened emotion, he leaned close. His smile disarmed as he whispered, “Would you like to experience double happiness, madam?” He then proceeded to help me remove my disposable massage pants just as another handsome physiotherapist entered the room… I was a 26-year-old nursing mother. My name was Judy Johnson. After my maternity leave, I resumed my duties at the company, diligently expressing breast milk each day to store in the refrigerator, relying on my husband’s mother, Lily Johnson, to feed it to my son at the right times. Despite my efforts, my breasts would still swell painfully while at the office, forcing me to discreetly relieve the pressure in the bathroom. This predicament drew lewd stares from the single male colleagues, and their gazes made me profoundly uncomfortable. One day, after completing a report and delivering it to my supervisor, William Davis, for review and signature, he called me back. “Judy, your blouse has seen better days. Why don’t you head to the bathroom and freshen up?” With a gentle smile, William pointed to his chest to indicate a stain on my shirt. His kind reminder sent a flush of embarrassment through me. I hastily thanked him and retreated to the bathroom to clean up. Despite his unmarried status, William cut a striking figure, and his charm was not diminished by the fact that he had yet to reach his fortieth year. Yet, he possessed the unmistakable essence of manhood. Even his gentlest caution sent waves of embarrassment washing over me. Upon reaching the bathroom, I hastily grabbed a handful of tissues. With trembling hands, I wiped away the remnants of my disarray. Slipping into the fresh outfit I had brought along, I transformed not just my appearance but gathered my poise. Ready once more, I made my way back to William’s office. This time, standing before William, I felt an inexplicable awkwardness. His focus seemed solely on the report I had submitted. “Very well, no issues. Judy, keep up the good work,” he said. William grinned, signing off on the document. “Thanks!” As I expressed my gratitude and reached for the report, William sipped his coffee. He inquired, “Judy, the company is considering assigning me a new assistant next month. Would you be interested?” His words took me aback. I was aware his current assistant had resigned for personal reasons, but I hadn’t anticipated William would choose me as a replacement. The role didn’t demand exceptional qualifications, yet it offered double the salary and benefits of my current position, with a significantly higher year-end bonus. “Could I manage such a role?” I asked. My heart fluttered with unmistakable excitement. Indeed, such a chance was rare, and the allure was potent; what woman, particularly one who had embraced motherhood, could possibly resist this golden opportunity? “Of course, you’re more than capable.” William assured me with a smile, standing up and placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. His touch sent a jolt through me, prompting an instinctive step back. My heart raced. “But I’ve never been an assistant before. I’m afraid I might not be up to the task.” Despite my interest, I voiced my apprehension. “It’s quite simple, Judy. You’d just need to accompany me on the occasional business trip. Nothing more is required,” William answered. Sensing my concern, William moved closer without my notice. This time, he reached from behind, lightly touching my chin. His gesture, coupled with the suggestive look in his eyes, sent a shiver of fear through me.
“Mr. Davis, I…I need time to consider this,” I stammered. I was caught off guard and swiftly retreated, grabbing the report from the desk. Then I exited his office. In the corridor, I unexpectedly encountered William’s current assistant, Madelynn Smith. She had seen me emerge from William’s office and seemed to have overheard our conversation. With a glance to ensure we were alone, Madelynn pulled me aside and whispered, “Mr. Davis wants you as his assistant, doesn’t he? “But be warned, he’s quite perverse.” With that, she patted my shoulder and left, leaving me rooted in place. When I returned to my workstation, confusion clouded my thoughts. When the workday ended, I hurried home. Lily was in the kitchen, preparing dinner, while my son lay on the bed, wailing. I rushed to feed him and soothed him until he drifted off to sleep. As the clock neared eight, my husband, Jeremy Johnson, arrived. Over dinner, I broached the subject of becoming William’s assistant. After all, stepping into the role of an assistant would tether me to a demanding schedule. Overtime would spill into my evenings, and business trips would claim my weekends. The thought of not being able to return home for my son weighed heavily on my heart. Jeremy’s response was immediate and firm, “Mr. Davis? You mean William Davis? I’ve heard he’s a lecherous pervert. Aren’t you afraid he’ll harass you?” His words left me silent. I had never discussed William with Jeremy, yet Jeremy seemed to know of William. I had toyed with the notion of negotiating for a doubled salary or some such perk, but Jeremy dismissed the idea outright. He was firm, advising me to keep an eye out for new horizons and to switch companies when the moment was ripe. His stance was clear. Under no circumstances should I continue working in proximity to a man of William’s questionable character. With Jeremy’s disapproval, I let the matter rest. After dinner, I tended to our son and indulged in a hot bath before bed. I expected Jeremy to be waiting, but as soon as I slipped into bed, he turned off the lamp, murmuring, “It’s late. Let’s sleep.” I was taken aback. As I tried to snuggle closer, I found his back turned to me, a cold rebuff. This revelation plunged me into a well of dissatisfaction. Reflecting on the day’s earlier encounter, when William’s fingers had brushed against my chin, my lust was reignited. I immediately complained, “Jeremy, do you find me repulsive now? It’s been ages since we had sex. Don’t you desire me anymore?” “I’m just tired. I’m so tired lately,” Jeremy replied. His words immediately doused my ardor. I lay awake through the night. The next day, over lunch, I confided in my best friend, Sarah Blake. After listening, she paused and said, “Judy, could Jeremy be seeing someone else? What man could resist for so long?” Her words were a wake-up call. I pondered, “Could Jeremy really cheat on me?” I didn’t want to believe it, yet the thought gnawed at me. Seeing my distress, Sarah offered a mischievous smile, “If Jeremy won’t satisfy you, why not find someone else? We’re adults; can’t we enjoy ourselves?” “Absurd! I’m not that kind of person!” I interjected, appalled. Despite my turmoil, I remained committed to my values, unwilling to stray.
Two more days of anguish slipped by, with no thaw in the icy distance between Jeremy and me. He worked late, and I was often asleep by the time he returned. On that Thursday, as the workday neared its end, William informed me that a client was visiting and asked me to greet them. Yet, upon arriving at the restaurant, I found no client, only William, casually dressed and smiling in anticipation. “Mr. Davis, weren’t we supposed to meet a client?” I asked with a hint of irritation in my voice. “Judy, relax. Have a seat,” he replied smoothly. “I’ve heard about your recent troubles. The quarrels with your husband lead to your low spirits. How about this? I’ll add 5,000 dollars to your monthly pay, and you can spend weekends with me.” His proposal left me speechless. A whirlwind of confusion swirled within me. Sensing my hesitation, William rose with a smile and positioned himself behind me. His hands gently rested on my shoulders, and his face was inches from mine as he whispered slyly, “If you’re amenable, we could retire upstairs for a while.” As he spoke, his hand moved towards my chest. Panicked, I caught his wrist. In a twist of fate, this moment was witnessed by Jeremy. “Judy, what’s the meaning of this? Are you cheating on me?” Jeremy stormed over, cursing and shoving William to the ground. Fortunately, his two companions restrained him, averting further escalation. When we were back home, a tempestuous argument erupted. I poured out every detail to Jeremy, recounting the reasons for William’s offer. Overwhelmed by a surge of emotion, I found myself sobbing openly. The quarrel subsided, leaving Jeremy to realize the depth of his recent neglect and the injustices I had suffered. He acknowledged the possibility of postpartum syndrome and vowed to take me abroad for a restorative break. Swiftly, Jeremy booked us on a direct flight to Dovie Island for Saturday afternoon under the pretense of seeking postpartum therapy to alleviate my symptoms. I didn’t object, reasoning that a change of scenery might soothe my troubled mind. Upon our arrival in Dovie Island, we indulged in the local cuisine before Jeremy led me to an enigmatic therapy center that evening. The ambiance, including the enchanting lights and the subtle fragrance, instantly calmed and delighted me. “Good evening, Mrs. Johnson. I’m your personal physical therapist. May I begin?” To my surprise, no sooner had I settled onto the therapy couch than a strikingly handsome man with the classic features of foreign descent stepped into the room. His features were finely sculpted, and his accent carried the charm of imperfection. Moreover, his smile was disarmingly enchanting. His eyes, filled with allure, met mine, and I confessed, at that moment, I was utterly captivated. “Please don’t be shy, Mrs. Johnson. Your husband, Mr. Johnson, personally chose me for you,” he explained. Sensing my hesitation, he gently comforted me. As I relaxed, he continued with a smile, “Your husband is taking a stroll now. He’ll return for you in two hours.” I nodded, smiling. Why should I refuse what Jeremy had arranged? The young man’s massage technique was masterful. With every touch, I felt more at ease. Tension melted away. As he finished with my thighs and waist, he leaned close and whispered, “Would you like to experience our special service? It offers double happiness.” My face flushed at his words. Perhaps due to a trick of my hormones, I found myself nodding in agreement. With my silent consent, he smiled and began to remove my disposable massage shorts. At that moment, the door to the therapy room opened again, and another handsome foreign man entered, starting to disrobe.
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