When I finally head downstairs to grab my bag, already calculating a quick stop to touch up my perfume and lipstick, the elevator doors slide open and there she is. Margaret, Colin’s executive assistant. We exchange a few polite, empty pleasantries before she steps out on the Finance floor. The second the doors close, I hit the button to go back up.
I’m not losing this chance.
And when I walk in… the way he looks at me. It’s slow, assessing, igniting the spark I’ve been starving for all weekend. But then he speaks. His voice is cold, distant, the professional mask back in place.
I was ready for the coldness. What I wasn’t ready for was him reaching into his wallet, pulling out a couple of bills, and holding them out to me.
“Are you trying to pay me for Friday night?” I ask, my voice tighter than I intended. “I’m not a whore.”
“What? Of course not!” He rushes to explain, the mask slipping just an inch. “I don’t pay for sex. Never have, neverwill.” He gestures with the money. “This is for the dress I ripped. I don’t know how much it cost. If it’s not enough, tell me.”
Relief loosens the knot in my chest.
I step closer, cupping his hand in both of mine, my skin warm against his. I guide his fingers to curl around the money, refusing to take it.
“You don’t need to pay for the dress. I said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’d tradeeverydress I own for what happened between us… right there.”
I tilt my head toward the sideboard. He closes his eyes, like he’s trying to scrub the memory away, but the subtle shift of his shoulders tells me the image found its mark.
“If one day you really want to give me a dress,” I murmur, leaning in just enough for him to catch my scent, “make it something you’d like to see me in.”
I let his hand go and step back. He tosses the bills onto the desk, his eyes fixed on me, silent, but burning with all the things he’s trying to hide.
“I want more,” I breathe. It’s barely a whisper, but in the stillness of the office, it sounds like a confession.
“Maya.” A warning.
“We don’t need to make this complicated,” I say, catching my lip between my teeth as his gaze follows the motion. “I want you. You want me. It’s that simple.”
I move closer, my voice dropping. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it all weekend… if we’re that good together in an office quickie…”
I let the implication hang in the air between us. I let him follow it wherever his hunger takes him.
He straightens, bracing himself as if against a physical blow. “Tonight. After work. Not in the office… it's too risky. We could—”
I catch the hesitation, the doubt beginning to form in the set of his jaw. I cut right through it.
“You can meet me at my apartment. I don’t live far.”
I grab a sheet of paper from his desk, scribble my address in bold strokes, and place it directly in front of him.
“I’ll be waiting.”
I turn and walk out of his office, the sway of my hips intentional, fueled by the absolute certainty that he’ll be in my bed tonight.
The following section includes explicit, on-page cheating. It is part of the story’s journey, but this moment may be difficult for some readers. Please feel free to skip it if it feels overwhelming.
Colin
I keep driving.
Not over the bridge that would lead me back to Brooklyn, to my family, but toward the address Maya gave me.
Her apartment. Where she’s waiting for me. And I’m under no illusions about what comes next.
I could turn around at any moment, head home, and she wouldn’t hold it against me. Tomorrow, I could act like nothing happened. Case closed. Instead, I pull up in front of her building and take the elevator up to her apartment.
When she opens the door, she’s still wearing the same outfit. Her lipstick is freshly applied, crimson, making her lips look like ripe strawberries. The scent of her perfume hits me immediately, a sweet, daring fragrance that perfectly matches her.
