As Lena pushes open the door to the rooftop terrace, the wind from the Elbe bites into her skin—lukewarm, salty, a foretaste of something she doesn’t want to name yet. She hates office parties. The forced cheerfulness, the fake laughter, the way colleagues suddenly feign intimacy just because there’s free champagne. But as head of the agency, she has to go through with it: show presence, network, give the young employees the feeling she’s a cool boss. She plays the role perfectly—she’s learned that.
Her gaze glides over the group at the railing. Employees from the creative department, a few freelancers, the interns. The latter huddle together like a herd of startled deer, clutching their glasses tightly. And one of them—the new guy, Tim—has been watching her all evening. She feels his gaze like a touch on her neck, every time she turns around, he looks away. A game she knows. Young men testing their effect. Mostly it bores her. But with him, it’s different. There’s something in his eyes, a stillness that doesn’t beg but demands.
She walks to the bar, orders a gin and tonic. The ice clinks against the glass as she takes the drink and turns around. Tim is suddenly beside her, closer than expected. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with a chiseled face and eyes that look almost black in the dim light. A slight grin plays on his lips, not cheeky, more probing. He smells of cedarwood and something warmer, almost spicy—a scent that creeps into her nose before he says a word.
“You look like you’d rather be somewhere else,” he says. His voice is deep, with a rough undertone that sends a small shiver up her arm—even though she forbids herself from feeling such things.
“That’s my job,” she replies, her tone cool but not dismissive. She sips her drink, letting the liquid roll over her tongue. The gin burns slightly, a familiar feeling. “And what’s your job tonight? Besides staring at me?”
He laughs, an unexpectedly warm sound that echoes in her chest. “I thought I was being discreet. But you have good antennas.”
“I’m the boss, Tim. That’s my survival instinct.” She sets the glass down, lets a finger glide over the rim. The gesture is deliberate, she knows it. “So, what do you want? Another job tip? A letter of recommendation?”
He shakes his head, steps another half-step closer. The distance between them shrinks to a hand’s breadth. She smells his aftershave more clearly—cedarwood and something warmer, almost spicy, that mixes with the salt of the Elbe. “I want to find out if there’s a real woman behind the boss facade,” he says quietly, without losing the grin. His voice sounds like a challenge, softly wrapped.
Lena feels her breath catch. A mix of outrage and curiosity floods through her, hot and unexpected. Normally she’d counter such a remark sharply, put the intern in his place. But the evening, the dim light, the music wafting from the speakers—it loosens her armor. She sets the glass on the nearest windowsill, turns fully to him. “And if I tell you the boss is enough? That she doesn’t need another role?”
He shrugs, a gesture that seems relaxed, but his eyes stay fixed on her, dark and unyielding. “Then that would be a shame. Because I bet the woman behind the facade knows exactly what she wants. And she’s not afraid to take it.”
His words hit her like an electric impulse that shoots straight into her belly. She takes a breath, smells the cedarwood again, and feels the warmth of his body pressing against her coolness. Her nipples tighten under the silk blouse, a sign she doesn’t want to show him. “You’re pretty confident for an intern who’s only been here three weeks.”
“I have a good reason for my confidence,” he says. “I’ve seen you in action. The way you lead people in meetings. The way you take risks. I like that.” His hand lifts as if to touch her hair, but he stops, letting his fingers only brush through the air, a centimeter from her cheek. The gesture is a question, not a grab. “And I like it when women know what they want.”
Lena swallows. Her mouth is dry, despite the gin. She sets the glass on the nearest windowsill, turns to him. “Okay. You’ve made me curious. But I don’t play by your rules. If you want something, then show me what you can do.” Her voice is steady, but her heart pounds against her ribs like a trapped bird.
“Gladly,” he says. “But not here. Too many people. I know a place.”
She hesitates for a heartbeat. Her mind screams: danger, unprofessional, boundary crossed. But her body urges on, her pulse beating hot in her wrists, between her legs. She nods, barely perceptibly. “Lead.”
He goes ahead, down the stairs, through the hallway, past the elevators, to a narrow door that leads to the storage room. She follows him, her heels clicking on the linoleum. Her palms are damp. She feels the fabric of her skirt against her thighs, the tension in her calves. Every step feels like a step off a cliff.
He opens the door, lets her enter. Inside, boxes of office supplies are stacked, old folders, an overflowing trash can. It smells of paper dust and the past. He closes the door, turns the key. The soft click echoes inside her, a sound of finality. She leans against a shelf, the cold of the metal penetrating her thin blouse, a shiver that covers her skin with goosebumps.
“Well, here we are,” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly, though she tries to stay cool. “What now?”
He steps in front of her, his height towering over her, and his eyes are dark with desire. “Now I show you what I can do, Lena.” He says her name for the first time, and it sounds like a caress, deep and rough. “I want to fuck you. Hard. Here against this shelf. I want to feel your cunt tighten around my cock. I want to hear you moan until you can’t think anymore. Only feel. Understood?”
His words are a blow, straight between her legs. A violent pull in her pussy, which immediately becomes wet, the silk fabric of her panties sticking to her labia. She presses her thighs together to hide the sudden heat, but it’s too late. He sees it in her eyes, in the way her breath quickens, how her body involuntarily leans toward him.
“Yes, you want it too,” he says, and his hand slides along her hip, his fingers digging into the soft skin above her
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