Tuesday, 9:20 AM. Our shared office. Printer hums low. Coffee aroma clings to the air, tangled with my sharp perfume. Romeo leans on the desk, flipping dossiers. I lounge back, eyes on mine. Phone shrills. He picks up. ‘Yes?’ Pause. ‘Bring her in.’ Hangs up. I raise a brow. ‘First candidate: Gertrude.’ I smirk. ‘Early bird.’ I fetch a chair. He primps his hair, tugs his shirt. ‘Making yourself pretty?’ He shoots me a cold glare, circles the desk. Big seductive grin. Door opens. Gertrude shuffles in. His smile freezes. I choke, then burst out laughing. She snaps, ‘I see! Thanks!’ Slams door. Laughter echoes. Romeo calls after her. I gasp, ‘Let her go.’ We crack up. Her face was a disaster. ‘Poor thing,’ I say. He sighs. ‘Call her back.’ ‘Why me?’ ‘You laughed.’ ‘Your disappointed stud face cracked me up.’ Phone rings again. Next ones coming. Girl first, he insists? I tease, ‘Don’t fuck up.’ He snaps, ‘You open.’ Door creaks. Adelya steps in. ‘Bonjour.’ I scan her head to toe, eyes narrowing. Romeo drools, jaw slack. She sways hips hard, plops down, arches back. I start, ‘You don’t fit the-‘ He cuts in fast. ‘Ignore her, sit.’ She thanks him. I slam door, sit beside him fuming. He gushes, ‘You have all the qualities…’ I glare daggers. Questions fly. Her tongue flicks lips. ‘Open, fun, pleasing.’ I seethe. ‘Gourmande?’ She pouts finger to lips. He shifts, adjusts pants. My phone buzzes? No, his. Text kills his vibe. I pounce. ‘Steel prices in Poland, last two decades?’ She stammers. I snap, ‘Drop the slut act. He’s gay.’ She flushes, storms out. Door bangs. He gripes, ‘Nice.’ ‘Good riddance.’ Knock. Hernan enters. My turn. I smile wide, arch, sway to him slow. Romeo sighs heavy. ‘Welcome. When can you start?’ He stumbles. Romeo cold: ‘Questions first.’ I pout. ‘Pork prices in Sweden?’ Hernan launches into econ stats. I cut him. ‘You’re hired. I’m Flora. Follow me for tour.’ Grab his hand. Drag him out. Door clicks shut. Lock snicks behind storage room door. Heart pounds. Adrenaline spikes. His hands rip my blouse. Buttons ping off desk. Coffee scent mixes sweat. I shove him down. Skirt hikes. No panties. His cock springs free, thick, veiny. I straddle hard. Sink down. Wet heat grips him. ‘Fuck yes,’ I hiss. Desk creaks. Mouse clatters. I ride savage. Hips slam. His groans echo. Fingers dig ass. I grind clit on him. Tension snaps. Cum builds fast. He thrusts up brutal. ‘Take it, slut boss.’ I claw chest. Orgasm rips. Walls pulse. He floods me hot. Panting. Quick. Intense. Pull off. Cum drips thighs. Wipe fast. Fix skirt. Comb hair. Lipstick smear? Gone. Unlock door. Back to office. He follows, hair wild, shirt untucked. Romeo eyes us green. ‘Satisfaction guaranteed.’ I beam. Romeo mutters, ‘Yeah.’ Tour done? Questions? ‘Tomorrow.’ I wink. ‘Bring big condoms.’ Romeo prints contract. Hernan stammers excuses. I laugh inside. Thrill buzzes. Door locked memory lingers. Perfume masks sex musk. Back to work. Printer whirs. Emails click. Mask on. Pro again. But pussy throbs. Ready for more.