Executive Privilege

"Ohhh fffff, right there, baby." Wendy's manicured nails dug into the sheets as she lifted her back off the bed. Her long legs wrapped around Jon's lean build, locking her ankles behind his back as she pulled him closer. His tongue explored her freshly shaved lips with more vigor while his fingers circled her nub, every movement drew desperate gasps from her lips.

She lay writhing under him, her long blonde hair fanned out across the pillow as her full breasts swayed to the rhythm of each movement. Two years of marriage had done nothing to diminish their physical chemistry, even if their demanding careers often left them too exhausted for moments like this.

"Ahhh yes, don't stop, baby." Her hands drifted to her chest, fingers ghosting over her sensitive nipples. Her curves were her best asset, the things people noticed first about her. Her tongue slid from her mouth as she rolled the sensitive peak between her fingers. She just wished it wasn't the only thing they noticed. She tried wearing baggy clothes, and different bras, but nothing seemed to work. They were always there, always the only thing people saw. The marketing firm where they worked had quickly discovered the analytical brilliance of Jon and within a few years made him an account manager. As for Wendy, her marketing insight was lost beneath several appreciative looks and double-innuendos. Her innate creativity and intuition about the market were overlooked by the corporate pecking order as she fought her way not to be classified as just another pretty face with a great figure.

"Uhhhnnng." The sound escaped her throat. The pleasure continued to build, as her body battled with her her mind for attention. It was one of those few moments when her figure felt like a gift and not an obstacle. She wanted to get lost in Jon's eager attention and forget the frustrations of feeling typecast, silence the voice that whispered she'd never be more than what others saw when they looked at her. Yet another moan filled the air. Wendy refused to let herself be torn from this moment, to allow her body to be desired instead of hiding under the hope of being seen as something more.

Wendy's ocean-blue eyes fluttered shut as her body was racked with pleasure. She ran her fingers through Jon's shaggy hair, tugging him deeper. His runner's build might lack the imposing presence she'd been drawn to in past relationships, but he made up for it in stamina. Those early morning runs were paying off in ways he'd never thought possible.

"Don't stop, Jon," she whimpered, her voice shaking with her need. Her thighs quivered on either side of his face as she tugged him closer, her fingers in his hair tightening with urgency. She rotated her hips into him, her pleas becoming desperate as she chased her release.

The pressure built in her like a volcano ready to erupt. "Oh God, baby," she moaned, her voice rising with each word. "Just like that. ohhhh, fuuuuck!"

Her walls clamped down around his fingers as he greedily savored every drop of her release. Wendy's orgasm rocked the bedroom, causing the walls to quake. Mercilessly, Jon's hungry tongue continued pressing against her core until she pushed his lips off her now over-sensitive lips.

"No more, no more," she pleaded happily, fighting to regain her breath. Jon wiped his mouth with his forearm, his tender kisses peppering up her body before stopping at her neck. The tip of his length brushed against her clit, and she flinched from the overwhelming feeling, still hypersensitive from her intense orgasm. "Mmm baby." She pulled his lips to hers, savoring the faint, familiar taste left behind. "You are so good at that. You know how sensitive I get afterward."

She felt bad, she didn't want to deny him. She knew he was just as pent up as she was. She could feel it in the way his cock pulsed against her slick entrance. Her fingers found his sensitive sac, squeezing and teasing it with a soft touch. "We can keep going. I don't mind." She felt his sharp intake of breath as he nudged his hips forward causing her to squirm.

He pushed forward, feeling her walls relax around his shaft. Her orgasm had passed and her fiery grip had already started to cool. "No, it's fine." The subtle disappointment in his voice wasn't lost on Wendy. "It's not the same when you're not really into it."

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips before rolling onto his back. She bit the inside of her cheek, her own disappointment washing over her. She half wished Jon would just take her anyway, despite her body's reaction. Although, she certainly didn't mind the chill of the ceiling fan against her drenched skin, and the way it gave her overheated body instant relief.

"You know." Jon rolled to his side, brushing damp strands of hair from her face with tender familiarity. "You could always return the favor."

Her cheeks flushed at Jon's words. Wendy ran her fingers over the sprinkling of hair on his chest, buying time. "You know that isn't really my thing." She pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder, trying to softening the rejection. "But tomorrow after work, I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll even initiate so we don't end up like this again."

The sincerity in her voice even surprised herself. She really wanted it to be different this time, to be the kind of wife who could match his dedication both in and out of the bedroom. Her limited experiences in college had left her wary - the unpleasant taste, the way her throat would constrict, fighting against her own reflexes. That one attempt with Jon early in their marriage had ended particularly badly, with her nearly getting sick after he finished unexpectedly in her mouth. Since then, they seemed to silently agree on not having her give him oral. He said it was no big deal to him; still, sometimes she saw that longing in his eyes when she'd decline.

Her fingers drummed on his chest: four quick taps, a childhood habit surfacing as she began to feel anxious. The rhythm steadied her racing thoughts, yet she detested the fact that the old compulsion returned. She'd thought she'd left it behind with her modeling career, but here it was again, rearing its ugly head every time she felt guilty.

"I'll hold you to that." He pressed a kiss to her head. "It's probably for the best anyway. Marcus wants me to review those reports before tomorrow's meeting." She watched his silhouette move across their bedroom, illuminated by the warm glow of his desk lamp filtering in from their home office.

"It must be nice having an executive see your worth." She bit the inside of her lip. She hadn't meant for her voice to have such an edge to it. Jon was great at his job; she wasn't questioning that. She just hated how easily the recognition seemed to come his way. She was just as hard-working, just as smart, but Jon was Marcus's golden boy.

"You're brilliant, Wendy." He leaned against the bedroom door, putting on his glasses. "Besides, at least you don't have to stress about the quarterly numbers."

Wendy's fingers tightened in her hair, pulling it into a ponytail as she tried forcing frustration aside; she knew that he didn't mean to be patronizing. "Thanks, babe." It came out more forced than she intended, but Jon didn't seem to notice as he admired her nude form... predictable. "I don't know how I got so lucky to find a guy like you."

"I could say the same thing." He blew her and kiss then turned and walked to the office.

Wendy reached for her silk nightie, the cold material clinging to her still-warm skin. The soft, cotton sheets were inviting as she settled back and watched the rhythmic sway of Jon's monitor light dance gently across their wall. She had her own presentation to finish, but for now, she allowed herself to drift in the quiet aftermath of their intimacy.

***

Jon watched out of the corner of his eye as Wendy dabbed at her lipstick in the visor mirror. She didn't wear much makeup, just enough to accent her natural beauty. Despite having been together for the last four years she still managed to take his breath away whenever he looked at her. He put his hand on her leg, the fabric of her navy blue maxi dress riding up just past her ankle.

"Do you think this neckline is too low?" She put her lipstick back in her clutch, adjusting the dress. She cursed her large chest. No matter what she wore, it always seemed to draw attention before anything else.

"You look beautiful," Jon said, squinting his eyes against the glare of the rising sun to turn and admire his wife. His blue button-down brought out the warmth in his brown eyes behind his thick-rimmed glasses; his striped tie was perfectly knotted at his throat. Always put-together, always proper.

"Thanks." Wendy shifted in her seat, nude heels clicking against the floorboard. "Though I'm starting to regret these shoes. The elevator better be working today."

"Relax, you're trying too hard. A big project will come your way soon." Jon's fingers tickled her knee. "You keep this up you're going to make me nervous."

"Right, your big analysis." She forced a smile. "You'll knock it out of the park. Marcus believes in you."

The modest three-story office building of Buckeye Branding Company came into view. Its brick façade was unremarkable among the other downtown Columbus businesses. Jon circled the crowded lot twice before finding a spot near the back.

"At least we're getting our steps in," he joked, but Wendy was already thinking about her aching feet.

Nervous energy buzzed through the office as they entered. The fourth quarter earning report was always one of the most tense meetings of the year. It was typically the one that would determine their end-of-year bonuses and set the tone for the new year. Jon spent most of the night working on the projections for some of their larger clients. No one in the office could see the numbers quite the way he could. He understood market shifts and projection analytics like very few. Numbers told him this was going to be another successful year, perhaps not buy a new house and plan an expensive vacation successful, but successful enough that he wasn't worried.

The fresh aroma of coffee pulled him from his reverie. He gave Wendy a quick kiss at the end of the hallway and then made his way to his office at the far end, while Wendy made her way to the cubicles with the other marketing specialists.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite beauty queen!" Ava called across the office as Wendy set her bag down.

Wendy's shoulders stiffened. "Model, actually. Not a pageant girl." Her tone was light and playful. Ava was one of her favorite people in the office. "And it was one magazine spread that left me feeling–"

"Now that's something I'd love to see." Michael's voice materialized behind her out of nowhere. His presence filled her cubicle, his expensive suit straining against his bulk. But not even the starched material, nor the designer label, could fully mask the way his shirt bunched at his waist, or how his tie accentuated the thick fold of skin around his chin. Sweat beaded on his hairline, despite the aggressive air conditioning of the office, and his thinning hair clung to his forehead. "I bet you were quite the centerfold."

Ava gagged. "Gross, Michael. It's too early for your creeper vibes."

Wendy laughed, but Michael's gaze made her bite it back. Something in the way he looked at her crawled under her skin. She waited until his footsteps retreated toward the break room before muttering, "Maybe if he spent less time harassing women and more time at the gym, he'd have better luck dating."

A sharp intake of breath from Ava told her she'd spoken too loudly. Wendy's stomach dropped as she caught Michael's frame stiffen in the doorway.

"Don't worry about me, sweetheart." His eyes raked over her figure with deliberate slowness. His tongue slid across his lips. "Some of us don't need luck when we have... other advantages." He adjusted his belt, making sure the women caught his inference without hitting them over the head with it.

"Gross." Ava shuddered as they gathered their notebooks. "I don't need that image in my head this morning." She held her hands wide apart, raising her eyebrows suggestively. "I can only imagine the type of women that find him attractive."

"Stop!" Wendy swatted her arm playfully. "You're terrible."

"That guy gives me the creeps. You'd think after three marriages he'd learn how to talk to women."

"I guess there's a reason they all ended in divorce."

Marcus's authoritative tone cut through the playful banter. "Conference room in five, everyone." He barely broke his pace as he passed. "We still need to get through the quarterly numbers if we are going to get out in time for the party tonight."

"Oh shit." Wendy gathered her things and started heading toward the conference room. "I totally forgot that was today."

"Please tell me you at least got your gift. Who'd you draw?"

Wendy groaned. "Jon. And after last night..."

"What happened last night?" Ava appeared at her side, clutching her notebook to her chest.

"It wasn't anything serious." Wendy hushed her voice, her face a shade redder. "I may have finished a little early. Like before he even got started." Ava's laughter made her bury her face in her hands.

"You're a one and done kind of girl too, huh?" Ava asked through her giggles. "When it happens with David I usually let him finish in my mouth. He loves it."

"Yeah, that's not really my thing." Wendy's face grew hotter; she immediately regretted starting this conversation.

"Girl!" Ava's eyes lit up with mischief. "This is perfect. Write him a sexy IOU. Tell him he gets one night where you'll do anything he wants, no questions asked." Her eyes locked with Wendy's "And you can't say no. It will make him feel more confident and get you out of your comfort zone you prude." She bumped Wendy with her hip. "Besides with Michael making comments like that all the time, you need to get used to working on your gag reflex."

"Ava!" Wendy glanced around the hallway. "I'm not a prude. I just know what I like and what I don't." She lowered her voice already feeling uncomfortable about having this type of conversation in the office. "Besides, if I wrote a note like that I would get fired."

"By who? Michael?" Ava waved her hand dismissively. "Please. And Marcus would never let him touch his golden boy's wife. Besides, it's Jon we're talking about. He'll read the first line, turn bright red, and stuff it in his shirt pocket before anyone notices."

Wendy laughed despite herself. "You're probably right. He still blushes when he sees me in my bra and panties."

Ava gave Wendy a playful once-over. "With boobs like that, I'd blush too."

They were still giggling as they entered the conference room, too caught up in their conversation to notice Michael standing just outside the door. His expression darkened as he absorbed every word. So that's what they thought of him, was it? He was just some gross divorcee that they couldn't look at without gagging. His fingers absently toyed with the Secret Santa assignments in his pocket. He'd show them who would be laughing soon enough.

***

Wendy leaned against the back wall of the conference room, fidgeting uncomfortably in her heels as the quarterly meeting wore on. Her conversation with Ava replayed in her head as the sound of chairs sliding across the tile floor bounced off the walls. A dozen chairs surrounded the heavy oak table, each occupied by department heads and project leaders, positions that felt increasingly out of reach.

Michael Reynolds dominated one end of the table. The fifty-something-year-old commanded the room with the easy assurance of someone who'd long since learned that power trumped appearance. His salt-and-pepper hair and widening waistline were worn like badges of a man who knew his authority came from something far more lasting than physical appeal.

"The OSU account." He clicked to the next slide; his voice fell with the line on the graph. "We're looking at a projected 12% decline. Their football program has been in a slump, especially against Michigan. Brand engagement is down across the board."

The observation snapped Wendy out of her haze. She'd noticed the same trends in social media engagement, had even mentioned it to Jon last night while he worked. But he'd dismissed it, barely looking up from his spreadsheets. Now Michael was saying the same thing, and it gave her a sense of validation she didn't realize she wanted.

"Actually," Jon's voice cut through her memory, "my analysis shows something different." He adjusted his glasses, pulling up his own slides. "If we consider the admission rate, population density, and how much the markets have withstood traditionally-"

"You're just flat out wrong," Michael cut in, leaving no room for debate. "Some of us have been in this market long enough to understand what drives loyalty. While your... numbers," he drawled the word like it truly was meaningless, "are certainly thorough, they miss the fundamental human element. The passion. The culture." His hand cut through the air like a football coach drawing up a last minute play, each gesture deliberately measured to command attention. "But by all means, please, continue explaining sports marketing to someone who's been doing this since you were learning long division."

The dismissive tone caused Wendy's stomach to clench. Her eyes met Michael's for a moment, a smirk forming on his lips when she didn't immediately look away. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to shield herself from his knowing smirk. She'd seen that kind of casual dismissiveness before, in photographers who could reshape a room's energy with a single word, in directors who commanded without raising their voice. Jon's data-driven certainty suddenly felt naive in comparison.

"Numbers don't lie." Jon spoke with the same academic certainty that usually reassured her. He launched into a detailed analysis of demographic shifts and market penetration rates, his hands sketching graphs in the air. Wendy watched the room's eyes glaze over, even as her own mind caught the patterns he was missing. He didn't understand the emotional resonance of losing to a bitter rival, the wounded pride of longtime fans, the complex psychology that statistics couldn't capture. The same intuitive understanding that Michael had voiced minutes earlier, though the way he looked at her made her wish she didn't share his insight.

"Tell that to their season ticket holders." Michael's laugh was thunderous and Wendy found herself smirking despite herself. He was right. If Jon had listened to her last night then he wouldn't be getting embarrassed. Michael's fingers drummed against the table as Jon launched into a detailed analysis of demographic trends, and for a moment Wendy imagined herself at the table delivering the same speech but with similar data as Michael's. Was her analysis really better than Jon's? As good as the Director of marketing?

Another authoritative shout by Michael brought her back into the meeting. She watched the color rise in Michael's neck, his jaw clench in a way that made it seem like he was ready to fight to the death on this issue.

"The seasonal fluctuations show a clear correlation-" Jon began, but Michael cut him off with a wave.

"Tell me, Wendy," Michael's voice cut through the air, making her jump. Every head in the room turned to her. She was parched. People who didn't have a seat at the table typically didn't speak during these meetings.

"When creating social media content, do you read the reports on demographics first or take a pulse of the comments section?"

One-two-three-four, her fingers pressed against her thigh. She silently counted in her head as she waited for her racing heart to slow. The question came out of left field. The intuitive kind of marketing she did but could never quantify for Jon.

"I... I start with the engagement patterns," she admitted, well aware of Jon's look of surprise. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to stand a little straighter. She didn't want this moment to pass her by. "Jon's numbers are right." She saw him smile and sit up straight. For one fleeting second, she thought of leaving it there.

She turned to Michael, who wasn't just looking at her but studying her, waiting for her to deliver the kill shot than Jon seemed oblivious to. Butterflies erupted in her stomach, but she pressed on. "But we should also consider the emotional response of our audience. A loss to a rival like Michigan isn't just a statistic. It's a blow to identity. Recovering loyalty isn't about the next season. It's about rebuilding trust, pride. That's where we need to focus our engagement strategy."

"Exactly." Michael's approval felt like a shot of espresso, even as Jon's dismissive head shake made her chest tighten. "That's the insight your husband's algorithms keep missing." Michael winked at her before launching into another point. The approval sent a very unexpected warmth through her body. Why did validation from someone who repulsed her feel so... alive? The thought sent her shifting uncomfortably in place, all too aware of how her body had betrayed her conscious disgust.

"Gentlemen." Marcus stood from the table, cutting through the confrontation. "You both make excellent points. Jon's data is solid, but Michael's market intuition shouldn't be dismissed. We'll base projections on the median of your figures."

The green in Michael's eyes seemed to burn brighter than usual. He nodded his head slightly in agreement, but Wendy knew that he had won the battle. His gaze swept the room, passing over Wendy where she stood in the shadows. She looked hastily down at her notebook, suddenly aware of just how intensely she had been watching the exchange.

"Great work, both of you," Marcus summarized. "Now, let's wrap this up. We've got a party to prepare for."

The meeting devolved into rustling papers and clicking laptops. Wendy pushed off from the wall, still trying to shake off the residual effect of the confrontation.

"I saw the look in your eye. You agree with me, don't you?" Michael was beside her in a flash, standing just that little bit too close for comfort.

"I um, you made some good points."

"You should speak up more. Prove that you're more than just-" Michael's eyes settled on Wendy's chest and his tongue ran over his lip. "Jon's wife." His eyes cut to hers, and she could feel the burning in her neck. She told herself it was just professional interest that had her so engaged, nothing more. So why did she all a sudden feel so flustered?

"Babe, you coming?" Jon appeared at the conference room door, his pleased expression suggesting he'd somehow missed the entire undercurrent of the meeting. Michael gave her a predatory smile then stepped aside, letting her retreat to her husband while his eyes looked over her body unapologetically.

She needed a drink. Thank God for office parties.

***

The mirror fogged over with steam as Wendy washed her hair in the bathroom. The heat of the water felt good on her skin, like she was washing the workday away. She did not know why she had felt so dirty after the quarterly meeting, but she'd spent the rest of the day feeling like she needed a shower.

"We're going to be late." Jon's voice came in from under the door. "Marcus wanted to go over the numbers again before the party. After Michael's outburst this morning, he doesn't believe the data."

Wendy rolled her eyes as she let water pour over her face. Her hands slid over her body to rinse off the soap. She let the water cascade over her face as she replayed the events of the day. Michael's face swam into view once more, not his features, which revolted her, but that raw power, the energy radiating from him. The way he demanded attention when he spoke. He had a way of seeing past people's walls and seeing the truth of what was underneath. He'd done that with her. He didn't see her as just a pretty face. He saw the work she did, made her feel validated. A gasp tore from her throat as her fingers brushed her folds, the intensity of her arousal sending a shock through her system. Heat pooled low in her belly, her body responding to... what exactly?

"I cannot believe Marcus is even considering his argument," Jon forged ahead, oblivious to her internal struggle. His voice grated on her nerves, even now condescending, even now still lecturing, still missing the point, still refusing to see her as an equal.

The memory of Michael's eyes on her made her skin crawl, yet her core ached to be touched. It wasn't attraction, couldn't be attraction. The very thought of him made her shudder. But the way he'd seen through her defenses, recognized her potential when everyone else dismissed her. She yanked her hand away, disturbed by the direction of her thoughts.

"...And that's just ridiculous, right?"

Wendy let out a groan of frustration, bringing her fingers to her hair. Did he not even realize she had the same argument last night? Tried to tell him the same thing that Michael did, but he just missed it. "I'm going to be awhile. Maybe you should just go without me.

The other side of the door was silent for several seconds. Wendy wasn't sure if he heard her or not over the water. "You... um, you sure?"

Wendy let out a sigh, suddenly very annoyed with Jon. "Yeah it's fine. I don't want you to be late to see Marcus."

"Oh. Ok."

"Wait," Wendy popped her head out of the shower, remembering the Secret Santa exchange. "Can you just grab my gift off the table and drop it off when you go? It's the small box wrapped in the candy cane paper."

"Sure. I'll um... I'll see you there," Jon's voice was soft. He could hear the frustration when Wendy told him to go. He just wasn't sure why.

He was halfway out the front door with his jacket clutched in his fist before he remembered the gifts. His mind was still preoccupied with the quarterly meeting. Marcus just needed to see reason. Numbers did not lie, never did. Michael might have decades of experience, but cold hard facts trumped gut feelings every time. He picked up the two presents off the table, barely registering how feather-light Wendy's gift was as he tucked them under his arm. He shouted a quick I love you, though he doubted she heard him over the running water. Then rushed out the door to talk to Marcus.

***

Wendy stood in front of her closet, hair still damp from the shower, wrapped in a towel while she weighed her options. The dark green wrap dress caught her eye, conservative enough for a work function but still sexy. She slipped it on, examining herself in the mirror. The hem hung just below her knees, offering a professional silhouette that didn't invite the usual unwanted attention. She pulled at the neckline, trying not to make it too obvious she was trying to minimize her cleavage. Even with the tugging and carefully worked adjustments, her chest simply would not stay completely hidden.

"Professional," she told herself, smoothing the fabric over her hips. "Sophisticated." The woman reflected in the glass looked polished and put together, exactly the picture she wanted. A person worth a seat at the table, not standing in a shadow somewhere.

Her fingers quivered slightly, coating her mascara; her mind strayed to Michael's hungry stare from the meeting, the way he'd validated her insight while making her skin crawl. She shook her head and refocused on the perfect wing of her eyeliner. A splash of her favorite perfume and classic black pumps, and she was done.

Across town, Jon entered the office door with both presents tucked under his arm. Christmas music spilled out from the conference room, where the tables had been pushed against the walls to allow more room for mingling. Jon however, barely registered the festive after-hours office transformation in his quest to reach the heap of Secret Santa gifts in the corner.

"Marcus will understand once I take him through the demographic shifts," he muttered, slapping both wrapped packages on the pile with abandon. The candy cane paper crinkled as it fell. The tag fluttered in the artificial breeze coming from a nearby heating vent.

From his seat near the drink table, Michael watched with particular interest as Jon hastily deposited. Ava and Wendy's hushed conversation played in his head over and over. He waited until Jon disappeared down the hall toward Marcus's office, then moved with surprising grace for his size. His thick fingers worked quick, finding the gift with his name on it, swapping its tag with the candy cane-wrapped package. He stepped back and admired his handiwork.

"Let's see how gross she thinks I am now," he said to himself, smoothing his tie. This party was just about to get interesting.

***

Wendy smoothed her dress out as she entered the building. Her heels clicked on the floor as she second-guessed her choice in wardrobe. Even though her chest well contained, something about it still made her feel exposed. She took a deep breath to calm herself. She was still upset about the quarterly review meeting, about Jon dismissing her. She was just putting herself in a mood. She needed to shake it off and enjoy the party.

Through the open double doors of the conference room, she could see Jon's lean frame, his hands animated as he talked with Marcus. Ava stood with them, her head thrown back in genuine laughter, one hand resting casually on Marcus's forearm as he finished what must have been quite the story. The three of them looked relaxed, comfortable; a sharp contrast to the anxiety in her own life.

"Perfect timing." Michael's voice came from behind her, making her jump. "Walk with me a moment? There's something I'd like to discuss before you join the others."

Wendy stomach knotted as she followed him down the hall into the office. The party noise faded with every step, the hollow echo of their footsteps a stark replacement. Michael's office was just a few rooms away but at that moment, it seemed like miles, its glass walls now shaded for privacy. He didn't turn on the overhead lights, just his desk lamp. The soft glow against his face made him look like a Bond villain. "The OSU account," he said, settling into his chair while leaving her standing. "What did you really think?"

Even though she was expecting the question it still caught her off-guard. Her throat went dry as she weighed her response, her fingers digging into her palm four times exactly in an attempt to temper her nerves. She was loyal to Jon, and she didn't want to say anything that would harm his standing, but a part of her couldn't shake the feeling that this was her opportunity to finally be seen. "The figures look good," she said judiciously, searching Michael's expression. "Jon's numbers are always spot on."

"But?" Michael prompted, leaning forward.

"But you're right, about the human aspect." The words tumbled out before she could stop them. "Football culture here isn't just about statistics; it's religion, tradition. The trajectory will probably flatten once you factor in brand loyalty and emotional investment." She took a deep breath. It felt good to get it out. She felt lighter, like she just left a confessional. "We should adjust our marketing strategy accordingly."

A satisfied smile curled Michael's lips. "Finally, someone who understands both sides of the equation." His eyes locked with hers. "It's a pity your talents are so... underutilized around here."

Something in the way his gaze raked over her body made the hairs on her arms prickle. Despite the modesty of her dress, she felt exposed under his gaze. Heat crept up her neck as she remembered his earlier comments about her modeling days.

"I should probably—"

"There's a new contract coming our way." He rose from his chair, his bulk making the roomy office feel small and cramped. He walked toward her with measured steps, deliberate. "I need someone with your..." His eyes held hers as he inched closer. "Instincts." His gaze drifted from hers briefly making her wish she'd worn a turtle neck. "Is that something that may interest you?"

He was close enough now she could smell the cheap cologne he heavy-handedly applied. "Absolutely," she blurted out a bit too quick.

A wave of guilt immediately washed over her. The word had escaped before she could consider its implications. Would this opportunity have gone to Jon if she hadn't been so quick to agree? She hadn't really undermined him, had she? They were partners, for crying out loud, and here she was, making career decisions without even discussing it with him. "I probably should get back to the party," she said, suddenly needing to be near her husband. To remind herself of who she was, who they were together. "Jon will be wondering where I am."

"Of course," he cut her off smoothly. "Goodnight, Wendy. I have a feeling things are about to get very interesting around here."

She made her way back to the group, her heart lightening as Jon's familiar smile greeted her. She slipped her arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Hey, handsome," she whispered, needing the comfort of his warmth.

"There you are!" Ava threw her arms around them both, the scent of vodka cranberry on her breath. "Where have you been hiding?"

"Just got here," Wendy said, squeezing Jon's side. He was already turning back to Marcus, his mind clearly still on their earlier discussion. The familiar ache of being second to his work settled in her chest.

"Well, you're here now," Ava grinned, linking their arms. "And you look gorgeous in that dress. Come on, I was just about to get another drink." She caught sight of Michael standing by his office watching them and she rolled her eyes in disgust.

As they made their way to the bar, Wendy turned back to look at her husband, still deep in heated discussion. She turned away, squaring her shoulders. "Make mine a double," she told Ava, the weight of Michael's proposition heavy upon her mind.

***

Two hours and several vodka cranberries later, the party had reached that sweet spot between professional gathering and actual celebration. The overhead lights had been killed, Christmas music hummed from hidden speakers, and Michael tried catching unexpected women under the mistletoe.

Even Jon relaxed, his prior intensity had mellowed out under the fine scotch and the fact that Marcus had finally consented to have another look over the numbers before arriving at a conclusion. He sat with one arm casually thrown across Wendy's narrow waist lovingly.

"Time to exchange gifts!" Marcus exclaimed while clapping his hands. "Take your chairs, people. Tim, you're first."

Ava pulled Wendy down beside her onto the small couch, jostling shoulders to get settled. "Watch this," she whispered, unable to contain her gleefulness as a young intern named Timothy from IT approached the gift table. "I got him something special."

"It says it's from Ava," he said to the room before he ripped into the paper with the confidence you'd expect from a barely legal intern. Timothy's face ran the gamut from confusion to shock to mortification as he pulled out the gift card. The golden 'Naughty & Nice' logo gleamed under the party lights. "I... um... thank you?" he stammered as his face turned several different shades of red.

Ava dissolved into giggles beside Wendy, pressing her face into her shoulder to muffle the sound. "His face! Oh my god, his face!"

Several other exchanges followed, mostly bottles of wine and gift cards. Wendy's nerves grew with each opening, her fingers twisting in her lap. When Marcus called Jon's name, she grabbed Ava's arm.

"I took your advice," Wendy said, fidgeting uncomfortably in her seat. "About the IOU." The words caught in her throat as Jon reached for a package wrapped solidly in red paper, nothing like the candy cane print she'd selected.

"It's from Michael," he announced examining the paper before opening it with delicacy ensuring not to rip the paper more than he needed to.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

The room seemed to tip sideways as Jon held out a plain navy tie. Nice enough, but completely and totally ordinary. Completely and totally wrong. Her eyes flashed to the pile of presents, locking onto the familiar candy cane wrapping just as Michael rose from his seat.

"My turn," he said, his meaty fingers wrapping around her gift. Her thumb and index finger found each other in her lap, their tips dancing together in that old rhythm-one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four, the childhood habit taking over as time seemed to slow. He ripped open the paper like a wild animal. "Says it's from Wendy."

One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four. The spinning quickened with her heartbeat as he flipped the lid off the small box, the sound like a shotgun in her ears. One-two-three-four-one-two-three-four-onetwothreefour. This couldn't be happening. His eyes met hers, a predatory gleam reflecting in them. "IOU: One night of making your wildest dreams come true. A 24 hour pass to all of your deepest, and dirtie—"

"I think that's enough." Marcus cleared his throat from the back of the room. "Some of us still remember when office gifts were just mugs and candy, right Michael?" Marcus's intervention came sharp and quick, but did little to stop the laughter and thrown glances at Wendy.

Michael laughed a little too loudly, a little too eagerly. "Thanks, Wendy. This was certainly... unexpected. But, I'm definitely not going to complain." His eyes lingered on her, weighted with implication.

"There's been a mistake," Wendy exclaimed, near hysteria lacing her voice. The alcohol that had made everything warm and fuzzy minutes ago now churned in her stomach. "That was- I mean, the tags must have gotten switched. That was supposed to be for Jon."

She turned to her husband, heat clawing up her neck. "Did you check the tags when you dropped them off? What happened?" The words were coming faster now, the panic rising. "I trusted you with one thing-"

"Hey," Jon's hand found hers, steady and warm. "It was an honest mistake. No one actually thinks that was meant for Michael." But even as he spoke, she could feel Michael's stare burning into her, could see the way his fingers possessively folded the note into his pocket.

Beside her, Ava watched Michael with thin eyes, her playful attitude from early gone replaced by something much darker. She knew Michael had a hand in this, she just didn't know how. Wendy hardly noticed anything at all. She was beside herself, trying to figure out how a gift exchange could turn into the worst, most embarrassing moment of her life. She was drastically spinning out of control. Ava put her hand on Wendy's leg, squeezing it gently but her eyes never left Michael's. She had to figure out what his end game was and put a stop to it before her hurt her friend.

"Next gift!" Marcus called out a little too brightly, eager for the moment to pass. But Wendy knew something had shifted. Something had been set in motion. She just wasn't completely sure what it was or how to stop it.

Jon's hand closed on hers, protective, reassuring. She squeezed back, despite the voices in her brain screaming to run somewhere and hide. Somewhere that she didn't have to see the hunger in Michael's eyes.

***

The drive home had been quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Now, as Wendy removed her makeup in the en-suite bathroom, Jon watched her reflection trying to recall if he'd even glanced at the gift tags before dropping them off. Wendy had said the IOU was meant for him, and of course he believed her, but something about the turn of events gnawed at him.

The memory washed over him like a tornado - a different bathroom, a different time. Five years ago, Olivia had stumbled home from a late dinner with her boss, her smile as radiant as ever as she gushed about the meeting. She'd been drinking, cheeks flushed with wine and success. Jon had fixated on her smeared lipstick, though looking back now, he wondered if he'd imagined that detail to fit his fears.

"Are you sleeping with him?" The words had exploded from him that night, weeks of suspicion finally reaching their breaking point. She'd been working later, going for drinks with colleagues-always with a reasonable explanation that somehow felt like an excuse.

Her reflection stared back at him, hurt and disgust written across her features. "Jesus, Jon, this again?" Her voice had cracked slightly as the tears welled in her eyes. "Why do you always go there? Am I not allowed to be happy when you're not around? Do I need some kind of babysitter? I can't spend my life constantly proving my loyalty to you."

The relationship was over in a week. Jon had been devastated, yet righteously certain - until he saw Kyle at the gym. Kyle had been at the same restaurant that night, had watched the whole dinner from across the room. "Everything seemed completely normal," he'd said, his voice tinged with confusion. "They didn't even hug goodbye."

After that, Jon had tried therapy, desperate to understand his possessive streak. He'd called Olivia to apologize, but by then she'd moved on. He couldn't blame her. No one deserved to have every social interaction analyzed for betrayal. He'd promised himself he'd never be that man again.

And yet...

"Are you happy?" The question slipped out before he could stop it, his eyes fixed on Wendy's reflection.

Wendy lowered the makeup wipe, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "Why would you ask me that?"

"It's just..." Jon shifted uncomfortably. "The card. I saw you disappear into the office with Michael. And then that happened and I just." He trailed off, hating how insecure he sounded.

"Baby." Wendy turned to fully face him and softened her expression with understanding. "I am mortified that happened. You don't actually think I would do that to you, do you? And with Michael of all people?" She reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently. "Michael called me to his office because he said they may be closing a big deal soon and he wants me in on it."

Instant relief swept across Jon's face. He couldn't believe how dumb he sounded. Of course, Wendy wouldn't cheat on him, especially not with Michael. He promised himself never to question her again. "A new project? That's great; you finally get a chance to prove yourself." He stepped forward and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"We'll see. I probably blew it with that stupid gift mix-up. I still don't know how that happened. Could the tags have slipped when you were carrying them? You weren't throwing them around or anything, were you?"

Dread filled him as he realized how careless he had been when he put them on the stack of gifts. He was so anxious to go see Marcus, he practically threw them on the pile. Was he the reason for the mix-up?

"I don't see how, but it's possible." He bent down, kissing her cheek. "It will be ok. It's just a silly card. Michael will probably frame it to tease us at the next office party."

The relief in Wendy's eyes tempered him of his anxiety. He was mad at himself for even thinking something so ridiculous. He pulled back, locking her gaze. "So, it was meant for me, huh? Anything I want?"

The shift in his tone caught Wendy's attention, and she turned from the mirror, her earlier insecurities melting into intrigue. "Anything," she purred seductively. She was taken aback by this more assertive version of her husband. The possibilities of what he had in store ran through her head. Was Jon going to tie her up to the bed? Force her to go down on him, even though she hated it? She wasn't sure why, but something about that made heat pool in the pit of her stomach.

He reached for her hand pulling her to the bed. She shrugged off the red silk robe she was wearing and followed him in just her bra and panties. Jon sat on the bed wrapping arms around her back and pulling her toward him. His lips pressed against her ribcage and trailed higher.

"I want you on top," he whispered as his hand slid over the front of her bra sliding the cup down. The chill from the sudden exposure made her nipple hard and she ran her fingers through his hair. "You look the absolute sexiest when you're on top." His kisses danced around her nipple, sending a gasp from her lips. "The way your body moves, the way your chest—" She cut him off, pulling his lips to her nipple as sparks of electricity shot through her. For a moment, Wendy felt a flicker of disappointment at the vanilla request.

But the pure adoration in Jon's eyes pushed the feeling aside and she couldn't deny the growing need building inside her. "Well then, hot stuff, I better get my cowboy hat." She playfully laughed as she pushed him backward onto the bed. She loved the way he looked at her. The way his mouth practically hung open as she reached back and unclasped her bra. She crawled over his legs, her fingers going straight for the button on his pants. "Maybe you deserve an extra special treat since you're cashing in the IOU so early." Her hands slid over the front of his boxers, cupping his length. Jon lifted his hips as eagerly as he could, wanting as little clothing between them as possible.

With his boxers no longer in the way, Wendy let her nails glide up Jon's thigh. She could feel him writhe beneath her touch as she delicately wrapped her fingers around his shaft.

"Ohhh," Jon yelped in surprise. Wendy's palm was cool to the touch, causing him to jump with the unexpected change in temperature.

"Poor baby, is it cold? Want me to warm it up?" Jon saw something in her bright blue eyes, an intensity he'd never seen before. Her thumb circled his tip as she watched his reaction.

Wendy wasn't sure what got into her tonight. Maybe it was the vodka cranberries, or maybe it was that somebody saw what she was truly capable of, not just Jon's wife or the former model, but someone with real insight. The same validation she had been craving in that office meeting now coursed through her veins and made her bold.

For a moment, she contemplated taking him into her mouth, pushing past her usual disdain, and showing Jon just how much more she had to offer. Her face hovered over his lap as she stroked him, her breathing warm against his sensitive skin.

"Tell me what you want," she whispered, her hand working him with growing confidence. She wanted Jon to take control, see her the way Michael had, push her head into his lap without any thought about what he thought she did or didn't want.

"Baby, you don't have to..." Jon's voice had that same cautious tone, like he was working out an equation instead of reading the signals from her body. Ever the analyzer, even in bed.

Wendy bit the inside of her cheek, frustrated by his hesitation even as she appreciated consideration. This wasn't about what she wouldn't do - it was about showing him everything she could do, surprising him the way she'd surprised everyone else in that meeting. If he wanted her to ride him tonight, then she was going to give him the ride of his life.

She straddled him, centering herself above his rigid cock. Her eyes stayed on his as she lowered herself until her wet lips pressed against his tender flesh. Then, she began to rock her hips, rubbing the length of his cock with her pussy.

"Hey there, handsome," she said, rolling her hips with deliberate slowness. "Ready to see what I'm really capable of?"

He moaned at the feel of her heat stroking him.

"God, you feel so good. I'm not sure how long I'll last if you keep teasing me like that." He desperately wanted to control his orgasm, but after not getting to finish yesterday he knew the odds were slim. And the numbers never lie.

She lost herself in the moment, her body undulating above him. Her slick folds slid back and forth, coating him with her desire. His cock grew larger beneath her, thickening and hardening with each movement.

"Are you ready, baby?" Her breath caressed his ear now. Her chest pressed against his, the hair on his chest tickling her nipples. "Are you ready for me to ride you?"

She didn't wait for an answer but leaned down, grasping his cock in her hand to guide the tip to her core.

They gasped in unison as his bulbous head slipped inside her.

"You feel so good, baby. So hard and ready." Wendy wasn't always particularly vocal in the bedroom, but the few times she was, she was always told it added to the experience. For reasons she didn't understand, her body was on fire tonight, she wanted it to be a moment Jon would remember for the rest of his life.

She started to slowly lower herself, easing him deeper inside her. When she felt him bottom out, she rocked her hips in a rhythmic motion, trying to take him that much deeper.

"Uhhhhhh," she purred. "You feel so good. So fucking good." Her eyes fluttered shut as she pressed down on his chest, sitting up straight.

"I can't believe how tight you feel right now," Jon whined, trying to keep his eyes open despite the pleasure coursing through him so he could focus on her magnificent body. "You have to slow down though, baby. I already feel so close."

Her eyes were half-lidded. Her hips continued their dance, gaining momentum with each thrust, uncaring of his pleas to go slower. Fire ignited from her core, every nerve ending alive as she felt her own release start to build.

Jon was in heaven. She felt like a velvet glove drenched in oil. The soft whimpers emanating from her lips only heightened the experience. Her heavy chest swayed back and forth with each motion. He leaned up, catching her nipple in his mouth. Praying the distraction would keep this from ending too soon.

"Yes, yes!" Wendy threw her head back, as Jon's mouth found her nipple. The sensation rippled throughout her entire body. Her hips bucked and swiveled faster, as her orgasm neared. Jon's hands gripped her hips, he wanted to slow her down. He tried thinking of something else, a dead relative, a car crash, his grandma. Nothing worked. He'd never seen her so worked up before.

"Wendy," he gasped, tearing his mouth away from her breast. "Baby, I'm close. You need to slow down."

But Wendy was lost in her own world, her body moving of its own accord. She could feel her orgasm building, the tension in her body coiling tighter and tighter. She leaned back further, placing her hands on Jon's thighs for leverage as she ground against him, his cock pushing deeper inside of her.

"Oh God, baby. Don't stop. I'm going to cum, Jon."

Jon's voice strained. Wendy gripped his cock in a vice-like grip, squeezing him for every bit of euphoric pleasure. "Wendy, I'm going to cum." He nudged her leg to get her attention.

But Wendy was too far gone to care. She could feel her own release just out of reach. She moved faster, her body chasing the much needed release.

"Oh fuck. Oh God, baby, just a little longer. Oh please."

Jon squeezed her hips a bit tighter now, his body trembling with the need to hold back. But he knew it was a lost cause, he was already too far gone. With one final thrust, he yelled out, bucking his hips into Wendy and releasing his seed deep inside of her.

Wendy felt his warmth fill her, but she was still chasing her own release. She began to move faster, desperate to finish with him. But it was too late. Jon's body relaxed beneath her, as his hands relaxed then fell from her hips.

With a frustrated groan, Wendy rolled off him, her body hot as unfulfilled need raged through her. She lay back on the bed, her chest heaving with each breath.

Jon turned to her, a soft smile on his lips. "Well, at least we are even now," he joked to lighten the mood.

When she didn't say anything right away, Jon pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. He could feel her heart still racing, her body still tense. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should have held back longer."

Wendy shook her head, her breathing slowly returning to normal. "It's okay," she said. "It's not your fault. I should have listened when you told me to slow down. I'll swing by the pharmacy at lunch tomorrow." The way she said it sounded casual, but inside Wendy was mortified. She'd never been the girl who needed the morning-after pill. She was safe, always careful. "Besides, tonight was about you, not me."

They lay quietly together, Jon's breathing evening out as he started to drift off. Wendy lay awake, aware of every sensation: the cool sheets against her skin, the residual throb between her legs, the hum of unmet need zipping along her nerve endings. She shifted in bed, hoping a change in position might offer some relief.

"I meant what I said earlier," Jon murmured sleepily, pulling her closer. "About the project. You'll finally get a chance to be seen." His words were sincere, but something about the way he said it made Wendy turn to face the wall. Jon didn't seem to notice the frustration, instead he pulled himself closer to her, spooning her back.

Wendy smiled softly in the dark, her frustration still simmering but appreciative of his support. Working with Michael should have felt like a victory, but every interaction with him carried an undercurrent that made her uneasy. Still, he was the first person at work to truly see her potential beyond the surface-not just a pretty face or Jon's wife, but as someone with genuine insight.

Her thoughts drifted to that moment in the party when he'd read the IOU card aloud, that same hungry look in his eyes matching his earlier "centerfold" comment. She pushed the memory aside quickly. Professional recognition didn't make him any less of a creep. This opportunity would require careful navigation, but it was still the break she'd been waiting for.

Jon pressed deeper into her back, his deflated member slick against her butt. She should be satisfied, she told herself. Jon had enjoyed his gift, even if it ended sooner than planned. And wasn't that what tonight was supposed to be about - his pleasure? Still, her body buzzed with residual desire, making sleep feel impossibly far away.

Tomorrow would be different, she told herself, deciding to focus on the positives. Tomorrow she would get a chance to prove herself, be appreciated for her brain and not her face, or worse, Jon's wife. Perhaps then this pent-up energy inside her would find its rightful outlet.