Tom was at his desk, studying a report displayed on his screen, when a quiet knock sounded on the office door.

"Come in," he called without looking up.

He could tell it was Charlotte by the way she silently entered the room. His assistant, a small, slender woman in her mid-twenties, often escaped notice. 

"Do you mind if I close this?" she asked in that soft tone which sometimes annoyed him, but more often than not soothed his nerves. It was unusual for her to make such a request; she generally appeared, did or said what was necessary, and then promptly left. 

Suppressing an exasperated sigh, Tom forced his attention away from the report. "Sure, but I have just a few minutes to spare."

Charlotte offered an apologetic smile. "Understood." 

Gently, she closed the door, as if afraid it might fall off its hinges if she applied too much force. Tom let his gaze drift absently over her outfit. It was her standard attire: a prim white blouse and black skirt. The low heels she wore did little to add to her small stature. Her brown hair was drawn back into a ponytail, and when she again turned toward him, she paused to push her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose. That gesture irked him for reasons he couldn't explain, but of course, he couldn't reprimand her for something so trivial. 

She was efficient and dutiful, always busy. She didn't gossip with the other assistants, and whatever personal life she had never interfered with her work. For these reasons, Tom could overlook her lackluster personality and drab clothes. 

"Have a seat." His words sounded more like an order than an invitation.

Charlotte scurried to the chair in front of his desk, smoothing her skirt beneath her before she sat down. Again, she smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "We need to talk, Tom."

She'd never before addressed him by his first name, as he'd never given her permission to do so. It was a breach of professional boundaries, and one he would have corrected if not for the unexpected look of warning in her eyes.

Folding his hands on his desk, he gave her his full attention. "I'm listening."

Charlotte leaned forward a little. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I know you're trying to force David out of his job. You want to be at the very top."

Decades of experience enabled Tom to hide his alarm; he didn't even raise an eyebrow at Charlotte's accusation. But inside, his mind raced, and his pulse started a nervous beat he could feel at his temples. "Charlotte," he said, his voice equally soft, "what the hell are you talking about?"

"Tom." She pursed her lips in exaggerated regret. "You're really going to make me do this, aren't you?"

He watched as she withdrew her phone from the pocket of her skirt and began tapping at the screen. All the while, his blood pressure continued rising. Seconds later, his own phone chimed.

He'd received a new email, but it wasn't to his work account. No, this was sent to his personal email, which offered end-to-end encryption. Frowning, he saw it was from an address he didn't recognize.

His jaw painfully tightened when he discovered what the email contained: photos of the phone he now held in his hand. Photos of its screen, which displayed private messages he'd shared with a trusted colleague. Together, they were working to have David removed from his job. It was Tom's hope that he would be sitting in that corner office very soon.

Lifting his head, he fixed an icy glare on Charlotte. "How did you get these?"

"You should never leave your phone unlocked and unattended, Tom."

"I don't," he snapped.

Charlotte's smile was dripping with condescension. "Obviously, you did."

"I have a goddamn passcode on this phone!" 

"True," she said, nodding solemnly. "But you also have a fifteen-minute window before your phone locks once you've finished using it. That's a dangerously long time." Leaning back in her chair, she struck him as infuriatingly nonchalant. "Remember that afternoon two weeks ago? You had to go see David himself on the top floor. You told me to get out of your office so you could finish preparing for that meeting."

Tom remembered then. He'd forgotten his phone, leaving it behind on his desk. With Charlotte keeping sentry outside his closed office door, he figured he didn't need to worry about anyone accessing the device. And Charlotte? She was a little mouse of a woman; she wouldn't dare go in his office when he wasn't present.

As he now studied her, he realized the little mouse had grown some very sharp teeth.

"How the fuck did you get these messages?" He knew he was practically growling, but he made no attempt to subdue his anger. "They're password-protected, too. Even if the phone was unlocked, you wouldn't have been able to access—"

Charlotte laughed, as if she found all this amusing. "You really pay me no attention at all, do you?" Her laughter abruptly stopped, and her stare grew as hard as his own. "You've become so comfortable around me that I'm little more than a piece of furniture to you."

At any other time, he would have insisted that wasn't true. But not now. Not when he was dangerously close to throttling her.

"I've watched you texting away on that phone," she continued. "I've seen you enter the password on numerous occasions. I must say, it should be stronger."

Tom rose and circled around the desk. To his surprise, Charlotte stood as well. Now that they were facing each other, he towered over his assistant. It took all his self-control not to grab her. While holding her stare, he knew threats would be useless. She seemed eerily calm, prepared for whatever repercussions might arise. 

"What do you want?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Charlotte's gaze softened as she looked up at him. "You're very lucky," she whispered. Lifting a hand, she pressed it against his chest. He'd removed his suit coat earlier, and she toyed with the button of his fine dress shirt. "I don't want money, or power. I don't want revenge for the way you've treated me." Her stare snapped up to meet his once more. "I know I'm an absolute fool, but I only want you, Tom."

He lost all ability to hide his shock upon hearing those words. His mouth dropped open, and for a moment, he couldn't speak. There was no fucking way Charlotte, his timid assistant, was propositioning him!

Tom actually laughed. This encounter had grown too surreal to make sense of. "You've got to be kidding me."

Only when Charlotte's expression darkened did he realize it was no joke. With surprising force, she seized his wrist. He knew better than to pull away. "If you'd paid more attention," she said, "you would have noticed my attraction to you." 

Tom's eyes widened a little. He was almost twenty years her senior, and while he knew some women her age had a thing for older men, even Charlotte had to realize the two of them were utterly incompatible. 

It was far from a rare occurrence for him to be hit on; he kept in excellent shape, and his full head of dark hair held no gray as of yet. But more than that, he suspected women were drawn to his ambition. It was no secret that he was going places, and he'd had plenty of company offered to him on his journey.

Charlotte, however, would never advance beyond that desk outside his office. And if he had his way, she'd be removed from that position in the very near future.

Of course, he couldn't share that with her. Instead, he rested his hands on her shoulders. "Charlotte," he said, "I'm very flattered that you find me attractive, and if we didn't work together, I would love to take you out for a drink. But we do work together, and by going through my phone, you've violated my trust. There's no chance for us now."

Again, that smile of hers. It bordered on sly. "I'm not interested in having a drink with you." Her hand drifted over his shirt, making a downward path along his stomach. Still, she didn't stop until her touch settled upon his groin. That unexpected contact, so intimate, made him suck in a sharp breath. "Here's what you're going to do." Her fingers grazed the outline of his cock beneath his pants. "You're going to book a hotel room for us."

"Charlotte, I—"

"It doesn't have to be in this city," she went on as if he hadn't spoken. "I'll drive a little ways to meet you, where no one knows us. I want a nice hotel, and I want it for the entire night."

Despite Tom's lingering fury, his dick began to respond to Charlotte's touch. "And what if I say no?" he rasped out.

She cupped her other hand against the back of his head, guiding him downward. "You won't." Her breath, sweetened with some kind of mint, was warm on his face. "You know why? Because you're so close to getting David's job. And I won't stand in your way." Their lips were just inches apart when she added, "As long as you fuck me."

Tom fought back a moan. In her grasp, he was unresisting, almost powerless. It was a feeling he loathed. "That's all it will take to buy your silence?"

"You're not buying anything," Charlotte retorted. "I've gotten you hard just by playing with your cock and describing what I want from you. I think you'll be ready to fuck my pussy when the time comes." Pulling him closer, she brushed her lips against his. "But just once won't satisfy me. Take a little blue pill if you have to, but I want you for the night." She had him fully hard now, her hand cradling the bulge in his pants. "And I hope you're talented at eating pussy, because I'm going to want that, too."

Her taunts, and her manipulative way of taking charge, got the better of him. "You little cunt." 

Charlotte kissed him then, her mouth wild and hungry. His lips ached from the force of it, but when her tongue lewdly sought out his, he again yielded. Frenzied with both rage and lust, he cupped her small breast. She moaned into his mouth, her kiss softening as he teased her nipple.

Finally, he pulled away, breathing hard. "I'll give you what you want. This Saturday. I assume you're free?"

Charlotte merely smirked at the veiled insult. "I'll make it work. And Tom?" She gave his cock a final, lingering caress. "I'm going to make you work, too."

*****

The rest of the week passed in a blur of meetings and phone calls. Tom kept himself even busier than usual in an effort to distract himself from thoughts of what Charlotte had planned. To her credit, she resumed her role of meek, obedient assistant while at the office. One never would have guessed she had the gumption to blackmail her boss.

It was only when Friday evening arrived, and Tom was working late at his desk, that she appeared in his doorway. Looking up, he gave her a cold stare but said nothing when she entered his office and closed the door behind her.

Wordlessly, Charlotte approached. Her stare was blatantly lascivious as it wandered over him. "You've picked a hotel, haven't you?"

Though his shoulders tensed, he opened his desk drawer and took out a slip of paper. On it, he'd written the name and address of the hotel where he'd reserved a room. It was a safe distance from the city in which they lived and worked. 

Charlotte took the paper and studied it a moment, then nodded, apparently satisfied. "I'll be there at eight tomorrow evening. You will be waiting for me in the lobby." She now stood right beside his chair. 

"Fine. Anything else?" Tom didn't turn to face her; instead, he kept his gaze fixed on the computer screen.

"One more thing," she replied, her tone breezy. "Push back your chair."

He swallowed hard, reluctant to comply. "Charlotte, it's too risky for us to fool around here at work. We could both lose our jobs—"

She leaned forward, bringing her lips to his ear. "I said, push your chair away from the desk."

Swearing under his breath, he forced himself to obey her order. The moment he did, she grabbed the chair arms and whirled him around so that the back of the chair was pressed against the edge of his desk. 

"Scoot down a little," she demanded. 

This time, Tom didn't attempt to argue. Instead, he slouched down in the chair while Charlotte lifted her skirt. There was a run in her pantyhose, small but unsightly. He wondered if she'd even noticed it.

His muscles grew rigid as Charlotte straddled him. The chair's arms forced her to press her legs tightly against Tom's, and in the process, her skirt rose higher. In such an awkward position, half-sitting and half-reclined, he got a glimpse of her panties. They were as plain as she was.

Placing her hands on the back of his chair, she had him effectively hemmed in. "We need to talk about your attitude," she said, her face stern. "You might despise me, but you'd best make me think otherwise when we're together tomorrow night."

"I don't despise you," he said, unconvincingly. His mind raced in a last-ditch effort to dissuade her from this scheme. "But you clearly despise me, Charlotte. So I don't understand why you want me to fuck you."

She dipped her head and then planted a line of kisses along his jaw. Breathing in, he caught her scent, which was utterly new to him. They'd never had reason to be this close before. 

"I despise myself," she whispered. Her mouth moved to his neck. "It's such a tired cliché: the unremarkable, quiet secretary lusting after her gorgeous, powerful boss." Sitting up, she straightened her glasses. "But I can't help it. I know you're an arrogant asshole, but I crave you on a physical level." Her expression was almost despondent. "It's a hunger I've never experienced before."

Gently grasping her arms, he tried to sound soothing. "It's merely infatuation, nothing more. And you're right—I am an arrogant asshole, and you deserve better."

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "No, I deserve to get what I want. And I want you." 

Before he could respond, she lifted his chin and kissed him. Utterly still, he didn't return the kiss, yet she persisted as her hand slipped between them. The feel of her caress drew a moan from his throat. 

Charlotte was right; Tom did despise her. But when she so eagerly fondled his dick, and invaded his mouth with her tongue, his body quickly reacted. Knowing she was helpless to her desire for him ignited his arousal, though he hated the idea of giving her what she so desperately wanted. 

Finally, he broke the kiss. "We need to wait until we're at the hotel tomorrow."

Her fair cheeks had pinkened, and as she continued touching him, a wicked smile appeared on her lips. "At least I know you'll be able to perform."  

"Oh, you can count on that."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "See what I mean? Such arrogance." She eased off his lap, and he hurried to sit up straight again. Despite himself, he sneaked a glance at her legs before she lowered her skirt. 

"Tomorrow," she said, "I want passion. I don't care about romance; you don't need to bring flowers. But I won't settle for a halfhearted fuck. Do you understand?"

Tom held her stare in silence for a long moment. Over the past few days, he'd wondered more than once if she had lost her mind. Was this abrupt change in her behavior due to some kind of undiagnosed neurological issue? Or was her obsessive longing a sign of a far deeper emotional instability? He considered himself a decent judge of character, yet he'd never suspected her of being so goddamn conniving.

But as she'd pointed out, he hadn't paid her all that much attention. 

And now he was paying the price.

"I understand, Charlotte," Tom said, offering his most charming smile. "I'll do my absolute best to make you happy."

"Good." Though she returned his smile, her eyes were unmistakably calculating. "Because that's the only way you'll get David's job."