("You think I don't see you clench your thighs when I walk by?")
Janelle hated how quiet the copy room was.
It was small, warm, and smelled like paper and toner and right now, it was also the last place she wanted to be with Mirabel. Her boss had walked in without warning, stilettos clicking softly on the tile as the door swung shut behind her. Click.
Locked.
Janelle froze, clutching the stack of reports in her arms like a shield.
"You're jumpy," Mirabel said, voice like slow honey. She moved toward her, one step at a time, her red nails dragging along the counter. "You always this nervous… or is it just when I'm close?"
Janelle's heart raced. "I-I was just printing."
Mirabel stopped right in front of her. Close. Too close.
"You smell like lavender," she murmured. "Soft. Pure." Her eyes dropped to the top button of Janelle's blouse. "Are you?"
Janelle blinked. "Am I… what?"
"Pure."
The word hit her like ice and fire at once. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Mirabel smirked. "You are."
She moved behind Janelle suddenly, brushing past her. Her hips touched lightly deliberate, slow. Her breath fanned Janelle's neck as she leaned over to press a button on the printer.
Janelle gasped.
"Relax," Mirabel said, soft and cruel. "I'm just helping. You clearly need… guidance."
Her fingers brushed Janelle's hand as she took the papers from her. "You know," she added, turning back to face her, "I don't usually break my own rules. But you… you're a delicious little exception."
"I—I don't understand…"
"Oh, you will."
Mirabel smiled, eyes glinting darkly. "Every inch of you will."
And then she walked out. Just like that. Leaving Janelle breathless, flushed, and aching without even knowing why.
---
To be continued