At Crescent comany
Roman stood by his desk, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure in the quiet office. In front of him stood Jane, the assistant to the editor-in-chief. Her brown hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and a faint dusting of freckles brushed across her cheek. Sharp spectacles framed her eyes. Dressed in a crisp white blouse, a dark blazer, and a pencil skirt paired with low heels, she looked the definition of professional.
"We're already done with the tasks, Roman. They just need supervising," Jane said, handing him the folder.
"Okay." Roman took it, flipping through the pages without taking his eyes off the text. "Are the personnel ready for the assignment?"
"Yes. Fully prepared," Jane replied, her tone serious and professional.
"Good." Roman closed the file and handed it back to her, finally looking up. "Make several copies of this."
"Yes, Roman," she said respectfully. She immediately looked down at the next document in her hands, preparing for the next task the senior editors had assigned him.
While she scanned the paperwork, Roman took the opportunity to study her. His gaze drifted over her delicate, round face, her light brown eyes, and the way her hair framed her features. His eyes traveled lower, tracking the curves of her figure beneath her office attire. She carried herself with a quiet, charismatic confidence that he found intensely attractive. Jane, completely oblivious to his lingering stare, kept reading.
"I'll need to look over your next assignment properly first, if you don't mind," she said, her voice firm, clear, and direct.
"Of course," Roman replied, a warm smile breaking across his face.
"Great," she murmured, scanning the lines.
Roman leaned back against his table, his eyes locked on her. "You look pretty with your glasses."
Jane blushed instantly. "Thanks."
"You always look pretty with them, though," he added, his voice dropping slightly.
Shyly, she smiled and adjusted the frames on her nose. "Thanks again." She liked the way Roman was looking at her. His eyes were deep black, holding an intelligent, knowing look behind them. He was undeniably handsome, and it was becoming obvious that he took a liking to her.
"You're welcome," he said, watching her with open interest.
The blush on her cheeks deepened. Feeling the sudden weight of his attention, she quickly scanned the remaining paragraphs and handed the assignment over to him. "I should go print these," she said, gesturing to the other documents in her hand.
"Yes, go ahead."
With a small nod, Jane turned and walked toward the door. Roman watched her go, his gaze entirely locked on the heavy, hypnotic sway of her hips beneath the tight fabric of her pencil skirt. The sight of her buttocks moving rhythmically as she walked sent a sudden, explicit jolt of raw desire straight to his groin.
Leaning heavily back against his desk, he licked his dry lips, completely enticed by her. He shifted uncomfortably as his pants tightened, a hard erection rapidly straining against the fabric. Unable to resist, he slid his hand down and deliberately stroked himself through his trousers, gripping his length to soothe the sharp, throbbing ache of wanting her. His thoughts turned completely filthy, imagining exactly what it would feel like to lose control, strip her out of that professional attire, and drive his penis deep inside her tight, wet pussy.
It was a cloudy Saturday afternoon. Elsa sat in front of her tiny dressing table, the mirror right before her, as she removed her earrings and studied her reflection.
Nearby, Lucy was resting on her bed, completely engrossed in reading a documentary book.
"Elsa, did you know there used to be dragons?" Lucy asked, glancing up from her book for a moment.
"I didn't know," Elsa responded smoothly, her fingers busy braiding her hair.
"Well, there were," Lucy explained, her eyes flicking back and forth between the pages and Elsa. "They don't exist anymore, but they were related to the dinosaurs. It's, like, a thirty percent theory."
"I thought those were just fairy tales."
"Not really," Lucy added, looking back down.
Elsa considered her words in silence. If people wrote so much about things like vampires, faeries, sirens, and unicorns, didn't that mean someone must have actually seen them at some point? The ideas had to come from somewhere, didn't they? Then again, she thought to herself, people could have just made it all up completely out of their own imaginations. To her, while it was technically true that the concepts existed in stories, in real life they simply did not exist. It was just a theory, she decided, as Lucy kept on reading.
Meanwhile, in a quiet study room, Silas was seated in front of his desk. Before him was his laptop, which he typed on continuously, surrounded by documents spread entirely across the table. His phone, the laptop, and a heavy stack of files crowded the workspace. The room was dead silent except for the steady tapping of keys as he typed, his focus locked tightly on the paperwork. The space around him stretched down toward the large windows, containing a couch, a table, a set of drawers for his files, a cabinet holding a bottle of wine and a glass cup, and rows of books on the shelf.
A while later, he pushed his work aside and picked up his phone. He scrolled through the screen until he reached Catelyn's social media page. She was all he had in his mind the entire time he worked—Catelyn, always Catelyn. He simply couldn't stop thinking about her.
He stopped on a photo of her wearing a casual grey dress, a sun hat, and sunglasses, smiling brightly. A soft smile grazed Silas's lips as he kept scrolling through her pictures, but a hollow ache quickly settled deep in his chest. He felt completely empty without her. They had broken up, but he just couldn't bring himself to accept that they were never coming back together, nor could he accept the fact that she didn't love him anymore. Even though he hated that she wasn't with him, he was powerless against it. Feeling entirely empty, he zoomed in on her face, her eyes were a deep, soul-stirring black, holding a vibrant happiness that magnetically pulled at his very existence. Every time she looked at him, that warmth seemed to anchor his soul, drawing him in until he couldn't imagine a world without her light.
Pretty lips, smooth, fair face, his heart twisting painfully inside him. Why did she have to break up with me? Why did we have to break up? The agonizing thought tore at his heart. She looked completely happy in the picture, and he wasn't. He felt utterly disoriented, like he couldn't do anything or function properly. Yet, beneath the pain, he remained desperate and deeply hopeful that she would eventually come back into his life. Staring at her smiling face on the glowing screen, all he wanted was to tell her that they should get back together—that they could make this work and were fully capable of loving each other and being together again.
That same sunny afternoon, Catelyn was relaxing at home. Wearing black leggings and a grayish-white crop top, she walked through her spacious living room, her ponytail swaying with every step. She held her phone to her ear, listening to the ringing line until her dad picked up.
"How are you, Princess?" Tom Winters asked, his voice warm and familiar. In his early sixties, with blonde hair thinning at the crown and dark, kind eyes, he was sitting outside in his peaceful green garden, a cup of tea resting on the table beside him.
"Fine, Dad. And you?" Catelyn smiled, pausing by the living room couch. She always loved hearing his voice.
"Good, very good," Tom said merrily.
"That's good. Did you take your medicine, Dad?" Catelyn asked. She always made sure to check on him. He had previously suffered from a diabetic kidney issue, but the condition had been surgically resolved, leaving him with just a routine medication schedule.
"Yes, dear," he replied, clearly touched by his daughter's concern.
"Great. It's lovely to hear that, Dad." Catelyn smiled to herself. In the past, her father would act like a stubborn child whenever it was time to take his pills, but he had finally matured about his health.
"Your mum's been pestering me to take them anyway, so how could I forget?" Tom joked, though he secretly didn't mind the constant reminder Catelyn was doing. "That's better. I don't want anything happening to you."
"I know, dear. So, how is work going?" Tom asked, gently changing the subject.
"Work is good. My ideas are finally coming together for the next bag collection for the upcoming seasons."
"Wonderful. I'm happy you're doing well, Caty. Keep it up."
"I will, Dad."
"You didn't ask about my wife," Tom noted gently, knowing that Catelyn tended to keep her distance from her mother.
The comment made Catelyn shut down slightly. She didn't particularly care to talk about the woman. "I know she's fine," Catelyn said simply.
"Yes, she's doing well, but do ask about her sometime—your mum really does miss you."
"Okay," Catelyn responded quietly. She had never been close to her mother; her father was the only one she felt a deep, genuine bond with.
"You should come by and have a meal with us soon. We'd love to see you around," Tom invited.
"Okay, Dad."
"We'll be expecting you, Caty."
"Sure, Dad."
"Have a good day, Cateyln."
"You too, Dad. Rest well," she said, a wave of genuine concern for him hitting her heart.
"I will," he said, and with that, the call ended.
Catelyn stared at her phone for a moment, mentally calculating when she could squeeze in a visit home. Slipping the phone into her pocket, she headed for the front door, ready to spend the rest of her afternoon relaxing at the spa.