Five Evelyn
I took Vanessa's advice, and after a long bath, I was in bed by ten with a book. As much as I loved being around people, I valued my time alone just as much.
Without the stress I previously felt, my body relaxed. Well, mostly. With no pressing distractions, my senses focused entirely on my growing sexual frustration.
I’d felt the desire increasing between my thighs over the last few hours, but now, it was unbearable.
I'd managed to mostly ignore how worked up being around Vanessa was making me, but now, alone in bed, my arousal was impossible to ignore.
It was taking all my self-control not to do something about it.
I could have dealt with the problem hours or even days ago.
The thought had crossed my mind more than once throughout the evening.
But every time it did, I pushed it away just as quickly.
I didn't trust my mind in this state to avoid thinking about the particular woman who was off-limits in every sense.
It had been several days, four conversations with Vanessa, and more stolen glances than I cared to admit since I'd allowed myself any kind of relief. I'd resisted the temptation, convincing myself that if I just gave it enough time, the intensity would fade on its own.
It hadn't. It had gotten worse.
I kept reading my book, it wasn't erotic so I’d thought it would calm my desires. But it was no use.
I found myself rereading the same paragraph over and over. Every time I managed to focus on the words, my mind drifted elsewhere.
Back to Vanessa.
I wasn't wearing anything under my oversized t-shirt and was practically squirming, rubbing my thighs together beneath my soft cotton sheets. The fabric tickled my clit as I shifted, trying to get comfortable. But every shift only made me more desperate.
Every time I forced myself to settle, my mind drifted right back to Vanessa. To the way she'd looked at me. The way she'd spoken to me. The way a single interaction with her could occupy my thoughts for hours afterward.
It was too much, and not combusting on the spot was enough of an accomplishment.
Recalling the evening, I couldn't stop one of my hands from sliding between my thighs to cup myself. And now that it was there, I couldn't take it off.
My body needed this too much.
Maybe the small amount of pressure would be enough to make my head clearer so I could continue the book successfully, without giving in to my body's insistent demands for release.
I could try to fight the inevitable. I’d always found the concept of orgasm control incredibly erotic, because in the end one always lost control.
My hips began to grind against my hand on their own accord.
After so long, even the tiniest motions circling on my clit felt potent.
A soft moan slipped from my mouth as my neck fell back and my other hand moved to my painfully hard nipples.
My book dropped to the floor with a thud, but I barely noticed.
In my feeble mental state, ideas of orgasm control quickly turned into fantasies of Vanessa being the one forcing me to hold off the orgasm I could already feel approaching.
It wasn't difficult to picture her abrasive tone being used in a different context, and her acerbic responses to me begging for the release I so desperately craved.
She could make me beg, hadn't she already done so?
Please don't be mad at me.
Oh god, my audacious replies, talking back, rolling my eyes. Teasing her relentlessly, but this time as her bratty submissive, craving to be put in my place.
We had already done this. Just, innocently.
Don't roll your eyes at me, Evelyn.
But to my body it was never innocent, that conversation created the spark of desperation that was now a fire I could no longer keep at bay.
Every comment she'd made since our first encounter seemed to resurface at once, each one bringing me closer to the edge.
But in my mind, Vanessa was the one I was staying on the edge for. It wasn’t a strenuous task to envision the graceful movements of her experienced fingers. It came naturally. The image of them practically guiding my own.
Sweetheart, please try harder.
Sweetheart.
The word that had me grinding against my chair in the middle of a work day now caused a new gush of wetness against my palm. No, Vannessa's palm.
Would she make a caustic remark to humiliate me further if she could feel how soaked she had me in only a matter of minutes? Or would she comfort me, able to perceive I was embarrassed by my body's unruly responses?
Oh, how my kinks on either end of the spectrum allowed me to get the best of both worlds.
I shut my eyes, my whole body tensing as my motions against my hand, no, Vanessa's hand began to falter.
Good, and you look at me when we are talking.
No, good girl amplified the effect.
Be a good girl for me, Evelyn.
I came hard, the waves of pleasure seeming to last forever.
As they faded away, I curled up, falling into a deep sleep soon after. Nothing else mattered at that moment, and my unprofessional crush growing more out of hand seemed like a small price to pay.
After masturbating myself to sleep, I’d forgotten to set my alarm. I’d gotten a solid nine hours of sleep, but needed to leave within the next few minutes. With no time for breakfast and too rushed to pack anything, I got ready, rushed out the door, and headed straight for the building.
Ignoring my stomach’s persistent protests, I arrived with only a few minutes to spare before my first meeting.
The day passed quickly, and I hadn’t heard from Jane after sending my passive-aggressive email. I was due to meet with Michael and our actual boss, Adam, and part of me was tempted to ask whether they’d had issues with Jane too.
Adam—who, unlike his boss, didn’t insist on an authoritative title—was in his late forties and somehow managed to survive Vanessa’s demands. Otherwise, their working relationship wouldn’t have lasted this long.
Vanessa.
Just thinking about her derailed me completely. A dream had been one thing, but this was real. Deliberate. Something I’d actively participated in and now had to live with. How was I supposed to face her ever again?
Adam and I had regular meetings, but this one had been scheduled out of nowhere. It was also strange that Jane hadn’t been invited, though I certainly wasn’t complaining.
Once we sat down, the conversation began with typical small talk. Adam was approachable in a way Vanessa never was—far less intense, and more down to earth.
“So, if you haven’t already heard, there’ve been some issues with Jane,” Adam began. “My boss wants her fired immediately. As CMO, she has the power to do that without much pushback. Jane’s been given two weeks’ notice, and we’ll be starting the hiring process for a replacement shortly.”
There was no doubt in my mind what had caused this. I hadn’t expected Vanessa to take it this far, but the realization sent a strange warmth through me. It made me feel… special. First my insomnia, now a difficult coworker—she was removing my problems one by one.
Michael kept his expression carefully professional, though a flicker of satisfaction crossed his face at the news.
“That’s surprising,” he said. “But I’m sure Ms. Walton has her reasons.” He glanced at me like I might somehow have answers.
“Evelyn,” Adam continued, “how would you feel about being involved in the hiring process? It was Ms. Walton’s suggestion, since you’ll be working most closely with whoever gets hired.”
Both Michael and Adam looked slightly confused. Vanessa wasn’t exactly known for valuing anyone else’s opinion, which only fed into my increasingly dangerous delusions.
I couldn’t suppress the grin that spread across my face, though I disguised it easily enough as enthusiasm. “That sounds like a great idea,” I replied. “Please let her know I appreciate the opportunity.”
Adam nodded before leaning back slightly. “Out of curiosity, do you have any idea what Jane did to Ms. Walton? She’d be pretty pissed if I asked her directly, as you can imagine.”
For a moment, I considered asking Vanessa myself. The idea of being reprimanded by her had shifted from purely terrifying to… somewhat thrilling overnight. But no. I would remain rational, remember my place, and not do anything reckless.
But yes, Adam—I could imagine Vanessa being pissed. Perfectly.
When I ask a question, I want an answer.Do I need to remind you who you’re speaking to in that tone?What on your mind is so distracting you can’t even pay attention?
Michael’s voice pulled me back into reality.
“They barely interact,” he said with a shake of his head. “But if she’s keeping it private, now I’m curious too. Any theories?”
I shrugged casually. “She clearly holds people to very high standards. In my opinion, Jane probably didn’t have to do anything that terrible.”
“Well, you’re a quick learner,” Adam replied with a laugh. “She’s brilliant, just… closed-off. Don’t bother her, and your time here will probably be pleasant enough.” He smiled before adding, “Honestly, it’s a miracle I’ve survived two years working for her. I guess I’m just perfect.”
We laughed out of obligation at the painfully unfunny dad joke.
“I plan to do exactly that,” I said. “Assuming Ms. Walton doesn’t fire me first.”
At that point, I was mostly hoping the meeting would end so I could finally grab something to eat before submitting the report due within the hour.
Unfortunately, both Adam and Michael were far more talkative than usual, drifting into side conversations and pointless tangents.
Vanessa, for all her issues, at least knew how to keep people efficient.
I managed to submit my assignment in time, just not eat beforehand.
Loving to cook, I rarely skipped meals, making my stomach protest when I did. Regardless, with only a few hours left in my workday, today had been shaping up to be my best one yet.
But that was until my mother called with her impeccable ability to put a damper on my mood.