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breeze blew up my pencil skirt, cooling through the dampness in my underwear.
If I didn’t regain control before Frank came, I’d need to sneak off to the
bathroom to release myself.
    To forget about my hot boss, I decided to begin my morning
routine earlier. I swiveled on the chair and opened the drawer to tidy up his
ties. On the top, an olive envelope popped out with my name on it: Sharon.
    The gentle strokes and curves of the cursive font suggested
a well-thought-out message. I lifted the envelope to my nose. Frank's cologne
filled me, and I imagined it mixed with the salty sweat of his body. I rushed to
my cubicle and carefully pulled the metal opener along the edge.
     
    Sharon,
    Please accept my invitation to a formal dinner at my
house, tonight at 6:00 p.m. I’d like to show you my gratitude personally,
instead of at a restaurant. I hired a chef, so I promise you the food will be
delicious.
    I cannot imagine anyone else working under me, and I
can’t wait to thank you properly.
    Frank
     
    My knees suddenly felt week. I was sure there was something
in the company's policies about a boss inviting his secretary to dinner. But it
was just dinner. Right? Nothing else. Frank went to company dinners all the
time—although I didn’t think any of them happened at his house.
    And, he’d hired a chef! For me. Well, at least we wouldn’t
be alone. Did I want to be at Frank’s house by myself? No, that was something
that I could not handle. Perhaps if I organized his ties at home it would make
it easier for him to get dressed in the morning... No, I couldn’t do that. I wanted to help him in the office with his ties in the morning. Dressing him was the
best part of my job.
    I hurried off to the lunchroom to get Frank's and my coffee.
Why had he sent such a fancy card? Why not just ask me? Was this more than a
thank you? Did I want it to be? No, it didn't matter how hot he was, I needed
to keep it professional. My job depended on it.
    As I contemplated what I should say to my boss, part of me
got lost in the thought of what it would be like to visit his house. I've never
been there, but I'd heard rumors about his kinky decor that resembled a porn
set—with dance poles, satin sheets, cameras, red lighting and all.
    I poured the coffee into both mugs.
    Then again, it wouldn't surprise me if some bitter former
employee had made it all up because Frank wouldn't sleep with her. He was one
of the most professional bosses I'd ever had—not that I’d had many. I simply couldn't
imagine him differently.
    A soft brush on my shoulder startled me, and I jumped up. The
steaming coffee spilled on my silk blouse.
    "Ahh! Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot!" I tried to pull
the wet fabric off my skin.
    "I'm so sorry, Sharon! Quick, hands up." Frank
tugged the hem of my blouse out of my pencil skirt.
    I lifted my arms and he pulled it off, blowing a cooling
breath on my chest. I hadn't noticed when his swift fingers unbuttoned the top.
    "Are you all right?" he asked.
    I clenched my fists as the heat spread from my chest
inwards. Frank kept blowing at my front as he waved a folder he’d brought with
him.
    "Now I really have to make it up to you." His
concerned gaze flew to the olive envelope I'd set on the counter. "You're
hurt."
    I looked down at my barely covered chest that had taken on a
pinkish shade. My soaked bra didn't help to hide my beasts. That's when I
noticed my nipples hardening as his cooling breath soothed the burning
sensation.
    Frank took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around my
shoulders. "Come quick. No one else is here yet." He grabbed the
envelope, stuffed it in his pocket, and pulled me along into his office. Frank
locked the door behind him and then guided me to the private quarters of the
room that I rarely ventured into. Behind glass doors that separated his
workspace was a lounge chair, an original Picasso painting, and three potted
plants. The view opened onto the Hudson River, glistening in the morning sun.
    My