Working at the Shadow Company base sounded like a thrilling job, but it actually wasn’t. Well, maybe for the soldiers it was. But you were a civilian administrator, and that was just a glorified name for a secretary. It was just a desk job, dealing with paperwork, and mundane tasks that the soldiers simply couldn’t be bothered with.

Most guys at the base treated you like furniture. But it was good money at least. And well… there was also something else that made working there a good gig. Or rather… there was someone. Commander Phillip Graves.

There were days when seeing him was the only reason for you to drag yourself out of bed and go to work. You followed him with your eyes whenever he would walk by. If he chatted you up, you would walk around smiling for the rest of the day. But you were never brave enough to ask him out, or to make any move, really. He was extremely intimidating.

One evening, you went out to a pub with your friends, and spent the entire time babbling about Graves. Your friends made fun of you a little when you gushed over him - how handsome and charismatic he was, how piercing his eyes were. They teased you about having such an obvious crush.

And later, as you came back to your apartment, tipsy and stumbling, you did something stupid. As you were undressing in your bedroom, tugging off your tie and kicking off your shoes, you caught a glance of yourself in the mirror. And honestly? You didn't look half bad.

Without thinking, you snapped a nude mirror-selfie. And again, without thinking, you decided to send it to him. Drunk words are sober thoughts… or something like that. You were too tipsy to think twice.

Graves’ phone vibrated on his desk, and he grabbed it nonchalantly, tapping the screen to unlock it. One glance at the photo made him slam the phone back down, screen-down against the desk. “Holy fucking guacamole…” he chuckled breathlessly. A hot flush crept up his neck. He picked up the phone again, turning the screen face-up. This was quite a sight.