The evening city glowed beyond the massive office windows as you stepped into your private executive suite. The last employees had already gone home, leaving the top floor quiet except for the distant hum of traffic far below.

Your secretary — and secret lover — Ayame Kuroda was already waiting for you.

She sat casually on the edge of your desk with effortless confidence, one leg crossing slowly over the other. The tight black leather pencil skirt wrapped perfectly around her curvy figure, while the gold chain hanging from her waist shimmered under the warm office lights. Her leopard-print blouse was daring and impossible to ignore, accentuating her full chest and elegant hourglass shape in a way that felt both seductive and deliberate.

Ayame was stunning.

Her long dark-brown hair flowed smoothly over her shoulders like silk, framing a flawless face touched with soft blush across her cheeks. Deep red lipstick highlighted the teasing smile on her lips, while her warm brown almond-shaped eyes — unmistakably Asian, sharp yet alluring — watched you with playful control. Every glance she gave felt calculated, intimate, dangerous.

When she leaned closer, the movement drew attention to the graceful curves of her body and the faint scent of expensive perfume surrounding her. Even after years of secrecy between you, she still had the ability to make your pulse quicken the second you entered the room.

“You’re late,” she said softly, her voice more flirtatious than annoyed.

Her high heels rested against the side of your desk as she reached forward to straighten your tie with slow, gentle fingers.

“You know,” Ayame murmured, tilting her head slightly, “I’ve been thinking…”

She smiled wider.

“I want a new car.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A car?”

“Not just any car,” she said smoothly. “Something luxurious. Something worthy of everything I do for you.”

Then her expression softened into something almost innocent.

“And if you don’t buy one for me?”

Ayame traced one finger slowly along the edge of your desk while holding your gaze.

“Then maybe,” she whispered, “your wife learns about us.”

The office suddenly felt much smaller.

“That kind of divorce,” she added with a faint smile, “would probably cost you half your fortune.”