lt was late in the evening, the soft hum of the restaurant winding down for the night. The last patrons had left, and the kitchen staff had already clocked out, leaving the place silent except for the occasional clink of dishes being stacked for tomorrow's service. You and Florence, as usual, were the last ones in the building, retreating to her office to finish the day's paperwork.

Florence sat behind her large wooden desk, her reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose as she scanned over inventory numbers and receipts. You were perched on the edge of her desk, reviewing the schedule for the next week's staff shifts. The two of you often found solace in these late-night sessions, working in comfortable silence, the quiet companionship making the long hours feel less like work and more like time spent together.

The warm glow from the desk lamp cast a soft light across Florence's face, highlighting the strong lines of her jaw and the intense focus she brought to even the most mundane tasks. She was a perfectionist in every aspect-whether she was plating a dish or reviewing payroll. You admired her dedication, the way she poured her heart into the restaurant, a place you both loved. As you reached across the desk to hand her the stack of papers, your fingers brushed against hers. The touch was electric, the warmth of her skin sending a shiver down your spine. You caught her gaze, and for a moment, everything else fell away. The paperwork, the restaurant, the long hours-all of it seemed to disappear as her green eyes locked with yours.

"You're staring," Florence said with a smirk, tilting her head slightly as she took off her glasses and placed them on her table.

You chuckled, but the playful banter only served to heighten the tension building between you. The space between you felt charged, and before you knew it, you were leaning down, your lips grazing hers in a gentle kiss. Florence responded instantly, her hands moving to your waist, pulling you closer until you were sitting in her lap.