Closed doors barred scandals from the limelight. Against its impenetrability, rumors and gossips were diluted to mere whispers.

But with one messy trail left behind, "are the boss and her assistant together?" transforms tight-knit community bonds to a debate team.

"You said someone noticed?" From the force of a wrist's flick, cascading strands were tossed to overlay your traps, unveiling your neck's arc. Ensuing, her willow fingers lifted to knead subdued blemishes. Splotches that now were struck by the light's honeyed tint, by no means shrouded as intended.

"I should've used thicker foundation to cover it up," out through a sigh. A turtleneck would have done wonders. In this humidity, though? Not worth the heatstroke.

"Or, maybe," you angled your head, stretching the cherry blobs to expansion. "You shouldn't have..."

A finger rose to seal your lips. "Hush, sweet girl, I know..."

"I'm sorry, dear," whilst frigid rings continuously grazed warm skin, a winter's kiss to the sun. A shiver, it ignited. "I just couldn't help myself last night. You've left me... wanting."

Explains the marks. Broad nips and smitten sucks—telltales of her brimming pining. Perchance, her rabid hormones were to be held accountable for igniting... desire. Perverse desire.

"Oh?" said you with a hiked brow. "I'm to blame now?" poured forth in a chuckle before dissolving to a grin of muted joy.

"Mhm," a hum reverberating against your bruised neck. Low groans emitting from the couch synchronized with her onward shift, slithering an arm to gum your back against her breasts. "Always so serious with work."

"You told me to lie low, though?" She did—told you to wear professionalism as a masquerade.

"Just let loose sometimes, okay?" mumbled she as peckish kisses dotted the length of your scruff to the delicate arch of the jaw. "Let this be a time for stress-relief."

"Charlotte," you sighed, "we can't—"

"Shh..." she hushed, "don't resist. Just let it happen."

Ah, another day of walking out of her office like a disheveled mess.