When I learned my business degree program required an internship to graduate, I thought that would be the end of me. How I, a man with no applicable skills past a part-time job in fast food and two years of university coursework, managed to actually get hired into a corporate office for a summer remained a mystery. If only I had known that was going to be the least bizarre thing about my workplace. Though I held the official title of Markets Analysis Intern, my actual duties had undergone a silent shift thanks to a chance encounter.
It was during my first week on the job—before I had even finished orientation—when I ran into Ms. Atsuko one day on a lunch break. I was terrified to talk to her for a litany of reasons: she was poised, confident, articulate, curious about me, and a stunningly beautiful Kitsune-woman to top it all off. Holding a conversation with her and not crumbling out of sheer awkwardness proved to be a concentrated effort. Through what must have been divine providence, that effort paid off. We carried out a rather pleasant conversation, despite nervous habit of over-explaining things, before the lunch hour came to an end and I hurried back to my orientation seminars.
The day after I learned that Ms. Atsuko was the company's Chief Financial Officer, and that she wanted me to work under her supervision for the summer instead of someone assigned by the intern managers. From there on out my official title meant nothing more than the paper it appeared on. In reality I was Ms. Atsuko's personal assistant, doing everything from managing her calendar to fetching her lunches when she was busy on conference calls.
"Isn't that right, ${#charName}?" Ms. Atsuko said, her voice breaking me out of my mid-meeting daydreaming.
"It certainly is," I replied as smoothly as possible. "Of course, referencing the meeting notes I compiled and sent to everyone would provide more substance on the subject, but everyone already looks to be on the same page here." Looking up the length of the conference table, there were a few nods and one or two mild grimaces. Nobody ever wanted to bother actually checking the meeting notes, and they certainly wouldn't now that I had made everyone feel smart.
"That we are. Thank you very much, ${#charName}." Ms. Atsuko's voice was kind and formal, but there was something in the way she looked at me—a sort of fiendish gleam in those amber eyes which sat behind her spectacles—that had been there since our morning tag-up.
Nobody else could see it, but picking up on those cues was part of my most important role as Ms. Atsuko's personal assistant. The way each of her nine fluffy, cream-colored tails were just a bit more restless than usual, the glances she kept stealing at me every so often as the meeting continued, I could see it all clear as day. If anything, I had become a professional at noticing it.
Pretending like I was still deeply engaged in the meeting topic at hand, I turned my attention to my laptop and checked Ms. Atsuko's calendar for the day. Predictably, she had a block of flexible time immediately following the conclusion of our current meeting—which was when Ms. Atsuko typically followed up with people on critical action items that originated from her morning collaboration time. I knew she wouldn't mind my impromptu re-allocation of such time, however. With practiced efficiency, I created a new calendar appointment to override the slot and sent the details back to Ms. Atsuko's account for confirmation. The appointment's title was perfectly benign: Talent Development Time.
It took a considerable amount of effort to hide my smirk when I heard a notification chime come from the other end of the conference table. "Excuse me, Ms. Atsuko, I believe you left your laptop unmuted," I helpfully informed her.
"Ah! My mistake. Sometimes I'm just in a such a hurry I forget to put everything on silent!" Ms. Atsuko squeaked, looking quite bashful.
The moment her attention moved from the meeting to her laptop was palpable. The blush on her cheeks adopted a different hue, her tails fluttered about uncollected, and her pointed fox-like ears twitched back and forth erratically—one of her classic flustered tics. To Ms. Atsuko's credit, she did an incredible job of playing it off, quickly silencing her computer and returning to attentively participating in the discussion of quarterly projections like nothing was amiss. But from then on, the silent tension that existed between us was an almost physical thing.
I decided to take things a step further, leaving the meeting a few minutes early under the guise of an important phone call and returning to my cubicle so that she could really simmer by herself in the atmosphere I had created. Exactly how I had become that kind of person—how I had gone from Ms. Atsuko's personal assistant to her on-call office boy-toy—I couldn't say. It had been death by a thousand cuts; a steady slope of scandalous advances, a pay bump here and there, a dozen under-the-table gifts for a "job well done". Ms. Atsuko had me in the palm of her hand, but the truth was that I didn't even feel that different from when I had started my job as the picture of innocence.
The familiar clicking of polished black high-heels a short distance from my cubicle snapped me out of my ruminations. The rotation of my high-backed swivel chair was perfectly timed with Ms. Atsuko's appearance.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Atsuko," I greeted her warmly. "Something I can do for you?"
"I'd like to see you in my office," she said in a soft, playful voice, bottom lip toying with the edge of her pointed teeth, "as soon as possible."
I stood up from my chair, looking down at Ms. Atsuko with the barest hint of a smile. "By all means," I gestured politely, "lead the way."
To say that walking behind her was a treat for the senses would be a criminal understatement. She was the picture of a Kitsune-woman in distress, her pointed ears swishing restlessly, golden tails wavering about frantically as she walked, spreading their honey-cinnamon scent freely with each errant lash against the air. Approaching Ms. Atsuko's office, a lavish corner suite with walls entirely comprised of glass, I momentarily took the lead so that I could open and hold the door for her.
"Ever the gentleman," she chuckled. "I'm perfectly capable of opening doors by myself, you know."
"What sort of assistant would I be if I wasn't a gentleman?" I shot back humorously, following her inside. "Not a very valuable one, I don't think."
The moment the door clicked shut behind me, Ms. Atsuko flicked a nearby switch on the wall that caused the suite's glass to go from transparent to opaque, as though it had suddenly become obscured by a thick layer of fog.
Safe from outside eyes, she wasted no time pressing me up against the door, standing on the tips of her toes to nip at my ear with a heated, breathy whisper. "Naughty boy… Making Mama all flustered in a meeting like that… Making her wait when you know how badly she's been craving you today."
"Oh, I think you like it," I murmured, a pleased hum in my voice. "Getting nice and riled up, having to keep it together while all those filthy thoughts are running through your head."
I slid my hands up the sides of Ms. Atsuko's blazer with a light, sensual caress, making her purr appreciatively and press her body up against me more insistently. "Oh, it's true, it's true~ Mama likes it… But sometimes you let all that playing around go to your head, baby."
With another low, lusty purr, Ms. Atsuko moved down from my ear to my neck—a weak spot she loved to exploit. Her vulpine fangs gave the cords of my neck a tender nibble and my knees instantly became weaker.
"You're my sugar-baby. Mama's little boy-toy," she cooed softly between agonizingly delightful nips at my neck's sweet spots. "You're mine."