AIDEN
The atmosphere was heavy with the scent of bourbon and expensive perfume inside the private VIP lounge. It was the annual firm gala, the kind of night where professional masks often slipped,.and the hierarchy began to dissolve under the weight of too much consumption of alcohol.
I sat on a armchair directly opposite Irene Gill, my tie loosened and my pulse racing.
Irene wasn't just my boss. She was a well-sculptured work of art.
At forty-two, she possessed a predatory sort of grace that made every man in the office mesmerized when she walked by. She was a package of curves that felt built to destroy a man’s focus. With heavy, lush breasts that always seemed to be at war with the fabric of her blouses, and hips that swung in a hypnotic manner.
Tonight, she was dressed in a mi
