50 EROTICA COMPILATIONS

2- LORA

I resumed work by 7:30 a.m. the next day. “Good morning, ma,” the junior staff greeted as I passed.

I nodded, my heels clicking against the marble floor with purpose. “Secretary! Meet me at my office now,” I ordered.

“Yes, ma,” she responded, scrambling up as I headed straight to my office.

Minutes later, she stood before my desk. “Ma, you demanded my presence,” she said.

“Can I go through all the staff files, including those of my superiors?” I demanded.

She shifted uncomfortably. “Madam, that might not be possible. It is against the policy of this company.”

“If I may ask, madam, what do you need it for?”, she asked as I held her gaze.

I felt a muscle in my jaw twitch. “You may leave now,” I demanded. She hesitated, then turned and walked out, closing the door softly behind her.

….

MINUTES LATER

“Who there?,” I asked as a knock came again.

“Ma…” It was one of the junior staff. “The CEO demands your presence.”

“Permission to take my leave?” she said, already walking out before I could answer.

Minutes later, I arrived at Mrs. Mira’s office. She sat behind her massive desk like a queen on a throne, her silver hair pulled back so tightly it seemed to stretch her face into a permanent mask of authority.

“Good morning, ma,” I greeted.

She looked up from her papers, her eyes traveling over me with slow, deliberate disapproval. “Hmmmm,” she said. “Lora, this your dress is a bit exposing.”

The words landed like a slap. I felt heat crawl up my neck but kept my posture rigid. “Anyway,” she continued, waving off my greeting as if it were an inconvenience, “I summoned you here because I have a huge project I want you to handle together with your Mr. Bram your Director.”

I stood straighter. “Mr. Bram is absent today,” she said. “I gave him two days’ break to help this prominent Lake Infrastructural Building Company make more research about the project.”

She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with a hunger I recognized—the hunger for power, for legacy, for a deal that would outlive us all. “This is actually a once-in-a-lifetime project, so I urge you to be of your best manners because there are many competitors on board.”

I nodded, my mind already racing through logistics, strategies, the endless chess game of corporate survival. “Yes, ma. I wouldn’t disappoint you.”

She held my eyes for a beat too long. “See that you don’t.”

When we finally closed for the day—always scheduled by 6:00 p.m.—I headed toward the attendance dashboard to sign out. My fingers hovered over the screen, logging my departure, my body aching with the accumulated tension of ten hours at my desk.

“Good day, Mrs. Lora.” Mrs. Mira called out. She walked toward her car, her driver holding the door open. “Don’t forget what we discussed earlier.”

I turned, forcing my face into a mask of compliance. “Yes, ma. I wouldn’t.”

She paused, one foot inside the vehicle, studying me as if I were a puzzle she hadn’t yet solved. Then she slid into the leather interior, and the car pulled away, leaving me standing in the emptying parking lot.

….

The drive home was very stressful, the evening traffic a suffocating gridlock of exhaust fumes and blaring horns. By the time I reached my estate, it was past 7:00 p.m. I put off my suit and placed my work file on my bookshelf, my shoulders finally dropping from their rigid, professional posture.

“Buzzzzz! Buzzzzz!”, the alarm bell rang.

I froze, my hand halfway to loosening my hair. Who could that be at this time of day? I was not expecting any visitors, and no invader could come into this estate because it was heavily guarded.

“Who is that?” I said, heading toward the door.

I peered through the peephole. A young man stood outside, holding a package.

“Good evening, ma,” he said when I opened the door a crack. “I was sent to deliver this package to you.”

“From who, please?” I asked.

“Madam, the sender said his identity is inside the package, and it is a surprise gift.”

I studied him for a moment—the cheap polo shirt, the nervous shift of his weight from foot to foot. Something felt wrong, but the estate guards had let him through. “Ohhkay then,” I said, collecting the package from him. “You can take your leave.”

I headed back inside and dropped the package on the center table in my living room. The house was too quiet, the silence pressing against my eardrums.

Jeremiah has never sent me any package since we started dating, I thought, staring at the wrapped box. He hasn’t even reached out to me since the last call. I don’t think this could be Jeremiah.

I circled the table, my arms crossed tight against my chest. So if this is not Jeremiah, who could this person be?

After minutes of self-debating, I decided to open it. I pulled at the first wrap, then the second. The package was properly sealed, layers of tape and paper fighting against my fingers. After minutes of battling with opening it, I finally tore through the last layer and lifted the lid.

“Ahhh!!! What the hell is this?”, I screamed, the sound tearing from my throat before I could stop it. I stumbled back, my hip crashing against the arm of the sofa.

It was a pair of vibrator and butt massager. But not just any model—the exact model I had been planning on getting next.

How did the sender know this? The question burned through my shock. I haven’t disclosed this with anyone before.

“Who the hell could this be?” I whispered into the empty room.

Buzzzz! Buzzz!, the alarm bell rang again.

I jerked upright, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Who is that again at this time of the night?”

I took a step toward the intercom, my legs unsteady, my mind still reeling from the violation of the package.

And before I could respond, he was already inside.

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