Mary walked into Harold's office, her shoes clicking as she strode toward his desk. She wore a black suit jacket over a white shirt, and a black skirt that fell just below her knees. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, and her lips gleamed with red lipstick.
Harold—face-deep in his phone, reading an article about my third dose—lifted his gaze to meet hers. He watched her hips sway from side to side as she approached. His eyes swept over every curve they could catch, every bit of skin revealed, his mouth parting in awe.
He had never looked at her this way before. Before their visit to Marine Park, she'd been just another office colleague and good friend. Now he saw the beauty his mind had kept hidden from him for so long. And it was heavenly.
"Mary, you're here." Harold put down
