Elena spent the next three days trying to bury the memory of Viktor under layers of spreadsheets, black coffee, and sheer denial.
She arrived at the office before dawn each morning with her ponytail pulled tighter than usual, and her blouse buttoned one notch higher. She threw herself into her piles of workload with ferocious focus, tracing illicit funds through shell companies, cross-referencing transaction logs, and building an airtight case for her corporate clients. During lunch she ate at her desk with her earbuds in, and music turned up loud enough to drown out the low husky voice that kept echoing in her head... “Such a good little analyst. Taking my c**k so deep.”
At night she stayed up in her bed, staring at the ceiling with her thighs pressed together against the phantom ache b
