BENT OVER BY THE INTERN

Rachel Wayne is filthy rich and runs a trading company downtown. When she speaks, everyone jumps. Her life seems to be going well except for one missing piece. Many years ago, she used to be a bad girl. But she married Oliver five years ago, and now everything is safe but boring. Their s*x life is boring, and sometimes she thinks about her ex, Marcus, and the wild things they used to do back then. She has been at the office since morning and the day drags on. At 10 AM, she has a meeting with the new intern, Jake, who is twenty-two and fresh out of college with a degree in finance. He walks into her office without knocking and leans against the doorframe with a cocky smile that makes her want to slap him. He thinks he's smarter than everyone, and it shows in the way he talks to people. "Morning, Mrs. Wayne," he says, his tone too casual, like they're equals. "Please call me Rachel," she snaps without looking up from the papers on her desk, "and you're late with the Henderson report." Jake shrugs his broad shoulders and doesn't look sorry. His shirt is cheap but tight across his muscles. "I was refining the analysis because my methods are more efficient than the old way." Rachel glares at him and wants to fire him on the spot, but he's actually good with numbers, too good, and that pisses her off even more than his attitude. "Just get it done by noon," she says, waving him away. At lunch, she eats a salad at her desk and watches Jake through the glass wall. He's typing fast and laughing at something on his screen. He looks up and catches her staring, but he doesn't look away. He holds her gaze and smirks. She looks down fast and her face feels hot, which makes her angry. She is the boss, and he is just an arrogant kid. The afternoon is full of meetings and calls, and by 6 PM she is exhausted. Oliver calls, but she tells him she's staying at a hotel tonight to prep for a business trip. He says okay in that sleepy voice that means he'll be in bed by nine. But then she remembers she left some documents at home and decides to drive back. Her Mercedes hugs the curves while the radio plays loudly. She thinks about Marcus and how he used to touch her, rough and good, unlike Oliver, who just lies there like a dead fish. One light is on upstairs in the bedroom when she gets home. She parks and walks in quietly, takes off her heels, and climbs the stairs softly. She hears noises through the door, moaning and slapping and the bed creaking loudly. She stops, her hand freezing on the knob. Rachel pushes the door open just a crack and peeks through. Oliver is naked on top of someone, and it's Mia, their twenty-five-year-old blonde assistant. Oliver is pounding into her hard and fast, his hips moving like a machine, and Mia is screaming and clawing at his back. Rachel watches, her mouth going dry, because Oliver has never f****d her like that, never with that energy and passion. He looks like a different man, powerful and wild, not the lazy husband who just lies there and expects her to do all the work. Rachel pushes the door open wider and it creaks. Oliver sees her and freezes mid-thrust, his mouth hanging open. "Oh s**t," he says, rolling off fast. Mia doesn't run or cover herself. She looks at Rachel with a smirk and stretches like a cat who got the cream. "Hey, boss. Didn't expect you home tonight." Rachel stares, her hands shaking, wanting to kill them both. "Get out of my house right now." "Make me," Mia says, taking her time getting up. She grabs her clothes slowly and doesn't even try to hide her body. "Oliver is actually good when he tries," Mia says with a nasty smile. She leaves, and Oliver is still naked, his d**k soft now. "Rachel, I can explain everything," he says with his hands up. "Shut up," Rachel says and grabs her keys. She drives too fast back to the office and runs a red light, but no cops chase her. The building is dark except for floor twelve, where one light still shines. Her floor. She takes the elevator up, and it dings as she steps out. Jake looks up from his computer. He's still there working late, his shirt off because it's hot. His muscles gleam in the screen light, and he looks surprised to see her. "Mrs. Wayne?" he says, standing up fast. "I thought you left hours ago." "I came back," Rachel says and walks to her office. She doesn't lock the door. Jake swallows hard, his throat moving. "Is everything okay? You look upset." "My husband is f*****g my assistant," Rachel blurted out as she sat in her chair. She puts her head in her hands and her shoulders shake. She hates that she's crying in front of Jake, who she doesn't even like. He's arrogant and cocky and twenty-two. Jake walks over slowly and stands near her desk. He doesn't say anything stupid, like sorry or "are you okay?'. He just stands there, his presence big in the dark room. Rachel looks up, her mascara probably running. She feels small and ugly and old, even though she's only thirty. "He never looked at me like that," she says, hating that the words come out. "Like he wanted to eat me alive." Jake stares at her, his eyes dark in the computer light. He doesn't have that smirk anymore. He looks different, serious and focused. "You're beautiful," he says, his voice low. "He's an idiot." Rachel laughs, but it sounds broken. "You don't even like me. You think I'm old and out of touch." "I think you're scary," Jake says, taking a step closer, "and smart. And yeah, I was arrogant because I wanted you to notice me." Rachel stares at him, her heart beating fast. She feels vulnerable and exposed, and the air is thick between them. Jake is standing too close, and she can smell his cologne mixed with sweat, clean and male and young. She should tell him to leave, or go home herself, but she doesn't move. She just sits there and looks at his bare chest and the tattoo on his ribs. The phone rings, loud and shrill, the office line, and they both jump. Rachel reaches for it with a shaking hand and picks up the receiver. "Hello?" "Rachel?" It's Oliver, and he sounds worried. "Where are you? We need to talk about what happened. I'm sorry." Rachel looks at Jake, who is standing right there listening, his eyes locked on hers and full of something dangerous. "I'm at the office," she says, her voice rough. "Alone?" Oliver asks. Jake reaches out slowly and touches her hand on the desk. His fingers are warm and rough, and he doesn't pull away. Rachel looks at their hands touching and feels electricity shoot up her arm. She should pull away, but she doesn't. "Rachel?" Oliver says again. "Are you there?" She opens her mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. The moment hangs there like a knife ready to fall. Jake leans closer, his breath hot on her cheek. He is waiting for her to decide what happens next. The line stays open. Oliver is waiting on one end. Jake is waiting inches away. Rachel takes a breath, and -