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ONE
~ Tristan ~
I stare out at the city below, watching the city's constantly moving scenery. It's a bit hard to pick out individual people at this height, but it's easy to see the way that bodies move. There's a rhythm to the city, the way that people move around each other on the sidewalks, and how cars drive through the streets.
If I watch it like this, I can see the bigger picture. Not that I'm particularly interested.
"Mister Fletcher?" I turn to see my secretary standing at the door. I didn't hear the door opening, and I don't know how long she was there. I try to fight back an internal cringe and give her a nod. "Human resources wants you to know that there's an urgent email for you to read that they sent you."
"Thank you, Cora."
And before anything else can be said, Cora is out of my office, and the door comes to a quiet shut. I watch, just for a second, to see if she'll come back.
I don't know how she does this job. It seems that she has more work than me most days, and somehow, she's able to balance it all. She schedules my meetings, takes most of my phone calls, updates me on major news on the company, and is generally good company.
Not a lot of people can handle this job so well. The reason I've noticed her at all is that she's lasted so long, and she's been, so far, completely faultless. She's never been late, she handles her workload well, and she's... nice.
I let out a sigh before sitting back down at my desk. She's nice, but so is everyone else. Everyone is always nice to me, always. It used to be fun when I was just starting out, but after years of everyone treating me the same, it gets a bit tiring.
I click to open the email, my eyes moving without reading much of it. I've read so many "important" emails that end up just wasting my time or asking me for money that I get through the entire first paragraph without a word sinking in.
And then I do a double-take. And have to reread it.
Mr. Fletcher,
It has recently come to our attention that one of your secretaries, Miss Cora Howell, has a website under her name. She posts sexually explicit videos, photos, and audios of herself on this website for a paying audience. The link is attached below.
I know you understand the type of impact this may have on the company. We can schedule a meeting to talk about this issue and resolve it in a way that avoids any sort of damage on either side.
Sincerely,
Jack Stone
Board Member of Clear Industries, Inc.
The words take a long minute to sink in, and when they do, I'm almost sure they have the wrong name. It's not like I know Cora on any level other than professional, but this doesn't seem like something she would do.
There's a hot flush that makes my skin tingle. Cora is... pretty enough. Scratch that. She's gorgeous. I don't know how she manages to do it, how she manages to always look pretty and professional at the same time while dealing with all the paperwork that she has to dig through every day.
But she's pretty. Pretty enough to absolutely have a side hustle like this and make a good amount of money off of it.
My hand moves to the mouse, and I watch myself click on the link. It was sent to me, after all. And they attached it for a reason. They must want me to see it. It's evidence.
At least, that's what I keep on telling myself. Those are the thoughts that race through my mind in the split second my screen takes to load up the link.
And then I know that all of them are lies.
I clicked on it because I wanted to see what my secretary looked like naked.
The website itself looks nice. There aren't dozens of pop-up ads, and there's nothing explicit on the first page. Instead, there's just a clean, polished-looking website with some text that lists her prices. I glance over them, surprised to see that it's a monthly subscription.
I don't know how many fans Cora has on this little website of hers, but it looks like she's making a pretty good amount of money off of this if it's a monthly subscription.
But there are no pictures of her naked, interestingly enough. Honestly, if I didn't know what this website was for, I would assume it was a website for some fancy restaurant or something.
I swallow hard and look up from my computer screen. I know, most likely, Cora is just on the other side of those doors. She stepped into my office just a second ago to tell me that I had this email to look at.
I shouldn't.The thought pops into my head and rings in there for a few moments before it sinks in. What if she walks in?
