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But what if she doesn't? It's not like she's in here all the time. I glance at the screen and see that the premium is... a whole 25 dollars a month. Nothing to me, but I'm not the only person who's seriously considering subscribing to her.
And it's so tempting. A few options range from basic access to a premium with extra content, live streams, and polls. I hesitate for just another second.
Despite it all, this was sent in a professional email. It looks like I'm going to have to go to some meetings and try to figure out this situation, but so far, I'm not really seeing a problem with anything. The board tends to exaggerate everything and complain to me when they discover that our employees have their own lives. A little while ago, they tried to do something like this. Some complaint that one of our branch managers was seen performing at a parade. I ignored it.
I thought by now, this sort of thing would just be left alone. It's really none of my business. It doesn't affect anything with Cora and this workplace. In fact, she's an incredible employee.
I should close the window and forget about it. There's a reason that Cora hasn't been found out earlier, and I'm sure she went through hell and back to make sure that this little project of hers isn't discovered. There's nothing here that I really need to see, and there's no point since I'm not going to do anything about anything I see.
But I find myself holding my breath with my hand still on the mouse as my eyes dart back and forth from the computer screen to the door, waiting for her to barge in at any given second.
Just one look. Plus, I'm paying for it. There's nothing actually... wrong happening here.
The second that voice pops into my head, I'm typing as fast as I can, clicking on the premium and filling out the little boxes that ask for my credit card and what my username will be.
The daze I was in fades as I pause to think about a username. I don't want her to know that it's me, and I doubt that she'll actually get to see my credit card information through this website. It looks like this is some middle man to get to her content, a way to keep herself separate and protected, at least a little bit.
The Billionaire Boyfriend.
I type it out and press enter before I can hesitate any longer. It doesn't matter, either way. I feel sweat starting to bead up on my skin, and my breath starts to get caught in my throat as the website processes my information, and I start to feel a sick twist in my stomach.
There's still time to back out. Close the window and pretend like nothing ever happened. What do I think will happen, anyway? What do I think will happen if I look at this? Just... satiate some curiosity? Am I just bored?
And then the website loads.
Pictures, videos, photoshoots, and audio clips are all lined up and ready to scroll through. It's still the same professional setup, but this time there's something to look at this time.
There are dozens of pictures of Cora. Some of them look posed, some are in bed, some of them have her in skimpy outfits, some of them are her in her work outfits, and some others are pictures of her completely naked. She's almost completely unrecognizable, partly because I haven't ever seen her outside of professional work clothes and partly because I've never thought about what she looks like naked.
But she's gorgeous. There's not a hair out of place as I look through her pictures. She's toned, and my eyes can't help but follow the curves of her body, especially in the images of her in skintight clothing that makes my face start to burn up.
"Holy shit," I breathe, trying to calm myself down. I feel my heart racing in my chest as I lean back in my chair, running a hand through my hair and trying to process the pictures I've just seen.
And I know that there's more. Just by quickly scrolling through her website, I can tell that this has been going on for a little while. There are sex toys, the occasional vibrator or dildo that makes an appearance, but there's never another person.
Just Cora. Cora, with her soft brown hair and eyes that seem to be looking directly at me. The lacy, delicate-looking bralette and panty sets that she has on. Her hand reaching out for me. Her red lips are open and gasping for breath.
I let out a shaky breath as I move my hand and click out of the window. There's time to look at this later, when I'm not at work and when there's more than just a pair of doors between Cora and me.
"Wow, Cora," I suck in another breath, still trying to compose myself. The picture of her on her knees and looking up at me is burned into my memory, and every time it flashes across my vision, I have to suck in another shaky breath. "Impressive."
I shouldn't have opened that fucking link.
TWO
~ Cora ~
I just finished typing one of a dozen emails and sent it off just as my lunch break started. I don't even bother taking a second look at my desk before I'm out of the office building and glancing at the cars driving before crossing the street. There's a constant, moving maze of human bodies around me, but I get through the entire ordeal without bumping into anyone.
And then I get to step into the cafe.
The second I walk in, the weight of the world falls off of my shoulders. There's the smell of freshly-baked bread wafting through the air and the aroma of strong coffee being brewed. Thankfully, it’s not too busy since only a few people are sitting at the tables, and the sound level is just under a low murmur.
I step up to the counter and scan the employees' faces until I see my friend. Thea.
She was my college roommate not too long ago. We got through college together, and somehow, we both managed to get through it, despite everything. With her pre-med degree and me with my double majors, Thea and I were a team the entire four years. We worked with each other perfectly, keeping each other on track for school, helping each other through breakups, and keeping each other safe during the parties we would go to the second the weekend hit.
It's a coincidence that we work across the street from each other now. I applied to a secretary position at Clear Industries, thinking that I would get some office job that would be able to cover my bare living necessities, and instead, I got... Tristan Fletcher's secretary position.
