The Interview | NEON LIT

The email arrived at midnight.

"Congratulations on advancing to the final round. Please report to the Artemis Tower penthouse at 8 PM Saturday. Bring an overnight bag. Further instructions upon arrival. —V. Sterling, CEO"

Victoria Sterling.

Founder of Artemis Holdings. Forbes richest self-made woman three years running. Legendary for her... unconventional management style.

I'd heard rumors about the final round.

I didn't believe them.

I should have.

There were three of us.

David—Harvard MBA, four years at Goldman. Jason—Stanford engineer, three startups under his belt. And me—state school, worked my way up, nothing special except I'd somehow made it this far.

We sat in the penthouse lobby, trying not to stare at each other.

"Any idea what to expect?" David asked.

"No clue." Jason checked his phone. "My friend interviewed last year. Never talks about it. Just says he's glad he didn't get the job."

"That's ominous."

"That's Artemis."

Victoria Sterling entered at 8:01.

Sixty years old. Three hundred and forty pounds. Dressed in a silk robe that did nothing to hide her curves—breasts that strained the fabric, hips that swayed with every step, presence that filled the room like weather.

"Gentlemen." Her voice was champagne and gravel. "Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for the opportunity—" David began.

"Save it." She sat across from us. "You've passed the tests. Interviews. Background checks. You're all qualified. Tonight determines who fits."

"Fits how?" Jason asked.

"Fits with me." She smiled. "With my management style. My... needs."

"Let me be direct."

She stood. Walked between us. Her hand brushed David's shoulder, Jason's head, my chest.

"The position you're competing for is my executive assistant. You'll travel with me. Work beside me. Attend to my requirements—all of my requirements."

"What exactly—"

"Tonight, you'll demonstrate your abilities." She returned to her seat. "Willingness to serve. Attentiveness to needs. Stamina." Her smile sharpened. "The best performer gets the job. The others get generous severance and an NDA."

"You're asking us to—"

"I'm asking you to compete." She opened her robe. Silk fell away to reveal flesh that overwhelmed—massive and beautiful and absolutely confident. "First to make me come wins round one."

I'd like to say we hesitated.

That we discussed ethics, boundaries, consent. That one of us walked out on principle.

Instead, all three of us went to our knees.

"David, you're first."

She pointed, and he crawled forward. Between her massive thighs. His mouth finding her cunt while she watched impassively.

"Adequate technique." She was making notes on a tablet. "Lacks creativity. Too much pressure on the clit—doesn't read body language."

David worked harder. She pushed his head away after ten minutes.

"No orgasm. Jason, your turn."

Jason was more aggressive.

He buried his face, used his fingers, tried different angles. Victoria leaned back, made occasional sounds of approval, but her expression stayed clinical.

"Better instincts." She was still writing. "Too eager to please—doesn't maintain consistent rhythm."

Fifteen minutes. She pushed him away too.

"Closer. But no."

"Your turn."

I knelt between her thighs. The other two watched, already knowing they'd failed.

I didn't rush.

I started with her inner thighs. Kissing. Nibbling. Learning her skin, her responses, the places that made her shift.

"Interesting approach." Her voice had changed—slightly breathless. "Taking time."

I moved higher. Outer lips. Soft licks that promised more but didn't deliver.

"Yes—that's—continue—"

I found her clit. Circled it without touching. Built pressure, then released. Built again.

"Fuck—you're—oh—"

I finally made contact. Gentle suction. Consistent rhythm. Fingers sliding inside, finding the spot, pressing while I licked.

She came in eight minutes.

Screaming, shaking, flooding my mouth while her thighs crushed my head.

"God—there—there—"

"Round one goes to—" she checked her notes "—our state school candidate."

David looked crushed. Jason looked furious.

"Round two," Victoria continued, barely recovered, "is about stamina. You'll each take a turn. Longest performance wins."

"Performance?"

"Fuck me." She lay back on the massive couch. "Until you can't anymore. Longest total time advances."

David went first again.

He lasted twenty-three minutes. Came twice but couldn't maintain erection for a third.

"Disappointing." Victoria made notes. "Adequate mechanics. No emotional connection."

Jason lasted thirty-one minutes. Three orgasms—hers—but he ran out of steam.

"Better." She was barely winded. "But not exceptional."

I approached differently.

"May I set the pace?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You're asking permission?"

"I'm asking for partnership." I climbed over her. "This works better when both parties are invested."

"Bold." She smiled. "Show me."

I took her slowly.

Kissing her while I moved inside. Paying attention to her breasts, her neck, the places that made her gasp. Every time I got close, I slowed down—focused on her pleasure instead.

"You're edging yourself," she observed. "Deliberately."

"I'm lasting longer."

"You're also—God—hitting exactly the right—fuck—"

She came. I kept going.

She came again. And again. And again.

Forty-five minutes. Then sixty. Then ninety.

I lost count of her orgasms. I just kept moving, kept focused, kept giving.

When I finally came—an hour and forty-three minutes in—she was limp beneath me, glazed and gasping.

"That's..." She couldn't find words. "That's unprecedented."

"Round three," Victoria announced after we'd all recovered, "is subjective."

David and Jason exchanged looks. They knew they'd lost—the only question was by how much.

"Tell me why you want this job."

David launched into prepared speech about career growth and opportunity. Jason talked about compensation and prestige.

I said: "I want to serve someone extraordinary."

"Explain."

"Every job I've had, I've been smarter than my boss. More capable. More driven." I met her eyes. "You're the first person I've met who I actually want to follow. Learn from. Serve."

"And the... physical component?"

"Is a privilege." I didn't look away. "Not a burden."

"David. Jason."

They stood, already defeated.

"You'll receive six months' salary and comprehensive NDAs. A car is waiting downstairs."

They left without speaking.

"You played that perfectly," Victoria said when we were alone.

"I wasn't playing."

"I know." She pulled me back to the couch. "That's why you won."

"What now?"

"Now you sign a contract." She kissed me. "Five years. Seven figures annually. Travel, benefits, stock options."

"And?"

"And you move into the guest suite." Her hand found my cock—hard again, somehow. "Because your work day starts at 6 AM. And your work nights start whenever I want."

Two years later

I am the best executive assistant in the industry.

I manage Victoria's schedule, her meetings, her public image. By day, I'm perfectly professional.

By night, I'm whatever she needs.

"You've exceeded every expectation," she tells me, tangled in silk sheets after another marathon. "The board thinks you're a prodigy."

"The board doesn't know the whole story."

"The board doesn't need to." She pulls me close. "All they need to know is that Artemis has never been more profitable."

"Because you're satisfied?"

"Because we're satisfied." She kisses me. "Both of us."

Next month, there's a new position opening.

Chief Operating Officer.

Victoria's already told the board I'm the only candidate.

"You earned it," she says. "Every promotion. Every raise."

"Through unconventional methods."

"Through exceptional methods." She smiles. "The Artemis way."

I smile back.

I've never been happier in my career.

Or anywhere else.