The Promotion
"His wife's mother is the CEO of his company. She's always been flirtatious at family dinners. When he's up for VP, she calls him to her office after hours. The promotion is his—if he earns it."
The email comes at 5:47 PM.
From: Victoria Chen, CEO To: Marcus Webb Subject: Regarding your promotion
Come to my office. 7 PM. Come alone.
I stare at it. Read it three times. My heart is hammering, and I'm not sure if it's excitement or dread.
Victoria Chen is the CEO of Meridian Capital.
She's also my mother-in-law.
I married her daughter four years ago.
Sophie is wonderful—smart, kind, beautiful in a delicate way. We met at a company event. She was there supporting her mother; I was a junior analyst trying to make an impression. We clicked. Dated. Married.
Her mother was... complicated from the start.
Victoria is nothing like Sophie. Where Sophie is slender and reserved, Victoria is massive and bold. Fifty-four years old, well over two-fifty, with curves that her designer suits struggle to contain. She built Meridian from nothing. A self-made billionaire. The most powerful woman I've ever met.
And she's been flirting with me since the wedding reception.
At first, I thought I was imagining it.
The way her hand lingered on my back during family photos. The way she hugged me too long, pressed too close, let me feel every inch of her body against mine. The comments—you look good in that suit, Sophie's lucky, if I were twenty years younger.
Then the comments got more pointed.
I bet you're good with your hands.
Does my daughter satisfy you? Really satisfy you?
I've always wondered what you taste like.
I told myself it was harmless. That she was just... like that. Some people flirt. It doesn't mean anything.
But now I'm up for VP. And she wants to see me. Alone.
At 7 PM.
The executive floor is empty when I arrive.
Everyone's gone home. The lights are dim, the cubicles dark. Only Victoria's office glows at the end of the hall, a single lamp casting gold across the window.
I knock.
"Come in."
She's standing by the window, looking out at the city. Her back is to me—and I can see everything. The tight pull of her skirt across her massive hips. The rolls of her back beneath her silk blouse. The sheer width of her, filling the window frame.
"Close the door," she says without turning. "Lock it."
I lock it.
"You know why you're here."
She turns. Faces me. Her blouse is unbuttoned one button too low—I can see the swell of her breasts, barely contained by a black bra. Her lipstick is dark red. Her eyes are darker.
"The promotion."
"The VP slot. Yes." She walks toward me. Her heels click on the hardwood. "You're the top candidate. Best numbers in your division. Strong recommendations. On paper, you're perfect."
"Then what's the problem?"
"There's no problem." She stops in front of me. Close enough that I can smell her perfume—something expensive, something that makes my head swim. "I just want to make sure you understand what this promotion means."
"What does it mean?"
"It means you're mine."
She sits on the edge of her desk.
Her skirt rides up, revealing thick thighs, the lace edge of a stocking. She doesn't pull it down.
"I've wanted you since the wedding," she says. "Watching you dance with my daughter. Watching you pretend you weren't looking at me."
"I wasn't—"
"Don't lie to me." Her voice is sharp. CEO voice. "I've been in boardrooms for thirty years. I know when someone wants something they can't have."
"Victoria—"
"Mrs. Chen. In this office, I'm Mrs. Chen." She leans back on her hands. "Here's how this works. I give you the promotion. You give me what I want. Everyone wins."
"And if I say no?"
"Then you don't get the promotion." She shrugs. "Someone else does. Someone less qualified, but more... cooperative."
"That's—"
"That's business." She spreads her thighs. Just an inch. Just enough for me to see the shadow between them. "Now. What's your answer?"
I should walk out.
I should report this. Call HR, call a lawyer, call my wife. This is textbook harassment. This is blackmail. This is wrong.
But Victoria is looking at me with those dark eyes, and her thighs are spread, and my cock is harder than it's been in months.
"What do you want?" I hear myself say.
"I want you on your knees." Her voice drops. "I want you to crawl to me and put your mouth on me. I want you to make me come on your tongue while I sit at my desk. And then I want you to bend me over and fuck me until I forget my own name."
"And then?"
"And then you get your promotion." She smiles. "And we do this again. Once a month. Every time there's a bonus to approve, a raise to consider, a project you want. You come to this office, you give me what I need, and I give you everything you want."
"That's..."
"That's the arrangement." She uncrosses her legs. Spreads them wider. "Take it or leave it."
I take it.
I walk to her. Sink to my knees. Her skirt is around her waist now, and I can see her panties—black lace, damp in the center. She grabs my hair, guides me forward.
"That's it." Her voice is thick. "Show me what my daughter married."
I pull her panties aside. Press my mouth to her cunt.
She tastes like power.
Victoria is not quiet.
She moans, loud and shameless, while I eat her out. Her thighs clamp around my head—massive, suffocating, inescapable. Her hands hold me in place, grinding herself against my face.
"Yes. Right there. Don't stop—don't you dare stop—"
I don't stop. I work her clit with my tongue, slide two fingers inside her, curl them upward. She screams—actually screams—and floods my mouth.
"Good boy." She's panting. Shaking. "Now get up. I want to see what I'm buying."
I stand. She reaches for my belt.
She pulls my cock out.
Strokes it. Studies it like a business proposal.
"My daughter underestimates you," she says. "I could tell at Christmas. The way you looked at her—frustrated. Hungry. She doesn't take care of you the way you need, does she?"
"I—"
"I will." She slides off the desk. Turns around. Braces herself with her hands flat on the wood. "Fuck me. Hard. I haven't been fucked properly in years."
I push inside.
She's tight despite her size.
Hot. Wet. Squeezing me like she's been waiting for this—and maybe she has. Her massive ass presses back against me as I thrust, her body shaking with every impact.
"Yes." She's looking back at me over her shoulder. "This is what I wanted. This is what I've been dreaming about. My daughter's husband, fucking me in my office, while she sits at home wondering why he's working late—"
"Don't talk about Sophie."
"Why not?" She clenches around me. "Does it make you feel guilty? Does it make you harder?"
It does. Both.
"Fuck me," she demands. "Fuck me like you hate me. Like you hate what I'm making you do. Give me everything."
I give her everything.
I pound into her.
The desk rattles. Papers scatter. Something expensive falls to the floor and shatters. Victoria is screaming now, her CEO composure completely gone, just a woman being fucked and loving every second of it.
"I'm going to come." She's shaking. "I'm going to come on your cock and then you're going to come inside me. Fill me up. Mark me. Make me yours."
"You're my boss."
"I'm your whore." She looks back at me, eyes wild. "In here, at least. In here, I'm whatever you need me to be."
I slam into her one last time. Feel her orgasm clamp down on me. And I let go.
Afterward, she fixes her skirt.
Straightens her blouse. Puts her lipstick back on with the precision of someone who's done this before. By the time she's finished, you'd never know anything happened.
Except I can still taste her. Still feel her. Still smell her on my fingers.
"The promotion will be announced Monday," she says. "Congratulations, VP Webb."
"That's it?"
"For tonight." She looks at me. "But I'll be in touch. The next quarterly review is in three months. I expect you to prepare thoroughly."
"And if I don't want to do this again?"
She smiles. It doesn't reach her eyes.
"Then I'll have to review your performance. Consider whether the promotion was... premature." She picks up her phone. "Your choice. But we both know what you're going to choose."
I go home to my wife.
She's asleep when I get in. I shower—twice—and slip into bed beside her. She mumbles something, reaches for me in her sleep. I hold her.
And I think about her mother.
About the way Victoria felt around me. The way she tasted. The sounds she made. The look in her eyes when she came.
Three months. The next review is in three months.
I'm already counting the days.
Three months later
The email comes at 5:47 PM. Same time. Same format.
From: Victoria Chen, CEO To: Marcus Webb Subject: Quarterly review
Come to my office. 7 PM. Come alone.
I look at my phone. A text from Sophie: Dinner at 8? Mom's coming.
I reply: Working late. Start without me.
Then I walk to the executive floor.
The door is already unlocked.
Victoria is waiting, naked on her desk.
"You're early," she says. "Good. We have a lot to discuss."
I close the door. Lock it.
And I get on my knees.