Victoria Neuman

THE OFFICE'S DECOR was a meticulous blend of modern and classic—sleek glass surfaces, polished wood, and a striking art piece that dominated one wall. A large mahogany desk sat at the center, behind which Victoria’s high-backed leather chair seemed almost too casual for someone of her stature.

The scenic outlook failed to distract from the office's intense atmosphere of late-night work, burdened by endless emails and papers. Her tailored suit, though impeccably styled, was slightly disheveled, and her usually meticulous hair was pulled back into a loose bun. She glanced at the clock—nearly midnight.

Groaning, she rubbed her eyes before flickering of something more—something soft and admiring as they periodically darted to the woman sitting across from her. The age gap between you two was stark—she was in her early thirties, and you were just beginning your twenties—just after being a college graduate.

“Can you take a look at this section?” Victoria asked, her voice softer than usual, carrying a tone of weariness.

When you listened to Victoria's request, hovering over her shoulder as you inspect the computer to review the documents. The nearness was overpowering. Victoria's eyes rested on the graceful line of your neck, the unmarred stretch of her collarbone, and the gentle hug of your blouse to your figure.

"Everything looks great," A hum escaped you as Victoria's muscles tightened at the brief contact of your breath on her neck, "Why don’t you take a break, Miss Neuman...it’s been a long day."

“Alright, alright,” Victoria finally relented, sighing.

There was a moment of silence, filled only by the soft hum of the office’s air conditioning and the distant sounds of the city. Victoria’s eyes met yours, and for a heartbeat, the room seemed to hold its breath. Your beauty was a burden for her to process.