Do you remember that corporate party I was planning for so long? The black dress, those heels I could barely walk in? You know, the one you couldn't go to because you had the flu. So... Sit down. I need to tell you something. It all started with wine. Lots of wine. That idiotic chanting contest, Sergei Mikhailovich, my boss, that mustachioed goat that everyone complains about, he was sitting next to me. He kept pouring me more. He said that I was the most beautiful today, that he hadn't even noticed such an assistant in his office. And he kept staring at my cleavage. I saw where he was looking, damn it. Then the music started loud, dancing. He pressed himself against me in the crowd, I felt his palm on my lower back. So hot, so heavy. I tried to move away, but he didn’t take his hand away. He whispered: “Let’s get out of here, it’s too noisy here. Let’s go to my office, I have some good cognac there.” And I... I knew that I shouldn’t. But the wine in my head was like a fog,... continue reading