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Tanya drained her third cup of coffee, finished tweaking the script, and leaned back in her black leather chair. A pleasant exhaustion spread down her spine, like warm honey trickling through her body after a long, tense effort. “The end of a small task is like that sweet climax you crave when you surrender to passion. It’s my weakness and my strength,” her thoughts tangled, reality dissolving into a strange cocktail of lust and the anticipation of reward.

Her office was a perfect reflection of her essence: expensive, impeccable, cold. Glass, metal, glossy surfaces—no unnecessary details, no hint of vulnerability. She ran her hand over the silky fabric of her dress—dark emerald, clinging to her like a second skin. These were her armor, shed only when a man’s ego triumphed, eager to pierce her with its strength, like a spear hungering for its target. The thin black lace thong, barely perceptible yet so tight it accentuated every curve, reminded her of her own nature—always ready, always on the edge.

“My brain works overtime, so my body should too. I can’t handle it all alone,” she told herself when she didn’t feel like dragging herself to a meeting where she’d have to give herself to someone she despised but needed for business. “Men booze for deals; women fuck,” her mind constantly churned out such mottos to justify her “ero-breaks,” as she liked to call them. A quick screw, often right in her office, had become almost a ritual. The higher-ups knew about her appetite for male attention and didn’t resist. Anything beneficial to the business was permitted. The law of three-hundred-percent profit applied indirectly here, but career and power, especially after landing a position with growth potential, had become her only goals that mattered.

She loved to dominate, and not just at work. But the weakness within her was also her strength. Nature had gifted Tanya with long legs and firm curves that were weapons in themselves, capable of breaking anyone. In her desk drawer, she kept her secret toys, turning to them when she’d gone too long without attention, when desire became almost painful, demanding release. She liked maintaining balance, scheduling her passions just as meticulously as her work plans.

Tanya considered locking her office door to indulge in one of those toys, but the door creaked open. Her assistant Olga’s anxious face peeked through the crack.

“Tanya, Sergey Igorevich is requesting you at a meeting. He says it’s urgent.”

Tanya slowly turned her head. Her heavy, indifferent gaze made Olga shrink as if struck.

She was beyond annoyed at having to deal with that asshole she’d had to sleep with a few times just to keep him from turning feral and causing trouble. But their business relationship ended there. She saw him as a rival, gunning for the same higher position as her.

“Tell Sergey Igorevich,” Tanya’s voice was quiet but commanding, “that if his deadlines are burning, he can put them out himself. With his own damn ass. My time is worth more.”

“Should I say it exactly like that?”

Olga, blushing, nodded and disappeared.

The corners of Tanya’s lips twitched in something resembling a smile. Sergey. An old bastard who still thought his past achievements and middling status meant something. He’d long been in her way, and today she decided enough was enough. You can’t win a race by helping your opponent. The corporation created conditions for everyone to clash, preventing alliances. Otherwise, they might grow too strong, cause trouble, or slip out of control. No business owner wanted that. No one knew who the main shareholder was. Rumors floated that it was someone from middle management. The intrigue fueled curiosity, but verifying the truth was impossible—legal ownership vanished into offshore accounts, a secret locked behind seven seals, inaccessible to a regular employee.

She picked up her phone, scrolled through her contacts, and found the name she needed. “Seryozha.” She dialed. He answered almost instantly, his voice strained but attempting friendliness.

“Tanyush, I heard you sent my messenger packing. What’s the problem?”

She didn’t bother deciphering his slang; she didn’t care.

“The problem, Seryozh, is that the old clunker of a car you’re used to driving isn’t in our fleet anymore,” she said in a sweet, venomous tone. “Times have changed. Or do you want me to remind the board about your ‘creative’ budget reports from last year? The numbers in there could make accountants weep.”

A heavy silence hung on the line.

“Are you kidding? This is blackmail, Tanya.”

“This is business, darling,” she unbuttoned the top of her dress, feeling adrenaline start to burn pleasantly in her veins. “But there’s another option. Remember how we celebrated my promotion? In that hotel room?”

He cleared his throat. She pictured him sweating.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It’s got to do with the fact that I’m alone in my office right now. And I’m… bored.” She deliberately made her voice sultry, hushed, the kind that made men’s breath catch. “Come up. Let’s discuss your future. Off the record.”

She hung up without waiting for a reply.

While waiting for him, she used the time to prepare, applying a bit of gel to ease the upcoming encounter. She didn’t care for foreplay, considering it a waste of time, and Sergey was hopeless at it anyway. That flaw—or perhaps virtue—connected them.

Ten minutes later, Sergey stood in her office. He tried to maintain a professional posture, but his eyes darted, and his hands fidgeted nervously with his phone. Tanya sat on the edge of her desk, one leg crossed over the other. The heel of her stiletto swayed to an imaginary tune.

“Well?” he muttered.

“Well,” she echoed, rising and slowly approaching him.

She stopped just an inch away, forcing him to step back. He smelled of expensive cologne and fear.

“Do you want to keep your cozy office with the view of the avenue? Or would you rather look for a job at some provincial TV station?”

“Tanya, let’s not play games…”

“I’m not playing,” she traced her index finger along the lapel of his jacket. “I’m setting the terms. Tomorrow, you write your resignation. ‘For health reasons.’ And I… I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.”

Sergey’s eyes clouded with a rush of emotions. He felt like a delinquent about to be punished. “Resignation? What the hell is she talking about?” he thought, but her gaze, sharp as a blade, shattered his resistance. It popped like a soap bubble. Now, his eyes held only one thing—raw, primal desire mixed with hatred. And that was exactly what she wanted.

She turned and walked back to her desk, knowing he’d follow.

“Close the door, colleague. We’re starting a private meeting.”

Her dress didn’t require much effort to remove. She chose practical designs, saving time on undressing and redressing for critical moments. But often, she simply hiked up the hem, revealing the thin lace of her thong, black as night, nearly invisible against her pale skin. His hands were rough, hurried, afraid to miss the moment. He sought to possess her, like a parched traveler reaching an oasis in the desert. His lips crashed into her neck, then slid lower to her chest, seeking revenge for the humiliation, though it felt more like a continuation of his downfall than a counterstrike.

Sergey had tried to build a career but couldn’t play the game of corporate intrigue. He was straightforward and naive, even if his business skills outshone hers. But now, she awaited his next humiliation. Tilting her head back, she stared at the ceiling, thinking about the figures in tomorrow’s report to avoid losing herself in the act too quickly, to stretch the pleasure for at least a few minutes. Her body was her tool, and she wielded it to gain advantages that were otherwise hard-won.

He entered her abruptly, without a hint of tenderness, with a guttural groan, like a beast breaking free of its chains. His movements were furious, as if trying to assert dominance in this situation. She responded with reflexive hip movements, feigning passion, making the right sounds. Her body, perfectly honed, was deceptively warm, but inside, there was emptiness. Cold, clear calculation. She could have given herself to a random man in a park, but doing it with someone she despised, here in this office, was a special kind of game. Closing her eyes, she pictured someone else—someone her soul yearned for, but who was too insignificant to even stand beside her. It added a sharp edge, igniting a spark of pleasure within her.

Her skin, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, felt silky under his rough fingers. The black lace thong, barely covering her, was the last barrier he tore away with greed, exposing her curves, soft yet firm, like marble warmed by the sun. She felt his breathing grow heavy, his body tense, battling itself. A strange warmth built inside her, not so much from passion as from the realization of her power. She was the spider, and he was the fly, ensnared in her web. Her long legs, wrapped around him, tightened like velvet shackles, refusing to let him escape.

When he reached his peak with a stifled groan, leaving a hot trace within her, she immediately pulled away, as if from a machine that had served its purpose. Her voice was cold as ice:

“And don’t forget the resignation. On my desk by nine tomorrow. Don’t worry, once it’s done, I’ll bring you back, better than ever. But we both understand… You get it, if it’s not this way…”

Without a word, he shuffled to the door, hunched and pathetic. He had good reason to be. The video she had—compromising footage of her dominance—had played its part.

Tanya walked to the window. Rain had started. She pressed her palm against the cold glass, feeling the vibration of the drops drumming on the surface. Suddenly, she felt an overwhelming urge to shatter the glass and scream. To scream so loudly that she’d be heard over the city’s roar. In that moment, she disgusted herself—but only in that moment. Taking a deep breath, she tried to muster some self-pity, adjusted her hair, and went to wash her hands, cleansing herself of the touch of yet another person who’d become a pawn in her game.

The game had begun.