𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝟏𝟖 +

𝐄 𝐈 𝐆 𝐇 𝐓

Eden

I was completely lost in my work, the sound of my pencil scratching against the sketchpad the only thing grounding me as I refined the lines of my latest design. It was going to be a suit—sleek, tailored, and feminine, with just the right touch of edge. My vision was clear: a suit that would make any woman feel powerful and elegant at the same time. I could already picture it on the runway, the way it would move, how it would catch the light.

The idea had come to me suddenly, in a burst of inspiration, and I was determined to see it through. There was something about the juxtaposition of masculine structure and feminine grace that had always fascinated me, and I wanted to push that concept as far as I could. I was so deep into it that I didn't even hear the knock at my door at first. It was only when it came a second time, more insistent, that I snapped out of my creative trance.

"Come in," I called, my voice a little hoarse from hours of silence.

The door creaked open, and I glanced up from my sketchpad, expecting to see Carla or one of the other assistants. But when my eyes met those of the person standing in the doorway, my heart nearly stopped.

It was Mrs. DuBois.

I hadn't seen much of her since I started working here, aside from the occasional passing glance in the hallway or a brief word at meetings. She was always so busy, always surrounded by people, and I'd told myself it was better that way. It was easier to keep my distance, to not let myself get too caught up in the undeniable attraction I felt toward her. But now, here she was, standing in the doorway of my office, and I couldn't seem to breathe.

"Mrs. DuBois," I said, quickly rising from my chair. "I didn't expect—what can I do for you?"

She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her, and I couldn't help but notice how effortlessly she commanded the space. She was dressed in a tailored black pantsuit that fit her like a glove, the sharp lines of the jacket accentuating her strong shoulders and the tapered pants elongating her legs. Her hair, perfectly styled as always, fell in soft waves around her face, and her makeup was flawless, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones and the fullness of her lips. I felt a flush of heat rise to my cheeks as I took her in, trying not to let my gaze linger too long.

"Eden," she began, her voice smooth and composed as always, "I wanted to discuss an upcoming event with you."

"Of course," I said, trying to steady my voice as I gestured for her to take a seat. She didn't, instead choosing to stand, and I quickly returned to my own seat, feeling suddenly small in her presence.

"There's going to be a ball this Friday," she continued, her eyes never leaving mine. "It's an annual event, hosted by the company, and it's important that you attend. It will be an excellent opportunity for you to meet some of our key partners and clients, as well as to showcase your work."

I nodded, trying to process her words while also keeping my focus on her face and not the way her suit hugged her body in all the right places. "I understand. I'll be there."

"Good," she said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You're also welcome to bring a plus one if you'd like. It's customary for our employees to do so."

"Oh," I said, a little taken aback. "Thank you. I'll... I'll think about it."

The thought of bringing someone to the ball hadn't even crossed my mind. I didn't have a partner, and while I could ask Brielle, I wasn't sure if that was the right move. But I didn't have time to dwell on that now. Not with Mrs. DuBois standing right in front of me, her presence overwhelming all other thoughts.

"I'm looking forward to seeing what you wear," she added, her tone light, but there was something in her eyes that made my heart skip a beat. "You've impressed me so far, Eden. I'm confident you'll continue to do so."

"Thank you, Mrs. DuBois," I managed to say, my throat suddenly dry. "I won't let you down."

Her smile widened just a fraction, and for a moment, I could have sworn there was something more behind it, something almost... playful? But before I could analyze it further, she nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh, and one more thing," she said, pausing at the door. "Please feel free to stop by my office if you ever have any questions or ideas you'd like to discuss. My door is always open to you."

With that, she left, the door closing softly behind her, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and the lingering scent of her perfume in the air.

I sank back into my chair, my heart still pounding in my chest. The reality of what had just happened slowly began to sink in. Mrs. DuBois—Lenore—had come to my office, had spoken to me like I was more than just another employee, and had even invited me to a ball. It was surreal, and I couldn't help but replay the entire interaction in my mind, trying to make sense of it.

And then there was the ball itself. I'd never attended anything like it before, and the thought of being there, surrounded by so many important people, was both exciting and nerve-wracking. But more than that, I couldn't stop thinking about Lenore—about how stunning she had looked, about the way her voice had sent shivers down my spine, about the subtle way she had hinted at wanting to see me again.

I knew I shouldn't read too much into it. She was my boss, after all, and she was married. But no matter how hard I tried to push those thoughts aside, the truth was undeniable.

My attraction to her was only growing stronger, and I had no idea how I was going to keep it in check, especially with the ball looming just days away.

I forced myself to turn back to my sketchpad, trying to focus on the suit I had been designing. But as I began to trace the lines of the jacket, all I could think about was how much I wanted to see Lenore wearing it, how much I wanted to impress her, to make her see me as more than just an employee.

And as that thought settled in my mind, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. Because no matter what I did, no matter how much I wanted it, there was no escaping the reality of the situation.

Lenore DuBois was married, she was my boss, and she was completely out of my league. And yet, here I was, hopelessly infatuated with her, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

I sighed, closing my sketchpad and leaning back in my chair. There was no use dwelling on it now. I had work to do, and I needed to focus on that if I was going to make it through this week.

But even as I tried to push those thoughts aside, the image of Lenore in her black suit, standing in my office with that enigmatic smile, refused to leave my mind.

And I couldn't help but wonder what Friday night would bring.

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~ R