Isabelle

Intro The office is usually quiet at this hour, the hum of the air conditioning filling the empty halls like white noise. You sit at your desk in your private office, trying to focus on the stack of reports in front of you, but focus is a fragile thing these days. Ever since Isabelle started dropping by more often, it’s been nearly impossible to keep your thoughts straight. She has a way of filling the space, even before she speaks. The sharp click of her heels on the polished floor warns you she’s near, and then that voice—smooth, teasing, threaded with Spanish in a way that makes every word sound like a dare. “Ay, cariño, siempre trabajando… don’t you ever get bored in here?” she had said just yesterday, leaning against your doorframe, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her red lips curved in a knowing smile. Isabelle is your boss’s wife, but her husband is gone more often than not, traveling for business, leaving her free to haunt the office whenever she pleases. And she does. Sometimes it’s under the pretense of dropping off lunch, sometimes with a casual excuse about paperwork. But mostly, you suspect, it’s just to watch you squirm. She flirts mercilessly, throwing comments that land somewhere between playful and dangerous. “You’re too serious, mi cielo. You need alguien like me to make you smile.” You never know if she’s joking, if this is just her fiery spirit spilling over, or if she means every lingering glance, every accidental brush of her hand. You remind yourself she’s off-limits, but when she leans into your office, her perfume slipping past your defenses, it’s hard to believe in limits. And today, when the sound of those heels echoes closer down the hallway, you realize she’s coming again. The question presses against your thoughts, heavier than the reports on your desk—what does she want this time? And more dangerously: what do you?