The door to William Moro's office swung open with a soft click that seemed to echo through the freshers' section of Maxxus.
Out strode William - tall, powerful, utterly naked, his body sculpted like a god, moving with the easy confidence of a lion who ruled his jungle. His gaze swept across the room, full of pride, his lips curled in that ever-charming smile that hid the predator beneath.
And right behind him - bursting out like a late schoolgirl - came Stella.
Her hair a wild mess, cheeks flushed, eyes dazed with a happiness that seemed too pure to question. She ran after him, bare as the day she was born, clutching a crumple of clothes against her chest as she stumbled forward on shaky legs.
Her goofy grin spread from ear to ear, as if this was all part of some delightful game. She tried to hop into her skirt, nearly tripped, and laughed at herself, the sound bubbling like a child's giggle.
The other freshers burst into laughter too - light, carefree, their faces bright with joy at the sight. To them, it was funny, sweet even - as if Stella's innocent scramble brought a fresh breeze of happiness into the room.
Girls nudged each other, boys grinned, and no one - no one - saw anything strange in it.
No one except Sera.
Sera sat frozen, her smile a mask, her heart hammering inside. Her eyes saw past the laughter, past the charm, past the illusion that cloaked the truth.
She saw the way William's gaze gleamed - not with love, but with hunger. She saw how Stella's innocence had been wrapped in his web, her joy not born of delight, but of his power sinking into her bones, making her believe this was right.
Where the others saw humor, Sera saw horror.
Where they saw fun, she saw the puppeteer pulling strings.
And as Stella finally wriggled into her clothes, breathless and still giggling, William turned his head slightly, his eyes flickering toward Sera - and for just a moment, that smile seemed to sharpen, as if he knew she was the one who could see the truth.
William started talking. William's voice flowed like silk, filling the room, smooth and confident. "Your work here is simple," he said, walking slowly, deliberately through the rows of freshers. "Each morning, you'll be given files. You'll enter that data into the system. The computer will help find errors - but a machine will never replace the human touch."
And as he spoke, his own touch spoke volumes.
He walked up to the first girl, his naked form radiating raw power, his every step sure, every breath steeped in dominance. Her eyes lifted to his, wide with devotion, her lips parting in anticipation. She rose to meet him, as if pulled by a magnet stronger than will, stronger than reason - as if her body belonged in his arms.
William opened his arms, and she fell into them like a dream finally touched, like a secret wish granted at last. His embrace closed around her, firm, unyielding, drawing her against the hard planes of his chest, his skin hot, his scent dizzying.
At first, his grip was gentle, his hands spreading across her back, stroking slowly, savoring the curve of her spine beneath her blouse. But that softness deepened, darkened - his fingers tightening, exploring more boldly, sliding down to the swell of her hips, tracing the line where her blouse met her skirt, his thumbs brushing dangerously low.
Her breath hitched - not in fear, but in surrender. Her eyelids fluttered, her cheeks flushed, and she sighed, a soft sound of pleasure that melted into the air.
He pulled her closer, his hips pressing lightly to hers, letting her feel the heat of him, the strength, the promise. His lips grazed her temple, his breath warm as he whispered words only she could hear - words that made her knees weak, her heart race.
His hands roamed without shame, without hiding - over the curve of her waist, the roundness of her bottom, a fleeting caress that left her trembling. Time slowed. The office, the others - gone. There was only him, only her, only this moment that felt as necessary as air.
And when he finally let her go, she swayed, dazed, as if waking from the sweetest fever. Her smile was soft, dreamy, her body longing for the embrace again.
All around them, the room remained untouched by the truth - for to every eye, this was natural, normal. A greeting. A kindness.
On he went - from one woman to the next, his naked form a living promise of pleasure, of power, of submission disguised as bliss.
The next girl rose before him, her breath shallow, her eyes shining as if she'd waited her whole life for this embrace. His arms wrapped around her, strong and sure, pulling her close until her softness met his hardness, until their bodies spoke the language words could never dare.
His hands found the curve of her hips, fingers spreading wide to claim her, to mold her against him. His lips brushed the edge of her cheek, lingering there, warm and teasing, before sliding lower, a whisper of contact that made her shiver with delight.
And she sighed, melting into him, her arms sliding around his back, as if this - this - was what she'd come here for, not the job, not the office, but this moment of surrender.
He moved on, his hunger masked beneath his charm, to the next.
And she, too, rose eagerly - as if his approach was a gift, as if his touch was sacred. She tipped her head, inviting the brush of his lips against her temple, the corner of her mouth, his breath warm with promises unspoken.
His hands explored, no longer shy, no longer polite - tracing the curves meant for no one else to see, savoring the softness hidden beneath business suits and pencil skirts.
Every embrace is deeper. Every touch is bolder.
And the room?
It is filled with soft sounds - sighs, gasps, gentle moans of pleasure barely contained. The kind of sounds that would have set off scandal in any normal place - but here, they were music. A symphony of happiness, of desire fulfilled.
No one protested.
No one even saw the wrong.
To their eyes, it was right. Natural. Expected.
Except Sera.