I still remember that hot summer night last year when everything changed with my neighbor's daughter, Emily. She was 22, home from college for the break, and I'd caught her glancing at me more than once while I worked in the yard. One evening, around midnight, I heard a knock on my door. There she was, in a thin tank top and shorts, her cheeks flushed, saying she couldn't sleep because of the heat. Her eyes had that hungry look, the kind that says she's been thinking about you too much.
I never imagined I’d let it go that far with my manager, but it happened a few weeks ago during an overnight shift at the office. I’m 27, been working as a marketing coordinator for the company for three years, and David has been my direct boss the whole time. He’s 38, confident, sharply dressed, with that authoritative tone that always made my stomach tighten a little. We’d flirted harmlessly for months: lingering looks during meetings, late-night texts about work that slowly turned personal, compliments that felt too intimate.