Mayor’s Hung Young Intern

Elena Voss commanded the room before she even spoke. At forty-four, the mayor of Oakridge carried herself like a woman who had already won every battle that mattered. Her charcoal power suit hugged a body that refused to surrender to time: wide hips, a narrow waist, and a bust that strained against every blouse she owned. Dark auburn hair was pinned in a severe chignon, but a few rebellious strands always escaped to brush the nape of her neck. She was known as untouchable. Ice queen. The press loved her for it.

Jake Harlan was the opposite of untouchable.

The nineteen-year-old college sophomore stood in her doorway on his first day, six-foot-one of lean, athletic muscle poured into a cheap button-down and slacks that did nothing to hide the generous bulge already testing the limits of his zipper. Broad shoulders, messy dark hair, and a boyish grin that made something low in Elena’s belly clench with pure, filthy want.

She hired him on the spot.

Their office was laughably small, an converted storage room off the main suite with one desk for her and a folding table shoved against the opposite wall for him. They could barely pass each other without touching. Elena made sure they touched often.

For three weeks she tortured them both.

She started with the stares. When Jake bent to retrieve a dropped file, her gaze lingered on the way his trousers stretched across his ass. When he stretched at his desk, arms overhead, she watched the hem of his shirt ride up to reveal a strip of taut, tanned abdomen. She “accidentally” brushed her heavy breasts against his back while reaching for a binder. She leaned over his shoulder to review reports, letting the warm weight of one tit rest firmly on his shoulder while her perfume—something expensive and sexual—filled his lungs.

Jake never complained. His cock, however, complained constantly. He spent most days half-hard, shifting in his chair, trying not to stare at the deep valley of cleavage revealed when she removed her jacket in the afternoon heat.

The breaking point came on a Thursday night in late July. The rest of city hall had emptied hours ago. The only light in their cramped office came from two desk lamps and the glow of a laptop screen. Elena had kicked off her heels, and her stockinged feet flexed against the carpet as she reviewed the final draft of a housing proposal.

Jake’s voice cracked when he finally spoke.

“Mayor Voss… Elena. I can’t do this anymore.”

She looked up slowly, one perfectly arched brow raised. “Can’t do what, exactly, Mr. Harlan?”

He stood. The front of his slacks was obscenely tented. “Pretend I’m not dying to fuck you. I’ve been hard for you since the day you hired me. I jerk off every night thinking about bending you over that desk. I’m losing my mind.”