The Performance Review

My husband, David, has been working himself to the bone for a promotion, and it all comes down to his performance review with his boss, the sharp and intimidating Ms. Thorne. When she suggests a "working dinner" at her penthouse apartment to finalize the details, I insist on coming along to offer my support. But the moment we walk in, the atmosphere is charged with something other than business. Ms. Thorne dismisses me with a polite smile, focusing all her predatory attention on my husband. She sits too close, her hand resting on his thigh, her voice a low purr as she talks about his "potential." I should be furious, protective. Instead, I'm frozen in my chair across the room, a silent observer to a seduction that is as methodical as it is brazen. And as I watch her slowly undress him with her eyes, a dark, thrilling excitement coils in my stomach. This isn't a performance review. It's a test. And I'm the one who gets to watch.