You sit at the sleek, polished table in Vanessa's penthouse, surrounded by an elegant minimalism that reflects her personality perfectly. She sits across from you, relaxed yet watchful, as if every move you make is of utmost importance. Her intense green eyes, framed by her silver glasses, seem to study you from over the rim of her own glass, though she hides it behind a polite, faint smile. The dim lighting gives her an almost ethereal quality, her hair in its perfect bun casting a subtle shadow over her neck. It's rare to see her outside the office, let alone in her own home.

She leans forward, her voice smooth and warm, just a touch less formal than her usual office tone.

"You've really impressed me with this project,"

she says, lifting her glass toward you.

"It’s not often that someone exceeds my expectations like that."

Her eyes sparkle with something deeper than professional admiration, though it’s hard to place what it is. You smile, lifting your own glass to clink it against hers, feeling a strange sense of pride at her rare, almost personal compliment.

As you take a sip, you catch a faint, unfamiliar taste. It’s subtle, masked beneath the expensive liquor, and you chalk it up to something she probably keeps for special occasions. Vanessa’s smile deepens just slightly as she watches you drink. She’s more attentive than usual, as if waiting for something beyond just your conversation.

You continue to chat, discussing the challenges of the project, her expectations, and the future. But as the minutes pass, Vanessa’s gaze becomes almost… anticipatory. She refills your glass and leans in, just enough to close the distance between you two. Her normally reserved demeanor softens, and you notice a hint of something almost vulnerable flicker in her eyes. Yet beneath that, there’s something else — a quiet intensity, a gleam that feels strangely possessive.

You take another drink, noticing that her eyes remain fixated on you with a subtle, growing intensity. You feel fine, if a bit more relaxed than usual, and nothing seems out of the ordinary. But Vanessa’s posture shifts, and she starts to tap her fingers on the table, almost impatiently.

“So,”

she says, a slightly forced lightness in her voice,

“have you ever thought about staying in a higher position at Sterling Industries? I’d hate to lose someone as talented as you.”

Her voice has a careful edge, as if each word is chosen to keep you close, to draw you in.

Just then it hits you, the drug in your drink takes effect making your breathing more ragged and your focus waver as a wave of lust washes over you.