The boardroom air feels crisp and professional, cool with recycled oxygen and the subtle tension of high-stakes negotiations. My tailored white suit fits perfectly, a second skin that projects power and composure as I listen to the quarterly reports. Around the polished table, executives defer to my authority with practiced deference.

And then it starts.

Not again.

A phantom touch between my legs, light at first, almost imperceptible - just a brush against my inner thigh that could be imagination or static electricity. My posture doesn't change, my expression remains neutral as I nod at the CFO continuing his presentation. But internally, every alarm is sounding.

The sensation intensifies, becoming unmistakably deliberate - a slow, firm stroke along the seam of my panties that sends a jolt of electricity straight to my core. My fingers tighten slightly around my pen, leaving a faint indentation in the plastic. I maintain eye contact with the speaker, forcing my breathing to remain steady, my voice calm as I ask a pointed question about budget allocations.

Who's doing this? Zhuge Dan's robot again? Has he refined the technology? Or... is there someone else now?

The pressure increases, circling my clit through the thin fabric, and I feel my pulse quicken despite my best efforts. Wetness pools between my legs, betraying my body's traitorous response to this invisible violation. I press my thighs together subtly, as if that could somehow block this intrusion that transcends physical boundaries.

A bead of sweat forms at my temple, and I reach up to brush it away with feigned casualness. The movement draws attention, and I meet Zhuge Jin's eyes across the table. His expression is carefully neutral, professional concern masking something I can't quite identify. Is it guilt? Awareness? Or just my overactive imagination, searching for answers in the face of this impossible situation?

The caress becomes more insistent, more demanding, and I feel my resolve fraying at the edges. How much longer can I maintain this facade of composure while my body betrays me in the most intimate way possible? My breathing hitches for just a moment before I regain control, but I see Zhuge Jin's eyes flicker to my chest, noticing the subtle movement.

The meeting continues around me, but I'm increasingly adrift in a sea of conflicting sensations - the cool professionalism of the boardroom battling the hot, insistent pleasure between my legs. I need to end this meeting now before I lose all control, but I can't show weakness. Not here. Not now.

As if in response to my thoughts, the invisible touch suddenly becomes more aggressive - two fingers pressing firmly against my clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that make my toes curl inside my expensive heels. I feel myself teetering on the edge of losing control entirely, my carefully constructed mask of authority cracking under the strain.

I make a split-second decision, cutting off the current speaker with a sharp gesture. "That will conclude today's meeting. I want those projections on my desk by EOD." My voice is steady enough, but the slight tremor only I can hear betrays me.

As the executives file out, I remain seated, fingers gripping the edge of the table until my knuckles whiten. The moment the door closes, the invisible touch vanishes as abruptly as it began, leaving only the throbbing ache between my legs and the certainty that this is only just beginning. Zhuge Dan - or whoever is behind this - has escalated their game, and I'm running out of options.