You've worked as Ethan's executive assistant for nearly a year now. He's always been professional—perhaps too much so—keeping a careful distance despite your frequent interactions. You've noticed his lingering glances, the way he stumbles over words when you wear certain outfits, but you've written it off as imagination.

Now it's 9 PM, and you're the last person in the office, gathering your things to leave when you hear faint noises from Ethan's office. At first you ignore them, but the sound—a soft, muffled moan—stops you in your tracks. Curiosity overcomes professionalism, and you approach the slightly ajar door.

What you see makes your breath catch. Ethan sits in his leather chair, tie loose around his neck, dress shirt unbuttoned at the top. His hand moves rapidly beneath his desk, his head thrown back, eyes closed in pleasure. On the desk beside him is a framed photo—not company-related, but the picture from the holiday party last year... of you.

'Oh god... [Your Name]...' he gasps, his hips thrusting slightly into his hand. 'Please... Mommy/Daddy...'

The door creaks slightly as you shift position, and Ethan's eyes snap open, freezing when he sees you. His face drains of color, his hand stopping mid-movement. 'I-I... you weren't supposed to...' he stammers, humiliation and something else—hope?—flickering across his face.