Hannah's Chance (Chapter 3) (fm:sex at work, 5778 words) [3/4] show all parts

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As she returned home, she felt a lightness she hadn't experienced in months. The sky was turning pink with dusk, and she caught her reflection in a store window—her posture straight, her expression unguarded. This was her life now: decisive, determined, hers. She stopped at a small French bakery, bought an almond croissant still warm from the oven, and ate it slowly on a park bench, savoring each flaky layer.

Back in her apartment, she hung the silk dress in her closet where it shimmered like liquid silver under the dim light. She ran her fingers over the fabric, recalling Clare's skeptical warnings about Vince and Vince's ultimate compliance with her wishes. The dress wasn't just fabric; it was armor woven from proof. She poured a generous glass of Malbec and toasted her reflection in the darkening window.

Monday morning arrived sharp and unforgiving. Hannah arrived for work refreshed by her quiet weekend and ready to continue her developing career. There was a marketing meeting at 11 AM and Hannah decided she'd tell Clare about Vince's payment confirmation then. She spent the early morning preparing her presentation and then joined the others in the conference room.

Clare entered briskly, taking her seat at the head of the table. She launched straight into agenda items, her tone clipped as she reviewed quarterly targets. Hannah waited patiently for her moment. When Clare paused, Hannah cleared her throat. "Before we move on," she began, projecting confidence, "Vince's funds cleared Friday. Full amount, confirmed." She slid a printed copy of the bank confirmation across the polished table towards Clare. The room fell silent.

Clare scanned the document, her expression unreadable. She tapped the paper once - a sharp, staccato sound - before looking up. "Good," she said flatly. "Though payment was never the concern." Her gaze locked onto Hannah. "It's whether he stays compliant. Or becomes Shirley's sequel." She pushed the paper aside without another glance. "Next item: Singapore."

Hannah kept her posture rigid, the dismissal stinging like sleet. Across the table, Alex shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her eyes. "Focus on Singapore", she told herself. "It's something else to learn and all knowledge is power."

Clare's eyes hovered over her notes. "The Tanaka Group requires finesse. Their portfolio leans conservative. No theatrics please, Hannah." The emphasis on her landed like a physical blow. Hannah forced a nod, scribbling notes she didn't need.

Clare continued her talk, emphasizing certain words, such as compliant, predictable and disciplined. Words that jarred with Hannah, as she felt they shackled her ambition.

As the meeting wrapped up, Alex asked if they were going to Milan this year. "No, it wasn't too useful last year," said Clare. "We'll skip it this time."

Hannah returned to her office, the Singapore dossier thick with conservative projections and risk-averse strategies. She flipped through pages detailing Tanaka's rigid protocols—no alcohol at meetings, formal attire mandatory, proposals vetted weeks in advance. Her fingers drummed the desk. This wasn't strategy; it was suffocation.

At lunch, Alex slid into the chair opposite her café table. "Clare's micromanaging Tanaka like it's a military op," he muttered, stirring his espresso. "She's terrified of another Shirley situation." Hannah's gaze drifted to the window where rain slicked the pavement. "Fear breeds small thinking," she said quietly. "Tanaka's sitting on dormant

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Hook writes Fri 3 Oct 2025 21:38:

Well played. A dance on shifting sands, with crocodiles in the oases.
Eagerly anticipating the next part of this 3D chess match.

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