Theirs was an unusual relationship. She, the experienced company director. He, the much younger man working under her, reporting to her and accountable to her. However, for some time, there had been more to Karla and Jack's relationship. Much more.
Karla had worked in the marketing industry for many years and was probably selling before Jack had even been born. Now in her early fifties, she was still perfectly capable of turning heads with her good looks, blond hair, and legs that deserved a second look. With her manicured fingernails painted in a striking colour and often wearing classy heels, Karla was a dominant figure.
26-year-old Jack, on the other hand, was less striking, but no less ambitious or adept at getting what he wanted. Clean-shaven, short-haired, he preferred to listen more than he talked and was happier being guided than leading the way.
They had worked together for six years, through challenging times and Jack was by now Karla's longest-serving employee. She would give him the occasional perk including gifts, purely out of gratitude for his hard work and professional nature. She was well aware that workers like him are hard to come by and couldn't risk losing his services.
Nevertheless, Jack wasn't entirely happy. He longed to earn more money and felt he was too often relied upon to go above and beyond his remit. While in private he might rehearse a compelling case to put to Karla, his confidence deserted him when face to face with his boss. To him, she was a powerful woman who commanded respect and duty - perhaps to the detriment of his professional career.
He had become disillusioned and was giving some serious thought to moving on. Karla, meanwhile, was oblivious to this - Jack being as guarded with his feelings as he was quiet. She didn't think he had either a wide enough range of skills or the self-confidence required to find a job elsewhere.
Jack had long admired women's feet and legs. He had a foot fetish, of that there was no doubt and he knew it. He'd sucked the toes of previous girlfriends and got a massive rush from doing so. He often fantasised about worshipping the feet of women he either knew, had met, or saw on the street.
Karla was no exception. As they worked more and more together, Jack had begun to seriously lust after her feet and used to especially enjoy it when she wore outrageously coloured heels to the office. He knew that to try to take his fantasies - imagined fantasies that had helped him to orgasm on many an occasion - any further would be professional suicide.
But didn't he want to leave anyway? If he did some research and had some jobs lined up, what was the worst that could happen? Would the potential payoff be worth the possible destruction Karla could cause?
Previously, when Jack had helped her out by working late or getting projects turned around on time, she'd either cooked him a meal or given him a cash bonus. Always a most accommodating boss, this time was different. He had indeed got her out of a hole.
"Look, I don't know what I would have done without your help this week," she said. Turning to face him as he sat opposite her, she reached out and placed her hand on top of his, her painted red nails glimmering under the fluorescent lights.
This was different.
"I genuinely don't know how to thank you," she continued. "Do you want money?"
"No, but there is something else," Jack said slowly, taking time over his words, and gauging her reaction.
"Look," he continued. "There's no easy way to say this." By now his mind was racing. How much of his obsession should he declare? Was he about to sign his own P45?
