Chapter 1: The Split (Age 18, Month 1)
Mei Young stepped off the bus as it hissed to a stop three blocks from Grayson Associates, the late afternoon breeze tugging at her yellow sundress. Her black hair spilled in loose waves past her shoulders, brushing the thin straps of her dress. The cotton clung to her frame, the hem teasing her mid-thigh--short, flirty, catching the light like a beacon.
In her hand, she clutched a white envelope, its edges creased from nervous fingers, a faint perfume lingering on the crisp typed note inside: Interview scheduled. Strong recommendation enclosed. No name, no hint--just a shove that hauled her downtown. Her heart raced as she weaved through honking taxis and suits rushing home--the tower looming ahead, its glass and steel glinting like a blade, her sandals slapping the pavement with each step.
Inside, the lobby hit her with cool air, marble floors gleaming under recessed lights. The faint echo of heels clicked somewhere distant. She smoothed her dress--soft but thin, hugging her hips--and bounced toward the reception desk, her voice tumbling out with a polished lilt. "Hi, I'm Mei Young--M-E-I Y-O-U-N-G. I'm here for an interview. Isn't this place amazing?"
The receptionist--blonde, prim, her hair in a severe bun--peered over the glossy counter, her smile sharp. "Mr. Grayson's waiting. Top floor, elevator's there." She paused, her smile fading. "Watch yourself up there."
Mei tilted her head, curious. "Oh? Why's that?"
No answer--just a curt nod toward the elevators, a shadow in her gaze that Mei missed, too giddy to notice. The elevator ride was a hum of mirrors and soft jazz, her reflection catching the light--small, poised, with a quiet elegance in her features, the envelope pressed tight against her chest.
---
Grayson slouched behind his massive oak desk, the office a den of leather and shadows, daylight glinting through slatted blinds.
On his screen, a gangbang video played--a blonde, petite girl, small tits bouncing as five huge Black men lifted her tiny frame. Three cocks filled her--mouth, pussy, ass--stretching her holes, while her hands gripped two more, stroking fast, her body a whirlwind of flesh and sweat.
He grunted, adjusting the bulge in his pants, arousal thick in his throat.
Three quick taps hit the door, and he snapped the video shut, the screen going black. "Come in, darlin'," he drawled, voice gravelly.
Mei pushed inside, stepping into the dim space, her sundress swishing. Grayson loomed--a hulking 50-something slab, broad chest straining his gray suit, face weathered with a scarred eyebrow and a crooked, yellow-toothed grin.
"Well, damn, ain't you a peach," he said, Southern twang thick, eyes raking her from sandals to thighs, lingering where the dress hugged her hips. "How old's a pretty thing like you?"
Mei giggled, twirling her hair--guys stared, no big deal--and plopped into the leather chair across from him, crossing her legs, hem riding up. "Hello! I'm Mei Young, your interview girl. I'm 18--it's my birthday today, isn't it wonderful?"
Grayson leaned back, chuckling low, sliding a folder forward but leaving it shut. "Eighteen today? Fresh as they come. I will give you a gift later, darlin'--somethin' special."
"Oh, how sweet!" She clapped, beaming, then noticed his hand shift under the desk, adjusting something. "Are you okay? Your pants look tight!"
He smirked, brushing it off. "Just gettin' comfy. Which Asian are you?"
She tilted her head, pleased. "I'm Korean--born here, though I've always felt connected to their stories and traditions."
His eyes sparked, hunger flaring. "Korean, huh? Got that exotic spice. Letter says someone big upstairs vouched hard--called you a fit."
"Who? Oh, tell me, please!" Mei leaned in, clutching the envelope tighter, its perfume stinging her nose.
Grayson waved a meaty hand, grin widening. "Don't matter. What matters is you're here, and I'm seein'... squat. No skills, no degree--you ever worked a reception?"
She pouted, shrugging. "I'm chatty. I'm friendly, I learn fast. I promise!"
His eyes darkened, voice dropping. "Oh, you'll learn. Need trainin', though--hands-on. Up for it?"
Her stomach fluttered--something slimy there--but her birthday excitement drowned it. "Absolutely! When do I start?"
Grayson stood, towering over her, shadow swallowing the desk. "How 'bout now? First, gotta look the part."
He yanked open a drawer, pulling out a black pencil skirt and white blouse, tossing them onto the chair beside her with a thud. "Change into these, darlin'. Can't have you prancin' around like you're off to a picnic."
Mei hopped up, grinning, the sundress swishing. "Oh, lovely! Dress-up time, isn't it?"
She snatched the clothes and moved to a corner near the window, the brightness outside casting her silhouette--her thigh gap a faint, enticing outline through the sundress as she peeled it over her head, yellow cotton sliding up her frame.
Grayson's breath hitched, his mind imagining her pussy--pink, tight, nestled in that gap, his cock twitching as he stared, tongue darting over his lips.
Her white bra--lace-edged, snug--hugged her perky breasts, nipples faintly visible, and matching panties clung to her firm ass, riding high on her hips.
She wriggled into the tiny skirt, barely past her thighs, tight as paint--oblivious to how it bared her legs, framed that gap and hugged her curves. "A bit short, don't you think? But so cute!" she giggled, smoothing it down, fabric stretching taut.
