successful middle-aged white-collar workers

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

At 10:00 AM on Monday, I arrived at Old K's office on time to report. Yes, Old K is our department head; his surname is Kuang, and his English name is Kevin, but everyone calls him Old K behind his back. He's over forty, and to be fair, he's well-maintained. I've heard that he occasionally has affairs with new female employees, but it's always just a few flings—a kind of "greeting gift" for the beauties. When I joined the company, I wasn't assigned to his team yet, so I didn't receive his "greeting gift" and can't judge the accuracy of the rumors.
Common sense tells me the rumors are probably true, because Old K's age is a high-risk period for men to cheat; few so-called successful middle-aged white-collar workers are completely chaste. If Old K only has a few flings, he's already quite conscientious.
My report was simple: our group's sales are doing well, the future is bright, the road is winding, the leader's opinions are valuable, and we must resolutely implement them. Old K, of course, wasn't buying my act. He interrupted halfway through, saying, "Yolanda, don't try to fool me. Your team's situation is dire; the plan itself is flawed. The company's management is dissatisfied with you all, and they're even considering laying you all off!" Lay you all off? What am I supposed to do then?! Seeing my stunned expression, Old K seemed pleased and continued,
"I don't agree with laying off your team, but the management structure will need a major overhaul. The team leader will be transferred, suspended for training, and likely demoted. The US headquarters has decided to bring in a new team leader—an ABC (American-born Chinese) who doesn't understand the situation in China. You'll be his assistant, essentially the second-in-command. That's settled!" He finished speaking and, ignoring my still-stunned sitting there, started making another call.
Me, the second-in-command of the team? When I walked out, I was still reeling. This was too much! My qualifications were nowhere near that level. I'd always seen myself as a harmless little rabbit, focused on my work and never standing out. I never imagined I'd be dragged into this mess. However, I've always been dissatisfied with that old woman, our team leader. I've never had a pleasant working relationship with her. I'd absolutely welcome her departure with open arms, and our entire team would welcome her too!
While organizing the materials from the afternoon department meeting, my phone suddenly rang. It was a text message: "Yu Lan, you're back from your trip? Any stories to share? How about I treat you to Japanese food tonight?" Without even reading it, I knew it was from Rong Xiaobo. I thought for a moment and didn't reply.
Rong Xiaobo is arguably the most handsome guy I know. He's about my age, with top-notch looks and physique, and a confident demeanor that makes him very popular with girls. Many handsome guys don't know how to dress, but Rong Xiaobo is an exception; his attire is almost impeccable. Such a handsome guy, working a high-paying management consulting job, how could he not be surrounded by all sorts of women? Well, he actively pursues women, though he's very discreet, but he's definitely a womanizer, having been involved with at least twenty or thirty girls. Perhaps it's more than that, because besides his active pursuit, it's possible many girls would throw themselves at him, and men are bound to accept women who offer themselves up.
I heard these things from a close friend who was easily won over by Rong Xiaobo two years ago. After dating for a few months, she discovered that Rong Xiaobo hadn't stopped philandering and had never intended to have a long-term relationship with her, so she had to end it. However, she didn't hate this playboy; she just warned me to be careful not to repeat her mistake.
If Rong Xiaobo weren't a playboy, he would definitely be a top-notch dating and marriage prospect. His looks alone are enough to please women, not to mention he has a whole repertoire of ways to please them. But I know my own limitations; if I'm not skilled enough, I shouldn't get involved in this mess! Since I met Rong Xiaobo last October, he's asked me out over a dozen times. I only went once, a weekend afternoon for coffee, and we parted before dinner. Having dinner or going to a bar with a man who's been with countless women is too ambiguous; I was afraid I wouldn't be able to control the situation.
During that one date, I was very careful not to give him any wrong impression, keeping our relationship at the level of friends. Strangely, even after I rejected him, Rong Xiaobo still called and texted me from time to time. Even after I refused several times, he still went ahead with asking me out. What have I done to deserve such persistence? Perhaps he's pursuing several women at the same time, and he hasn't spent much time on me—that's my own understanding.
At lunch, I found Sophie and told her everything Old K had told me that morning. Sophie exclaimed excitedly, "You've definitely hit the jackpot! I heard that the US headquarters is sending a young Chinese man here for training. He's got connections, his true identity is unknown, but we know he's a Stanford graduate, in his early thirties, and is being groomed as a candidate for CEO of the Greater China region. Work hard for him, you'll have a bright future! For more exciting content, visit: de_deai.c0m!"
I was also excited, feeling like I was finally about to make it big, but I still declined, saying, "My emotional intelligence is limited, I'm afraid I can't handle him." Sophie said, "You're already being very cautious, that's emotional intelligence. Besides, whose emotional intelligence isn't developed through practice? I have faith in you. If that young man really comes, I'll help you devise a strategy, and I'll definitely be able to win his trust." Just then, Rong Xiaobo called. I was in a good mood, so I went outside to answer the phone. Xiao Bo said, "I have a friend who studied sushi making in Tokyo for ten years and is about to open a shop in Pudong. He makes only the best. Today he's treating a table of guests to the finest ingredients he can get his hands on. If you're not working overtime, you absolutely have to come! I'm only inviting you." I love sushi and was already a little tempted, but wanting to whet his appetite further, I said, "But I'm all dressed up today, exhausted, and sweaty. I can't show my face." Xiao Bo pleaded on the phone for a long time before I finally agreed to come after work, but I declined his offer to pick me up: firstly, the rush hour traffic is too bad, and secondly, I didn't want people to see us and gossip.
The afternoon meeting was boring, and thinking about my date with Rong Xiao Bo tonight, I actually felt a little flutter in my heart. This man is very sophisticated and has great charisma, but no woman can handle him. I, at my level, don't have the confidence to become his official girlfriend. What kind of approach should I take tonight? If I continue to pretend we're just friends, I can't fool him, and I can't fool myself either. It's been almost two years since I broke up with my ex-boyfriend, and I haven't met anyone suitable, not even someone I've fantasized about. Besides work, I just read books, watch movies, and listen to music. Have I closed myself off too much?
For some reason, I suddenly thought of the guy I met on the train yesterday. His name is Yang Yuan, right? Hmm, he seems like a good prospect, but we only met once. Besides, an office lady and a male college student—this combination just doesn't seem right. I sat there alone, lost in thought, my mind a complete mess.
As usual, the department meeting was chaired by Old K. He criticized, without naming names, the situation of "certain groups falling behind the initial plan." I didn't even need to hear it to know it was our group. Our old female group leader was pale and distracted; she probably already knew she was about to be suspended for training. From a man's perspective, he might think this older woman is still charming and knows how to dress; at thirty-five, she looks like she's under thirty.
However, from a woman's perspective, she's the epitome of jealousy, repressed lust, perversion, and repression. The seven or eight girls in our group are hoping she'll get rid of us day and night. If I became the so-called second-in-command, I wonder if those men and women more senior than me would listen to me? For more interesting content, please follow: de_deai.
Sigh, there's no use racking your brains beforehand about these things. I just hope that Stanford-graduated ABC rich kid can be assertive, take control, and be capable of improving performance; that would make things easier for me. I sighed again. Why have there been so many situations that make me sigh these past few days? Old K saw me sighing, probably trying to comfort me, and actually called me out by name, praising me. I smiled politely, but his praise couldn't ease my inner turmoil…
No time to go home and change, so I'll just wear my office suit to my date. It's hot today, and I just changed into a skirt and black stockings; maybe that will catch his eye and make him more persistent? I started imagining things again.
Some men like women who are simple and pure, while others prefer mature and aloof women; some men like the office lady style, while others are completely uninterested.
Today, I'd say I'm definitely in the office lady style: a navy blue suit, a skirt that doesn't go past my knees, black pantyhose, and a pair of brown-black high heels. Since it's Monday, I wanted to appear as sharp and capable as possible, so I went for all dark colors. This style is mature and composed, but not quite lively and cute. I wonder if Rong Xiaobo likes this style? I know so little about him; I'll just try my luck today, since he's the one who's pursuing me.
"So, did I tell you, Yu Lan?" Rong Xiaobo smiled as he pushed a plate of perfectly sliced sea bream sashimi in front of me. I didn't answer, because my mouth was already stuffed full. Red tuna, salmon, sea bream, halibut, scallops, whelk, octopus… how many kinds have I tried tonight?
I’ve never eaten such fresh fish before, and the knife skills are top-notch. Whether it’s sashimi or sushi, if this place gets a 90 out of 100, then no restaurant in Shanghai can get a 100.
Seeing how much I enjoyed my meal, Rong Xiaobo poured me a glass of sake. I usually don’t drink if I have to work the next day, but I’ve already made an exception and drunk half a bottle today because such good sushi really makes you want to drink! I drank a glass, and Rong Xiaobo drank with me. Seeing his cheeks were already flushed, I figured my face must be the same color. Putting down my glass, I sincerely exclaimed, “I’ve been so happy lately! I just got back from my trip, and you’re treating me to a big meal. I haven’t been this happy in years!” “Who did you travel with, Yu Lan? Did you have any unexpected surprises?” Rong Xiaobo’s question carried a hint of jealousy, which made me want to laugh. I poured myself a full glass of wine and slowly said, "Well, I came alone, so I'm sure a lot of people hit on me, you know, I haven't been hit on in ages..." Seeing his slightly nervous expression, I chuckled, "Just kidding, it's true some people did hit on me, but nothing came of it. I'm not that easy to hit on." The restaurant wasn't officially open yet; the space, which could fit seven or eight tables, only had the two of us seated. The owner, who had been preparing our food behind the counter, was now resting at a nearby table, drinking tea. I raised my glass to him and said, "Boss, I've never had such delicious sushi before, a toast to you!" The owner raised his teacup and smiled, "I've given up alcohol, so I'll drink tea instead. I originally only invited Xiao Bo to come and give me feedback, but he insisted on inviting you too, he's really good to you." Hearing this, I blushed even more.
It was already past eight o'clock, we had finished the food and drunk most of the wine, and the owner started cleaning up the counter.
At this moment, if I politely stood up to say goodbye, nothing would happen, right? But I didn't. Two jugs of sake made me a little dizzy, my heart racing, as if I were yearning for something unknown. Rong Xiaobo's eyes roamed over me. He rarely looked me directly in the eye, yet I felt observed and valued. So I reached for the sake jug again, but he grabbed my right hand.
Uh, this was our first physical contact.
"Don't drink too much, or you'll get drunk," Rong Xiaobo's voice was gentle yet firm.
He held my hands with both of his, and seeing that I didn't resist, he gently stroked the back of my hand with one. I felt a slight itch, the kind of itch that went deep into my heart. This night, this atmosphere, this man, made my heart waver, waver...
Even so, if he rushed things, I would still refuse without hesitation—this was only our second date alone, I had no obligation to satisfy him! But he was very gentle, just holding my hand and whispering in my ear, "You drank too fast, you'll get drunk easily. Tea can help with hangovers, you know? My friend owns a teahouse nearby with top-quality Pu'er tea, that's the best hangover cure, I guarantee you won't have a hangover tomorrow. Come on, let's go."
"How come you have friends everywhere? You can cook and run a teahouse too?" I asked him, half-jokingly, half-seriously. He pulled me to my feet and replied, "I have many friends, they're all very interesting. If you're interested, I'll introduce you to them one by one another day." With that, he said goodbye to the owner, and without another word, pulled me out of the restaurant and into his car. I sat in the passenger seat, and he drove silently. The streetlights cast the shadows of the roadside trees onto us, creating a slightly ambiguous atmosphere.
I always thought that flirting and talking were necessary for a relationship to become ambiguous, but today I realized that silence can actually be even more ambiguous. My defenses slowly crumbled...
The car drove along a side street for about ten minutes. This must be some corner of Luwan District. He got out of the car, still holding my hand. I bit my lip, not daring to look up at him. After walking a few steps, he pointed to a small building by the roadside and said, "This is it." I asked in confusion, "Huh, why aren't the lights on?" My palms were already sweating...
He didn't say anything, but walked to the front of the building, took out his key, opened the door, and pulled me inside while turning on the lights. The lighting was soft, the kind of dim, yellowish incandescent bulbs. It was clear that this was indeed a teahouse, and a Japanese-style tatami teahouse at that. There was a small artificial spring at the entrance, and the entire interior was made of wood. He turned around, smiling, and said to me, "Look how scared you are! Would I kidnap you? This is a teahouse my friend owns. He's been away to his hometown for the past month, so the shop is temporarily closed. He left me a copy of the key. I'll keep an eye on it, and I can bring friends over for tea. Come on, come on, find a place you like to sit down."
I took off my high heels, lowered my head, and walked into a small tea room, kneeling on the tatami mats.
Luckily, my socks weren't torn, and my feet didn't smell bad, otherwise it would have been really embarrassing. Rong Xiaobo asked me, "Would you like Pu'er, Qimen black tea, Biluochun, or Japanese matcha?" I said, "Actually, any of those are fine. I've sobered up quite a bit. Since it's a Japanese teahouse, how about matcha?" Rong Xiaobo agreed and began cleaning the teaware and selecting matcha powder. I watched with interest from inside the tea room. About fifteen minutes later, he finished preparing the tea and started brewing it outside, saying to me, "I was supposed to take it inside to the tea room to make tea, but I'm not very skilled yet, and I was afraid I might spill some and burn you, so I'll make the tea first and then bring it in for you." Hearing this, I suddenly felt inexplicably moved. Ah, women are truly strange creatures; even a trivial matter can easily move them.
I watched him brewing tea from afar, feeling that everything was somewhat unreal. While I was still in a daze, he came in with two teacups.
He first placed the two teacups on the table in front of me; before I even picked them up, he took it upon himself to sit next to me instead of opposite me. I pretended to be calm and picked up a teacup. He put his right arm around my waist, picked up the other teacup with his left hand, and asked me, "How does it taste?" I felt one of his hands lightly resting on my waist, slowly moving towards my lower abdomen, and I couldn't help but tense up, spilling a little tea. He immediately put down his teacup, held it for me with his left hand, and said, "What's wrong?
Are you burned? Don't worry, drink slowly."
Well, to be honest, his matcha was quite delicious—bitter but not astringent, rich but not overpowering, with a refreshing aroma. As I slowly finished the small bowl, he had his arms around my waist, one hand moving to my lower abdomen, the other to my thigh… I glanced at him, but he had a half-smile on his face, as if it were perfectly natural. I coughed and said, “Xiao Bo, this, your hand, isn’t it…” Before I could finish, his lips were on mine. My first reaction was to push him away forcefully and get away quickly. But that kiss completely drained my energy; my teeth were easily forced open, and then his tongue entered, swirling around. Because we had just drunk matcha, both of our mouths were still filled with its aroma. I felt like I was suddenly drunk again, completely drained of strength. Ugh, how could this be? How could he kiss me so easily? I wanted to speak, to protest, to ask him to show some respect, but he held me tightly, refusing to let go, while his hands pressed against my shoulders, making it impossible for me to leave his embrace. Maybe a minute, two minutes at most, I gave up resisting, completely exhausted, and collapsed into his arms.
Having not been intimate with any man for two years, I easily got into the mood. His kisses were passionate, his caresses even more domineering. He unbuttoned my shirt and reached directly inside my bra, pinching my nipples with his fingers; I felt waves of electric shock-like stimulation. His other hand slid down my waist, stroking my thighs through my skirt, then slipped inside, patiently roaming over my legs. Seeing that I was getting into it, he finally released my lips and whispered in my ear, "Your figure is better than it looks…why don't you usually dress hotter?" I was completely lost in my own world, utterly at his mercy, and didn't bother to answer.
My coat came off, my shirt came off, and my pink bra was completely exposed to his gaze.
At this moment, I felt a little shy, because the pink style was so girlish, completely clashing with my office lady appearance. He didn't say much, though. After examining me for a moment, he reached behind me and deftly unhooked my bra. Judging from the ease with which he unhooked it, I figured his legendary womanizing and womanizing reputation was probably true. The next instant, I was pushed down onto the tatami mat. Because there was a cushion under my back, it didn't feel uncomfortable—he still considered a woman's feelings even at a time like this; no wonder he was so successful at picking up girls…
He climbed on top of me, taking turns sucking on my nipples, praising the shape of my breasts and saying I must have good hygiene habits. At that moment, what the man said didn't matter. I only felt that my long-dormant legs were incredibly wet, and there was even a slight coolness when I opened them. One of his hands was groping between my legs; he must have noticed too. My face was burning hot. After a while, he lifted his head from my chest, forcefully pushed my legs apart, and his hands were groping under my pantyhose. Afraid he would tear it, I quickly grabbed his hand and cried, "No, don't tear it!" He smiled, leaned down and kissed me, saying, "Don't worry, I won't tear it. You're so wet." What was bound to happen finally happened. He pulled my pantyhose down to below my knees, simultaneously ripping off my already soaking pink underwear. At this moment, his belt was also unbuckled, and his pants quickly came off. I suddenly remembered something and was about to remind him when he pulled out a brightly colored package from somewhere, tore it open, and put it on himself. I struggled to prop myself up on my elbows and asked him, "You always carry this with you?" He didn't answer, only gesturing for me to lie down, then pushed my thighs apart again. Since the pantyhose was only half off, my thighs couldn't be opened as wide as possible, and I couldn't help but worry: Could he penetrate me like this?
Unlike my ex-boyfriend, he didn't rush to thrust in forcefully, but instead slowly rubbed the head of his penis against my vulva, seemingly searching for the right angle, or perhaps trying to absorb my overflowing juices. He moved slowly from top to bottom and then from bottom to top. Several times I thought he had found the right spot and rushed forward to meet him, only to be disappointed and pulled back. While rubbing my vulva, he observed my expression. Seeing my disappointment mixed with impatience, he smiled and said, "Okay, okay, don't be nervous, let's take it slow..." As he spoke, he had already found the right angle, and with ample lubrication, he slowly inserted the head of his penis. My legs were still bound by pantyhose, my lower body was taut. His slow, powerful thrusts felt like cutting flesh with a dull knife, making me unsure whether it was itchy or painful. If his movements were slightly rough, I cried out in pain, so he slowed down, slowly withdrew, and then thrust in again, repeating this several times. After perhaps dozens of attempts, he finally slowly entered me to the bottom. I felt my entire vaginal cavity filled with him, and a feeling of pleasure spread.
According to my usual practice, at this point I would wrap my legs around the man's waist, letting him thrust violently. But at this moment, my legs couldn't open; he pushed them against his chest, even obscuring my own vision, leaving me completely passive. He withdrew from my muddy body and then thrust in hard again. I gasped for breath, then let out a soft moan. As he thrust faster, he asked me, "Yu Lan, how long has it been since you last had sex?" I didn't want to answer, but his intense movements made it hard for me to concentrate. In a daze, I replied,
"Two...two years." He pinched the flesh on my thighs and thrust hard twice, making me scream out loud, unable to bear it any longer. Then he said, "What a waste! From the first moment I saw you, I wanted to fuck you like this..." After saying that, he launched into a rapid, violent series of thrusts, as if trying to knock my soul out of my throat. In the extreme pleasure, I even felt like I could fly.

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