[Auditor's Erotic Tale] (01-08) Author: Naoe Setsuna

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

Author: Zhiwei Shasuna
Word Count: 98412

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Introduction

An auditor is employed by a third party to review financial reports issued by a company's
management and
to issue an independent opinion on whether the financial reports comply with the requirements of applicable financial reporting standards. To become an auditor, one must have relevant education and professional experience, and obtain
relevant professional accounting qualifications, such as Certified Public Accountant (CPA) or Chartered Accountant (CPA). Financial and securities
laws in most countries around the world generally require that financial reports published by the management of listed companies must be reviewed by an auditor in advance,
and China is no exception...

"Ah... the last report is finally revised! Tomorrow morning, no, in a few hours, I'll have the printing
department print it out, and then I can sign and stamp it!" I threw down my pen, stood up and stretched, and
looked at my watch: 4:03 AM... My name is Ivan, and I joined this accounting firm as
an auditor after graduating from university. I'm naturally competitive, and my desire to excel propelled me through the cutthroat world of work. What took others
at least eight years to reach senior manager, I achieved in just six. From a young age, I loved various sports, which
not only kept my 1.86-meter frame strong and presentable, but also honed my indomitable
spirit. Coupled with my meticulous and efficient work style, many colleagues and subordinates privately called me "
Ivan the Terrible"—what a ridiculous nickname! Am I really that brutal?

Stepping out of the office building, a gust of cold, damp rain sent a chill down my spine. The drizzling
winter rain made the Shanghai night exceptionally cold. I hurried to a hotel near the company and booked a
room . As soon as the bathtub was filled with water, I eagerly threw myself in, letting my weariness dissolve in
the hot water… I've always been single, but I've experienced my share of romantic entanglements along the way. In the misty air,
stories floated through my mind like a movie.

Story One: Tong Man vs. Virgo.

The clock rewinds to that morning of my first day at the firm…

“Damn it, I overslept on my first day at work. It’s all those
two sluts, Maria Takagi and Kawashima,'s fault. They made me masturbate so much last night.” I thought to myself as I squeezed onto the Shanghai subway during rush hour,
and was instantly pushed by the crowd to the other side of the carriage, or rather, pushed
in front of a girl—she was about my age, with a lovely small face, delicate features, neatly trimmed hair, fair
skin, and a light gray business suit that exuded youthful energy. We were face-to-face only about 1.5
centimeters apart, a distance I had barely managed to maintain despite the pressure from behind. Seeing me, impeccably dressed and
sweating profusely, the girl couldn’t help but smile, a smile that rippled across her beautiful face—
she was truly beautiful. Suddenly, a powerful push came from behind me. When I came to my senses, the girl and I were already
face to face embracing. Her head was resting on my shoulder, and through my thin shirt, I could feel
the fullness and warmth of her chest, a faint, sweet fragrance wafting
towards
me. Oh no! A surge of heat instantly rose from my lower abdomen, and the desire that had been restrained by my trousers pressed against her lower abdomen through my skirt. The girl's face immediately turned red, and she glared at me. I was extremely embarrassed, and afraid she would shout that there was a pervert, I quickly
apologized to her repeatedly in a low voice, then desperately turned my body to the other side, even though the carriage was so crowded that I couldn't move at all. "It's okay,
you didn't do it on purpose," the girl said softly. And so, we held each other until we got off the train. With
the swaying of the train, the pleasure from my chest and lower body almost made me ejaculate several times... Unexpectedly, I ran into her again
the next day , this time at the company. "My name is Ruomeng, Rosemary, Tax Department,"
she introduced herself confidently. "Ivan, from the Audit Department." I felt a little awkward. We were both
newcomers, and after a brief training, we immediately plunged into our first busy season. After the Spring Festival, Ruomeng came to participate in
the tax audits of several audit projects in our department, and I was responsible for organizing the working papers she needed. Perhaps because our personalities were similar, and we
both enjoyed dealing with challenges at work, we quickly became familiar with each other and rapidly went from colleagues to
friends . The longer we spent together, the more I felt that Ruomeng had a great attraction for me: she was intelligent, cheerful, and open-minded, and what was even more
rare was that she shared my strong will. A year passed in the blink of an eye. One autumn afternoon, I
mustered up the courage to ask her out for dinner the next evening, intending to confess my feelings to her. On the phone, she laughed and said
she was sorry boyfriend the next evening... Yes, how could such a good girl not have a boyfriend? I
felt a pang of sadness. The next evening, I was busy at the company until nine o'clock, and just as I was about to slip away, the phone on my desk rang.

"Excuse me... is Ivan there?" a timid female voice asked, hesitant to speak.

The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it: "This is Ivan. Who is this?"

"I...I'm Ruomeng." It was indeed Ruomeng, but I couldn't
reconcile this hoarse voice with the cheerful, talkative girl I knew.

"Ah? Ruomeng? Didn't you have plans tonight? What's wrong? Are you alright?" I asked anxiously.

"Could you...could you have dinner with me? At the Italian restaurant in the Carlton Hotel..." she
replied, seemingly ignoring my question .

"Okay, I..." Before I could finish, she hung up. "

Haha, Ivan, you're finally here! Why are you so slow? Slower than a snail. Already exhausted before the second busy season
even starts? You're so weak. Don't they say the audit department treats men like animals? You look pretty good
though...." I had just sat down at the restaurant when Ruomeng's chatter caught me off guard, and then I
saw her—breathtakingly beautiful.

After not seeing her for several days, her hair had grown long and neatly styled, the ends slightly curled. A touch of makeup
gave her skin an ivory sheen, making her features appear even more delicate. A
wine-red silk dress adorned with small black ribbons fit her perfectly, complemented by an elegant pearl necklace and earrings—her makeup
was flawless. However, this perfect makeup ironically only made the lingering tear tracks at the corners of her eyes more noticeable.

Unexpectedly, from the moment I sat down, Ruomeng kept changing the subject, laughing and talking,
never mentioning had suddenly called me to dinner tonight. I didn't press her, and could only keep up the conversation. Before I knew it,
we had finished three bottles of red wine, and now we were the only customers left in the restaurant. My head was starting to spin, and I tried to resist the urge to drink.
I kept asking, "Didn't you have a date tonight? Why did you suddenly ask me to dinner?" The words were barely out of my mouth when I regretted
them, because her tears were already streaming down her face…

"It's because of him… I've been so busy for the past two months, I haven't had time for him… I know I was wrong, but
what can I do during busy season… I put in so much effort for tonight's date. He said he'd come
, but I waited for him for two hours, and in the end… in the end, all I got was a phone call, a
call . Today, today is my birthday…"

This kind of situation is all too common for a girl who works as an auditor. Halfway through her sentence, my
vision blurred. What should I do? I have to do something, right? It's her birthday today.

"Tantiauguriate, tantiauguriate,
tantiauguriasenioritarosemary, tantiauguriate
!"

In the empty restaurant, I forced back tears and began to sing "Happy Birthday" in Italian at the top of my lungs.
This bizarre act startled the elderly Italian waiter. But when he understood what I was singing, he
immediately laughed and clapped loudly. Ruomeng was also stunned at first, but soon she was amused by my clumsy performance
and stopped crying and laughed. After all the commotion, Ruomeng finally calmed down. After leaving the restaurant, I helped
Ruomeng towards the taxi stand, intending to call a car to take her back to her place.

"No, no, I'm staying here tonight," she said, pointing to the Carlton Hotel.

"Save some money, Carlton is expensive. Besides, you're drunk, your roommate can take care of you when you get back."

"No, no, I've already prepaid for the room, and I can't get a refund if I don't stay. The room key is in my bag, just take me upstairs
."

I wanted to persuade her, but then I remembered that this room was supposed to be for her and her boyfriend to spend the night together. Sigh, never
mind, I'm afraid she'll be reminded of her painful memories again.

Entering the room, I drew back the curtains, and the full moonlight instantly filled the room. "I'm leaving now, Ruomeng, you
should get some rest too." I said as I walked towards the door, but after only a few steps, I was suddenly hugged from behind.
At that moment, I felt my whole body freeze, then my heart tightened, and all the blood
rushed to my head like a thousand horses galloping.

"Ivan, stay with me, tonight." Ruomeng's voice was clear and resolute, each word like a
hammer blow to my heart. In an instant, my remaining rationality crumbled under the crushing weight of my rising desire.

Facing me, she undressed. Removing her jewelry, kicking off her heels, taking off her dress, and removing her stockings,
her alluring body, bathed in moonlight, drifted away as two pure white lace lingerie pieces fluttered down. Her
porcelain like skin reminded me of the Venus de Milo.

Although I had countless times imagined my first experience against the backdrop of AV actresses,
there was still a significant difference between reality and imagination. Naked and lying on the bed, I felt somewhat lost.

"I'm sorry, Ruomeng, this is my first time..."

"It's alright..." she said softly, gently guiding my already throbbing desire as I slowly sat down
...

"Oh..." With the union of our bodies, we both let out a long sigh. I felt myself entering
an incredibly tight place, my lower body burning with pain—it hurt so much, that was my initial sensation of my first experience.
Pain was etched on Ruomeng's face as well. I suddenly noticed a small amount of warm liquid
flowing , like a thin, dark snake winding across my lower abdomen—could it be…?!

"You saw it? That's why I said it's okay, because it's my first time too," she
said, a little embarrassed.

Well, so we're a virgin and a boy, quite evenly matched. I couldn't help but sit up and pull her into my arms,
kissing away the tears from the corners of her eyes, warming her cool body with the heat of my heart. Under the moonlight, we remained
motionless, tightly embracing each other. Unlike the time on the subway, this time we entered each other…

After a long while, Ruomeng whispered in my ear, “You hurt me so much, don’t you know what it means to be gentle with a woman?
You’re such a pervert, touching me on our first time on the subway, and so…”

I wanted to argue that I was the one who had lost my virginity, but hearing her hesitate, I immediately
interrupted and asked, “And so what…”

In the darkness, her eyes shone brightly, her face showing an undisguised mix of resistance and acceptance. “So… so hard…
” Her voice was barely audible.

“And then…” I persisted.

I thought she would say something like “You’re the worst,” but unexpectedly, she paused,
then stared into my eyes and slowly said, “Then I got wet, right there in that crowded subway car…
When I got to the company, I went straight to the bathroom and found that the sanitary pad I had changed was soaked…”

I suddenly felt very thirsty, and I could feel her in my arms getting hot. “And then what?” I
still persisted.

"And then... I... I masturbated, twice..."

Before she could finish, I silenced her with a fierce kiss, both of us
breathing . At the same time, I began to rhythmically toss her delicate body in my arms, my lower body thrusting upwards... desire
was like a wildfire on the prairie, unstoppable.

"Oh... Ivan, I... it feels so good... oh..." Ruomeng's body was very sensitive, her tight
flower path quickly becoming wet, making my thrusts incredibly pleasurable. During our lovemaking, her gaze became increasingly hazy,
and a seductive expression gradually appeared on her delicate face. Seeing her two little white rabbits bouncing wantonly before me,
I couldn't help but open my mouth and take a bit of rosy nipple in, gently circling her nipple with my tongue, occasionally teasing the erect
nipple. "Ah, no... don't do that, it's too stimulating," her voice rose. I remained unmoved,
continuing to gently torment her breasts with my tongue in the unhurried tossing motion. Amidst the surging waves, I was already lost in the moment…

“Ah, no, it’s…it’s coming…” A sudden cry rang out, and Ruomeng went limp in my arms,
trembling violently as if from the cold. Her vaginal canal, which had been embracing my desire, began to writhe powerfully, and streams of warm, wet
fluid gushed out, the pubic hair of both of us sticking together… I didn’t know what was happening; I simply stopped what I
was doing and held her tightly, motionless… Slowly, I felt her in my arms growing colder. I quickly helped her
lie down and covered her with the blanket. Soon I heard Ruomeng’s even breathing; she was fast asleep. Wait a minute, my first…
The experience felt incomplete. Then I realized my lower body was still throbbing and erect… Oh
right, I wasn't done yet! How could this happen? Would I die? Oh well, whatever, I'll leave it to fate. Sleep…
…My vision went black, and I collapsed into a dream.

“Good morning, room service…”
A . Opening my eyes, I saw the room bathed in the autumn sunlight. Turning my head, I
saw Ruomeng, wearing a bathrobe, pushing the hotel room service trolley into the room.
The aroma of maple syrup with fried bacon and a mixed cheese omelet was incredibly tempting. I looked Ruomeng up and down: she had just showered, her hair
was tied in a bun at the back of her head, her rosy face resembled a peeled hard-boiled egg, and her neatly dressed bathrobe couldn't
hide the fullness of her chest… But what pleased me most was her captivating smile. Compared to before, her
smile held a touch more allure and shyness. I knew she was alright.

"Why didn't you just have the waiter bring this cart in?" I asked as I dressed.

"You still dare to say that? It's all because of you last night... the room smelled..." she retorted, blushing
. Hearing her say that, I also noticed the faint, peculiar scent in the room—the scent of desire.
Seeing her blush, I felt too embarrassed to tease her any further. Breakfast began, and we were somewhat silent.

"Ruomeng, I..." I gulped down a large mouthful of orange juice, about to continue my prepared confession, when she
put down her knife and fork and spoke. "Ivan, I know you like me, and I like you too. The moment you sang 'Happy Birthday
,' I understood. So everything since then has been of my own free will, not a whim."

Seeing my overjoyed expression, her face suddenly turned serious. "But, we can't
be together ." My heart plummeted like a rollercoaster. She continued, "Ivan, I know you're
ambitious and resourceful. With your abilities and interpersonal skills, you're sure to rise to the top in the company. But
before you achieve complete success, you must be fully focused and dedicated. Our current collaboration will only distract you.
Besides, you understand that to make a name for yourself in the audit department, you need the support of the tax department at crucial moments.
I will do everything I can to carve out a niche for myself in the tax department, to become your ally, and
to fight . So, right now, I want to be your confidant and comrade-in-arms..."

Before she finished speaking, I already understood—she was right.

"But," seeing my gloomy expression, Ruomeng suddenly changed the subject, "You performed
very well , truly commendable. I didn't expect it to be so comfortable the first time; this young lady is very satisfied, hehe.
By the way, are you really a virgin? Don't be lying to me, right?"

Seeing her laughing so heartily, I collapsed—please, is this something
a virgin who just lost her virginity the night before should say? "So, if you want anything from now on, just come to me. I'll enjoy being with you too;
it's mutually beneficial." I suddenly noticed a hint of ambiguity in Ruomeng's smile. A fraction of a second later, I roughly
pushed her onto the bed, ripping open the front of her robe. Her pink nipples were already engorged,
creating a stark contrast with her fair and firm breasts. I felt like a raging bull, charging headlong into that boundless sea of desire.
Suddenly, I accidentally kicked over the shopping cart, scattering plates, cutlery, and unfinished breakfast all over the floor…

Neither of us broke our promise. After numerous trials, we matured quickly, navigating our respective battlefields and
standing out among our own groups. We met at the hotel almost every week, enjoying
each other —in Ruomeng's own words, "Making love with you is as exhilarating as working on a project with you." In
our fifth year at the company, we were both promoted to manager and began planning our next steps—management
meant navigating the company's factional struggles, building
and strengthening our networks for future business expansion, and gradually recruiting and cultivating talented subordinates we got along well with, creating our
own "core troops." One day, after a passionate encounter, Ruomeng suddenly cried and told me she was going to
work for three years at the US branch in the Western Hemisphere, overseeing cross-border tax planning and transfer pricing
projects . This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, as these two areas were the tax department's most profitable. With this
experience, Ruomeng's position in the tax department would be even more secure. Although I was reluctant, I knew she had to go.

The next day, we both took 10 days off from work and flew one after the other to a hot spring resort in Japan
—no one knew about our relationship—to quietly enjoy our last days before parting. One evening, I
held Ruomeng in my arms as we soaked in the open-air hot spring at the inn. The hot spring was next to a large lake, and the setting sun made the water
shimmer beautifully.

Amidst the picturesque scenery, she said softly, "I hope I can come here often in the future, especially to a traditional inn like this
."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because we can stick together here all the time without worrying about being seen by anyone, and the people at this hotel
always call me 'wife,' I like it when they call me that..."

I felt a pang of heartache listening to her and couldn't help but hug her tightly, saying, "They're right. Ruomeng, you are my wife, you have been
for a long time ..."

On the day I saw her off at the airport, Ruomeng's last words to me were: "Your guy definitely
won't get enough to . But I'm not worried, anyway, there are plenty of women who will come to you to be eaten, right? Just like before, be
careful." Seeing my surprised look, she said with a mischievous smile, "I already know about your little thing. Just don't hurt
yourself , who knows, I might suddenly come back on a business trip one day, and I'll have to check the goods."

With a sweet laugh, she turned and walked towards the boarding gate, her steps steady yet with a strange rhythm. I
couldn't help but take a picture of her back, then printed it out as a high-resolution photo and hung it opposite the sofa in my room.
Whenever I win a battle in the workplace, I open a bottle of red wine, raise a glass to her retreating figure, and say,
"Cheers, my wife." Background information

on the second

story

: A newcomer to the company, an audit assistant manager

, has a business card that reads "Assistant Accountant." The second year it becomes "Senior Accountant," and
the third year "Assistant Manager." On the surface, this seems unremarkable; anyone who can endure until the third year
can be promoted to assistant manager. However, in reality, among the newly promoted assistant managers, the experience and...
Professional competence varies greatly. The reason for this difference lies in
the experience of a new assistant manager in their first two years at the company. Some people start with
large projects involving one or two hundred people, lasting one or two years, such as initial public offerings (IPOs). Perhaps their first two years are spent leisurely doing menial tasks
, and some even haven't done a single working paper after two years. Others start with
smaller projects, such as annual statutory audits of foreign companies and group report audits. These projects are time-sensitive, demanding, with
managers pushing, clients complaining, families worrying, and partners not understanding, often leaving people feeling incredibly frustrated. But those who thrive under
such pressure are bound to go far on the auditing path—like me, and
like Kevin.

Shortly after being promoted to assistant manager, I received a notice to represent the Chinese branch in
the Southern Hemisphere 's Bratts, to participate in the head office's
annual public service campaign alongside new assistant managers from branches around the world. I knew this opportunity was rare—
there were three hundred of us new assistant managers in China, and only two spots were available—the other being Kevin from the Beijing branch
. Kevin was a tall, handsome guy, friendly, and articulate, like Sendoh Akira straight out of the
anime —and me? I was Horita Tokuo, my senior… Although we got along well, our
auras were very different—we were both wild beasts, but he was a fox, and I was a wolf.

Summer in Bratz was fantastic: sunshine, blue sea, beaches, and Latin beauties everywhere.
The four-day event ended quickly, and on the last afternoon, the Bratz branch arranged a beach party. Fragrant barbecue,
ice-cold beer, deafening Latin music, and a beach volleyball match that we'll never forget…
…

As soon as we saw the volleyball, Kevin and I felt itchy to play—we had both played on our respective university teams; I
was a middle blocker, and Kevin was a setter. Although neither of us had ever played beach volleyball, we figured the feeling was about the same
. When we got to the sidelines, a match had just ended. Two white guys from the United States had been
utterly defeated . These two guys had been incredibly arrogant during the event, showing absolutely no team spirit; nobody wanted to
cooperate with them. The surrounding spectators looked on with glee at their loss. The two winners were
hugging and screaming in celebration—and they were actually two girls?! When Kevin and I recognized the girls' faces,
we both exclaimed "Oh!" in unison—it was them. The shorter one was named Lucia, from
a neighboring country of Bratts. She had slightly dark skin, a radiant smile, and a large bust and hips that made you worry her tight-fitting sports bikini might burst open
at any moment —a true Latina beauty. She was very active during the event, and her dedication to her profession and
love of charity were impressive. The tall one was Hilda. Although she was a local, both her name and
appearance clearly indicated she was Germanic—her long, cascading light blonde hair was tied up in a bun at the back of her head, and she wore
sports glasses. While the cleavage under her bikini wasn't as eye-catching as Lucia's, it had
a unique charm against her well-proportioned figure. I had interacted with Hilda a few times and admired her meticulous approach to people and things.

"Any other teams coming to challenge our invincible Latin duo?" the host shouted.

Kevin and I exchanged a smile and both raised our hands.

"We have new challengers—two gentlemen from China, Ivan and Kevin!!!
The match will begin in 15 minutes." With the host's hoarse shout, the entire stadium erupted again…

"Hi, Kevin, I didn't know you were good at sports? Do you like beach volleyball?
Are there many people in China who play beach volleyball?" As soon as the four of us stood facing each other, Lucia bombarded us with questions.

As Kevin answered Lucia's question with his usual suave manner, Hilda removed her sports glasses—her icy blue
eyes, sharply defined features, resolute and composed expression, and healthy complexion instantly reminded me of a Valkyrie from
Germanic mythology. Hilda spoke in her slightly deep yet magnetic voice: "
Hello, Ivan, it's a pleasure to compete against you." Then she shook my hand. This wasn't a greeting; it was clearly a challenge
.

"It's my honor," I replied, then asked, "You two just finished a match, wouldn't you like to rest
a bit?"

"No, thank you. We can start right away, no need to rest." As if sensing my provocation,
Hilda retorted sharply.

"Relax, relax. See you on the court in 15 minutes!" Lucia grinned and pulled Hilda away.
Kevin and I immediately went to the side to practice. We

had assumed beach volleyball was the same as volleyball, but we quickly realized we had been too naive. Just as Kevin and I
were getting into a rhythm, the fifteen minutes were up.

With a powerful jump serve from Hilda, the match began. A true expert's skill is immediately apparent. After a few
exchanges , we realized the two sides were evenly matched, quickly entering a tug-of-war—the reason was simple:
neither side could completely shut down the opponent's blocks, nor could they deliver a decisive spike. Best of three sets, currently tied 1-1. The deciding
set was also very close, and we finally managed to grab match point. Just as I was about to serve, I suddenly saw Kevin put
his hands behind his back and gesture to me: quick attack…position two…

what? Two people who have never played a full match together are going for a quick attack? And when we have match point.
Are they crazy?

I was still hesitating when I suddenly heard Hilda's furious roar from the other side: "Bring it on! What
are you dawdling for ! If you two can win this match, Lucia and I will let you do whatever you want with us tonight!" I looked up and saw
that Hilda's hair was now disheveled, her blonde hair blowing wildly in the sea breeze, her sports glasses nowhere to be seen, and the murderous intent in her eyes
was overwhelming. This shout instantly ignited the long-silent court. Kevin turned and
glared at me, his handsome face revealing a fierce expression. Alright, let's go for it. I calmed myself down and delivered a steady, high-handed
float serve over the net. Hilda received the ball, Lucia set it, and Hilda continued her high-ball attack—this straightforward
style of play was like an unstoppable torrent of German chariots in a blitzkrieg. Kevin, it's all about your blocking! Good!
Just blocking the ball is enough, no need to block it completely! I steadily passed the ball to Kevin, then immediately ran to position two, took a run-up,
jumped, soared, extended my abdomen, caught the ball, and swung my arm—Kevin's back pass was coming! Well done! "Bang!"
A muffled thud, the volleyball arced downwards and slammed into the opponent's court—the quick attack completely fooled Lucia's
block ! We won!

That evening, everyone moved to a bar near the beach to continue the revelry. People kept coming up to Kevin and me to
drink chat, while Lucia was already clinging to Kevin, whispering sweet nothings. I was rather reserved, though I still made
small talk with those around me. Hilda, who had changed into a light pink off-the-shoulder t-shirt and white hot pants, sat beside me
, smiling and watching. "I admire you, Ivan," she said. "
It's not easy to make such a decisive move and launch a fast attack in that situation."

"No, no, no, the fast attack was Kevin's idea. I was just assisting him..." I didn't want to take credit for something that wasn't his.

"No, he was the strategist; you were the decision-maker," Hilda interrupted me. "That past war...
if the German decision-makers back then had been as decisive as you were just now, perhaps we wouldn't have lost..."
she said wistfully, gazing into the distance.

"No, you didn't lose. Germany is still the strongest nation in Europe, isn't it? Without Germany,
there would be no European Union today. So what if Yuko and Farsel won? Aren't they still vassals of the Eagle Nation?"
I comforted her. In fact, I truly believed so—a nation that dared to challenge the entire European continent, even in defeat,
deserves honor !

"Haha, I didn't expect you to be a historian." She laughed. I suddenly realized how
beautiful , like spring flowers on the plateau nourished by snowmelt, radiant and resilient.

"So, where do we go next? Your room or mine?" Hilda suddenly turned and stared at me
. "I keep my word, you're free to do as I please."

I blushed instantly, not feigning innocence, but because such a direct invitation caught me off guard. "
It's just a joke on the field... why take it so seriously..." I said dismissively.

"Why are you so passive?" "

...It's a cultural difference, we Easterners..." I tried to explain.

"Nonsense... so you're Easterner, but Kevin isn't?" she retorted.

"Kevin too, so he also..." I looked around, but Kevin and Lucia were nowhere to be seen
...

I walked towards the hotel with Hilda in my arms. We were both quite drunk and a little unsteady. But my mind was still clear,
and I couldn't help but ask, "Why did you shout 'Do whatever you want' in front of so many people? First of all,
we had the match point, and you weren't at an advantage to begin with. Even if I didn't use a fast attack, but instead gave it my all with a jump
serve , you might not have been able to return it, right? Secondly, you only talked about what benefits we would get from winning, but you didn't say
what benefits you would get from winning!"

She paused and said, "Actually, I was really angry at the time, thinking how difficult you guys were, and that sentence just
slipped out. Sigh, my fragile rationality..."

In the hotel, Kevin was staying next to me. The excellent soundproofing of the five-star hotel couldn't block out the sounds of Kevin and Lucia
making love—it would have been reported long ago in China, I muttered to myself. As we passed his
room , Hilda and I exchanged a smile. Entering my room, I habitually opened my laptop
to check work emails—for me at that time, there were only two things in the world I couldn't escape: death
and my boss's emails.

*Slam!* Hilda slammed my laptop screen shut.

"Wait, there's work email…it might be work…" I said, a little annoyed.

"
Fuck off your
work , and fuck me up! With your fucking dick! Fucking now!" Hilda's face was inches from mine,
shouting the words at a deafening volume in my ear.

While my buzzing brain was still subconsciously counting how many "fucks" she'd said, she grabbed
me and launched into a kiss, like a torrential downpour, catching me completely off guard. Just like her straightforward
style , her tongue pried open my teeth, entwining with mine like a snake's tongue, and we gasped for breath. I
felt like I was suffocating. The smell of alcohol combined with the slightly rough touch of a white woman's skin fueled my
lust , and my lower body ached from being confined by my shorts. I began to fight back.

After a few tearing sounds, Hilda's off-the-shoulder t-shirt was lying on the ground in a mess of pieces. I
embraced and ripped off her bra with my right, beginning to ravage her breasts without restraint. I was surprised to find my hands full of
firm, full breasts. Upon closer inspection, I realized that her breasts were actually a pair of weapons, only usually hidden under her full
-cup bra. Her breasts were symmetrical hemispherical, and because she often wore bikinis,
the skin, untouched by the sun, was fair and delicate. In the center of her pink areolas, the erect nipples were gradually becoming engorged with blood.

"Yes, just like that, yes... oh... yes, right there," she giggled.

I threw Hilda onto the bed and quickly tore off my clothes, the desire to break free of restraint
rising before me. From the way her eyes swept over me, I could tell she liked strong men.
Her hot pants were tight; I ripped them open, the buttons flying everywhere.

When I removed the last line of defense from her lower body, I could clearly see
a long, shiny thread running between her cotton high-waisted panties and her genitals. I knelt on the bed, pushed her legs up to my shoulders, and then lifted her buttocks,
staring at her private parts up close—despite watching plenty of private media and pornographic films,
I still couldn't accurately describe the shock I felt when I saw it in person for the first time. It's true
what they say, "Seeing is believing," and "Practice makes perfect." The ancients were right—her pubic hair was
neatly trimmed, her pink clitoris was fully exposed, and her petals were swollen from excessive excitement and congestion,
her vulva wide open. I lowered my head, feeling her surging desire, and then, starting from the outer edge of her flower chamber, I spiraled my tongue
to satisfy my cravings, greedily inhaling the scent of desire and drinking deeply of that gushing nectar.

"Ah...so good...Ivan..." Hilda cried out loudly, her body writhing like a worm, her powerful
legs intertwining behind my neck, tightening more and more, urging me on loudly. "Quick, I want your thing, quick, come in!"

I was just about to use my brutal desire to ravage her vast, open cavity when a thought suddenly struck me: perhaps
using some tactics, like on the court this afternoon, would be better. Seeing me get up, a glimmer of hope appeared in Hilda's eyes.
Suddenly, I straddled her from behind, my spear of desire aimed directly at her lips. I turned my head, my bloodshot eyes
commanding, "You slut, blow on my thing."

Hilda was startled, looking at my unwavering expression, a sudden surge of ecstasy and longing appearing on her face.
She began to obediently breathe in and out of my weapon. "Oh..." This time it was my turn to groan, suppressing the waves of
collapse . I lowered my head and continued to ravage the tenderness of her lower body—one hand quickly and gently stroked her petals up and down,
while the index and middle fingers of the other hand probed into the moist, warm cavity, gently teasing a small, hard upper wall at the vulva, while simultaneously holding
her clitoris in my mouth and occasionally sweeping the area between her clitoris and the entrance of the cavity with the tip of my tongue—now that I think about it, I was able to
do all these things at the same time thanks to my work training—at work, I often had to touch-type on a desktop calculator with my left hand and
touch-type on the computer keyboard with my right, and if I had nowhere to put the pen, I would hold it in my mouth...

"Hmm... Hmph... Ah..." Hilda, who was serving me, suddenly began to tremble all over, and my 160-
pound body almost couldn't hold her powerful struggles. Suddenly I felt her start to bite me, but the faint
pain only fueled my resistance: Fine, I'll play this game with you to the end, let's see who can outlast me.

Suddenly, she thrust her lower abdomen forward with such force that she lifted me up. Her wet, slippery cavity still
contracted rhythmically, tightly gripping my two fingers, then she let out a beast-like roar. I persisted,
trying to synchronize my movements with the rhythm, teasing the hard spot inside her cavity. I stopped stroking, parted her labia, and
began licking in circles with my tongue.

Then, a shocking scene unfolded—Hilda's roar abruptly ceased, replaced by a lingering, tender
moan . I couldn't understand what she was moaning, but I felt her cavity contract in waves, and hot urine
gushed out like jets of water… I couldn't dodge in time, and one jet hit my tongue, filling my
mouth with a sour and fishy taste. Like a man possessed, I took her still-ejaculating opening into my mouth, savoring each spurt with my oral cavity.
At the same time, my pent-up desire erupted in Hilda's mouth…

When I came to my senses, Hilda was still motionless, as if pulled from the water.
Her semen was everywhere on the pillow, and her body was cold. I panicked—I hoped she wouldn't die. In a panic, I
slapped . After a few hard slaps, her dazed eyes slowly turned to me, tears welling in her eyes.
A huge weight lifted from my heart. I quickly covered her with the blanket, got out of bed, boiled some water in the coffee pot, and
made a cup of sugar water with sugar from the hotel minibar. Testing the temperature, I carefully fed it to her, sip by sip. After two cups of sugar
water, she finally let out a long sigh, came to her senses, stared at me adoringly, and murmured, "is
hliebedich" (Germanic for "I love you"). Then she immediately fell asleep in my arms,
gently snoring. At that time, I didn't understand Germanic, only vaguely remembering the pronunciation. Then I felt
a burning pain in my lower body, and I fell asleep as Hilda breathed evenly...

When I woke up, it was already broad daylight. Hilda, who had already gotten up, picked out a white shirt from my luggage
and put it on. Seeing that I was awake, she smiled at me and then went to make coffee. As she bent over
the coffee machine with her back to me, her straight and shapely legs, her pert buttocks, and her still-rosy vulva were completely exposed to me. Just as
a lust was about to rise, hiss, the pain in my lower body immediately brought me back to normal. When Hilda turned to hand me her coffee,
she saw the grimace on my face and quickly asked what was wrong. I hurriedly said it was nothing.

The morning after a passionate night is always a little awkward. I sipped my coffee slowly, while Hilda
stared blankly at the mess on the bed. Suddenly, she blushed and stammered, "You...I...we..."
She tried several times but couldn't get the words out. She kept glancing at my face as she spoke, completely
lacking her usual composure.

I knew immediately that this woman of Germanic descent was trying to justify her
actions so I quickly took over, speaking calmly and casually, "We
had such a great time in that game yesterday, and then we drank so much, plus Kevin and Lucia's performance next door,
so everything just naturally happened. Thank you so much for keeping me company last night, I was really happy." Her expression
immediately relaxed, and she gradually started chatting and laughing with me again.

When we parted, she and Lucia drove Kevin and me to the airport. Sitting in the passenger seat, I could hear
Kevin and Lucia's tearful farewells and vows of eternal love in the back. In the rearview mirror, I saw
a glimmer of genuine emotion in Lucia's eyes. Sigh, they say Latina women are easily moved; perhaps it's true. Looking at
Kevin , though his words were sweet, he reverted to his usual indifferent demeanor. Suddenly, I felt a surge of
resentment towards Kevin—knowing it was just a chance encounter, why did he have to make the girl so emotionally invested? Sigh, well,
what right do I have to judge others? I'm just as despicable, perhaps even more so…

The moment of parting arrived. Perhaps influenced by the two in the back seat, I hesitated,
speechless . Looking at me, Hilda's eyes were full of smiles, even her icy blue eyes seemed to soften.
She shook my hand generously: "Have a safe trip, Ivan. Be sure to let me know if you have the chance to come to Bratz next time."

On the plane, Kevin was fast asleep, he seemed exhausted last night; I, on the other hand, was pondering Hilda's murmur from last night
, the pronunciation seemed to be: "Ishliebedich"...

Auditor's Erotic Tale – Part Three – Workplace? I

've been with the company for almost four years, and I'll soon have been an assistant manager for two years. One more year of hard work and I'll be promoted to manager
. I've already met the two necessary conditions for promotion: First, the Chinese Certified Public Accountant license – I already have it. Second, an annual performance review of B or above – no problem, I get an A every year, the title
"Ivan the Terrible" is already quite well-known. "Hurry up and get out of here. Friday night dinner with a burger is bad enough, I need to go home and sleep." I thought to myself as I sped up my work, the desktop calculator clicking away with my left hand… "Will, Group A's interim report is basically finalized." I placed the work on the senior manager 's desk. "This report is due next Wednesday. I'll follow up if you have any questions." "Hmm…" While I spoke, Will, with his back to me, continued typing rapidly. "Is Company B's project plan ready? Briefly tell me about it," he asked. "Yes, the risk assessment and audit plan are complete, you can see them in the system. Compared to previous years, Company B's new factory, which opened at the beginning of the year, needs extra caution…" I answered confidently. "From my communication with the factory logistics manager, their inventory is rather disorganized." "Then get a few more junior staff to participate in the year-end inventory…" Will responded.

"I want to personally go to the year-end inventory check. This is the first annual inventory check for that new factory, and the clients are all new
employees who aren't familiar with our inspection process. The younger staff might not be able to handle it. Besides
, I did the risk assessment and audit plan, so if we see any risks we didn't consider before during the inspection, we can fill in the gaps."

"Oh?" Will turned around after saying that. "Hehe, it's rare to see someone so hands-on.
I liked doing that when I was an assistant manager too." He gave him an approving look. Will, the department manager and
senior audit manager, is a native of Shanghai. He's handsome, shrewd, and capable, and very popular with the boss. Unlike
most men from Shanghai, Will is very generous and easygoing. Since he recruited me, we've gotten along
very well.

"Where's Alan? Why hasn't he come to see me yet? He's been urging me about the C company plan for ages..." Will
complained. "Do you know anything about the C company? If you were making the plan, how would you approach it?"

My heart skipped a beat, but I quickly calmed down. I had already reviewed the C company's past working papers. Not only the C
company, but I had also done my homework on every client and project Will had during my free time.

"I know a little about it," I said, feigning modesty before launching into a long explanation. "Semiconductor chip manufacturers.
Due to fluctuating market demand, these companies typically handle small orders, small batches, and flexible production. The vast majority of their raw materials
are imported from affiliated companies, and the majority of their finished products are sold to their overseas parent companies. In addition to the aspects that traditional manufacturing companies need to
pay attention to , related-party transactions and transfer pricing also need to be carefully considered...

" "Excellent! You'll be leading the audit of the C company's annual statutory and group report this year. Go to the department secretary next Monday and pick three people. If you're late, the good ones will all be taken." Will responded
after hearing my idea . "But... what about Alan? Isn't he the one leading Company C?..." I hesitated. "That's none of your business," Will interrupted me. "Hurry up and pack your things. I know a nice place; let's go for a drink." I knew Alan was out of the picture. Later, he was frequently borrowed by other departments to work on projects, tirelessly shuttling between various worthless projects—Will's discarded general, the other managers in his department were unwilling and dared not use him. Six months later, Alan resigned... I followed Will into the gatehouse of a large, secluded mansion. Will handed a card to the guard, and soon a waiter led us through the courtyard towards a villa. The courtyard was very well maintained, with neatly trimmed landscaping and a fountain in the central courtyard complementing each other beautifully. When the heavy wooden door opened wide, I was stunned. What a wonderful place—don't laugh, even today, I still can't accurately describe how I felt at that moment. The seemingly mundane phrase "a fine place " is surprisingly apt: the villa boasts high ceilings, a massive crystal chandelier casting a soft, comfortable glow, and a huge oil painting adorns the wall opposite the entrance—a depiction of Emperor Falser, the short man who once swept across Europe, snatching the crown from the Pope at his coronation and crowning himself—riding a sword across the battlefield. The floor is paved with black and white marble, and the wooden walls and staircases on either side of the hall exude a profound sense of history. On the left and right sides of the hall are rows of long tables; one table displays a variety of exquisitely prepared Chinese and Western dishes, the tablecloths pristine white and the cutlery gleaming. The other table is set with rows of red wines and glasses. In the hall, well-dressed men and women chatted quietly in twos and threes, occasionally punctuated by the captivating laughter of young women… Neatly dressed waiters served the guests with orderly efficiency—the hall was quite full of guests, but everyone was well-mannered, everything was orderly, and the atmosphere was very comfortable. “Will, you’ve arrived! Welcome!” With a warm greeting, a beautiful lady came to greet us. She seemed to be about Will’s age, with a ladylike hairstyle and meticulously applied makeup that perfectly suited the evening’s occasion. After exchanging greetings, she looked at me, then at Will. “Oh, I forgot to introduce you,” Will said. “Lisa, this is my younger brother Ivan, a promising young man. Ivan, this is Lisa, the manager of the club.” The three of them exchanged pleasantries as they walked upstairs. “Tonight, the Consulate General of France in Shanghai and the French-Chinese Chamber of Commerce are jointly hosting a wine tasting here. It’s a bit chaotic, sorry ,” Lisa explained. After a few turns, we arrived at a living room-like room on the second floor. The room connected to a balcony, with large floor-to-ceiling windows and white sheer curtains that fluttered in the evening breeze. Two long sofas opposite us were just the right firmness, very comfortable to sit on. Various drinks and fruit platters were already laid out on the coffee table—the coolness of the watermelon and the rich aroma of the pineapple indicated that the fruit platters were freshly cut, not semi-finished products taken from the refrigerator. Lisa poured a glass of champagne for me and Will before leaving. Will raised his glass to me: "Ivan, well done, cheers." The bubbly, honey-colored champagne shimmered in the moonlight, crisp on the palate, followed by a rich aroma of grapes. I drank it all in one gulp. Just by looking at the uniquely designed bottle on the table, I knew it was Dom Pérignon. Even in a store, a bottle would cost more than my monthly salary, let alone in a place like this, a den of iniquity . "You'll be promoted in two weeks," Will continued. "Oh? Isn't it still a month until our group's promotion period?" I wondered. "No, you're an exception. In two weeks, you'll be an audit manager," Will said. My hand trembled. Isn't an assistant manager a three-year position? I've only been a manager for two years! "Your work performance is outstanding, and you're very mature in your dealings with others. Clients and colleagues speak highly of you, which is why you have this opportunity to skip a level. Well done! John and I have put in a lot of effort to train you. Come on, let's have another drink." Seeing my bewildered look, Will poured me a drink and explained. I didn't have time to think and quickly finished my second glass. This drink tasted completely different from the first— besides the joy and sweetness of success, I couldn't taste anything else. "You know, John is one of the senior partners in charge of the audit department. There are many capable people in the company, but not all capable people have the opportunity to showcase their talents as well as you have. Why? Because John and I have always been giving you opportunities," Will said bluntly. "You also know that there are currently two powerful factions in the audit department of the China branch , and John is the leader of one of them. I have always followed him. So, how about it? Do you want to stand with us through thick and thin?" His eyes were gleaming.

I knew perfectly well that although Will said that, I actually had no choice. If I didn't
immediately and sincerely express my stance, I would soon be out of a job—those who can't be used by me can't be used by the enemy;
this is the ironclad rule of workplace struggles. "I am very grateful for John's and your kindness; I am deeply honored. I am willing to
serve you faithfully!" With the end of the third toast, I officially became a new member of the faction.

Setting down his glass, Will picked up a pen and notepad from the corner of the coffee table and began writing down several names and phone numbers before handing them to
me. "Try to contact these three people when you have time. First is Old Zhang, from a family of tailors in Shanghai. Order
six suits, three formal dresses, and a dozen shirts from him. Second is Victoria, a senior public relations trainer.
You'll be taking public speaking and social etiquette courses during your annual leave. The third is Lisa, whom I just met
. After you're promoted to manager, you'll often accompany John or me to social events. Since you're single and don't have
a girlfriend , Lisa will arrange a regular female companion for you. I've already spoken to these people beforehand, and Lisa
even said she'll bring a girl tonight for you to see. Don't worry about the expenses; our faction's housing fund will cover them.
Also, here's your membership card. You can come here to relax in the future. Remember, come by yourself." The thin note felt
unreal in my hand, but the charcoal-black membership card felt substantial—I later learned it was made of specially processed
graphite , with a hardness almost comparable to diamonds.

"Alright, business's done. Now it's time for fun. Don't mind me, relax and have some fun."
Will clapped his hands. The door opened, and three beautiful, slender girls entered. Two girls
immediately flanked Will, and the three of them began teasing each other.
Although I often had intimate moments with Ruomeng and had even had a fling with Hilda, this was my first time in a nightclub, and I immediately
blushed and my heart raced.

"Hello, I'm Sophie. What would you like to drink?" Accompanied by a delicate, ethereal
fragrance , the third girl gracefully sat down to my right and asked in her magnetic voice.

I turned slightly to face her. "My name is Yi..." Before I could finish the sentence, my gaze was already fixed
on her beauty—long, wavy hair, fair skin, a round, oval face, a pert nose,
alluring red lips, and a pair of captivating eyes—
unlike the worldly gaze I had imagined a woman in the entertainment industry to have. Her eyes were calm and deep, her dark pupils filled with a magical allure. Her attire was also different from the slightly worldly outfits of
the other two girls—a white silk blouse, a suit skirt,
colorless stockings on her long, beautiful legs, and a pair of simple black high heels—completely the attire of an office worker. Especially
that white silk blouse, at first glance it seemed plain, but upon closer inspection, the material was of excellent quality, the workmanship exquisite, and
the cut perfect, further highlighting her exquisite and slender figure.

"...Oh, excuse me." I composed myself. "A martini, please."

"Starting with something this strong? You seem to have a good tolerance." The girl chuckled as she began mixing the drink.

I could tell she was mocking my inexperience—ordering strong liquor right away meant I'd get drunk quickly, and the bar
wouldn't make any money. I glanced at the waiter across from me, still sipping champagne.

A flicker of displeasure crossed my mind. "Looks like the service here is so-so. No respect for customers at all."

She remained unmoved, focused intently on mixing the drink. Her fingers were long and nimble, the nail polish on her nails
gleaming alluringly. In the blink of an eye, a martini was placed in front of me. Only then did she look up, staring at me with those
captivating eyes, and said, word by word, "I'm not a prostitute, and you're not a client. So,
there's no question of saving face." Ignoring my astonished expression, she slowly continued, "I
graduated from Shanghai University with a degree in Marketing and Public Relations. I met Lisa a few years ago, and after graduating three years ago,
I started working at her PR firm. I admire Lisa a lot; this club is just a side business for her. My dream is to be
like her, to open a truly top-notch PR firm, not one of those
brothels . A month ago, I received a call from Lisa, saying that a decent man was looking for
female companions for social occasions, a great opportunity to build connections. It seems like you're the one."

I almost held my chin as I listened to her, finding it hard to connect the person who said these things with
a woman who graduated from a prestigious university with a top-tier major. Calming myself down, I began to ask, "It seems you know my
situation very well. What can you do for me?"

"Social settings aren't places for revelry; they're platforms for various forces in the business world to connect,
channels for exchanging information, places for testing each other, and even venues for deciding whether to cooperate or fight to the death.
Sometimes men's pride can force them to make irrational choices. That's when the women around them need to
connect, mediate, and bring the men back to the negotiating table to achieve a win-win situation. So, you need
a partner like me."

"There are so many men who can help you build connections, why me of all people?" I pressed.

“You’re different from others. I actually had someone investigate you, don’t be nervous, I’m tight-lipped.” She looked at me with a suggestive
smile. “Everyone has secrets. Based on all the information, I think you have great ambitions and you
’re very discreet , which I like. I feel that partnering with you would be most beneficial for my future career.”

I was already convinced by her, but I still pressed on: “Wouldn’t you be better off with Will? He’s riding high right now?”

“He’s already satisfied with his achievements, unlike you, who are still so hungry for success. Once a man stops
striving , he starts to decay. I can already smell a hint of decay around me, look at him.” Following Sophie
’s gaze, I saw a scene, a scene of debauchery.

Just as Sophie and I were talking, Will’s symbol of desire had been freed from his trousers and
stood erect in front of us. Two girls were servicing him with their mouths, one on each side. The girls’ saliva made Will
’s genitals glisten under the light, and the sounds of swallowing and the occasional moans began to vibrate my eardrums.
Seeing us watching, the three people opposite didn't seem to care. Will, suppressing a blissful expression, gave an "OK"
sign. The two girls, busy swallowing and spitting, cast wanton and provocative glances at me. My lower body
instantly swelled to its maximum, pressing uncomfortably against my trousers.

"Ouch..." Sophie let out a soft moan, her voice suddenly rising, clearly intending for the people opposite to hear.
"I gave three training sessions to clients today, my feet are killing me from standing. Ivan, give me a massage." As
she spoke she kicked off her heels, turned, and leaned against the right armrest of the sofa, proudly
lifting her long, shapely legs onto the sofa—or rather, her beautiful, budding feet were
placed together on the bulge of my trousers, her nail-painted toes wiggling seductively. From my
angle , her honey-colored stockings were on full display. In her cloyingly sweet voice and captivating
gaze, I couldn't help but grasp her feet and begin massaging them, savoring their
softness, elasticity, and slight warmth…

"Oh…oh…so good…yes, right there, a little more pressure…" Sophie began to moan softly.
Seeing Sophie enjoying my massage, the two girls opposite her grew increasingly annoyed and stopped
their service—yes, they were desperately trying to please the man, while Sophie was controlling him
to please her. Will, whose pleasure had abruptly stopped, opened his eyes curiously. He didn't blame the two girls for stopping,
but instead watched Sophie and I's performance with interest.

"Ivan, you massaged me really well just now, now it's my turn to return the favor," Sophie suddenly said, pulling her legs back and
kneeling on the sofa to undo my belt. I was startled and quickly asked, "What...what are you doing?"—
Although I'd watched countless pornographic films, this was my first time watching a live broadcast, and I never imagined I'd be starring in one. "Are you trying
to act all high and mighty in front of Will? Don't you want to lose your job?" Sophie reminded me in a small but firm voice—yes,
if I didn't act like a frivolous, lustful womanizer today, completely swayed by temptation
, Will might become suspicious. Perhaps this whole thing was a test, a test of my absolute obedience.
Just as this thought crossed my mind, Sophie unleashed the monster of desire that had been imprisoned for so long,
letting it thrash wildly in the evening breeze.

"Relax, enjoy it," Sophie looked up and gave me a seductive smile. At that moment, I slumped back against
the sofa , relaxed, and closed my eyes.

"Oh…very manly, huh?" Sophie chuckled, her words carrying a double meaning. I thought to myself, "Aren't you
deliberately trying to embarrass me? The company starts at 8:30, I'm in the office at 8:00, and then I've been working
non-stop for twelve hours. McDonald's for lunch, KFC for dinner, how can I not smell if I haven't showered? Besides, I
didn't expect this kind of thing tonight." I opened my eyes, turned around, and was about to glare at her when
something even more devastating happened.

Sophie was still leaning against the right armrest of the sofa, still with her legs on the sofa, but this time her
pair of jade feet were in a very inappropriate place—right on my lower body, which was about to explode. Facing me, her left foot
rustled under my crotch, pushing upwards through my pants, while her right foot played with
my exposed desire monster in various ways—the intense pleasure of tingling, itching, and even a little pain instantly
overwhelmed me. "Do you like it?" Sophie asked me with her eyes half-closed as she did her best. I nodded

reluctantly while desperately suppressing the unbearable pleasure. A few minutes later, she began to envelop my waning desire in the soles of her feet, starting to move it up and down, from slow to fast. I watched as my scarlet tip struggled between her soft, boneless soles. Gradually, my relaxed body began to tense, and I felt a tingling sensation in my back, a feeling like ants crawling down my spine, surging and spreading in my pelvis… “Look into my eyes,” Sophie’s seductive voice seemed to come from the heavens, and I, drowning in a sea of desire, could only choose to submit in a daze. Her long hair flowed freely, a blush rose on her beautiful cheeks, her breath was soft, and her pearly white teeth lightly bit her lower lip—in her captivating eyes, the witch of desire flew towards me, and I knew I had no chance of winning. A flash of cold light, and the witch swung her scythe, instantly severing me at the waist… My vision went black, I screamed, and desire began to spray… onto Sophie’s face, body, legs, and feet… In my dizziness, I saw Will pull a girl who was already stunned into a frenzy and kiss her passionately, while another girl regaining her senses, impatiently straddled him and began to move up and down… “You have quite the stamina, I didn’t expect you to last so long, my legs are going to go numb if you don’t come soon,” Sophie teased in my ear. After quickly getting ready, we left the room… Stepping out of the mansion, Sophie and I both took a deep breath of the summer night air. In the courtyard, we stopped and shook hands: “Hello, partner.” The next day, I called Lisa and told her I was very satisfied with Sophie. From then on, whenever John or Will took me to social events, Sophie was always my companion . She was articulate, well-mannered, and adept at reading people and creating a pleasant atmosphere; everyone liked her. Soon , everyone around me knew I had a "girlfriend" named Sophie. No matter how much they teased or joked, I always just laughed it off, except for giving Ruomeng a detailed account of the whole affair, including everything that happened in the room that night—Ruomeng and I had no secrets. Ruomeng completely understood Sophie's arrival, but she became extremely jealous over the last detail, inviting me to her hotel for several nights in a row, declaring she wanted me to "audit" whether she or Sophie had the better " footwork "... So much so that at a subsequent social event, Sophie asked me with some concern if I was tired lately, noting my dark circles... I could only manage a wry smile. Afterwards, Sophie's network of connections expanded rapidly. After I became a senior manager, she frequently provided me with crucial intelligence during bidding processes for new clients and projects, even knowing a great deal about the inner workings of our company. I was both surprised and pleased, but never asked many questions. My relationship with Sophie has always remained at the professional level, never crossing any boundaries. Because we both know very well: she's not a prostitute, and I'm not a client. We 're partners, partners working together to maximize mutual benefits. Auditor's Erotic Tale – Part Four – Passion, Sudden. It's said that art originates from life but transcends it, but I feel that life is often more bizarre than art … One Saturday afternoon at three o'clock, as Will had instructed, I went to Old Zhang's house, from a family of tailors, to order a suit, dress, and shirt. Old Zhang's house was near the consulate district in Shanghai. When I arrived, I was surprised—it was a detached house with its own courtyard. Peeking over the wall, I could see two…

A small, three-story building. It seems being a good tailor is far more lucrative than being an auditor. A few days ago
, when I called to make an appointment, a girl answered the phone. Her voice was very pleasant, and judging from her accent, she was probably a local from Shanghai…
Thinking , I pressed the doorbell.

A light footstep approached, and a girl opened the door—she was about 1.65 meters tall and
looked slightly younger than me. Her neatly styled hair was
tied in a bun at the back of her head. She had fair skin, delicate features, and bright, expressive eyes. Unlike Ruomeng and Sophie, she had a more approachable,
girl- feel, giving off a very comfortable vibe. Furthermore, her attire was quite unique: a snow-white shirt
paired with dark trousers, a long black apron tied around her neck, and sleeves on her arms.

“Hello, I’m Ivan, here to order some clothes,” I quickly explained my purpose.

"Welcome, I'm Helen. Come in, Dad's waiting for you." — Oh, so
she's Old Zhang's daughter. After closing the door, Helen led me towards the small building. The courtyard, though not particularly decorated,
was very clean. The two-story building, in the Neo-Victorian style, wasn't large, but it looked quite old, probably
a product of the Shanghai concession era.

"Our whole family lives on the first floor, the second floor is our studio." As she spoke, we went up to the second floor. Following
Helen into the studio, my vision cleared. The entire second floor was essentially a large studio,
with four large windows lined up opposite the door, providing excellent natural light. The studio was divided into two
parts shelves against the wall neatly displayed various fabrics, and a long row of floor-standing clothes racks
held finished and semi-finished suits. There was also a separate small room in the corner.
If the left side of the studio was the "storage area," then the right side was the "work area." Several sewing machines of different
sizes , a set of professional ironing equipment, and a few tools whose names I couldn't recall
were neatly arranged in the near corner of the right side of the room. In the far corner on the right was a large rectangular workbench, which I estimated to be
about . A tall, thin man was busy at work, the sound of scissors cutting fabric clearly
audible.

"Excuse me, just a moment," the man said, his voice slightly aged.

"No problem, no problem, you go ahead with your work," I replied.

A moment later, the man stopped working and turned around. He was about sixty years old, but his tall, thin frame was not hunched. He
took off reading glasses and walked towards me. He was dressed like a girl, except that he habitually wore a
measuring tape around his neck—he was a tailor.

"Hello, Mr. Zhang. I'm Ivan, Will recommended me," I quickly shook his hand.

To my surprise, after looking me up and down, he started complaining without any restraint: "
What's this little rascal doing? Just because we've known each other since we were kids, he ordered six suits, three
tuxedos . Can you even wear all of that? Besides, even though you're tall, you're obviously
a clothes hanger. You could just buy ready-made clothes from a store and have them altered a bit, why do you have to make me do it?..."—I
found it strange; what kind of shopkeeper complains about customers buying too much stuff? "Okay, I'll take
half for now: three suits, one tuxedo, and half a dozen shirts. I'll make the rest when I have time. Helen, take his
measurements, I'm busy." He spoke quickly, and then walked back to his workbench. In an instant, my
order was cut in half by his unilateral decision, leaving me standing there dumbfounded.

"Excuse me. Ivan, this way please." Helen said as she led me to a
separate . Inside was a spacious fitting room with large mirrors on three walls, a comfortable bench, and
neatly arranged slippers, shoehorns, and other common fitting room items in one corner. A row of
colorful shoe covers—slippers with only the toe box and no upper—was on the shoe rack for matching with clothes. I
had never seen such a well-equipped fitting room.

"Please take off your clothes; there are hangers and trouser hangers over there. Call me when you're done," Helen said, making a move to leave.

"Oh, okay. Wait, something's not right," I quickly said, "I have to take off my clothes to get measured?!"

"Yes, that's more accurate. We always do it this way." Helen smiled and went out.

After I put away my shirt, trousers, and shoes, Helen came in and started taking my measurements. Watching
a strange girl measuring me from head to toe while I was only wearing underwear made me feel very awkward.
Especially when I sat down to have my shoulders measured, her upper body was almost against my chest, and the unique fragrance of a girl
made my mind wander. Oh no, I'm starting to get aroused, damn it, I'm so lewd… And just then, she
started measuring my thighs. Helen's movements were practiced, noting the measurements as she went. Seeing that she didn't seem to care, I gradually calmed
down, but I thought I saw a fleeting blush on her face…

After the measurements were taken, I dressed and started choosing fabrics. To be honest, the variety of fabrics wasn't huge, but they were all
top-quality imported European fabrics, completely different from the mixed quality fabrics displayed in ordinary suit shops.
In the end, I chose three suits—sapphire blue, dark charcoal gray, and a light-colored fabric for summer. A basic tuxedo
. I chose white for all six shirts, just with different thread counts, collars, and cuff styles—I quite
like wearing suits, and my company has strict dress codes, so I've done some research on suits and shirts. Helen
praised my choices, and Old Zhang, after seeing them, couldn't help but laugh and say, "You little rascal, you have a good eye.
People who are 'big-breasted' (Shanghai slang for tall and strong) use a lot of fabric, and you've picked such good materials. Damn it
, I've lost money on this deal."

The old-fashioned clock on the wall started chiming; it was four in the afternoon. "Everthing
stops for tea! Let's go downstairs for tea!" Old
Zhang's clear and resonant pronunciation surprised me. The three of us then went downstairs, Helen began preparing tea, and Old Zhang and I
sat down to chat. As Will had mentioned before, Old Zhang's family had been tailors for generations,
and since the Self-Strengthening Movement, they had sent their sons to apprentice in Savilero, a street in Europe known as the
"golden path of Western tailors." Old Zhang worked for many years in a famous shop on that street when he was young. Now, his two
sons are diligently learning and practicing there, following in their father's footsteps
. Helen, his younger daughter, became his apprentice two years ago after graduating from textile university.

"Apprenticeship was tough when I was young," Old Zhang sighed. "The foreign masters were very strict; if you cut the fabric badly, you'd get a beating."
They'll even deduct wages. We work from morning till night, and the only time we look forward to is afternoon tea. Because of
the very thickening stops for tea... Only then can we apprentices catch our breath.

I took a cup of black tea from Helen, and a refreshing citrus aroma wafted towards me. I initially thought it was
Earl Grey, but upon closer inspection, the fragrance contained hints of lemon and orange. Taking a sip, the taste was
slightly milder than "Earl Green," and I felt I could guess pretty accurately: "This is Countess tea,

isn't it?" "Haha, yes, that's right." Old Zhang seemed very pleased: "You young man are just to my liking.
Not only do you have an eye for clothes, but you also know about black tea—you have great taste. How many young people these days understand black tea
? Most grew up drinking tea bags, and they don't even care about the strength of the flavor. They add a lot of milk to 'Darjeeling,' which is best
enjoyed neat, it's such a waste..." I quickly said I was flattered. Once
we started talking, Old Zhang and I chatted smoothly.

When I curiously asked Old Zhang how much the suit I ordered cost, he said, "2000..."
I quickly said that the price was fair. He smiled and said he was trading in Hong Kong dollars. "..." He had barely finished
speaking when I almost spat out my tea—I couldn't remember the exchange rate at the time, but even now, with
the Hong Kong dollar plummeting, the exchange rate to the Chinese yuan was 1:5.8!

Seeing my shocked expression, Old Zhang explained, "The suits here are truly 'tailor-made.'
From taking measurements and selecting materials to cutting and sewing, and finally to the finished garment, I personally handle everything,
making them on-site in my upstairs studio. A newly trained tailor takes an average of 80 hours to make such a suit, a skilled one takes 70
hours , and even I, considered highly skilled, still need 60 hours! Absolutely authentic 'Savelro' craftsmanship!
Honest and fair, no bargaining! — I'm really sorry I didn't take your measurements myself earlier; I was cutting
fabric and couldn't be interrupted. Don't worry, Helen's measurements will be absolutely perfect—unlike those 'new' suits outside..."
"These fake (Shanghai dialect) bespoke suit shops just have a tailor take your measurements and then
outsource to large garment factories in nearby towns. Even if the tailor's measurements are correct, the factory
workers will still make a mess of it. This so-called 'tailor-made' is often worse than buying ready-made clothes. Sigh,
the market People who've only attended a few months of clothing-making training courses dare to call themselves tailors, everyone's just thinking about
how to rip off customers. It's a disgrace to the title of 'tailor.'"

As he spoke, Old Zhang's eyes shone with pride, and he seemed to have instantly become 10 years younger.
I was suddenly moved—we were the same kind of people, both choosing to dedicate our lives to pursuing our career
ideals , only he had already achieved success, while I was still on my way… Throughout our conversation, Helen sat beside me
, listening with great interest.

Before I knew it, it was another Saturday afternoon, and I arrived at Old Zhang's house as promised to have my clothes fitted. The sun was shining brightly before I left home, but
the sky soon darkened, and I heard on the radio in the taxi that heavy rain was expected in a few hours. When I arrived,
Helen greeted me at the door. Today, she had her long hair loosely braided into a thick plait at the back of her head, without
an apron. As soon as she entered the yard, she apologized profusely—Old Zhang had caught a cold and had a fever the night before, and his
mother had taken him to the hospital for an IV drip, so Helen would be doing the sample taking today. I quickly assured her it was alright.

Since we were about the same age, Helen and I quickly warmed up to each other, and the sample taking went smoothly. I praised her for
taking accurate measurements on her first attempt, saying she had excellent skills, and she smiled and thanked me. It was then that I noticed she was wearing a
cream-colored women's blouse. Although the style was traditional, the neckline was low, and the cut was close-fitting and neat, making the whole
garment fit her perfectly. The same applied to her lower body, which she paired with a black A-line long skirt. The fabric draped beautifully
without appearing heavy, and the design, while seemingly traditional, featured a well-placed slit on one side. As she gracefully
moved about, her beautiful legs were subtly revealed beneath the skirt—in short, this outfit achieved a
delicate balance between solemnity and sexiness. Too much solemnity would have been stiff, and too much sexiness would have been obscene.
Moreover, I noticed that she actually had a great figure, which had been concealed by her loose-fitting workwear-like attire during our first meeting
. I couldn't help but compliment her outfit, sharing my thoughts with her. She suddenly became very happy,
her cheeks flushed with excitement, praising my good taste and saying that it was no wonder her father had praised her—it turned out that this
outfit was her own creation. Two years ago, she graduated from a textile university with a degree in fashion design and had been pursuing a "
neoclassical" design approach, emphasizing the fusion of tradition and innovation. Although this style wasn't popular in the market,
she was determined to persist, so she decided to apprentice with her father for a few years to hone her skills. As we were talking,
a torrential downpour began outside, accompanied by thunder and lightning.

I was stuck at Old Zhang's house, seemingly destined to wait for the rain to stop. Helen said she was going to participate in
a design competition for a famous fashion magazine next month, designing menswear for the first time, and then she continued working on her designs at her workbench.
I sat not far behind her, flipping through fashion magazines—I'm ashamed to admit, even though I'm a grown man
, I enjoy reading these kinds of magazines, especially Japanese magazines like "Fengcai."

After what seemed like an eternity, I was suddenly startled by a loud "thump." Helen had slammed her fist hard
on the workbench. "No, no, no! This isn't it!" she cried angrily. "I need dynamism! Driftiness
!" In her frustration, she even started scratching her hair, her braid coming undone.

I went over to look, and saw many quick sketches of menswear and model images on the workbench, but
Helen was clearly dissatisfied with none of them; her face was filled with anxiety.

"Don't rush, take a break if you're lacking inspiration. I'll go downstairs and make you some black tea. See
how well I make it, and see what flavor you like..." I was about to go downstairs when Helen pulled me back. Her cheeks were flushed,
her eyes were bright, and she was staring intently at my face.

"Come with me," she said, dragging me into the fitting room without further ado, and then commanding, "Take it off,
take it off now!"

What?! I was dumbfounded...

"Clothes, clothes, you idiot (Shanghai dialect for fool), take off your clothes and pants, quick." She
commanded without further ado, then quickly went to the outer room to get her sketchbook and pencil. When she came back and saw me still dawdling, she rushed up
and ripped open the front of my shirt, buttons flying everywhere. "You! Hurry up! Take it off!" In her beast-like roar,
I was once again stripped down to my underwear in the fitting room.

"Okay, now listen to my instructions, do the movements, and then don't move. Until I give the next command."

And so began my first experience as a model. For every movement I made, Helen was
intently sketching and writing rapidly in her sketchbook. Sometimes she would rush over and touch me here, pinch me there
... Ouch, my butt got pinched hard a few times, it hurt so much. It's strange, where does a girl get so much
strength? I didn't understand, but seeing how engrossed she was, I silently cooperated. Soon she rushed out again and
didn't come back for several minutes. I was so tired from posing that I couldn't help but leave the fitting room. She was already frantically drawing
design sketches, and every now and then she would quickly operate on the Apple laptop next to her, choosing the right color scheme—I
wanted to ask if I could put on my clothes, but I didn't want to disturb her, so I silently came out naked and continued
to sit behind her flipping through magazines.

"Ah!!! I've got it, I've got it, this is it, this is it!" Helen suddenly shouted,
jumping up and down before turning around and lunging at me like a madwoman—she really lunged at me—I quickly threw down the magazine
and stood up. Luckily, I was quick enough, or I would have been knocked down on the spot.

To cushion the impact, I could only spin around a few times before leaning against the workbench to steady myself. "I have
a design , I have a design," Helen's face was flushed with excitement as she hugged me tightly. I could clearly feel
the hem of her breasts against my bare chest. Perhaps because she had been jumping and running, the slit in her long skirt had somehow ended up in front of her, and
my lower body slipped into her skirt. A woman's fragrance assaulted my senses, and my desire
surged , pressing hard against her soft belly.

"Oh..." I groaned, quickly trying to bend over to escape this embarrassing situation. To my surprise, Helen
didn't separate from me. Instead, her face flushed, her eyes brimming with desire, she stared at me and
slowly said, "I have another set of works..." As she spoke, she first grabbed my left hand and placed it on her chest—
before I knew it, I had my hand on her full, soft breasts; then she grabbed my right hand and slipped it under her skirt, clamping it tightly
between —in a flash, a wave of hot, desireful heat spread from my fingertips throughout my body.
"...I'll show you...it's inside..." Her hot, rapid breaths sprayed heavily onto my ear, her
seductive murmurs vibrating my eardrums like thunder. In an instant, I became a slave to desire.

I lowered my head and kissed Helen passionately, our tongues and saliva entwining wildly. I bent down
and swept everything off the workbench with my left hand, scattering drafts and renderings everywhere… Then I pulled my hand back to
support her back, and with my right hand, I reached under her crotch, scooped up her plump buttocks, and gently tossed her onto the thick
wooden workbench. She let out a soft cry, giggling and inviting me with her burning eyes. Impatiently
unbuttoning all her clothes, I yanked open her shirt, and she kicked off her skirt in a few quick movements.

Immediately, my gaze was drawn to Helen's other "work"—a masterpiece, truly a masterpiece.
A perfectly conservative pure white three-quarter cup bra embroidered with elegant patterns, resembling
the conservative and sacred corsets of medieval Western court ladies. Yet, the white sheer cups were unpadded,
clearly revealing the two already erect, rosy nipples at the tips of her breasts, which seemed to have pierced through the sheer fabric,
shamelessly exuding an alluring aura. The same pure white panties, made of the same material, were also elegantly designed on the front,
as if proclaiming the wearer's purity. However, the crotch area, which should have been padded, was still made of white gauze. Because of
the overflowing love fluid, the gauze was already soaked and transparent, making the flower buds, which were blooming with excessive excitement, completely visible. The back of
the panties was designed with a T-shape, and the narrow fabric was completely embedded in the cleavage of her full buttocks...

"Is it pretty, Ivan?" Helen's face was flushed with excitement, her misty eyes staring at me, and her chest
was gradually rising with a red flush.

"Yes, it's pretty." I leaned down and praised her wholeheartedly, then changed the subject: "But..."

"But what?" she asked quickly.

"But only a slut would wear this." I deliberately pronounced the word "slut" very hard.

With a soft moan, Helen writhed like a snake. And with the last bit of my rationality, I carefully
removed my "work" from her body—I guess she had spent a lot of time on it.

Without any foreplay, I thrust into her. We both gasped simultaneously, followed
by the tightness, the heat, and the layers of flesh, our bodies wrestling on the workbench.

"Oh...yes...oh...deeper!" Helen cried out, her legs wrapped tightly around my waist. I never
imagined her girl-next-door-like body could contain such immense sexual power.

After a while, seeing her breathing heavily, I grabbed a roll of white shirt fabric from the workbench, used it to
elevate her waist, took a deep breath, and began to slowly and deliberately thrust into her passage from below to the upper left.

Her cries suddenly rose, then she began to moan in Shanghainese: "Oh... my love... so good... so good
..." (So good... I'm dying of pleasure)

Those sticky, soft Shanghainese words only lingered in my ears for a few minutes before my head swelled, and I felt
my pent-up desire about to explode: "Oh... I'm coming, what should I do?" (I'm coming, what should I do?)

"Inside, inside, I want to see you release your fire, my love..." (Inside, shoot inside, I want to see
you release your fire) Helen stared intently at me. Suddenly, her cries abruptly stopped, and her body began
to tremble . I knew she was there, so I quickly stopped what I was doing, pulled her into my arms, and relaxed my body, letting her
layered, undulating passages begin to gnaw at the tip of my desire, again and again… Suddenly, I also erupted… She, who had been gradually calming down, seemed to sense the pulse of my desire and suddenly let out a series of indistinct murmurs
along with my outburst … Outside the window, the wind and rain continued to rage… After regaining my senses, Helen and I quickly cleaned up the mess. I was really grateful for the rain, otherwise her parents might have been back much earlier. I felt quite embarrassed after the passion subsided—after all, we had only met twice. But Helen didn't seem to care much. After we finished cleaning up, I spoke first: "I'm sorry, Helen… I…" " Don't say sorry," her expression had returned to calm, and she continued, "I 've done but I just can't break through the bottleneck… Just now , when I saw you get up, turn around, and walk towards the stairs, I suddenly realized: clothes are worn on people, and people always need to move, so in design…"

When cutting clothes, we need to consider the state of muscles and bones when people make various movements in daily life. This
will give the clothes a sense of movement, which is why I asked you to be my temporary model today. "I never expected that doing this would actually
inspire me..."

She paused, then continued, "Many people around me—including my boyfriend—think that '
neoclassicism' requires both respect for tradition and independent innovation, demanding a lot of effort from designers, but the results
are often thankless—simply put, the more effort designers put in, the higher the cost, but ordinary
consumers don't buy it, and those with purchasing power may not appreciate it. But I always felt that designers should have their own
understanding and persistence in art, and only my father supports me on this point. That day, I saw you two chatting so happily, and I guessed that perhaps you
were also a confidant of mine. Now it seems that's indeed the case. The pressure that had accumulated over this period of time suddenly disappeared, and coupled with
the great joy, I lost control all at once. So you don't need to mind. Also... I will take relevant measures myself,
so you don't need to worry even more..."

Helen had said this much, so I naturally had nothing to say; although I still had questions in my heart, it was inappropriate to ask more
... Later, every time I went to Old Zhang's house, I would still see Helen, but we were both distant, as if there had been a transparent wall
between . Years later, I saw
a photo of Hel En on the cover of a fashion magazine—she looked radiant and full of life, with a headline proclaiming:
"A Dedication to Art—An Interview with Hel En, a New Designer of Neoclassicism"...

"Congratulations, Hel En!" I thought to myself...

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