Chapter 41
As the clock struck six, the marketing department was emptied of its occupants, Jenny among the last to depart.
Engrossed in my work, I remained at my desk until half past seven, hunger gnawing at my insides to the point where it felt as though my back was adhering to my chest. The cafeteria had long since closed its doors for the day, prompting me to order a pair of takeout meals.
As I awaited the arrival of food, Lily suddenly craned her neck, complaining, "After such a long day, my neck and waist are aching."
Her words instantly illuminated her intentions.
So this was the reason she had requested my presence for overtime!
Yet, her hints were so delicately veiled, weren't they?
A playful urge overcame me, and I feigned ignorance, choosing to remain engrossed in my work.
In an effort to conserve electricity, the overhead lights in the marketing department had been extinguished, leaving only the soft glow of two desk lamps to illuminate our workspace.
Overtime opportunities were a rarity in the marketing department, but travel for work was a frequent occurrence. To facilitate smoother communication, I had chosen the workstation adjacent to hers.
Noticing my lack of response, her expression soured. "John, let me see the project plan you're working on!" she demanded.
"Lily, it's not yet complete!" I protested.
"Hand it over," she insisted, extending her hand in a manner that brooked no refusal.
Reluctantly, I shared the incomplete plan with her. After a cursory review, she dismissed it coldly, "Your plan is subpar, unacceptable. Redo it!"
Her words stung. Was this retribution for my failure to offer a massage?
"Allow me to revise it," I offered, returning to the task at hand.
Despite her continued hints, I remained steadfast in my pretense of ignorance. Hunger had sapped me of nearly all my energy; I had none left to spare for a massage.
"John, fetch me a cup of coffee!" she ordered.
Nodding in acquiescence, I collected her cup and retreated to the pantry to prepare her coffee.
Ten minutes later, the takeout arrived. "Lily, you must be famished. Let's eat," I suggested.
"Takeout is so unhygienic, I..." she began to protest.
The meals I had ordered were a careful selection of her favorite dishes, a balanced assortment of meat and vegetables.
Upon recognizing her favorite dishes, her protestations faltered. I extended the meal towards her, but she remained unmoved.
Did she expect me to feed her?
"I'll feed you," I offered.
"I don't want it!" she retorted.
"Come on, you'll get your hands dirty," I reasoned, adopting a tone that left no room for argument. She had always been partial to a touch of dominance, a hint of tyranny. She wouldn't refuse.
I picked up a morsel of food with the fork, coaxing, "Open your mouth."
"I won't!" she defied.
"Be good. You need to eat well to have the energy for overtime," I cajoled, my voice a soothing baritone. "If you don't open your mouth, I'll pry it open."
"John, you wouldn't dare!" she challenged, her eyes ablaze with anger. I met her fiery gaze with calm resolve, her confidence wavering under my steady stare.
After a moment, her eyes took on a wild look, and I noticed her hands wringing together nervously.
"Be a good girl, listen," I urged.
She huffed indignantly, but eventually relented, opening her mouth.
I fed her, bite by bite, maintaining a silence that she didn't dare to break. The slight squint at the corners of her eyes betrayed her inner satisfaction.
Twenty minutes later, after the final morsel had been consumed, I gently wiped the corners of her mouth with a tissue.
She sat rigidly, a hint of nervousness in her posture. Once I had finished, she finally found her voice, "John, don't ever speak to me like that again, understand? I'm your supervisor!"
"Exactly because you're my supervisor, that's why I did it," I retorted, continuing to eat. "Isn't it right for colleagues to look out for each other?"
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