╭───────────╮

WOMEN - INTERACTIONS

===============

Jasmine: Interest: 40 / 60★★

Kayla: Interest: 5 / 20

Tessa: Interest: 27 / 40★★

Kim: Interest: 30 / 40★★

Delilah: Interest: 37 / 40★★

Cora: Interest: 100 / 100★★★★★

Mendy: Interest: 6/20

Nala: Interest: 66/80

Penelope: Interest: 3/20

Minne: Interest: 1/20

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Progress:

★☆☆☆☆ - 20 Interest: Milestone reward

★★☆☆☆ - 40 Interest: Milestone reward

★★★☆☆ - 60 Interest: Milestone reward

★★★★☆ - 80 Interest: Milestone reward

★★★★★ -100 Interest: Milestone reward

===============

Select a woman to track progress.

╰───────────╯

Jasmine slid off the bed and stopped me mid-buckle, her fingers brushing mine away from the pants. With a wicked smirk, she pushed me back onto the mattress. The sheets were still warm from sleep.

"I don't have a clause in my contract," she purred, eyes glinting. "But I still love sucking that dick. May I, Master?"

"Ah—" I shook my head, half-laughing. "Come on, Jasmine."

She ignored me, unbuckling the pants I'd barely started on and sliding them down my legs in one smooth pull. My cock lay soft against my thigh. She wrapped her fingers around it, stroking slow, the tip brushing my tight stomach, then my belly button. Libido kicked in fast—blood rushing, shaft thickening in her hand. Her eyes never left mine.

Nala stood near the door, arms crossed, giving us a side-eye. She clearly didn't want to watch, but curiosity pinned her in place.

"Mm," Jasmine murmured, leaning in to inhale. "It smells so good. Seriously, Evan—are you dipping this thing in some kind of drug?"

I chuckled inwardly. 'Wait till Pleasure hits twenty.' The skill was a late bloomer—I hadn't felt real effects until fifteen. Twenty would be wild. Thirty? The sight alone might make them cum. I just had to grind.

Jasmine took me into her mouth, warm and wet. She angled my cock to the side of her cheek, poking the tip through with her index finger. The bulge was obscene. I groaned, one hand bracing behind me on the bed, pleasure flooding my nerves.

"Mm, yes baby, moan," she said, bobbing her head. "Let me hear it."

"Oh, god—" I muttered. "Yes. Keep going."

"W-we'll be late—" Nala said, voice small, shifting her weight.

"I know…" I breathed. "Just… give me a minute, Nala."

Jasmine worked faster, tongue swirling. I looked up, smiled at Nala frozen by the door.

"Actually—come here. It'll speed things up."

"W-what?"

"Come on," I said, grinning. "I won't bite."

Jasmine chuckled around my cock. Nala took reluctant steps forward. I grabbed her arm gently, pulled her onto my left leg. She sat stiff at first, then melted as I kissed her deep, one hand sliding under her blouse to cup a tit through the bra. My other hand slipped between her thighs, rubbing her cunt through pantyhose and panties. She was already soaked.

Nala moaned into my mouth, hugging me tight. Her shy eyes flicked down to Jasmine, who noticed and flashed a closed-eye smile, peace sign up, teeth grazing my tip before bobbing again.

"Y-you love spoiling him, huh?" Nala said, voice trembling.

"Hey, he spoils us," Jasmine replied, pulling off to jerk me slow. "Why not return the favor? Yesterday I was in a shithole. Now look."

"I… guess you're right," Nala smiled. "D-does my tit feel good, Evan?"

"Fucking magnificent," I said, rubbing harder.

I unbuttoned her shirt, buttons popping one by one. Her bra strained, tits barely contained. I tugged the cups down—bra now under them, pushing them up like an offering. Pink nipples hard. I latched onto one, sucking hard, tongue flicking.

Jasmine chuckled, mouth back on my cock. "Greedy boy."

"Fuck yes," I groaned against Nala's skin. "Your tits are perfect. So full. So sensitive."

Nala whimpered, hips grinding against my hand. "Evan…"

Jasmine deep-throated me, gagging softly. "Look at her squirm. She's gonna cum just from this."

I switched nipples, biting gently. "You love watching, don't you, Nala? My cock in her throat."

"Y-yes," she admitted, breathless.

Jasmine pulled off, stroking fast. "Cum in my mouth, baby. I'll swallow every drop. Watch close, Nala—this is how you take it all."

She dove back down, sucking hard. I latched onto Nala's nipple, eyes shutting as the pressure built.

"Close—" I warned.

Jasmine hummed, throat relaxing. I exploded—thick ropes shooting down her throat. She gulped loud, audible swallows echoing. Nala's legs shook on my thigh, her own orgasm hitting from the rubbing and the show.

"God," Nala moaned. "You're… swallowing it all?"

Jasmine gave one final bob, pulled off with a pop. "Easy when it tastes this good. Sweet, warm—like dessert."

I smiled, lifted Nala off my leg, set her on the bed. Buckled my pants. "Let's go. Don't wanna be late, huh?"

Nala chuckled, buttoning her shirt with shaky fingers, then stood. "Yeah, you're right."

❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎

I sat in the glass-walled conference room adjacent to the boardroom, the kind of space that screamed "TechForge" money—frosted panels etched with circuit-like patterns, ergonomic chairs that cost more than my old rent, and a massive oak table polished to a mirror shine.

The room overlooked the sprawling open-plan office below: rows of standing desks with triple monitors, employees in hoodies and sneakers tapping away at code, holographic projections of data streams floating above collaborative pods. The place hummed with innovation—whiteboards scrawled with algorithms, coffee bars stocked with artisanal roasts, and a central atrium with vertical gardens dripping with ferns and succulents, the air fresh with humidity and the faint tang of ozone from the servers humming in the basement.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline, turning the whole operation into a glass cathedral of silicon dreams. TechForge wasn't just a company; it was a fortress of code and ambition, every corner designed to make you feel like you were building the future.

╭────────────────────╮

- Quest Available

==========================

- Title: Just Making Sure

- Task: Make sure Nala wins the voting.

- Reward: 50c

==========================

- Accept Quest? [Yes] [No]

╰────────────────────╯

I accepted. Nala was Guy's sister, but that didn't mean the board would hand her the keys. Six votes, six potential landmines. I had to find them, talk to them, lock in at least a majority before the meeting started. Phone out—Nala's photos loaded, the photos that she had sent me on which board member was going to be there. Time to hunt.

The TechForge lobby alone was a flex: thirty-foot ceilings, LED constellations pulsing overhead, a reception desk carved from a single slab of reclaimed redwood. Employees streamed past in noise-canceling headphones, badges swinging. I slipped through security with the guest pass Nala had texted me, then hit the elevators—brushed steel, voice-activated floors.

"Enginerring wing."

The doors slid open on the third floor. Open-plan chaos: standing desks in neat rows, holographic code reviews floating mid-air, the low hum of mechanical keyboards. I scanned faces against the photos.

First target: Victor Hale, VP of Engineering. Balding, wire-rim glasses, TechForge polo. I spotted him near the espresso bar, sipping from a mug that read Code or Die.

I weaved through clusters of devs arguing about microservices, sidestepped a drone delivering printouts, and fell in step beside him.

"Victor?" I matched his stride toward the glass-walled war room. "Evan Marlowe. Nala's associate."

He stopped mid-sip, eyeing me over the rim. "The coffee shop guy?"

"Yup." I flashed an easy smile. "Quick word before the vote?"

He glanced at his smartwatch. "Thirty seconds."

╭────────────────────╮

- Persuasion Attempt: Victor Hale

==========================

☐☐☐

==========================

Remaining Chances: 0/2

╰────────────────────╯

Alright. No room for error.

I stepped closer, dropping my voice so only he could hear over the clatter of keyboards and the hiss of the espresso machine. His cologne, cedar and something sharp, mixed with the burnt-coffee smell clinging to his mug.

╭────────────────────╮

- Attempting Persuasion

==========================

"Nala knows Guy's secrets,

the board's blind spots.

Voting for her is stability."

==========================

Base Chance: 45%

Honeyed Words: +30%

==========================

Final Chance: 75%

Upon Succeeding: ☑

╰────────────────────╯

"Nala knows Guy's secrets," I murmured, lips close to his ear. "The board's blind spots. Voting for her is voting for stability."

Victor rubbed his chin, coffee sloshing. "She's green. No executive experience."

"But loyal. And she's been in every shadow meeting for years."

╭────────────────────╮

- Persuasion Attempt: Victor Hale

==========================

☑☐☐

==========================

Remaining Chances: 1/2

╰────────────────────╯

One box. Good start.

╭────────────────────╮

- Attempting Persuasion

==========================

"Guy's gone. Chaos incoming.

Nala's the bridge, smooth transition,

stock holds steady."

==========================

Base Chance: 30%

Honeyed Words: +30%

==========================

Final Chance: 60%

Upon Succeeding: ☑

╰────────────────────╯

I leaned in again, voice velvet. "Guy's gone. Chaos incoming. Nala's the bridge, smooth transition, stock holds steady.

He paused, then nodded once. "Alright… I'll think on that. I still—I don't know, Mr. Marlowe. I think I'll vote for her, that's what my instincts say."

╭────────────────────╮

- Persuasion Attempt: Victor Hale

==========================

☑☑☐

==========================

Remaining Chances: 2/2-Success!

╰────────────────────╯

One locked. I clapped his shoulder lightly—firm, familiar. "Appreciate it."

He grunted and disappeared into the war room. I was already moving—elevator down to finance.

Fourth floor: the shift was immediate. The elevator doors slid open to a hush—thick carpet swallowing footsteps, frosted glass offices glowing with soft LED strips, nameplates in sleek sans-serif etched on brushed steel. No clacking keyboards, no nothing. Just the low hum of air-conditioning and the occasional rustle of paper. Finance lived here, where code turned into commas and commas turned into power.

I moved down the hallway, badge clipped to my belt, eyes scanning. Elena—sharp black bob, pearl studs glinting under recessed lighting. Her door was cracked open, a sliver of light spilling onto the carpet. I peeked in: she sat at a glass desk, red pen slashing through printed spreadsheets like a surgeon, highlighters lined up in military precision—yellow, pink, green. A dual-monitor setup glowed behind her, stock tickers crawling in real time. The air smelled faintly of bergamot from a diffuser on the shelf.

I knocked once, light but firm.

"Elena?" I stepped in just enough to be seen. "Evan Marlowe. Nala's friend."

She didn't look up immediately, pen still moving. "Coffee shop guy." Her voice was crisp, dry. "This better be good—I've got numbers bleeding red and a board vote in twenty minutes."

I closed the door behind me, soft click. "It's about the vote. Two minutes, tops."

She finally glanced up, eyes sharp behind thin frames. "Clock's ticking."

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