Hank woke up, a lingering warmth still clinging to his skin, a phantom echo of Doria's touch. The memory of the night's activities was etched into his body, a delicious ache in his muscles, a satisfied thrum in his veins. Doria had finally left around 2 AM, the memory of her departure a mix of satisfaction and playful chaos.

  He could almost hear the echoes of the girls' laughter, their playful teasing as Doria had entered their room. They had given her a hard time, their voices filled with a mix of awe and playful accusation. But she had silenced them, her voice laced with a triumphant pride, when she had recounted the night's events, the details of her encounter with Hank. The number of times he had come, the sheer intensity of the orgasms he had given her.

  "Holy hell, what is he, a fucking machine?" one of them had exclaimed, her voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and envy.

  Hank chuckled at that, the sound low and satisfied as he reached for the glass of whiskey he had left on the nightstand. He took a long sip, the amber liquid warming him from the inside out. Then, he had finally succumbed to exhaustion, the girls' voices fading into the background as he drifted off to sleep. They hadn't known he had heard them, their reactions only adding to the delicious memory of the night.

  Now, he looked at the clock. 9:15 AM. The day stretched before him, filled with promise and possibility. Today, he would meet with Constance, finalize the paperwork for his new job, and solidify his transition into this new, exhilarating chapter of his life. And this afternoon, he would go to the volleyball tournament, a promise he intended to keep with relish.

  He smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. The thought of seeing Doria again, of witnessing her in her element, directing her team, ignited a spark of excitement within him. But it wasn't just Doria. He remembered the other girl, Courtney. The short blond with the blue eyes. The way she moved, even from the brief glimpse he'd had, suggested a fiery energy. He imagined capturing her in action, the sweat glistening on her skin as she played, the power in her serves and spikes, the intensity in her focused gaze. The thought was intoxicating. He felt a surge of anticipation, a hunger to capture them all, to immortalize their beauty and athleticism through his lens.

  He swung his legs off the bed and headed for the shower, the hot water a welcome sensation against his skin. As he washed himself, his body responding to the memories of the night, he found his cock hard, a persistent reminder of his potent desire. He was surprised, considering the intensity of the previous night's activities. It should be spent, sated.

  "No, love. You are always ready for them all. For us all," he heard Maerisa's voice in his head, a whisper in the wind, a seductive echo that sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

  He smirked, a touch of arrogance in his expression. "What is this plan of yours?" he said out loud, the question a challenge, a bait.

  There was no response, only the sound of the water cascading around him. He didn't really think she would answer, but it was worth a try. The mystery surrounding her, the cryptic nature of her words, only fueled his curiosity and his desire.

  ---

  Maerisa stood by the beach, the energy of the volleyball tournament already thrumming in the air. The sun beat down on the sand, reflecting off the ocean in a dazzling display of light. She knew Hank was on his way, the thought of his impending arrival sending a ripple of anticipation through her. The fact that he had considered her, her feelings, before fully accepting the job offer, was a significant detail, a gesture that resonated deeply within her. It proved, in a way, that he truly was the right one. The true Elven king, even if he had the freedom to have a hundred wives and indulge in any desire, would always hold his chosen ones' feelings paramount in his heart. He wasn't her king yet, but he thought of her first, and that was enough, for now.

  She scanned the crowd of girls, hundreds of them, ranging in age from sixteen to forty. She could feel the subtle currents of their thoughts, the undercurrents of desire and curiosity. She saw several of them who knew of Hank, their minds already buzzing with anticipation. Her gaze lingered on one particular girl.

  Julie. She was about twenty-six, her body a testament to athleticism and discipline. Her chest, while not overly large, was perky and firm, her limbs slim and toned. She had striking green eyes, flecked with gold, and fiery red hair that cascaded down her back in waves. But it wasn't her physical appearance that drew Maerisa's attention. It was the intensity of her thoughts, the fervent longing that simmered beneath the surface.

  Her thoughts were consumed by her sister. Nell. She had been at the con, a few days ago, and had her picture taken by Hank. And she hadn't stopped talking about it since. The way he had made her feel, special, beautiful, seen. It wasn't just about the photos, though they were stunning. It was the way he had looked at her, the way he had spoken to her, the way he had captured her essence.

  Her sister, of course, was only fourteen years old. She had cosplayed as Spider-Woman, a bold and confident portrayal of the iconic hero. Online, she went by @webslinger.nell, and she had a growing following. Hank had made her feel like a superstar, a goddess, when he took her pictures. It was a feeling she had never experienced before, a sense of validation and empowerment.

  And she had taken his picture, a candid shot of Hank in his element, and shown it to her sister. Julie. From that moment, Julie's world had shifted. She had found him fucking hot. The raw masculinity, the intensity in his eyes, the undeniable charisma that radiated from him. Even Nell, with her youthful innocence, had agreed. But she knew, with a pang of bittersweet longing, that a man like Hank could never even consider a girl her age.

  But Julie knew her own tastes, and she knew her sister had the same. A fierce, possessive desire had taken root within her. She had to see him again. She had to be near him. She had to feel that same magnetic pull that had captivated her sister. So, she had subtly manipulated the situation, ensuring her sister showed her the pictures, highlighting Hank's appeal. Now, it was all Julie could think of. The thought of him, the memory of his image, sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine, a flutter in her chest. She imagined his hands on her, his eyes on her, his voice in her ear. The fantasy was both terrifying and intoxicating.

  Maerisa whispered an incantation, the ancient Elven words flowing from her lips with a soft power. She blew a kiss, the gesture delicate yet potent. The incantation transformed into a wisp of purple smoke, invisible to all but Maerisa's eyes. The smoke danced across the beach, a fleeting tendril of magic, and then it was absorbed into Julie.

  The spell wasn't to amplify Julie's desire for Hank; her longing was already a vibrant flame that needed no fanning. This was about something more essential: her health. If Julie was to be one of the chosen, she needed to be in peak condition, her body a flawless vessel.

  Julie, mid-stride, stumbled. Her body convulsed with a sudden, violent cough. It wracked her frame, a deep, guttural expulsion that brought her doubling over. Her trainer, instantly alert, rushed to her side, concern etched on her face. "Julie, you okay?" she asked, her voice tight with worry.

  Julie coughed again, the sound raw and wet. This time, it wasn't just air and spittle. A thick glob of phlegm, streaked and laced with dark blood, splattered onto the sand. But this wasn't bright red blood; it was almost black, clinging to a tar-like substance.

  "For crying out loud, Julie, I want you to sit this out," her trainer insisted, her eyes wide with alarm.

  Julie, breathing heavily, straightened up slowly. "No, really coach, I'm okay. I actually feel a thousand times better," she said, her voice hoarse but surprisingly clear.

  "Really, Julie? You just coughed up blood," her coach pointed out, her skepticism obvious.

  Julie frowned, confused. She looked down at the sand. The bloody phlegm was gone. Erased, as if it had never been there. "Did I?" she asked, her mind struggling to reconcile the vivid sensation with the clean sand. She had felt it, the awful thickness in her chest, the burning rawness of the cough. She had seen it, the dark, horrifying fleck marring the sand.

  "It was right there," the coach insisted, her eyes still fixed on the spot.

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  Julie nodded slowly. "I really feel good, coach," she insisted, her voice gaining strength. A strange lightness had filled her chest, a sense of release she hadn't realized she'd been carrying. The rawness in her throat was gone.

  "Okay, but first sign of problems and I pull you," the coach conceded, her concern still evident.

  Julie nodded, her gratitude sincere. "I promise you, coach, I'm alright," she said, and with a renewed energy, she turned back to training.

  Maerisa, watching from the edge of the beach, smirked, a hint of satisfaction curving her lips. Her gaze dropped to the sand near her feet. A faint smear of dark residue was visible, quickly dissipating in the heat. Julie's blood. Maerisa had moved it, the evidence of the expelled sickness.

  "Smoked a little when you were younger," she whispered, her voice low and thoughtful. Julie hadn't just coughed up blood; she had coughed up the tar and congestion that had been clinging to her lungs. Her spell had worked. Julie was cleansed, healed, ready. It was important.

  ---

  Hank walked into the sterile, corporate lobby of the office building, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and unfulfilled dreams. He saw Tina looking up from her desk, her expression instantly sour. She frowned, a deep, unpleasant crease forming between her eyebrows. "You again. What do you want this time?" she asked, her voice a low, venomous hiss.

  Hank, unfazed, just smiled, a disarming, almost mocking smile that only seemed to irritate her further. "Well, hello to you too, Tina," he said, his tone light and breezy, a stark contrast to her hostile demeanor.

  She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her lips curling in distaste. "So, she told you my name, did she?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Hank's smile widened, a touch of amusement in his eyes. "By 'she,' I guess you mean our boss, Miss Hanigan? Yes, she told me your name," he confirmed, the emphasis on "our boss" a deliberate jab.

  Tina's frown deepened, her eyes narrowing. "It's Mrs. Hanigan," she corrected, her voice sharp and possessive.

  Hank maintained his smile, his eyes sparkling with a hint of rebellious defiance. "Is it? When she's getting divorced?" he countered, the words a calculated barb. Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and headed for the elevator, his long strides confident and purposeful.

  "Excuse me, I have to check you in first," she called after him, her voice rising in irritation.

  Hank glanced back over his shoulder, his smile still firmly in place. "Well then, do it," he said, his tone dismissive as he pushed the button for the sixth floor. He watched her face contort with barely suppressed rage as the elevator doors slid closed, cutting off her sputtering protests. Tina growled under her breath, her face flushed with anger. "Fucking prick," she hissed, the words laced with a potent mix of resentment and frustration. She hated his arrogance, his casual disregard for her authority. She hated the way he seemed to exude confidence, a confidence that she found both irritating and unsettling.

  She sat back down at her desk, her fingers drumming impatiently on the polished surface. She picked up her phone, her movements jerky and agitated. She dialed Constance's number, her voice tight with barely contained fury. "Mrs. Hanigan, the young man from before is on his way up. He was quite rude and refused to check in," she reported, her tone dripping with aggrieved indignation.

  "Thank you, Tina. Oh, by the way, from now on, you let him enter whenever he wants. He's the new Director, after all," Constance said, her voice cool and authoritative, before hanging up, leaving Tina speechless.

  Tina stared at the phone, her mouth agape. "For fuck's sake," she hissed, her anger reaching a boiling point. She slammed the phone down, her chest heaving with frustration. She picked it up again and dialed another number, her voice trembling slightly. "James..." she said, her tone pleading.

  "Yeah, Tina, what's up?" James asked, his voice casual, oblivious to her inner turmoil.

  "Your wife hired a new Director already. Some young dude with attitude," she reported, her voice laced with bitterness.

  James laughed, the sound harsh and incredulous. "You have to be fucking kidding me," James yelled, his voice rising in anger. "How the fuck did she find someone so fast?" he demanded.

  "I have no idea, but he's upstairs now," Tina said, her voice tight with frustration.

  "For fuck's sake, Tina, you get close to him. I don't care if you have to fuck him. If I do not have access to my computer, we can kiss that million dollars goodbye," he yelled, his voice laced with desperation.

  Tina frowned, her anger momentarily overshadowed by a flicker of... something else. Sure, the new guy was hot. She couldn't deny that. But he wasn't James. Fucking the boss's husband was the biggest thrill of her life, the illicit nature of the affair a potent aphrodisiac. And he had promised her a life in Hawaii once they had that money, a future she desperately craved. Now, James was gone, and this new Hank guy was here. She shook her head, a wave of resentment washing over her.

  "Fuck... okay, if I have to," she said, her voice resigned.

  "Good. Let me know... okay?" he said, his voice softening slightly, attempting to regain her compliance.

  Tina sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. "I'm only doing this for you. You remember your promise," she said, her voice laced with a warning.

  "Absolutely, babe. Once we have that million," he said, the words a hollow promise. Then, he hung up, leaving Tina alone with her conflicting emotions.

  She looked up, her eyes narrowed, a predatory glint in them. "Guess I better start to suck up," she muttered to herself, the words laced with bitterness and a reluctant determination.

  ---

  Hank knocked on the door, a confident rap that echoed through the office. "Come in, Hank," Constance called, her voice warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the clipped tones she often used with her other employees.

  He opened the door and stepped inside, his eyes meeting hers. He smiled, a genuine, appreciative smile that reached his eyes, and then he closed the door behind him, a subtle move that emphasized the intimacy of the moment.

  Constance, her gaze lingering on him, walked over to him with a purposeful stride. She reached up and kissed him deeply, her lips possessive and demanding, her body pressing against his with a familiar heat. "I can't tell you how happy I am you accepted this job," she whispered, her voice husky and filled with a lingering desire.

  "We can celebrate tonight," she added, her eyes sparkling with a promise of more intimate encounters.

  Hank smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. "I actually have prior engagements for tonight. I have to take pictures of the volleyball tournament in a few hours," he said, the words a gentle reminder of his other commitments, but also a subtle display of his independence.

  She smiled, a hint of possessiveness in her expression. "Well then, when you move in," she amended, her voice dropping to a seductive purr.

  Hank kissed her again, the kiss lingering and promising. "That is a promise," he said, his voice low and firm.

  She walked over to her desk, her movements fluid and graceful, and picked up a sleek black card. "This is your corporate card," she said, handing it to him, her fingers brushing against his, the contact lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

  Then, she picked up a laptop and a cellphone, both sleek and modern. "These were James's. I had IT unlock the laptop. You can set your own password, go over the records, and find out what you can about the business," she instructed, her tone professional but with a hint of underlying tension.

  Hank smiled and nodded, his eyes scanning the devices. "I haven't signed a contract," he pointed out, his voice calm and steady.

  "And you won't," she said, stepping closer and kissing him again, her hands sliding up his chest. "I plan on keeping you here for a very long time. You work for me, and you better fuck me too, for years to come," she said, her voice a low, possessive purr, her eyes holding his captive.

  Hank chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. "And your husband?" he asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.

  "He will never set foot in this building again. My lawyer already presented him with the papers. The divorce is pending, should be done in a week or two," she said, her tone dismissive, as if James was already a distant memory.

  Hank nodded, a flicker of something akin to possessiveness stirring within him. For a second, he entertained the thought of a future with Constance, a future that might even include marriage. She was a hell of a fuck, and she treated him like a king. The thought was both exhilarating and a little daunting.

  "So, you were rude to Tina?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement.

  Hank laughed, the sound genuine. "I was rude? The first words out of her mouth were, 'You again. What do you want this time?'" he said, mimicking her tone with a touch of playful mockery.

  Constance smirked, a hint of satisfaction in her expression. She picked up her phone and dialed a number, her movements brisk and efficient. "Yeah, it's Miss Hanigan. I want Tina out by end of day," she said, her voice firm and decisive. There was a brief response, and Constance smiled, a hint of ruthlessness in her eyes, before hanging up. "They got the message," she said, her tone cool and final.

  Hank looked at her, a question in his eyes. "And the other four?" he asked, remembering that there had been five girls involved with James.

  "Two of them are already gone. The other two will be your choice. They were lured into his trap. He has always been a charmer, could charm his way into any panties he wanted," she said, her voice laced with a hint of disdain for her soon-to-be ex-husband.

  Hank smirked, his interest piqued. "What do you mean, my choice?" he asked, his voice suggestive.

  She smiled, a knowing, almost predatory smile. "Maybe you want them to fuck for yourself. They are quite captivating, former cheerleaders, as I understand it," she said, her tone deliberately provocative.

  Then, she walked over to the door and opened it, her movements calculated and dramatic. She shook Hank's hand, her grip firm and lingering, making sure everyone in the office could see the gesture. "Welcome to Hanigan Investment, Mr. Avery. I hope we will work well together, and I expect you to move into your new apartment Sunday afternoon," she added, her voice loud and clear, her eyes locking with his.

  Hank smiled, playing along with her dramatic flair. "Thank you, Miss Hanigan. It is good to be here. I will look over this and let you know what I find," he said, holding up James's old laptop, his voice projecting across the room.

  "Please make sure you do, and if there are any discrepancies, you report it directly to me," she said, her voice carrying a hint of warning, loud enough for them all to hear.

  Hank nodded, his eyes scanning the room. He could feel the hungry eyes of some of the girls, their gazes lingering on him, their bodies subtly posturing. He smirked inwardly. Constance was right. He would get lots of pussy while he worked here. That much, he was sure of. Hers included.