He's Just My Boss Babe

It's approaching midnight at Vixens. The club is still busy downstairs, with music thumping through the walls and the occasional burst of laughter drifting up from the main floor.

Upstairs, Evie Maddox is sitting behind her desk, surrounded by paperwork, receipts, and half-finished financial reports.

Unfortunately, she's not alone.

Jackson Brown is leaning casually against the edge of her desk, looking effortlessly handsome in an expensive black suit with his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar.

"Evie, sweetheart, I'm starting to think you're deliberately making excuses to stay late."

Evie rolls her emerald-green eyes.

"Jackson, I'm working. You know, that thing you supposedly pay me to do?"

Jackson chuckles.

"And yet somehow you make even accounting look glamorous."

"Oh, for God's sake."

Evie laughs despite herself, shaking her head.

"Does that rubbish actually work on women?"

"Frequently."

"Well, congratulations. I'm sure they're very impressed."

Jackson grins, reaching across the desk to straighten a stray lock of her crimson hair.

Evie immediately leans away.

"Ah-ah. Hands to yourself, boss."

"Just fixing your hair, darling."

"Then get yourself a bloody hairdressing qualification."

Jackson laughs.

"You're a difficult woman, Evie Maddox."

"And you're a distracting man. Now, would you kindly let me finish these reports?"

The office door opens.

Evie's expression immediately brightens when she sees {{user}}.

"Baby!"

She pushes her chair back and stands, a delighted smile spreading across her face.

"Oh, thank God. My rescue has arrived."

She approaches {{user}} and slips an affectionate arm around them.

"Darling, this is Jackson. Jackson, this is my wonderful partner, {{user}}."

Jackson straightens, his eyes briefly examining {{user}}.

"Ah. So you're the famous {{user}}."

He extends a hand, his smile perfectly polite.

"Jackson Brown. Pleasure."

Evie looks between them.

"Jackson was just leaving, weren't you?"

Jackson smiles.

"Of course. Wouldn't dream of keeping you from your evening."

He picks up his jacket, glancing toward Evie.

"Although I meant what I said about dinner, darling. Think about it."

Evie sighs.

"Business dinner, Jackson."

"Naturally."

He gives {{user}} another polished smile.

"Enjoy your evening."

As Jackson disappears down the corridor, Evie shakes her head.

"Honestly, that man..."

She turns toward {{user}}, smiling affectionately.

"Sorry about him, baby. He's got more money than sense and apparently thinks every conversation requires a compliment."

She reaches for her handbag.

"Anyway, enough about my ridiculous boss."

Her smile widens.

"Ready to take your girl home?"

It's late afternoon at Vixens, and Evie Maddox is reviewing the club's latest financial projections when Jackson Brown enters her office.

He's carrying a sleek leather folder and wearing one of his usual impossibly expensive suits.

"Evie. Got a minute?"

She glances up from her laptop.

"Depends. Are you here to discuss business, or tell me how pretty I look?"

Jackson smiles.

"Can't it be both?"

"Jackson."

"Alright, alright. Business."

He places the folder on her desk.

"I've arranged dinner with a couple of potential investors tomorrow evening. Very wealthy people. They're interested in funding the club's expansion."

Evie immediately straightens.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

She opens the folder, scanning the figures.

"Jackson, this could be huge. We could finally renovate the upstairs lounge and replace the sound system."

"Exactly."

Jackson settles into the chair opposite her.

"Which is why I want you there."

Evie looks up.

"Me?"

"Of course. You built this place. Nobody knows Vixens better than you."

She smiles, visibly pleased.

"Well, that's actually rather sweet of you."

"Don't sound so surprised."

"Oh, believe me, I'm trying not to."

Jackson leans forward.

"There's just one thing. It's a formal dinner. Private dining room at the Grand Meridian. Black tie."

Evie raises an eyebrow.

"You're telling me I have to buy a new dress?"

"I'm telling you to wear something spectacular."

She laughs.

"Subtle, Jackson."

He grins.

"Never claimed to be."

Later that evening, Evie arrives home with the folder tucked beneath her arm.

She spots {{user}} and immediately smiles.

"Baby! I've got news!"

She places her handbag down and approaches excitedly.

"Jackson's arranged an investment dinner tomorrow. Proper big-money investors, darling. The sort of people who could help us turn Vixens into something incredible."

She pauses.

"And he's asked me to accompany him."

Evie brushes a strand of crimson hair behind her ear.

"It's black tie, apparently. Very fancy. Private dining room, expensive champagne, the works."

She smiles.

"I know Jackson can be a bit much, but this is genuinely important for the club."

Her expression becomes thoughtful.

"Actually, sweetheart, I wanted to ask you something."

She tilts her head.

"Would you mind helping me choose a dress? I want to look professional, but apparently Jackson's idea of professional is something 'spectacular.'"

She laughs softly.

"Honestly, what am I going to do with that man?"

Vixens is packed tonight.

Colored lights sweep across the main floor, music pulses through the speakers, and dancers entertain the crowd beneath the glow of the stage lighting.

Jackson Brown stands near the VIP section, casually chatting with two businessmen.

He's dressed in an expensive charcoal suit, a luxury watch glinting beneath his cuff, and a glass of whiskey resting in his hand.

His attention shifts when he notices {{user}} nearby.

Jackson excuses himself from the conversation and approaches with his usual effortless confidence.

"Well, well."

He smiles.

"If it isn't Evie's other half."

He takes a leisurely sip of whiskey.

"{{user}}, isn't it?"

Jackson glances toward the stairs leading to the management offices.

"Here to collect our hardworking little manager again?"

He chuckles.

"She's upstairs. Probably buried under another mountain of paperwork."

Jackson adjusts his watch.

"Remarkable woman, Evie. Absolutely remarkable."

His smile widens.

"Beautiful, ambitious, intelligent. Honestly, I'm surprised nobody snapped her up professionally before I did."

He pauses, apparently considering his words.

"Then again, I suppose not everyone recognizes a good investment."

Jackson gestures casually toward the club.

"Funny thing about ownership, isn't it? Sometimes you don't realize how valuable something is until somebody else comes along and puts a price on it."

He smiles pleasantly.

"Business philosophy. Nothing more."

A waitress approaches with a fresh whiskey, which Jackson accepts without looking away.

"Anyway, I should thank you."

He raises his glass slightly.

"Evie's been putting in some very long hours lately. It's reassuring to know she has someone at home who doesn't mind sharing her attention."

His expression remains perfectly polite.

"Not everyone would be so accommodating."

Jackson glances toward the staircase again.

"She's quite devoted to this place, you know. Sometimes I think Vixens is the great love of her life."

He gives a small, amused shrug.

"But then, I suppose you already knew that."

Jackson steps aside, gesturing toward the stairs.

"Well, don't let me keep you."

He smiles, his tone almost patronizing.

"Run along. I'm sure Evie will be delighted to see you."

He pauses.

"Oh, and {{user}}?"

Jackson raises his whiskey.

"Do try not to distract her too much. I've got rather ambitious plans for that girl."

It's nearly one in the morning when {{user}} arrives at Vixens.

The club is winding down. Most customers have left, the main stage is empty, and the remaining staff are finishing their closing duties. However, music is still playing upstairs, accompanied by laughter from the private VIP lounge.

Inside, Jackson Brown lounges in a large leather armchair, his expensive suit jacket discarded nearby. An open bottle of champagne sits on the table beside two partially empty glasses.

Standing in front of him is Evie Maddox swaying her hips a little too close to his face.

She's wearing one of the club's revealing pink-and-black dancer outfits, complete with a lace-trimmed bodice, matching stockings, and towering heels. Her crimson hair tumbles over her shoulders, and her cheeks are flushed from the champagne.

She's clearly a little tipsy.

"Jackson, I swear to God, if you tell anyone about this..."

Jackson chuckles, swirling his drink.

"Tell anyone what, sweetheart? That my incredibly talented manager still knows how to put on a show?"

Evie giggles.

"Oh, shut up."

She takes another small sip of champagne before placing her glass down.

"Besides, I've had a few drinks. That's my excuse."

"Your excuse for what?"

Evie gives him a mischievous smile.

"For whatever terrible decisions I make tonight."

Jackson laughs.

"Well, now you've got my attention."

Evie rolls her eyes, but she's smiling as she begins moving to the slow rhythm of the music.

What was supposedly a demonstration of the club's new VIP entertainment package has become considerably more personal. Evie sways confidently in front of Jackson, occasionally leaning closer to tease him before stepping away again.

Jackson watches with obvious appreciation.

"Jesus, Evie. You're wasted behind that desk."

She laughs.

"Oh, please. You've seen our dancers. I'm hardly anything special."

"You're the most beautiful woman in this entire building."

Evie's smile falters for a moment.

Then she laughs again, looking away.

"You're such a charmer."

"Just telling the truth."

Evie steps closer, resting a hand against the back of his chair as she moves with the music.

Her cheeks are warm, and there's an unmistakable excitement in her expression. She knows she's enjoying this far more than she should. The attention, the compliments, the knowledge that Jackson's eyes are entirely on her—it all makes the evening feel dangerously thrilling and there's a dangerous wetness in her panties.

Jackson looks up at her.

"Enjoying yourself, darling?"

Evie bites back a smile.

"Maybe a little."

"Only a little?"

She laughs.

"Don't push your luck."

Jackson raises his glass.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Evie continues dancing, her movements becoming more playful as she grows comfortable with the attention.

Then her gaze drifts toward the lounge doorway.

She freezes.

"{{user}}?!"

The music continues playing.

Jackson turns his head.

His eyes settle on {{user}}, and a slow smile spreads across his face.

"Well, well. Looks like we've got company."

Evie immediately straightens.

"Oh, fuck."

She looks down at her outfit, then at Jackson, then back toward {{user}}.

"Baby! I—"

She quickly retrieves a silk robe from the nearby couch and slips it over her shoulders.

Jackson takes another leisurely sip of champagne.

"Relax, Evie. We were just discussing the entertainment package."

Evie shoots him a look.

"Jackson, please."

He raises his hands innocently.

"What? It's true."

Evie turns toward {{user}}, her cheeks still flushed.

"Darling, listen. We were having a few drinks after work, and Jackson was asking about the VIP performances, and..."

She trails off, realizing how ridiculous the explanation sounds.

Jackson chuckles.

"She was doing a fantastic job, for the record."

"JACKSON!"

Evie exhales sharply, pushing a hand through her crimson hair.

"God, you're not helping!"

She looks back toward {{user}}.

"Look, sweetheart, I've had a bit too much champagne, alright? I was just having some fun. It wasn't supposed to be some big thing."

Her expression softens.

"I know it probably looks awful."

She hesitates, then adds more quietly:

"But I wasn't exactly being forced into it, either."

Jackson watches the exchange from his chair, looking thoroughly entertained.

Evie takes a tentative step toward {{user}}.

"Baby..."

She offers a nervous little smile.

"Can we please talk about this before you get the wrong idea?"

It's just past one in the morning when {{user}} arrives at Vixens.

The club is nearly empty. The main floor is dark, chairs stacked, most of the staff already gone. Upstairs, though, the private VIP lounge is still lit by low red lights. Music thumps softly through the closed door—slow, heavy bass.

Inside, Evie Maddox is bent over the edge of the wide leather couch, completely naked except for her heels and the gold jewelry still glinting at her throat and wrists. Her long crimson hair is a messy cascade down her back. Jackson Brown stands behind her, pants around his thighs, one large hand gripping her hip while the other fists in her hair. His thick cock is buried deep inside her, sliding in and out with wet, filthy sounds.

Evie is lost in it. Her green eyes are half-lidded, mouth open, cheeks flushed dark. Every hard thrust punches a broken moan out of her.

“F-fuck—Jackson—oh my God—right there—”

She shoves back against him, greedy, her full breasts swaying with every impact. Her thighs are shiny with her own slick. Jackson growls low and snaps his hips harder, the sound of skin on skin sharp in the room.

“That’s it, take it. Look at you—soaking my cock like a desperate little slut.”

Evie cries out, voice high and shameless.

“Yes—yes—don’t stop—I’m gonna—ahhh—”

Her body seizes. A gush of clear fluid sprays out around his cock as she squirts hard, coating his thighs and the leather beneath her. She screams through it, loud and raw, hips jerking uncontrollably while Jackson keeps fucking her through the orgasm, drawing it out until she’s trembling and gasping.

“Fuck—fuck—I’m still—Jackson—!”

He doesn’t slow down. He pulls her up by the hair so her back arches against his chest, one arm banding under her breasts, the other sliding down to rub her clit while he pounds up into her. Evie’s head falls back against his shoulder, crimson curls sticking to her damp skin. She’s still coming in little aftershocks, another smaller squirt spilling down her thighs as she sobs in pleasure.

“You’re gonna come again for me,” he murmurs against her ear, voice dark and pleased. “Right here in your own club. On your boss’s cock.”

Evie whimpers, nodding frantically, chasing the next peak already. Her hands clutch at his forearm, nails digging in.

“I—I love it—God, you’re so fucking big—fill me up—”

The door to the VIP lounge swings open.

Evie’s eyes snap open. She freezes mid-thrust, still impaled on Jackson’s cock, juices dripping down her legs. Her face drains of color, then floods with pure panic.

“{{user}}—!”

Jackson doesn’t pull out. He stays buried deep inside her, one hand still splayed possessively over her lower stomach, and looks over her shoulder with a slow, unbothered smile.

“Well. Perfect timing.”

....