I’ve been having an affair with my married boss. He’s 20 years older than me, with a lovely wife and beautiful children. At first, it was just flirtation, harmless—or at least that’s what I told myself. He had a way of making me feel special, important, in a way I hadn’t felt in years. The lines blurred so slowly that I barely noticed when we crossed them.

It all came to a head after a networking event one evening. We had spent the night smiling at each other, sharing glances that lingered too long, our conversations filled with undertones that no one else seemed to notice. As the event wound down, we found ourselves alone, heading back to the office under the guise of finishing up some work.

The office was quiet, almost eerily so, with just the hum of the city in the distance. One moment, we were standing there, talking, and then, something shifted. We looked at each other, really looked, as though acknowledging for the first time what had been simmering beneath the surface all along. His smile was soft, but his eyes were filled with something deeper, something darker. Before I could think, before I could stop myself, we were on each other.

The next thing I knew, he was filling me—physically, yes, but also emotionally, in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to admit I needed. It was a rush of passion, of adrenaline, of all the things I had been missing. The office, once a sterile, professional space, felt charged with forbidden energy. His hands were all over me, and mine were on him, exploring this new reality we had suddenly found ourselves in.

For a brief moment, it felt perfect—like this was where we were meant to be. But then, in the back of my mind, the reality of the situation started to creep in. His wife. His children. The fact that this wasn’t just a fantasy we could escape to whenever we wanted. This was real, messy, and it had consequences. But in that moment, none of it seemed to matter. All that mattered was him, and the way he made me feel.

When it was over, we stood there for a few seconds, breathing heavily, trying to process what had just happened. We didn’t say much—just exchanged a few nervous laughs before quickly pulling ourselves together. But I knew that nothing would be the same after that night. We had crossed a line, one that couldn’t be undone.