The Phases of One's Life
Copyright© 2026 by N.D.Tomes
Chapter 4: The Partners Lunch and Daphne – Kate I .4 – Monday
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 4: The Partners Lunch and Daphne – Kate I .4 – Monday - A controlled corporate attorney wakes tied to her own bed by a naked stranger who knows her name and claims it’s “for your own good.” The young woman has been quietly tangled in her life for months—leaving signs, steering events, and creating a strange current between them. What follows is a tense night of revelations about the firm, the last six months, and unsettling supernatural abilities. Dry, first-person, focused on the emotional shift more than explicit detail.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Fa/ft Consensual Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Humor Group Sex Interracial Black Female White Male White Female Oriental Female Hispanic Female First Masturbation Oral Sex
In the morning, my hair was a tangled mess, curls wild from the night. My nipples were sorer than yesterday. I sat on the bed’s edge, letting out a low moan. A few days ago, sex had hardly ever popped up on my radar. I didn’t recognize myself anymore. Thinking about the change made me shake my head, but a small smile tugged at my lips anyway.
Daphne called from the kitchen, the rich scent of coffee drifting in. “You have time to exercise if you want. But I’d be amazed if you have the energy after what you did to me last night.”
I half-smiled, placing my palms over my tender nipples. “Bite me,” I shot back.
She replied calmly, her voice teasing. “I’m sure I left more than a few bite marks last night. If you want more, I can come in...”
I cut her off, laughing despite myself. “Don’t you come near me — ever again!” Thinking of my breasts, I added, “My nipples will be sore for a week.”
“Then you probably shouldn’t scream ‘HARDER,’ should you?” came her reply, a smirk in her tone.
Shaking my head but smiling, I showered. The warm water soothed my skin. I dressed in a sharp blazer and slacks, wanting to arrive early. At the counter, Daphne placed a plate of Eggs Benedict with smoked salmon in front of me. “Your mother must have been a great cook,” I said, eyeing her.
She smiled, pouring coffee. “Put love into everything you do, and the results will reflect that.”
Taking a bite, I murmured, “You must really love me.”
Daphne heard. She came around the counter and wrapped her arms around me from behind, her cheek soft against mine. She held me for a moment, then kissed my cheek and returned to her cleaning. “Today’s a special day. You deserve a special breakfast.”
Breakfast was wonderful. Soon it was time to leave. Daphne walked me to the door, holding my hand, her fingers warm. She told me to have a good lunch, relax, and enjoy myself. “They love and respect you and believe you’ll do great,” she added. She gave me a soft kiss on the lips and ushered me out with a pat on the ass. I turned, glaring. “That better not say ‘Kick Me.’” She reached out, pulling a piece of paper off my butt with a grin. I narrowed my eyes. She swore she’d have told me before the elevator. I wasn’t sure I believed her.
I expected a typical Monday: answering emails, reviewing and drafting documents, attending the morning meeting, grabbing a quick coffee break. Typical didn’t last long. While checking emails, I saw one titled “Vestal Vision” from Janice C. DuPont, the paralegal who always wears skirts. Normally I’d delete anything with an odd subject line, but I noticed a few more from coworkers with similar titles. Curious, I opened Janice’s.
One line and a picture: “Very nice picture.” It was from a local online newspaper, a write-up about the Cardinal’s Sunday mass. The photo showed me alone in the pew, smiling broadly. I knew exactly when it was taken — Daphne had leaned away, whispering about ice cream. Ice cream, my ass, I thought. The blurb called me the “Vestal Vision.” I groaned under my breath, “Daphne.” I hoped the ribbing would burn out fast.
Three other emails with the same picture were actually complimentary, from older secretaries. One hoped my photo would draw young men to services. I rolled my eyes but smiled.
The Monday meeting passed without mention of the picture. Maybe not many in the office attended church or read the local news. After, I took a coffee break, chatting with secretaries and paralegals about our weekends. Janice brought up the picture, showing it on her phone to a woman who hadn’t seen it. The woman looked stunned, tilted her head, and smiled. “Very angelic. No one would think you’re a lawyer.” Everyone laughed, and I relaxed, the humor easing my nerves.
Then I noticed Janice — in one of her skirts — bending over to grab something from a cabinet. Her athletic legs, slim waist, nice bust, and warm smile hit me. I caught myself cataloging her features. What’s wrong with me? I’m ogling another woman. She caught my stare. I covered quickly. “That’s a nice blouse.” Her blouse had fallen forward — probably showing everything down to her navel at the right angle. She glanced down, checked both breasts, then looked up, smiling. “Thank you.” No one else seemed to notice my slip. We dispersed, and I headed back to my office, groaning inwardly. I’d seen her in that blouse three or four times before. I blamed Daphne.
Just before lunch, I was summoned to the managing partner’s office. My stomach fluttered with nerves as I entered. All the senior partners were there, their smiles calming me. We sat around the conference table, and one by one they praised my handling of the recent crisis, especially my ability to keep it quiet and protect the firm. I deflected modestly, crediting their support. They smiled, dismissing my humility. They said the client was impressed, fearing his company might have collapsed without my work. I acknowledged the risk but downplayed it. They revealed the CEO wanted me to oversee his account personally, but an associate couldn’t handle that — so they were promoting me to Managing Associate, the youngest and least tenured ever. I’d expected it but put on a surprised look, earning chuckles. “I don’t know what to say,” I admitted. “That’s alright,” the managing partner agreed. “You don’t have to say anything now. We’re taking you out for a celebratory lunch.” They told me to clear my calendar for a few hours.
As I turned to leave, Tom Reynolds — a big, intimidating but kind senior partner — said, “The promotion has nothing to do with you being a ‘Vestal Vision.’” I let out a loud groan. Turning back, I saw all the partners smiling. I shook my head, grinning. Tom added, “I heard you like a Chinese restaurant nearby. Meet us in the lobby.”
At the restaurant, we were seated at one of the big tables toward the center. The familiar scents of ginger, garlic, and jasmine filled my nostrils, reminding me why I loved this place. The restaurant was busy but didn’t feel crowded. The waitress approached, asking in heavily accented English about drinks while we perused menus. Several bottles of wine were ordered, which surprised me. That surprise was overshadowed when Daphne strolled up, her voice bright with surprise. “Kate, it’s me, Daphne. How are you? How long has it been?”
I stared, almost in disbelief. Daphne had styled her hair and added makeup to look older — maybe twenty or twenty-one. Her tight blouse and pants hugged her figure, borderline sexy, showing almost no cleavage but hinting at a spectacle if she bent over. I regained my composure. “Daphne, oh my goodness, it’s you. How are you?” I said happily, then added, more forced, “What are you doing here?”
“It’s so good to see you again.” She bent at the waist for a hug, flashing cleavage to one side of the table — including me. I wasn’t sure if she was teasing that side of the table or trying to torture me. Straightening, she continued, “I’m looking at the college here and, if I like it — which I do — possibly a place to live.”
A partner on the entertained side asked what she’d study. “French literature,” Daphne replied. Tom Reynolds, in very good French, asked, “That’s nice, but what do you plan to do with that degree?” Daphne answered in flawless French, “It might not be lucrative, but at least I won’t have the shame of telling my friend I’m pursuing a law degree — or something as shameful. I’ll exit college with my dignity.”
Turning to me, in English, she asked, “What have you been up to?” I gave the expected reply. Daphne turned to Tom, embarrassed, and in French said, “Sorry.” He smiled genuinely, waving it off, clearly catching her teasing.
A partner announced this was a celebration for my Managing Associate promotion — the youngest ever. Daphne looked genuinely surprised and pleased, bending for another hug and again flashing the everyone on my side of the table. I felt a flush of warmth — on my face and elsewhere.
A lawyer on the entertained side invited her to join. With a charming smile, Daphne declined. “Lunch with a table full of lawyers? I’d love to.” Her smile deliberately faltered. “But as lovely as that sounds...” She hesitated, made a show of looking for the right words, then rushed, almost questioningly, “I’m on my way to get my dog groomed.”
I gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I thought you were allergic.”
“It’s a hairless.”
Tom, catching our banter, smiled. “Small dogs can be a handful.”
I replied, “True. Sometimes you just need to know how to discipline them.”
Tom chuckled.
The others caught on. Linda, the senior female partner, said, “I’ve always found a rolled-up newspaper effective.”
Daphne, sensing she was losing, said, “Sorry — you’re not going to spank me again?” I turned red. Smiling, she told the table, “Kate’s the only person to ever spank me.” To me, she added, “How old was I when you did that?”
I replied stiffly, “I don’t remember. It was a while ago.”
“Still feels like yesterday to me.” Daphne ran her hands over her backside, clad in loose-fitting pleated trousers. Loose-fitting or not, they still showed off her round, firm backside.
“Well I promise never to to do it again, if you drop it.” My face burned. The waitress, enjoying the banter, said in her heavily accented English that she’d get their wine and be right back. Daphne spoke to her in flawless Mandarin. They talked for a minute, ending with a hug. Daphne turned to me, stunning me by asking if I’d go with her that evening to look at places to stay, since I knew the city better. I agreed, recovering.
“I’ll meet you outside your building,” she said.
“Do you know where my building is?” I asked, sarcastic. Tom barely hid his smile.
“I’ll just pretend to hurt myself and yell ‘I’ll sue.’ I’m sure one of you will appear,” Daphne said, smirking. “A table full of lawyers and no one has a card. Did hell freeze over?”
I produced a card as if by magic and handed it over. She took it calmly.
Before leaving, Tom asked, “You speak Chinese?”
“Mandarin,” she corrected.
The waitress returned carrying a couple of bottles of wine. Daphne spoke to her again in Mandarin. An elderly couple at a nearby table said something. Daphne laughed, walking over and chatting in what I thought was Mandarin. I asked the waitress what they were saying. She said they were speaking Cantonese — and she didn’t know. I groaned; Tom laughed, impressed.
Daphne finished, leaving the couple smiling. Coming back to our table, she said in English, “It was nice to meet you, Yìhán.” The waitress’s name. Then, switching back to Mandarin, she said something Yìhán found funny — she smiled. Suspicious, I asked Daphne, “What was that about?”
Turning to leave, Daphne said over her shoulder, “I asked Yìhán to treat you extra special and pretend you’re not lawyers. Luckily, her name means ‘tolerant.’” The waitress looked surprised at Daphne knowing that. Daphne flashed everyone a brilliant smile and left.
The humor of Daphne’s visit faded, but it set a light tone, relaxing everyone — especially me. The partners were supportive, genuinely happy. Tom, clearly smitten with Daphne, asked about her. I gave vague answers.
Lunch stretched into a couple of hours. I had two glasses of wine, maybe three—unusual for me. I’m not much of a drinker. But since Daphne, I had a feeling that was about to change.
Back at the office I felt more relaxed than usual. I grabbed coffee, figuring it’d make me a wide-awake drunk. But I wasn’t drunk — just loose. When Janice came in with a stack of papers, things got unusual. I blame Daphne’s influence — her making me see women differently — more than the wine. And Janice, too.
She dropped off the papers, her blouse halfway open. As she bent over the desk, I got an eyeful. The wine kicked in. I started to applaud — just a couple of short claps and a “Yaaa.” She looked confused. I tugged at my own blouse between my breasts, nodding at her chest. She exclaimed, “SHIT!” pulling her blouse together. Glancing at the door, she groaned, “I walked through the office like this. I lost a button...”
I chuckled. “I don’t think anyone noticed.”
“You can’t know that,” she retorted.
“Yes, I can,” I said, smirking. “No bills in your bra, and I didn’t hear applause as you walked through. I couldn’t help but applaud and I’m ready to get a five from my wallet.” After I said it, I realized how it made me sound.
Janice gave me a deadpan look. I grabbed a safety pin from a desk drawer, closed the office door, and walked over to her. She held out her hand, but I said, “Let me.” I pulled her blouse halves together, glancing again — she noticed, and I didn’t mind. Confused by my own reaction, I said, “That’s a beautiful bra. Where’d you get it?”
She named a lingerie store across town — a bit pricey, she said. Without thinking, I said, “Money well spent. You might deserve a twenty.”
I blamed the wine; Janice just smiled and chuckled. “Just joking,” I said. “But most men would appreciate it. And more than a few women.” I added, “Sorry, I’m bordering on harassment, I think.”
She chuckled, unfazed. “That’s alright. I know what you meant. If you asked whether the panties match, you might get in trouble.” Amused, she added, “So, if anyone asks, say you don’t know.”
I had been fiddling with her blouse and the pin all the while; the back of my hand was stroking her sternum and occasionally grazing the hint of a breast — soft and warm. I couldn’t help but notice she had a faint floral scent. My voice caught slightly as I said, “There, your modesty’s protected.” Her breathing was also a little quick.
She thanked me and turned to leave. At the door, she flashed a big, humorous smile. “They do match.”
I gave a small smile. “I’m not going over twenty. Or should I start an office pool?”
Janice laughed, holding up her hands. “No, that’s okay.” Then she left, laughing.
Later, after finishing work. I left my office to meet Daphne in the lobby. As I walked to the elevator, the door was about to close when Tom saw me and held it open. The elevator was fairly full, but people shifted to make room. There were several paralegals there, including Janice. We exchanged small smiles. When we reached the lobby, I immediately started looking for Daphne. Spotting her by the front doors, I walked toward her while saying goodbye to my coworkers. Janice and Tom followed without a word. When I reached Daphne, she immediately wrapped me in a hug and exclaimed, “Congratulations. I know from growing up around you how hard you always work.”
I returned the hug and thanked her. Then I introduced Janice and Tom, addressing Tom as Mr. Reynolds. I didn’t notice Daphne had been holding my left hand with her right until she began to raise it to shake Tom’s hand. Halfway up, she stopped and gave him a hug instead. She asked how he enjoyed the lunch. Tom, with a playful tone, asked how her “dog” was. She didn’t answer — just smirked and slapped his arm. Tom laughed and said to call him Tom. Daphne responded, “Nice to see you again, Tom.” She then stepped forward to give Janice a hug, saying, “Nice to finally meet you, Janice.” Janice seemed a little surprised but pleasantly so, returning the hug.
Daphne stepped back to my side — no longer holding my hand — and said she wanted to take me out for a celebration dinner after we met with the Realtor. Looking at Janice and Tom, she continued, “If you didn’t have other plans?” Tom said he was on his way home and just wanted to say hello. Daphne beamed and gave him a quick hug, saying that was sweet, especially after all her bad lawyer jokes at lunch. He replied that he’d heard worse. Daphne gave him a skeptical look before smiling. He said he needed to go and hoped they would meet again. Daphne agreed, smiling.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.