The Extra Duty

Tomoyo Isumi arrived at the penthouse every morning with a crisp apron and a quiet smile, ready to prepare breakfast, tidy the study, and keep everything running smoothly for her wealthy, older boss. But lately the job description had gained an unspoken footnote—one they both understood without needing words.
He’d appear in the kitchen doorway just as the coffee finished brewing, eyes tracing the curve of her hips beneath the uniform skirt. No commands, just a low “Good morning, Tomoyo,” and the air would shift. She’d set the spatula down, turn, and let him step close. His hands would slide up her sides while hers found his belt; slow, practiced, mutual.
They never rushed to the bedroom anymore. The marble island became their spot—her perched on the edge, legs parted just enough, his fingers and mouth coaxing soft sounds from her before she sank to her knees to return the favor with warm, attentive care. When he finally lifted her again, sliding home with a shared sigh, it felt less like obligation and more like the natural next step of their morning routine.
Afterward she’d smooth her apron, fix her hair, and finish plating his eggs while he watched, relaxed and content.
“Perfect as always,” he’d murmur.
She’d smile over her shoulder. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Some roles come with delicious perks.