Gillian is our May 2025 Babe of the Month
See her story below or skip to the photo set
The story of a promiscuous corporate woman, who won’t ever apologize for mixing business with pleasure.
Gillian, a striking black woman with a body toned from her days as a collegiate sprinter, sat in her spacious office. The walls adorned with certificates and awards, a testament to her meteoric rise in the corporate world. The phone rang, and she answered with a confident, “Gillian speaking.”
The voice on the other end was that of a reporter from a prominent business magazine. “Hi Gillian, I’m calling to discuss your rise to the top at Sterling & Sterling. How does it feel to have come so far in such a male-dominated field?”
Gillian smiled, leaning back in her chair. “It feels great. I’ve worked hard for everything I’ve achieved.”
“Rumors suggest that your relationships with some of your white, male bosses played a role in your promotions. Care to comment on that?” the reporter asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.
Gillian chuckled, her eyes sparkling. “Well, I won’t deny that I’ve had my fun. But it wasn’t just about opportunity. I was genuinely attracted to these men. Their power, their confidence, it was intoxicating. And having some power over them? That was my ultimate turn-on.” She went on to say…
The reporter paused, then asked, “Do you regret any of it?”
Gillian shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “Absolutely not. It was never just about career advancement. I wanted those men, and they wanted me. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“I ain’t naughty just for the benefits, I’m naughty by nature, baby.”
The reporter thanked her and ended the call. She was wrapped up in a story about a CEO who was caught having an affair with her. It seemed the corporate-owned press was trying to blame her, but anyone who knew her knew that she would never sugarcoat anything. She was going to tell it exactly how it is, and didn’t care what anyone thought.
Gillian leaned back in her chair, her mind drifting back to her college days. She remembered the rude comment from that brainiac white girl, questioning her place at the university. That had been the spark that lit her competitive fire. She had set out to outdo that girl, and she did, becoming valedictorian.
Gillian found it ironic — that the girl once hailed as the smartest at their university was still foolish enough to reduce her to a stereotype: Black and athletic, therefore undeserving. Now, years later, the same ignorance echoed through corporate media, attacking her for her affairs. They couldn’t fathom that a Black woman could rise on intellect, drive, and strategic brilliance. No — they assumed her success must’ve come from her sex life, not her skill.
Her first encounter with a boss had been with Mr. Thompson, the CFO. She had been working late one evening, poring over spreadsheets when he walked in.
“Still at it, Gillian?” he asked, his voice deep and authoritative.
She looked up, her gaze meeting his. “Just wrapping up, sir.”
He walked over, leaning against her desk. “You know, you’re one of the most talented people on my team. I’ve been watching you.”
Gillian felt a thrill run through her. She stood up, her eyes locked onto his. “I’ve been watching you too, Mr. Thompson.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
She stepped closer, her voice low. “Yes, and I think we could help each other out.”
He smiled, his eyes darkening. “I think you’re right.”
Their first time had been in his office, the blinds closed against the city lights. He had taken her from behind, her hands gripping the edge of his desk as he thrust into her. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, her moans mixing with his groans.
“Faster, Mr. Thompson,” she had gasped, her body throbbing with need. “Harder.”
He had obliged, his grip on her hips tightening as he pounded into her. She had come with a scream, her body convulsing as he filled her with his warmth.
From there, her encounters had continued. There was Mr. Hartley, the CEO, who had a penchant for tying her up and teasing her until she begged for release. And Mr. Sterling, the COO, who loved it when she rode him, her body bouncing on top of his as she took control.
Each encounter was different, each man unique. But the common thread was the power dynamic, the thrill of giving and receiving pleasure in equal measure.
One evening, after a particularly intense session with Mr. Sterling, she had lain spent on his office couch. He had looked down at her, a satisfied smile on his face.
“You’re something else, Gillian,” he had said, his voice filled with admiration.
She had smiled back, her body still tingling from their encounter. “I aim to please, Mr. Sterling.”
And please she had, climbing her way up the corporate ladder, one satisfied boss at a time.
Now, as she sat in her office, she knew that her journey had been unconventional. But she wouldn’t change a thing. She had turned the tables on those who had underestimated her, and she had done it with a smile and a moan.
Gillian’s Fire
Gillian didn’t come from privilege. She came from speed — the kind that made her a local legend in high school, the kind that got her out of a town where no one expected much of a Black girl with fast legs and a sharp mind. When she arrived at university on a full athletic scholarship for track, she wore her sprinter’s jacket with pride. It was her armor, her proof that she’d earned her place.
Then came that girl.
The one in Gillian’s freshman econ lecture — icy blond, top of the class in every high school AP course, always the first to raise her hand. Gillian had just taken a seat when the girl looked over at her team gear, sneered slightly, and said, “Why even bother coming to class? Don’t you just run around the track?”
It hit Gillian like a slap. Not because it hurt — because it was expected. The tone, the smirk, the assumption that her body was her only asset.
So Gillian made a decision: she wouldn’t just run the fastest on the field. She’d outpace everyone in the classroom too — including that girl.
Track practices, weight training, 6 a.m. sprints, late-night studying, group projects, internships. While others partied or coasted, Gillian pushed. She switched majors from business to finance, took honors courses, and even landed a research role with a top professor. The track team kept winning titles, but what really started turning heads was Gillian’s GPA — and the fact that she had become that girl’s academic rival.
By senior year, it came down to the two of them for valedictorian. A tie on paper. A difference of less than a tenth of a point. But Gillian had more leadership credits and a thesis that made the faculty rave. The announcement came at rehearsal: Gillian James, Class of 20XX Valedictorian.
She kept her smile polite onstage, but inside? Fireworks.
“I didn’t just prove her wrong,” Gillian would later say. “I rewrote the story she tried to stick me in.”
Later, she’d carry that same fire into the corporate world — knowing exactly how to run in lanes not built for her, and exactly how to own them anyway.
