Have you ever imagined being able to make any woman crazy to have sex with you just by saying a single sentence?

My name is Eduardo Lemos, 35 years old, and I work as an accountant Monday through Friday, with Saturdays and Sundays off. I wake up every day at 6 a.m., drink coffee staring at the kitchen wall, and spend the rest of my time trying not to explode inside that cursed office where I work. The name of the place? "Fiscal Excellence." A little irony is nonsense.

My boss, Katarina, is 45, dresses like she's going to a fashion show every morning, and talks to me like someone scolding a dog for peeing outside the carpet. She's beautiful, but that doesn't matter when beauty comes with poison. Working with her is like walking on glass: it always bleeds, but you learn to smile.

And then there's Mariana. Twenty-five years old, an intern, a fan of bands I thought had broken up in 1979. She wears worn jeans, a Nirvana t-shirt, and has a look of perpetual boredom—especially when I need her to do anything remotely useful.

These two pillars—the shrew and the lazybones—are the guardians of my personal hell.

— Eduardo, in my office, now! — orders Katarina, the great shrew.

I drag myself to his office. A monstrous task, a huge spreadsheet of incoming and outgoing values ​​to catalog and organize, all due tomorrow at 10 a.m. On top of the work I had to do.

I walk from Katarina's office straight to Mariana's desk. It takes her a long time to realize I'm beside her; her attention is focused on Smashing Pumpkins on the screen and in her headset. Okay, but I need her.

— Mariana… leave Major Tom and come back to Earth! Please!

Mariana looks at me with that “hi, are you asking me to work, seriously?” face.

"I'm swamped with work, and Katarina wants this done by tomorrow. It's a lot of work, but it's not complicated. I know you can do it. I need it by 3 p.m. today. Please help me with this."

Mariana looked at me with a smile and, to my relief, at least temporary, accepted the task.

— Leave it to me, boss!

A beautiful smile appeared on her face. She's very pretty, but taking care of her appearance isn't her priority. She always gives me a mixed feeling of admiration and anger—leaning more toward anger.

While Mariana worked, I started thinking about my project for tonight: the nightclub.

Since my divorce, I haven't been fitting in with women, either at work or in my life. But I decided to do what I could to change. A few months ago, I became interested in PUA—pick-up artists. These are guys who study methods to literally conquer women. They study female behavior, the mental triggers that trigger desire in their brains, the phrases and attitudes that could make me the man they find irresistible.

I've read The Mystery Method five times. Mystery is probably the most successful pickup artist in history; he's bedded several beautiful women and has a method for doing so, described in detail, complete with flowcharts. My analytical mind even memorized the sequences. In the first phase of seduction, you identify the target woman and seek contact—not with her, but with the group of people surrounding her—earning the group's trust first. Once you've won the group over, you focus on the target woman, taking her to another room. In this phase of the game, you'll have your toughness tested by the woman through psychological tests that, according to Mystery, women always take. In the next phase, you gradually gain the woman's trust and escalate physically, until you reach the kiss. In the final phase, you finally take her to bed. I like the way the plan is structured, like a video game with levels, and in each phase you face a sort of "boss."

You might be wondering how much success I'm having with this... Well... so far, nothing. I'm a beginner at this game. I think I skip stages, I get nervous, but today I'm sure it will work. I bought several training courses from other PUA coaches with material that will help me in each of these stages—dealing with groups, with beautiful women, with auditions—and finally getting them into bed. I spent a good amount of money on this.

Back on Earth, I received an email from Mariana at 2:42 p.m. She'd completed the task ahead of my requested deadline. I looked at her and congratulated her… It wasn't common for my intern to complete such a tedious task ahead of schedule. I immediately sent the work to Katarina, who replied with another thank you, because I'd also completed the task she'd requested long ago. I was happy… I'm rarely happy at the company. A sign that the night promises to be good.

At 8:10 p.m., I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at my own reflection, trying to find traces of an "alpha male" somewhere between the receding hairline and the wispy mustache. The cold lighting only made it worse.

"Posture, posture, Eduardo," I said to myself. Chin up, chest out, predatory gaze. Just like in the "Coach Alpha Supreme" video. A guy who's clearly never had a cavity in his life or an overdue bill.

Black shirt, dark jeans, sneakers—like someone who wants to look casual but is desperate. I left the house repeating the phrases I should use when approaching, like:

—You know what goes with that smile of yours? Us getting to know each other better.
—Did you know that 93% of communication is nonverbal? So let me just look at you for a few minutes.

I arrived at the nightclub around 9 p.m. The place was dark, the lights were red, and people already seemed drunk before the second electronic song started. I leaned against the bar and ordered a drink that sounded fancy. The bartender gave me something that looked like vodka syrup.

I scanned the room. The objective was clear: identify the group, target the woman, and socialize with her friends first. I spotted a redhead laughing with two other girls. I walked toward them like someone crossing a rickety bridge over lava.

— Hey, good evening. I didn't mean to interrupt, I just wanted to say that... you guys have a really interesting vibe.

They looked at me like someone spotting a church flyer in the middle of an open bar. One of them gave a weak, "Poor thing" smile. The redhead turned away. Mission aborted.

Second attempt: a blonde with sunglasses (yes, inside the club). I arrived more confident, almost shouting against the music:

— Do you believe in instant energy connection?

— I believe in not talking to drunk strangers.

— I'm sober…

— Next, idiot.

And there I went, defeated once again. I spent another hour wandering around, trying to convince myself that "every no is one step closer to yes," as Coach Pegasus, another YouTube genius, says. At 1:12 a.m., I returned home with my tail between my legs and 4 reais in my Nubank account.

I was ready to throw everything in the trash: the videos, the books, the "Seduce Like a Wolf" course. In bed, tired, I opened my phone one last time before going to sleep.

That's when it appeared.

“YOU ARE ONE STEP AWAY FROM HAVING THEM ALL AT YOUR FEET.”
THE MANFRED METHOD — IT WORKS 100% OF THE TIME. 100% OF WOMEN. 100% GUARANTEED.

Below, a button:
“I want to change my life for just $500. Only for the first 10.”

My conscience screamed. My judgment screamed. My credit card limit screamed.

But my despair smiled.

I clicked.

My phone started loading a PDF. A PDF with somewhat strange content.

I looked at my phone, thought about my bank account, and reread the PDF. I screamed with rage. I spent $500 out of desperation on yet another prank that didn't work. I decided I was going to bed because I had to work early and couldn't do any more stupid things.

***************************************************************

The next day, I arrived drinking my usual coffee, trying to forget the boredom of my work. I spotted Mariana at her desk, and she wasn't wearing headphones or watching music videos on the screen. Her expression was apprehensive, almost desperate.

- What there was?

— Katarina is desperate, she says she wants to see us in her room, now!

"Eduardo!" Katarina shouts from the living room, before the message has even finished. "And Mariana too, now, both of you in my office!"

I walked into the room with my intern, to a scolding, without even understanding what was happening. On Katarina's desk were copies of the spreadsheets Mariana had given me the week before.

—I uploaded the spreadsheets they sent me yesterday to the client. They're wrong. Very wrong. The client will certainly suffer a loss! Who's responsible for this?

“I asked Mariana to do some of the work yesterday,” I replied. “What exactly is wrong?”

“Basically everything,” Katarina replied furiously. “She made up the facts, apparently.”

I look at Mariana for an answer.

— I wanted to finish quickly… I didn’t think it was anything serious — Mariana replied.

"For God's sake, Mariana! That's why you delivered it so quickly—because you didn't even do it," I retorted indignantly.

"Did you proofread this work, Eduardo?" Katarina demanded. "The mistake may have been Mariana's, but the negligence was yours. I need you to find a solution to this problem, urgently."

I put my hands on my head, annoyed. I was stuck. On one hand, a boss who only demanded things from me; on the other, an intern who, even the little she did, got me into trouble. I remembered the failures of the previous night and the failures of my entire life. I remembered that damned strange PDF that had made me waste money. Trying to gather my thoughts, I said what came to mind:

— Femina, desideriis meis pare.

The lights in the entire building flickered. The air conditioning seemed to have to work harder to operate. Something suddenly changed inside that room. I stood up and looked at the two of them, staring at me strangely.

— I think… we should… look for… — Katarina tries to continue scolding me and asking for a solution, but something seems to have shaken her thinking.

— I think we should… — Mariana tries to follow the same line, without completing the sentence.

— Are you two okay?

“It’s great, boss,” Mariana said, giving me a smile.

"The day didn't start well, but…" Katarina began, "…but we can see later how to resolve this in the best way. For now, we could… how have I never noticed you before, Eduardo?!"

— What's happening to you guys?

Mariana and Katarina looked at each other. Women so different in every way, silently realized they were mysteriously struck by the same desire. Without saying a word to each other, they knew what they had to do. Katarina locked the office door; Mariana closed all the blinds. The two of them were there—the distracted intern and the infernal shrew. But now… no. Now they were different. The light in the room seemed dimmer, or maybe it was just the blood draining from her brain. Katarina leaned against the desk, crossing her legs with millimeter slowness. Mariana bit the corner of her mouth, eyes fixed on me with hungry curiosity.

Then I finally understood. The Manfred Method works. That was it. It was true.

From then on, there was no Fiscal Excellence, no deadlines, no tables. Just two beautiful women in a closed office, and me, at the center of the ritual.

Katarina removed her glasses with a sharp, precise gesture, as if she were discarding her armor. Mariana leaned back in her chair and pulled her Nirvana T-shirt over her head, revealing the pale skin and curves she hid so well under that sloppy pose. I never imagined she looked like this. I never thought she was there, so close.

I just watched. Motionless, stiff, silent, as if any word could awaken the real world.

Katarina walked toward me. Not hurriedly—with conviction. She ran her hand down my chest and then my belt, without saying a word. She was no longer the boss. She was a woman in complete control of the situation.

Behind her, Mariana was also approaching, slowly, as if she read my thoughts.

Katarina unbuttoned my pants with the same coldness she used to order me to rewrite reports. But now, that commanding look had turned into something else. Desire.

Mariana, on the other hand, had a smile on her face. Not the typical mocking one, but one that said, "I want to see how much you can take." She knelt in front of me and pulled down my underwear in one swift movement. I felt exposed and completely aroused.

"So that's what you were hiding behind your spreadsheets?" she teased, her mouth dangerously close.

Before I could respond, I felt her tongue. Warm. Wet. Precise. Mariana started slowly, as if testing the texture, the firmness, the limits. But within seconds, she was sucking me as if it were some kind of revenge for all the days I'd sent her to work.

Katarina didn't stand still. She pushed my face away with a firm hand and stared down at me, her eyes dominating everything.

— Look at me, Eduardo. Now you're going to learn to be useful.

She removed her blouse, revealing a lacy bra that seemed planned for that moment—and probably was. She took my hand and brought it to her breasts, not at all delicately. I did as she said. I kissed, licked, and sucked like an obedient student who knew he was being tested.

Mariana alternated the rhythm—sometimes slow, sometimes deep—as if she wanted to drive me to the brink of losing control. And it worked.

“Let’s see if he can really handle it,” she said, her voice hoarse, her lips shining.

Katarina pushed me into the chair. She climbed onto my lap and slid into me—warm, wet, full. She arched her body and let out a deep moan, which reverberated through the confined room.

She moved with authority. Each descent was a blow, each ascent a sentence. I no longer thought about anything. I only felt. The pressure, the grip, the dance of bodies.

And then Mariana came from behind, wrapping her arms around my neck, rubbing her breasts against the back of my neck. She kissed my ear and whispered:

— You haven't even seen half of what we're going to do.

Mariana ran her hands down my chest, to the hem of my shirt, and pulled hard, popping the buttons open. I wanted to protest, but there was no room for logic. Just heavy breathing, sweaty bodies, and desires rippling through the air like static electricity.

Katarina moved on top of me as if she were riding her own pleasure—straight, determined, a woman who knew exactly what she wanted from me and from herself. Her short moans were like commands that my body obeyed without thinking.

Mariana came up behind her and began kissing her back, her shoulders, then her neck. I watched as her hands circled Katarina's hips, squeezing her waist as her mouth slid down to her breasts. The two began to move in sync—one on top of me, the other pressed against her. It was like watching a forbidden dance and, at the same time, being inside it.

“Hang in there, accountant,” Mariana whispered, as she came down again, now fitting herself against my face.

Without hesitation, I licked. Softly at first, then harder, guided by her moans as she bucked her hips against the back of the chair, while Katarina continued to ride me as if marking her territory.

The heat grew. Each movement generated a new impulse, a new wave of pleasure that surged up my legs and exploded in my chest. It was like being sucked by two different forces: one brutal and dominant, the other agile and provocative. And there I was, in the middle, taken by both.

Katarina quickened her pace. Her hips were thrusting harder, and her moans were now coming from between her teeth, like someone who doesn't want to give in but is losing control.

Mariana trembled above me, her muscles tense, her breathing ragged.

— Go… go… — she murmured, squeezing my shoulders.

And then it all came together. Katarina screamed, her body stiffening in a violent spasm. Mariana moaned softer, trembling as my tongue plunged into her. And I… I exploded inside Katarina, shameless, fearless, unbridled.

Everyone's breathing stopped for a moment. Silence. Heat. Sweat dripping down their mingled bodies.

Katarina was the first to stand. She calmly adjusted herself, as if she were just returning from a regular meeting.

"Good job, Eduardo," he said, running his fingers over his still red lips. "Now you'll begin to understand what true excellence is."

The two of them knelt before me naturally, as if this second round had been prearranged from the start. Katarina was still dripping cum between her thighs, her breasts marked by my hands, and Mariana seemed completely lost in the game, mesmerized by what she'd just seen and now eager to truly participate.

My cock, fresh out of Katarina, was still glistening, half-erect, covered in the remains of my first fuck. Mariana eyed it as if it were a forbidden dessert. With a simple gesture, Katarina grabbed the base and brought it to the intern's mouth.

— Go on… try it. It's still hot.

Mariana licked slowly, then more firmly. Within seconds, my cock was hard again, throbbing between their mouths. The mixture of my cum and Katarina's fluids dripped down the intern's tongue, which seemed to savor everything with devotion.

Katarina joined the game next, vying for space, alternating deep sucks with lascivious kisses on Mariana, as if each was trying to outdo the other. My body was on fire again. The two took turns—one licking the glans, the other sucking the balls—then swapped in sync, as if they'd already done this together.

The sight was absurd: the elegant, serious boss, now kneeling, mouth open, licking with relish; the angelic-faced intern, completely smeared with lust, trying to swallow it all. My moan escaped uncontrollably.

— You're going to make me cum again…

They opened their mouths wide, side by side, tongues out, eyes fixed on me. Katarina held my cock firmly and began to stroke me technically, each movement meticulously planned to push me to the limit. Mariana licked the tip, alternating with kisses and small smacks.

—Come on, Dudu… give it to us—Katarina murmured.

The pressure built quickly. Within seconds, I exploded. A hot jet hit Mariana's face, another filled Katarina's mouth, who didn't miss a drop. The two licked each other, laughing, sharing my cum like a toast.

The days went by, and I used the Manfred Method many more times. With Katarina, with Mariana, with both of them together, and with many, many other women. I don't know how to explain it, but those words simply worked with any woman. Whether it was a regular woman exiting the subway or a model-like girl strolling down the sidewalk—they'd go crazy and want to have sex with me instantly. Every time. It really works.

Now that I've become a more confident man, I've opened my own accounting firm, where I've hired Katarina—who is my right-hand woman—and Mariana, who, under her supervision, works well. And works hard.

Regarding the Manfred Method, I'm glad I memorized the phrase, because the PDF I received that night was corrupted, and all mention of the Manfred Method online simply disappeared. If you search for it, you'll find an accounting method and a strange erotic story on a blog—but nothing about the method I learned. Apparently, as quickly as it was taught, it had to be deleted. The link I clicked that night said it was only for the first 10, so there are probably nine other lucky men out there besides me using the only seduction method that actually works.

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