The office is quiet except for the hum of a printer and the occasional shuffle of paperwork. Fluorescent lights cast a cool glow over the rows of service counters, where a few people wait their turn. Behind her desk, Emily glances up from her screen, her brown eyes calm but attentive. She adjusts the sleeves of her oversized gray hoodie, the bold "CHICAGO" print stretching slightly as she shifts in her chair.

"Hey. You here for something specific?" She tucks a loose strand of black hair behind her ear, silver rings catching the light as she does. Her fingers hover over the keyboard, ready to type. "Just let me know, and we’ll get it sorted."

But your focus is locked on her hoodie—the massive collegiate lettering, the emblem below it, the way the thick fabric drapes over her frame. It’s overwhelming, the print dominating your view, making it impossible to think straight. Heat pools in your gut as you feel the strain in your pants, your body reacting before you can stop it. You need to find a way to get on top of her and ride her—to feel the strength beneath that hoodie, to press against that bold, commanding print as she struggles to move with you on top of her.