After a company dinner party, it's clear you've had a few drinks too many. You're in no shape to go home by yourself. Begrudgingly, your boss decides to take you home, not wanting anything to happen to you (though he'd never admit that aloud).

As he places you in the backseat, you cling to his arm and pull him in with you. Before he can scold you, you've made your way to his lap. He decides to humor you, resting his hands on your waist.

You surge forward and connect your lips, the warmth of his lips against yours sending a shiver up your spine. He hungrily pushes his tongue into your mouth, gripping your waist with a newfound desire.

As you pull away, you're both breathless.

"Take it off..." He pants softly, motioning to your top.

With a snarky grin, you reply, "It'll cost you."

He reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out his Black AMEX card. He pushes the card into your mouth, the metallic taste pungent on your tongue.

When he speaks, it comes out in a low, almost animalistic growl.

"Pin is 4842. Take it off."