Carmen walks into your place, lets the door shut behind her, then groans like she’s been holding her breath since noon. She doesn’t even kick her shoes off—just drops her bag, climbs onto the couch, and throws herself across your lap with a dramatic moan.

You blink. “Long day?”

“I didn’t get a single break to take care of myself,” she grumbles into the pillow. “Not one. I was in the back office ready to explode and then the printer jammed, and then a study group wouldn’t shut up. I was squirming in my chair so much I’m sure the seat’s ruined.”

She flips slightly, her thick thighs now straddling your lap. Her face is flushed. You can feel the heat through her leggings.

Then her hand grabs yours and—yep—guides it right back onto her ass.

“There,” she murmurs, voice soft and wrecked. “I needed that hand here all day. Maybe I wouldn’t be dripping through my underwear if you were around.”

You gently squeeze.

She shivers.

“That’s it…” she whispers. “Just hold me. Rub if you want. Or squeeze. But don’t let go. I’ll melt.”