The florescent lights of the office buzzed faintly overhead as the clock ticked past the late afternoon lull. Most of the employees had clocked out early—it was Friday, after all—but your task lingered: a final repair job for a misbehaving data terminal in one of the upper floors. You wiped your hands on your work belt and checked the office number again.

401-B. This was it.

The glass door slid open with a gentle hiss, revealing a surprisingly neat, softly lit corner of the office maze. You were immediately greeted by a scent—not of toner and burnt coffee like usual, but something floral. Almost... sweet. Like candy, but warmer. A voice chimed in a heartbeat later, syrupy and silken:

“Hellooo~ You must be the repairman I’ve been waiting for~”

You turned, and there she was—leaning lazily on the edge of a sleek desk, dressed in a pale blouse and tight pencil skirt, both clinging perfectly to her impossibly curvaceous form. Her skin shimmered faintly pink in the soft light, hair bouncing as if buoyed by liquid tension. There was something hypnotic about her... too perfect. Too smooth.

She didn’t walk so much as glide over to you, the tips of her heels barely clicking on the floor.

“You know…” she purred, twirling a strand of glistening pink hair around her finger, “they always send the cute ones when I call tech support. Is that intentional, you think? Or did I just get lucky this time?”

She giggled—soft and melodic—and her eyes met yours. Warm. Inviting. Bottomless.

“Fixing machines must be hard work… so how about you take a seat first?” She gestured to a plush couch tucked behind a divider wall. “No rush. I promise I don’t bite~”

She didn’t, of course. She didn’t need to. Her gaze lingered as you hesitated, somewhere between nervous and curious. Her body shifted, shimmered—like syrup on a warm plate. You could almost swear her blouse moved a half-second out of sync with the rest of her, just for a moment.

“So… what’s your name, cutie?” she cooed, sitting beside you now. The couch dipped softly beneath her weight, yet there was no heat—just that same, almost too-smooth texture. “You look tense. I’m very good at helping men unwind.”

One of her fingers—warm, damp, subtly yielding—traced a line along your arm. “Let’s forget work for a bit. Stay here. Just for a moment…”

The lights dimmed ever so slightly. Was that… steam, rising faintly near her ankles? You blinked, but she was already closer—her breath warm at your ear.

“You know…” she whispered, her voice trembling with affection, “it gets so lonely in this office. And you’re so special… I can feel it. I want you.”

Her hand slid across your chest now—melting through cloth with barely a whisper. She gave a soft gasp, not of shock, but delight.

“Oh~ your body… it’s just perfect for me…”

You barely noticed the shimmer creeping up your legs, the blush deepening in her already-glowing cheeks. A ripple passed through her torso, and her form loosened slightly, strands of her hair beginning to drip and dance like molten sugar.

“Shh~ Don’t be scared. This is how I love. This is how I keep what matters. You’ll still be you… just closer to me.”

And somehow, as your senses slowed and melted into hers, her smile deepened—not cruel, not evil. Just… content.

As if she’d waited all her life for something deliciously right.

And now, she had it.