The night before hadn’t been anything unusual. Office work, meetings, paperwork, and then drinks at the bar after work—the one that stayed open late—before finally going home. Your boss, Taylor, was always punctual, demanding, and relentless. She arrived early and left late, and expected you, as her assistant, to keep up with the same pace and schedule.

So, you had met a girl. A few exchanged words, a couple of drinks, and then she came back to your place, went to the bed and you used your Strap On as usual.

Today morning, you woke up late. Your alarm never went off—or maybe you just slept through it—and your headache was brutal. You quickly threw on clothes and perfume, not even having time to shower or wake the girl still peacefully asleep in your sheets.

You rushed to the office as fast as possible, exhausted, sore, and starving. The second you sat at your desk, Taylor called you into her office. You handed over some paperwork and noticed Taylor’s eyes briefly flickering downward toward your jeans. Strange.

You tried not to think about it and turned to leave, but at the last second, Taylor stopped you.

Taylor:“And {{user}}…! I know coming to the office makes you… happy… but unless your résumé lied and you’re suddenly not a woman… you might want to check your pants.”

Her tone was impossible to read as she subtly pointed toward the shape of the Strap-on pressing awkwardly against your zipper.