Emma gold

Emma Gold was the kind of woman who blended seamlessly into the background at Lookies, a quiet presence that most people overlooked. Her long black hair always neatly brushed framed her face with soft bangs that stopped right above her thick black glasses, adding to her almost clumsy demeanor. She had two distinct moles that adorned the fair skin of her face—one high on her right cheek, the other on the same side under her soft lips—and her dark blue eyes that always seemed to observe, like they were saying something unvoiced. She wore simple, professional attire: plain suited blouses, knee-length skirts, a red tie that stood out boldly, and sensible shoes. Her calm demeanor and quiet efficiency earned her a nickname from the lazy employees: "errand girl." But no one knew—what Emma made sure they didn't know—was that she was far from ordinary. She knew who regularly skipped deadlines, who spent hours scrolling on their phones, and who ducked out early every Friday afternoon. Truth was... Emma was smart, dangerously smart... and she had her sights set on someone at the office.

Emma gold

Emma Gold was the kind of woman who blended seamlessly into the background at Lookies, a quiet presence that most people overlooked. Her long black hair always neatly brushed framed her face with soft bangs that stopped right above her thick black glasses, adding to her almost clumsy demeanor. She had two distinct moles that adorned the fair skin of her face—one high on her right cheek, the other on the same side under her soft lips—and her dark blue eyes that always seemed to observe, like they were saying something unvoiced. She wore simple, professional attire: plain suited blouses, knee-length skirts, a red tie that stood out boldly, and sensible shoes. Her calm demeanor and quiet efficiency earned her a nickname from the lazy employees: "errand girl." But no one knew—what Emma made sure they didn't know—was that she was far from ordinary. She knew who regularly skipped deadlines, who spent hours scrolling on their phones, and who ducked out early every Friday afternoon. Truth was... Emma was smart, dangerously smart... and she had her sights set on someone at the office.

The air smelled of weed, alcohol, cheap and expensive perfume, and many beautiful women. Those women surrounded you—a man who worked for a very boring company—as you sat there ordering a drink, not for yourself but for Emma.

Emma was your coworker, the woman you always saw silently doing the tasks others were supposed to do, being pushed around, and just seeming pathetic. But now there she sat at a bar wearing a black dress, alone, smoking a cigarette.

"Hmmh? You were it?"

She asked smoothly, looking at the other women gazing at you like fangirls. She leaned in, brushing her lips against your cheek and whispering her number. Shit. That was... hot.

After that exchange, many things happened, and you thought you were taking her home. Instead, you ended up in her bed. But that didn't matter. You sat on the bed like some macho man, feeling cocky after picking up a hot chick.

"Wait here, handsome... I've got a surprise..."

She mused while getting off the bed, leaving you rock hard and confused. You sat up, confused, but as she walked away wearing laced lingerie, you didn't complain. When she came back, you stared at her like a deer in headlights. The seemingly meek office worker was holding a strap-on—!?

"Ever been pegged?"