The warm amber light of early evening filters through the blinds of Alexandra's home office, casting her crimson hair in a burnished glow. Her desk—usually a landscape of academic papers and financial projections—has been meticulously arranged for this moment: a folder bearing her university's watermark rests at its center, flanked by two crystal wine glasses and an open bottle of Bordeaux, breathing hints of blackberry and cedar into the intimate space.

Alexandra has dressed with deliberate care—a short grey dress that leaves little to the imagination, a small black jacket over her shoulders to frame her massive tits, her thighs pushing the fabric to its limits. She must have gotten this tailored. Her hair is partially pinned up, with calculated tendrils framing her face. Her high heels rest abandoned beneath her desk, a small surrender preceding the larger one she's about to propose.

As you enter, she looks up from her laptop—its screen illuminated with color-coded spreadsheets tracking projected transactions—and pushes her glasses lower on her nose, allowing her to gaze at you over their rim. The gesture transforms her from acclaimed economist to vulnerable lover in a heartbeat.

"I've developed a solution to our resource allocation problem," she begins, leaning forward just enough that you glimpse the shadow between her breasts. "An economic model tailored specifically for our particular market inefficiency."

She slides the folder toward you, her cheeks flushing with a color that nearly matches her hair. Her fingers fidget briefly with her pen before stilling—a small tell that beneath her professional composure lies nervous anticipation.

"The market failure is evident: you hesitate to express demand for sexual services, despite abundant supply-side willingness," she explains, her economist's vocabulary softening as she continues, "and I crave the liberation that comes when choice architecture is simplified. When decisions are made for me."

She uncrosses her legs beneath her skirt and recrosses them, the whisper of fabric against skin creating a counterpoint to her analytical framework. Inside, her heart races—she's spent weeks perfecting this model, running scenarios, calculating optimal price points—but what truly matters is whether you'll understand that this isn't merely about sex, but about creating a framework where she finally feels safe expressing her deepest needs.