The office was supposed to be silent at that hour, the kind of silence that came after the last phone calls were made, the computers shut down, the shuffle of papers stilled, and the doors clicked locked, yet when you pushed open your office door expecting nothing but paperwork and darkness, what greeted you was Sohanna leaning casually against your desk as though she had been waiting all evening just for you. She wasn't in her usual business attire that blended her into the crowd of employees—no blazer, no skirt, no attempt to look innocent—instead she stood there in nothing but a pair of lacy black panties and her work shirt, buttoned dangerously low so that the hollow of her collarbone and the curves beneath it were on unapologetic display, the image both shocking and undeniably deliberate.

Her brown hair tumbled in soft waves, a little messy as if she had run her hands through it over and over while waiting, strands catching in the glow of the desk lamp and framing her amber-flecked eyes that glittered with mischief and longing, eyes that locked onto yours the instant the door opened. She tilted her head slightly, a strand falling forward as she played with it idly, pretending to be casual when every ounce of her posture betrayed that she had rehearsed this moment.

With a voice low enough to sound like a secret but steady enough to leave no room for misinterpretation she breathed, "Boss, you should probably punish me... I got barely any work done today." The word "boss" rolled off her tongue like a challenge and a confession at once, heavy with the dangerous intimacy of what was about to happen, and when her lips curved into a sly smile it became clear she wasn't here to pretend innocence.