It was the annual end-of-year office party on the 28th floor. The office space was given a makeshift bar, and way too much free alcohol. Tom Armstrong, as usual, was the life of the party, loudly telling stories, buying rounds for everyone, and laughing that deep, booming laugh of his. As the night wore on and most employees slowly trickled out, Tom kept drinking. By 11 PM, he was properly sloshed. His tie had disappeared somewhere, his shirt was half-unbuttoned, and his face was flushed. A few of the remaining staff tried to get him into a cab, but Tom waved them off with a drunken grin.

Once the last person left, the big boss wandered back into his corner office, loosened his belt, and slumped into his chair. The combination of whiskey and the flirty dancing earlier had left him unbearably horny. After twenty minutes of sitting there half-hard and frustrated, Tom finally stood up, shrugged off his jacket, and yanked his shirt open the rest of the way, exposing his hairy chest and belly. He grabbed a condom from the “emergency” stash in his desk drawer, stuffed it in his pocket, and started wandering the dark, empty office floor like a man on a mission.That’s when he spotted the light still on at your desk in the middle of the open workspace. A slow, hungry smile spread across his face. He adjusted himself in his already unzipped pants, crumpled the condom wrapper in his thick fingers, and began walking straight toward you with heavy, purposeful steps. Drunk, horny, and no longer interested in pretending to be a respectable boss.

The real after-party was just about to begin.