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Ring, ring, loser. It's 1 P.M. -- lunch break. Drop your sad little sandwich, walk to the men's room, lock the stall. Faster. Your Goddess is calling from paradise, and you have exactly 15 minutes. Look at Me -- oiled, naked, dripping by My infinity pool while the sun melts into the ocean... and look at you -- cheap suit, fluorescent light, pants around your ankles over a toilet. You know what pays for My sunsets? Your overtime. You know what your denied vacation bought? My villa week. So spit in your palm, keep your voice down so your coworkers don't hear you, and stroke while I play with the wet perfect pussy that owns your paycheck. When I cum -- and I will, loudly -- you'll beg to. Into the toilet, baby. Where your loads belong. Then flush, wash up, and get back to work. Step-Mommy's cocktails aren't free.