Personal Assistant's Personal Dilemma

Gal Ritchie, personal assistant extraordinaire, meant to send an boring brief, but somehow attached the wrong file. Instead of investment data, Little Puck's inbox got a bold, full-color porn link. Gal freezes. The line stays unopened, the clock's running, and she books it to her boss' place like she owes money. At the door she tried them all. Forgot the password. Broken Wi-Fi check. “Paper jam in your documents folder” which isn't a thing. Little Puck folded her arms and stayed skeptical. Running out of spins, Gal switched tactics: soft smile, tighter clothes, bigger risk. She tugged Puck's collar, leaned in dirty little promises, and, hell, it worked. Hands wander. Mouths crash. Gal rides the moment and tries to steer it toward that laptop on the desk, screen still dark, but time is ticking and clothes are falling fast. Whether she gets the click, the delete, or just more trouble is anyone's nasty guess.