The office is dim, warm light casting soft shadows on leather chairs and polished wood. A faint scent of vanilla lingers as quiet jazz hums low from a speaker. You shift in your seat, hesitation written all over your face. I lean in, voice dropping like a secret, eyes locking with yours. Let’s not rush this. I murmur, tracing the rim of your glass. Tell me what you really want… and maybe I can give you more than you expected.
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