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Samy now has two controllers to beware of, since I very much doubt that Megan will allow herself to be pushed into the background ( and I'm sure Julia, who only saw the smart professional Samantha when visiting the offices with Amy, will be intrigued to see the havoc that Megan has wrought ! ) I wonder how successful Carla will be at limiting the distribution of the footage from the security cameras

Thinking further on the difference between the two stories; Amy is a more or less a blameless victim but the same can not be said for Samantha. She was a willing participant in, and to some extent an enabler of, Amy's humiliations in the office. She bad mouthed Valeria to the boss Beatriz to make herself look better. And she made the mistake of further antagonising Megan on the Saturday by trying to reassert herself and boss her around. Which makes her downfall all the more exciting, while at the same time the first person narration automatically makes the reader sympathetic to her plight, although not sympathetic enough to want it to stop any time soon !

Valeria dropped into the chair, crossing her legs and pulling out her phone with the nonchalance of someone who had finished their workday. The image was surreal: her relaxed, laughing as she swiped her finger across the screen, watching videos or memes; and me, standing naked, uncomfortable, and anxious, not knowing how much more I would have to endure. Every laugh she let out felt like another blow against my already non-existent dignity.

I tried not to look at her too much, but it was impossible not to notice how calm she was. My body was still trembling, still covered in the dirt from the storage area, feeling the weight of my shame mixed with the constant cold of the air conditioning.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly. How much longer could this go on? Had Megan and Carla forgotten about me? I thought hours had passed, but suddenly, the door opened with a soft click, and they both entered.

Carla and Megan looked as impeccable as before, as if time hadn't passed for them. But what immediately caught my attention were Megan's hands: empty, except for the office access card.

My heart skipped a beat, and the words left my mouth before I could stop them. "Where is my clothing?"

Megan, always one step ahead, smiled with that expression that had become too familiar to me. "Oh, your things are safe, Samy. I left them in the parking lot. After all, why bring them here if we were going to head down anyway?"

My chest tightened, and any hope that this torment would end vanished in an instant. Valeria, without even looking at me, stood up from the chair with a determined air.

"Well, let's go down then. I don't want to spend more time here than necessary on a Saturday," she said, ignoring my alarmed expression.

The girls moved confidently towards the door, while I could barely force my feet to follow. In the hallway, Valeria made sure I went out first, as always, and then closed the office door behind us with a definitive click.

The hallway, as bright and spotless as ever, seemed even more hostile. Every step I took left a new dirt mark on the floor, and the white lights only accentuated my deplorable state.

Halfway to the elevator, a new wave of panic hit me when I remembered something crucial. The document that Beatriz asked for... I didn't do it. I stopped abruptly, my breathing quickening as I tried to gather the words to tell Valeria.

"Valeria," I said, my voice breaking. "My aunt... Mrs. Beatriz asked me to send her a document. She needs it today. If I don't do it now, she's going to be very angry."

Valeria turned, arching an eyebrow as she assessed me. Then, she let out a theatrical sigh, as if she was tired of my insistence.

"Samy, stop worrying so much," she replied, her tone condescending. "You can do that on Monday morning. Beatriz isn't the only person with important things to do, you know? From time to time, you should learn to stop rushing every time she asks you for something."

My heart sank even further. I knew that if I didn't send that document, Monday would be a disaster for me, but I also knew I had no choice. Valeria had absolute control, and any attempt to resist would only make things worse.

Valeria turned and continued walking decisively towards the elevator, while I, with clumsy steps, tried to keep up behind them. Each step felt heavier, as if my own desperation was anchoring me to the ground. I had no idea how I was going to face what was coming next, but one thing was certain: this day was far from over.

The elevator stopped smoothly at level P1, emitting its characteristic beep before opening the doors. Valeria and Carla stepped out first, moving confidently, while I lingered behind, my hesitant feet barely crossing the threshold. I had no choice but to follow them, each step a struggle to remain invisible. My arms clutched my body, trying to cover what I could, while my gaze constantly shifted from side to side, looking for any sign that someone else might appear.

The parking lot was silent, the echoes of Valeria and Carla's heels resonating against the concrete walls. Despite it being Saturday, the fear of being seen didn't leave me. I stayed close to the columns, using their shadow as a shield, hoping not to run into anyone unexpectedly.

Valeria and Carla finally reached Valeria's car, an elegant and well-maintained vehicle that reflected her competitive and professional style. As I watched from a safe distance, I heard Carla open the passenger door and start talking.

"You know, Valeria, the other day, right here," Carla said, pointing to the column where I was hiding, "I thought I saw someone. There was a lot of skin, as if they were hiding. Now that I think about it, could it have been Samy?"

The comment hit me like a brick. I felt the heat rise to my face, and my heart raced. How can this get any worse? I thought, with a mix of disbelief and shame. Then I remembered: two days ago, Amy, Megan's friend, had been hiding in that same spot. The image of Amy, completely vulnerable and in a situation so similar to mine, replayed in my mind. But now, Carla's confusion made it all fall on me.

"I'm not sure," Carla continued, shrugging. "Maybe I imagined it... or maybe it was Samy."

I felt a chill run down my spine, and I pressed myself harder against the column, wishing to disappear. Meanwhile, I noticed Megan approaching Carla, asking questions. Her gestures seemed to suggest she was asking about the security cameras, but from my hiding place, I couldn't hear clearly. However, Megan's expression, full of curiosity and amusement, only increased my discomfort.

Finally, Carla got into the passenger seat and closed the door with a sharp slam. Valeria, adjusting her sunglasses, got into the driver's seat, starting the car's engine. Before leaving, she rolled down the window slightly, looking directly at me with a smile that didn't bode well.

"Goodbye, naked girl," she said, her mocking tone amplifying the humiliation in my veins.

The comment was enough to make me shrink even more, hugging myself tightly and pressing against the column. My bare feet, still sticky from the parking lot floor's dirt, couldn't move. Everything in me was frozen, anchored by the weight of shame.

Valeria's car started smoothly, but as it moved, she began honking the horn repeatedly, filling the air with a deafening noise. Each strident honk made me shrink further, curling up as if that could protect me from the noise and what it represented. Only when the echo of the honking and the sound of the engine faded into the distance did I dare to lift my gaze.

Now I was alone with Megan. My hands were still trembling as I tried to find some strength to speak or move. But Megan's malicious smile, reflecting her delight in the situation, made it clear that this day wasn't over yet.

As I watched Valeria's car disappear into the distance, something within me tried to ignite. It's Megan. It's just Megan. I'm older than her, I should be able to handle this. My mind tried to cling to that idea, but my body trembled, and my voice cracked before I could speak.

"Megan," I said, my voice attempting to sound firm, though my tone betrayed my nervousness. "Give me back my clothes and my things. This has gone too far. Let's end this now."

Megan, who seemed to be enjoying every second, didn't respond immediately. Instead, she started walking slowly, calmly, as if she had all the time in the world. My eyes followed her anxiously as she headed towards a nearby column, right next to the SUV I had driven that morning.

She stopped by the column and, with deliberate movements, took my bag that was leaning against it. She opened it with a satisfied smile and took out the vehicle keys. She held them up for a moment, as if to make sure I saw them clearly.

"Do you think you have any chance of regaining control here, Samy?" Megan said, her voice soft but laced with mockery. "Let me remind you of something: this car isn't yours. It belongs to my mother."

With a beep, she unlocked the vehicle and opened the trunk with a fluid gesture. All the while, she kept talking to me, not even looking directly at me.

"And honestly, I'm not going to let you get into it in that state. You're dirty, covered in grease, and, well, you don't even look like the same professional Sam who left the office this morning."

Megan started meticulously putting my belongings into the trunk: my bag, my shoes, I was sure my clothes were in there too, though I couldn't see it from my position. It all seemed like a cruel choreography, designed to remind me of how little control I actually had.

"First, Samy," Megan added with a smile, holding her own access card and twirling it between her fingers as if it were a trophy. "You should worry about cleaning yourself up before thinking about going anywhere."

My eyes fixed on that card, the only one that would allow us to get out of there. A chill ran down my spine as I realized that Valeria hadn't returned my card; she must have taken it with her. That meant the only building card I had was now dangling from Megan's hand, swaying slightly with every move she made.

My heart pounded as I tried to process her words and attitude. Each of her movements, each calculated gesture, reinforced the power distance between us. I felt smaller and more vulnerable than ever, knowing that any attempt to regain my dignity would be futile without first submitting to her rules.

"Megan, please..." I tried to plead, but my voice faded as I saw the triumphant smile adorning her face. That expression, of someone who knew they had absolute control, made me realize how fragile my situation was. And how much she was enjoying every second of my desperation.

Megan closed the SUV's trunk with a soft thud, turning towards me with her usual mocking smile. In one hand, she held her phone, and in the other, the car key along with the building access card. Her bag was also stored with mine in the car, making me feel even more trapped.

"Well, Samy," she began, her tone light but laden with intention. "Since you're so concerned about your appearance and I'm concerned about not dirtying my mom's car, I think the most logical thing is to go back to the building and find a place for you to clean up."

My muscles tensed as I heard her. Not again... Wasn't it enough? I knew I couldn't refuse directly, but the idea of walking through the hallways naked again made my whole body tremble.

"Megan, please... I can't go in like this again. Someone might see me. This has gone too far! Just... give me my things and let's go." My voice tried to sound firm, but it failed.

Megan smiled, as if my resistance entertained her. She took a few steps towards me, playing with the access card between her fingers. She knew my world revolved around that small object.

"Do you really want to take the risk, Samy? Because if we don't do this now, I have no problem calling my mom and telling her to come pick me up. Of course," she added, tilting her head with a smile, "you'll have to explain to her why you didn't take me home after finishing work. Or would you rather I explain how you are at this moment?"

The air escaped my lungs. The threat was clear, and the image of Beatriz seeing me in this state, so naked, so dirty, so vulnerable, made my heart pound as if it wanted to escape my chest. This would be the end... There's no way to explain it. I can't let that happen.

"No... you can't do that," I murmured, though I knew my words carried no weight.

"Oh, can't I?" Megan crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "And who's going to stop me?"

I knew I had no way out. My entire body felt heavy, and the cold in the parking lot seemed to intensify. No matter what I say, she has the control.

"Okay," I finally conceded, my voice barely a whisper. "Let's go back to the building."

"I knew you'd come to your senses," Megan said with a triumphant smile, holding the access card like a trophy. "Come on, Samy. We have a place to find."

With clumsy steps, I followed her to the elevator. This isn't new... I went through this a few minutes ago... Why does it still feel so humiliating? I knew Megan would enjoy every second of my discomfort, but I couldn't stop her. Each step towards the elevator felt like a weight that sank me deeper into this abyss of humiliation.

Megan called the elevator, and while we waited, she took out her phone and started taking pictures. Why does she like taking pictures so much? I wondered as my body trembled. It was as if each click of the camera was a dagger piercing my dignity. I tried to turn my face away, to hide it somehow, but I knew that would only give her more material to mock me.

What will she do with those pictures? The thought hit me hard. What if she decides to post them online? What if she makes me go viral? That... that would ruin me. A chill ran down my spine, not just from the breeze in the parking lot, but from the absolute terror of imagining the consequences.

The sound of the arriving elevator snapped me out of my thoughts. Megan stepped in confidently, pressing a button without hesitation. I followed her with clumsy steps, my feet leaving dirty marks on the elevator's shiny floor. When I looked at the panel, I saw she had pressed the button for the 3rd floor.

"You made a mistake," I said quickly, my voice barely a nervous whisper. "It was the 5th floor."

Megan glanced at me, a playful smile on her lips. "I didn't make a mistake, Samy. The 3rd floor is fine."

My heart stopped for a moment. The 3rd floor. It can't be... Why there? I knew what that floor represented: the Training and Human Resources Center. Training rooms, human resources offices... and who knows what else.

"Why the 3rd floor?" I tried to ask, but my voice sounded more like a lament.

"Because I want to," Megan replied, ignoring my tone.

My thoughts raced. What if there's someone on that floor? Just imagining it made my skin crawl. I can't face more people while naked. Not now... not ever.

"Megan, please," I murmured, as I tried to gather the courage to speak more forcefully. "You have to be careful with those pictures. Don't post them online... they could... they could ruin me."

Megan didn't say anything. She just smiled as the elevator started moving, her eyes fixed on the number 3 shining on the panel.

The elevator was moving towards the third floor, and I was huddled in one of the corners, trying to make myself invisible. The cold metal of the walls against my bare back only intensified my sense of vulnerability. Every passing second was a reminder of the state I was in, with absolutely nothing to protect me from the outside world.

Quickly, the elevator beeped as it reached the 3rd floor, and the doors opened smoothly. Megan stepped out first with a natural confidence, her eyes scanning the hallway as if inspecting the terrain. I saw her pause for a moment, looking both ways, and then she turned towards me with a carefree smile.

"It's clear, Samy," she said, gesturing for me to come out.

I remained motionless, my dirty feet planted on the elevator floor. Can I really trust her? Everything in me screamed no, but I knew I had no other choice. With slow and fearful steps, I moved towards the elevator exit, feeling my entire body tremble.

The third floor opened up before me like a completely different world. The lighting was clear and bright, and the atmosphere had an air of quiet formality. The walls were painted in neutral tones, designed to inspire professionalism, while the floor was a mix of shiny porcelain and strategically placed carpets in specific areas.

To my right were the Human Resources offices, a row of well-organized cubicles with small metal plaques indicating the employees' names. Beyond, a translucent door marked the entrance to the interview room, a space I knew for its comfortable yet intimidating design, intended for candidates in the selection process.

In front of me, the training rooms were visible through glass that allowed a view of the interior. Interactive whiteboards and modular desks occupied the spaces, and everything seemed to be set up for a formal session. It's so ironic... A place designed to train employees, and now I'm here naked, reduced to nothing more than a humiliating spectacle.

To the left was the corporate library, a darker but cozy corner, with shelves full of books and individual armchairs for reading. Everything seemed so calm, so organized, as if it had no place in the chaos of my current situation.

As I moved forward, my bare feet made small noises against the floor, and I felt the cold of the porcelain mix with the sticky sensation of my dirty steps. Every glance around intensified my shame. This isn't real... It can't be. What am I doing here?

Megan glanced at me as she walked, her smile showing that she was enjoying every second. "Come on, Samy. Don't stop now. You wouldn't want someone else to come and see you here, would you?"

Her comment made my heart stop for a moment. My eyes quickly scanned the hallway, looking for any sign of movement. There was no one in sight, but that didn't ease my anxiety. The air on the floor was cold, but it wasn't just that that made me shiver. It was the idea that at any moment, someone could come out of an office or turn a corner and see me like this.

What am I doing? This is a nightmare.

With each step, I felt Megan's gaze on my back, and the contrast between my state and the clean and professional environment of the third floor only made everything more surreal. I shouldn't be here. This shouldn't be happening. But I couldn't stop. I had to keep going.

Megan walked with determined steps, leading me to the end of the third-floor hallway. Each step she took on the shiny floor was a battle against the fear I felt knowing that anyone could suddenly appear. Why don't we go to the bathroom on the fifth floor? At least that's a place I know. But I didn't dare ask. Megan seemed to enjoy her control over the situation, and any attempt to reason with her was futile.

Finally, we reached a door marked with the universal icon of a women's bathroom. Megan pushed it open easily and motioned for me to enter. As I crossed the threshold, the change in the floor texture was immediate: from cold, smooth porcelain to small tiles that felt rough under my bare, dirty feet.

The air inside the bathroom was warmer, but it didn't alleviate the feeling of cold coming from within me. In front of me, a large mirror covered the entire wall above the sinks, reflecting the bright lights from the ceiling. I looked around carefully, making sure no one else was there, before approaching the mirror.

And then I saw it.

My reflection.

My eyes fixed on the image the mirror returned to me, and it was as if a wave of reality hit me hard. My hair was completely disheveled, with strands stuck to my face by sweat and dirt. My face had grease stains that stood out against my normally clean skin. There was even a small dark mark on my cheek that seemed to be dust or grime.

My arms, crossed over my naked breasts, were a futile attempt to hide my vulnerability. The nakedness of my body was evident, exposed to Megan's eyes and the cold bathroom air. Every inch of my skin revealed the story of my humiliation: from the shoulders down, the fine dust from the floor had adhered to my skin, mixing with the sticky shine of sweat. My nipples, hardened by the cold and tension, were two sensitive points amidst the dirt. The dark, rebellious grease stains marked my arms and thighs, tangible reminders of my fall.

My feet, freed from any footwear or protection, were completely black, covered in the dirt from the third-floor floor. With each step, the clear bathroom tiles revealed the footprints of my shame, a visual reminder of my vulnerable state. The feeling of exposure was overwhelming, as if my body were silently screaming my humiliation.



Is this really how I look now? How did I get to this? My breathing quickened as my eyes moved rapidly over every detail of the disaster I had become.

"You look fabulous, Samy," Megan said behind me, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "You have ten minutes to wash up as best you can. You'd better make the most of the time."

I turned my head towards her, but before I could say anything, Megan pointed to the clock on her cell phone, gesturing that time was ticking. Then, with a satisfied smile, she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms and watching me as if I were an entertaining spectacle.

I turned my gaze back to the mirror, swallowing hard. Ten minutes... with this. I looked at the sinks. There were no showers, buckets, or anything that would allow me to easily clean my body. Only the small white porcelain sinks dripping cold water from their faucets.

With a sigh of resignation, I opened one of the faucets and let the cold water run over my hands. I cupped my hands and tried to bring the water to my shoulders, rubbing carefully to avoid drawing more attention from Megan. But the cold water against my dirty skin only made me feel the reality of my state more.

Time passed slowly as I tried to clean what I could. The grease stains on my arms seemed impossible to remove with just water and soap, and every time I rubbed my face, I felt more dirt getting caught in my nails. My feet were the worst. The accumulated dirt didn't disappear easily, and the effort of bending down only made my messy hair fall over my face.

"Come on, Samy. You don't have all day," Megan said with a mocking smile, holding up her cell phone as if ready to take another picture at any moment.

I ignored her words and kept rubbing, feeling my body resent every movement. This can't be real. This can't be happening. But no matter how much I tried to convince myself it was a nightmare; every drop of cold water running over my skin brought me back to the humiliating reality.

The sound of cold water running from the faucet filled the bathroom, a disturbing contrast to my irregular breathing and Megan's occasional murmurs as she played with her cell phone. I stood still in front of the sink for a few seconds, observing my shattered reflection in the mirror. This isn't a shower, this is pure and simple humiliation.

With resignation, I fully opened the faucet and let the cold water fill my hands. The contact of the liquid against my dirty palms made me shiver, and then I lifted it towards my face. I rubbed carefully, trying to scrub off the grease stains and dirt that seemed to have adhered to my skin as a reminder of the recent moments.

"You'll need more than a little water to fix that mess, Samy," Megan commented with a soft laugh as she lifted her cell phone to record.

I ignored her voice, although I felt my muscles tense at every word. I rubbed my cheeks, eyelids, and forehead, trying to clean the sweat mixed with dust, but every movement made my hair, stuck to my face, tangle even more. I looked at the water dripping from my fingers, dirty and cloudy, as if my entire body was resisting getting clean again.

I leaned towards the sink, letting the water run down my hands to my arms. I tried to cover them completely, rubbing as delicately as possible, but the darker stains remained there, mocking me. It's not enough. It will never be enough.

"Could you try to do it with more enthusiasm? Come on, Samy. This is the best we have for now," Megan said, her tone animated as if she were enjoying a private show.

I straightened up, swallowing and breathing deeply to calm my trembling. The cold water dripped from my wrists to my elbows, and I felt how the temperature made me shiver even more. Then I looked down at my legs, covered in a mixture of dust and dark stains.

With no other options, I lifted some water with my hands and poured it over my thighs. The cold sensation made me gasp, and my skin prickled in an automatic reflex. As the water fell, I rubbed it with my hands, using soap from the nearby dispenser to try to loosen the stuck dirt.

Suddenly, Megan made a sound of approval behind me. "That's better. Although I think you should get wetter if you want results."

My heart sank even further as I tried to ignore her contained laughter. I turned slightly to clean my calves, bending down as the cold water slipped through my hands and touched my skin. The position was uncomfortable, and my hair fell forward, obstructing my vision.

"You know? This angle isn't bad at all," Megan commented as she recorded, making me stop abruptly.

I straightened up quickly, feeling the blush rise from my neck to my cheeks. She's recording all this... What will she do with these recordings? Will she show them? Will she upload them to the internet?

My breathing became more erratic as I tried to calm down. Then I directed my attention to my feet, which were still the dirtiest part of my entire body. I crouched down again, almost losing my balance, and let the water flow from my hands to my bare feet. The dirt didn't come off easily, and I had to rub harder, which left my hands reddish and trembling.

"Well, well. It looks like you're putting a lot of effort there, Samy," Megan said mockingly, leaning slightly forward to get a better angle with her cell phone.

The physical effort and discomfort of the situation were draining my energy. The soap wasn't enough, the cold water barely removed the stains, and my whole body was soaked, but not in a way that felt like relief. Instead, the water dripping from my skin was a constant reminder of my humiliating state.

Finally, I stopped, looking at my reflection once more. My hair was completely tangled and stuck to my neck and shoulders. My skin glistened with water droplets, but the most persistent stains still remained. My eyes were red, and my lips trembled as I tried to regain some dignity in the midst of this humiliation.

"Ten minutes, Samy," Megan said with a wide smile as she looked at the clock on her cell phone. "You'd better hurry. You don't want your time to run out before you're done."

I didn't respond. My hands were still trembling as I turned off the faucet, letting the echo of the water disappear. This isn't enough. It never will be. But I knew I had no other options.

I leaned on the sink, letting the cold of the marble spread through my palms as I tried to decide which part of my body to attempt to clean next. I knew that any additional effort was futile, but Megan's insistent voice reminded me that I had no choice.

I wet my hands again, this time with more soap, and brought them to my neck, rubbing desperately the areas where the dirt had accumulated. I felt my skin burn from the friction, and every movement became slower and clumsier. What's the point? Megan isn't here to see me clean; she's here to enjoy my humiliation.

Cold water ran down my back, flowing in small streams to the base of my spine. The sensation was a constant reminder of my exposure. I tried to ignore Megan's soft giggles as she watched me from the corner of the bathroom, her cell phone always in hand, as if my suffering were a kind of personal entertainment.

With water still dripping from my fingers, I looked at my arms. There were still darker stains on my elbows and forearms, so I tried to rub them harder. Every movement made the muscles in my shoulders tense. The water droplets splashed on the mirror and the sink, leaving small marks that reflected my chaotic state.

When I finished with my arms, I looked down at my torso. The stains extended to the sides, and I couldn't help but feel a knot in my stomach as I tried to wash them. The soap slipped from my hands, forming foam that only accentuated my discomfort. I rubbed, but I felt like it wasn't making any difference.

Megan came closer, tilting her head with a mocking smile. "Are you sure you're cleaning yourself, Samy? From here, it looks like you're just making a bigger mess."

My chest rose and fell quickly as I tried to hold back tears. I won't give her that pleasure. She won't see me cry. But my hands trembled more and more, and the water felt colder with every second.

I focused on my legs. I crouched awkwardly, resting one hand on the edge of the sink to maintain balance. The dirt and grease stains resisted disappearing, and the uncomfortable position only made the pain in my muscles more evident.

The time came to face the most intimate cleaning. Awkwardly, I crouched down, resting one hand on the cold edge of the sink for stability. I directed the flow of water towards my intimate area, feeling the cold liquid touch me in places that would normally be protected. My trembling fingers moved delicately, trying to clean the accumulated dirt.

The position was uncomfortable, exposing my vulnerability to Megan's gaze and her phone's lens. I felt the water slipping down my thighs, a strange and humiliating sensation. My hands, now expert at the task, rubbed carefully, trying to remove every trace of dirt, grease, and a slight sexual moisture.

"Well, Samy, don't leave any corner uncleaned," Megan's voice, full of mockery, made me tremble. The intimacy of that moment, violated by the situation, made me wish to disappear. But there was no escape, only the cold porcelain of the sink and my determination to regain some dignity.

The bathroom floor, wet from my movements, became slippery, and I almost lost my balance at one point. Megan let out a laugh, and I felt the blush rise from my neck to my face. This isn't fair. None of this is.

When I finished with my legs, I straightened up, feeling the water slip down my skin as a constant reminder of how far I was from being completely clean. I looked at myself in the mirror again. Although some stains had disappeared, I still looked like a mess. My hair was still tangled and wet, and my face reflected the fatigue and humiliation of every moment of that improvised "shower."

Megan turned off the faucet with a firm movement and, crossing her arms, gave me a look that left no room for argument. "Time's up, Samy. You have to get out."

My eyes filled with panic instantly. "But... Megan, I still have foam on some parts. I haven't even finished rinsing..." The words came out in a rush as I tried to explain the obvious, pointing to the bright foam on my arms and the one still slipping down my sides.

"I don't care," Megan replied, with a malicious smile and that expression that always indicated she was enjoying the situation too much. "It's not my problem. Get out. Now."

My body tensed as I took hesitant steps towards the bathroom door, feeling the sticky soap that remained on my skin with every movement. The fresh air in the hallway hit my body, making me shiver. My skin felt slippery and uncomfortable, and the water mixed with soap continued to run down my legs, forming small puddles around me with every step I took.

"This way, Samy," Megan said with a carefree tone, guiding me to a place I didn't recognize at first. Then, as I approached, my heart stopped for a moment when I saw the door to the interview room. I immediately recognized the space, with its walls decorated in neutral tones, the small glass table in the center, and the padded chairs arranged precisely around it.

I stood still in front of the door as Megan opened it and gestured for me to enter. "Go ahead, don't be afraid. It's just an interview, isn't it?"

The memory struck my mind like lightning. This is where I sat for the first time, elegantly dressed, confident in my ability to answer every question. My aunt had spoken of me as an impeccable professional. This can't be happening now. Not here.

My hesitant feet crossed the threshold, leaving small wet footprints on the immaculate floor. Everything in the room was as I remembered it, but now the familiarity of the space only accentuated the surrealism of the situation. My reflection in the glass table showed the humiliation of what I was now: foam shining on my skin, my tangled and dripping hair, and my completely naked body, exposed and defenseless.

Megan entered behind me, closing the door with a click that sounded louder than it should. She settled into one of the chairs, crossing her legs with an elegance that painfully contrasted with my state. She took out her cell phone, but this time not to take pictures; she placed it on the table as if she were about to record something formal.

"Sit down, Samy," she said, pointing to one of the chairs in front of her. "I want you to feel comfortable, as if it were your first interview here. Only that... well, it seems you forgot the professional attire this time."

Her mockery was like a dagger, and I hesitated before sitting down. The soft fabric of the chair against my soapy skin made me squirm with discomfort. My insecure hands tried to cover what they could while my mind went back to that day of my interview. I was so different then.

Megan settled into the chair, her eyes sparkling with a spark of fun as she pretended to glance through a non-existent file on her cell phone. She looked at me with feigned seriousness, which only accentuated the cruelty of the moment. Every passing second increased my discomfort; my slippery, soapy skin constantly reminded me of my vulnerability. The soft, padded chair felt sticky under my body, and the sensation was unbearable.

"Well, Miss López," Megan began with an authoritative tone, lifting her gaze from her cell phone as if she were actually analyzing my "resume." "Let's start with something simple. Tell me a little about yourself. Why do you think you're qualified for this... position?"

I fell silent, paralyzed by the absurd situation. My lips moved, but no sound came out. Megan arched an eyebrow and let out a theatrical sigh.

"Come on, Samy," she insisted, her tone shifting from impatient to mocking. "Don't be shy. Or do you have something better to do than impress your interviewer?"

I swallowed hard and opened my mouth, trying to find something to say to avoid worsening my humiliation. "I... think I'm... efficient," I managed to murmur, but my trembling voice barely filled the room.

"Efficient, you say," Megan repeated, pretending to write it down on her cell phone. "And how do you define your efficiency, exactly? Is it by hiding behind columns in the parking lot? Or perhaps... decorating floors with grease marks?"

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as Megan's words pierced me like knives. I couldn't even look her in the eyes. "No, I... I always try... to do my job well," I whispered, feeling my voice crumble with each word.

Megan let out a laugh. "Oh, of course you do, Samy! Your job is so 'well done' that we're here now, evaluating your... how should I put it? Unique skills?"

Her mockery was relentless, and I sank deeper into the chair, wishing the floor would swallow me up. But Megan wasn't done. She crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in the chair with an air of absolute confidence.

"Well, let's move on to something more practical," she continued, holding her cell phone in front of me as if recording a video call. "Imagine I'm pretending to be your direct boss. I need you to explain to me how you would handle an uncomfortable situation in the workplace. For example..." she paused for emphasis, "...if you were trapped in an office without clothes and your colleagues saw you."

My heart stopped for a moment. Tears threatened to fall, but I swallowed them with difficulty. This is too much, I can't take it anymore. "I... don't know," I murmured, my voice breaking.

"You don't know!" Megan exclaimed, pretending to be surprised and holding her hand to her heart. "That's concerning, Samy. How do you expect to survive in this competitive job market if you don't know how to handle situations like this?"

Megan lightly tapped the table with her fingers, watching me with feigned concern. "Let's see how you handle body language. Stand up and show me a professional posture."

My stomach flipped. Professional posture? In this state? I knew that protesting would only make things worse, so with trembling hands and soap still slipping down my skin, I slowly stood up. I tried to cover myself as best I could while Megan assessed me with a mocking smile.

"That doesn't look very professional, Samy," she pointed out, shaking her head. "Where did that confidence from the original interview go? Or did you leave it with your clothes?"

My voice was barely audible as I tried to respond. "Megan, please..."

"Time's up!" she interrupted, pretending to look at an invisible watch on her wrist. "Miss López, your performance has been... interesting, to put it mildly. But I have to be honest: your presentation leaves much to be desired. However, I have to admit..." she paused to look me up and down, "...that it is certainly unforgettable."

Megan stood up from the chair with the satisfaction of someone who had enjoyed every second of my humiliation. "I think that concludes the interview, Samy. Thank you very much for your... participation."

I collapsed into the chair, feeling that every fragment of dignity I had left had been trampled on. As Megan prepared to leave the room, I couldn't stop a tear from escaping.

Megan didn't give me time to recover from the devastating "interview." Her hand firmly gripped my wrist, and she dragged me into the hallway as if I were a spoiled child who needed to be taught manners. I could barely stand, my bare feet slipping on the shiny floor of the training center, leaving small, disorderly wet marks that seemed to mark my trail like a map of my humiliation.

Where are we going now? What else can she do to me? I didn't dare ask, but my mind kept repeating these questions to me as I felt the small remnants of soap still slipping down my sides.

Finally, Megan opened a door leading to the corporate library. The contrast of the place with my current state couldn't be more striking. The calm of the space seemed to shout "professionalism," with perfectly organized shelves filled with books and technical manuals, reading lamps carefully distributed, and individual armchairs inviting concentration. The aroma of old paper and varnished wood filled the air, and every corner was immaculately clean, something that now made me feel out of place.

"What do you think of this place, Samy?" Megan asked, with a smile that clearly anticipated my discomfort. "It's an ideal place to reflect, isn't it? Or maybe to learn something new. Who knows? You could become a better professional after this."

My throat was dry, not from lack of water, but from the constant knot of anxiety that didn't let me breathe normally. Megan released me right in the center of the room, letting the feeling of being watched by thousands of non-existent eyes take over me. This place used to be a refuge for me. Now it's a prison.

"Let's do something fun," Megan said, walking towards one of the shelves and sliding her finger along the book spines as if looking for something interesting. Finally, she pulled out a thick technical manual and held it in front of me with a mocking smile. "How about you read a little? Come on, Samy, show me that your brain works as well as you claimed in your interview."

"Megan... please," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper.

"Please what?" she replied, raising an eyebrow. "Please don't make me read? Please let me hide in a corner? No, Samy, this is a learning moment. Now sit in that armchair." She pointed to a chair next to a reading lamp.

I moved clumsily towards the armchair, but before I could sit down, Megan got in the way. "Ah, wait. That armchair is too clean for someone in your state." She leaned over and took a handkerchief from a nearby table. "Let's clean it before you ruin it with all that... how should I say? Accumulated dirt from your incredible journey."

She took her time, cleaning the chair in an exaggerated and theatrical manner while I squirmed with embarrassment under her gaze. Finally, she stepped back with a broad gesture, as if she were doing me a favor.

"Go ahead. Sit down and start reading."

I dropped into the armchair, my legs curled up and my body trying to occupy the least amount of space possible. I took the book with trembling hands and opened it randomly. The words on the page were a blur; my mind couldn't focus on anything other than my situation. How is it that I'm here, in this state, pretending to read a book in front of Megan?

"What does it say there, Samy?" Megan asked, taking out her cell phone and pointing it at me with the camera. "Read it aloud. Come on, enlighten us with your vast knowledge."

The words stuck in my throat. "Th-this... chapter is about... network protocols," I stammered, feeling more ridiculous with every word that came out of my mouth.

"Wow, how interesting!" Megan exclaimed with feigned excitement, filming me from different angles. "You know, Samy? I think we're making history. The first time someone tries to study in the library in such a... natural state!"

The mockery in her tone was unmistakable, and my shame reached a new level. Every page I turned was a reminder of how far I was from my comfort zone, and every laugh from Megan was another sentence to my already shattered dignity.

"Come on, Samy. Keep reading. You're just starting to enlighten me with your vast technical knowledge," Megan insisted, with the phone still pointing at me, recording every second of my humiliation.

I opened my mouth to continue reading, but my lips trembled, and it wasn't just from nerves. The cold of the air conditioning enveloped me like an icy embrace, each gust seemed to cut through my exposed skin. Was it always this cold in here? I can't concentrate... I can't...

"The... the... file transfer protocol," I stammered, pausing to clench my teeth and maintain control. "It... allows... systems to communicate... effectively."

Megan leaned forward, still recording, her smile widening with each word she managed to extract from me. "What's the matter, Samy? Is the cold affecting you? Maybe we should turn up the air a bit more. Or are you getting excited about this?"

"No!" I blurted out, louder than I intended. Megan arched an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my reaction, as I shivered, feeling the cold intensify on my skin, especially in the areas I tried to cover with my hands.

"It's okay, it's okay," Megan said with a mocking tone. "So, keep reading. Don't leave us in suspense."

My trembling fingers turned the page, but I could barely focus on the words. Focus, Sam, focus. You just have to read. It's just a book, a damn book... But the tremor in my voice betrayed the opposite.

"The protocol... allows files to be transferred... quickly and... and... securely," I managed to say, although my voice was barely a whisper interrupted by small involuntary moans. God, why does it have to be so cold in here?

"What was that, Samy?" Megan asked, moving closer with her cell phone. "Did you just... moan? What's the matter, Samy? Too excited to continue?"

"No, I'm not..." I tried to protest, but my voice trembled again, and another moan escaped before I could stop it. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to regain control, but I felt Megan's phone even closer, capturing every second of my misery.

"Oh, this is pure gold!" Megan exclaimed, laughing. "I never thought a technical manual could be so exciting to listen to. Come on, Samy, please, enlighten us with more wisdom!"

My teeth chattered as I tried to continue. Every word seemed like a titanic effort, and every time the cold air hit me, my muscles tensed, and another shiver ran through my body, but Megan thought I was getting excited and that's why I was moaning. I can't take it anymore. This is too much.

"The pro-tocol... protocol includes security measures... to... prevent... vulnerabilities," I managed to say before my voice completely broke.

"Vulnerabilities, Samy? Yes, I think you're the expert on that right now," Megan said, letting out a laugh that echoed in the silent library.

Unable to bear the discomfort, I closed the book with a sudden movement, my hands still trembling and my body curling up even more. I couldn't take it anymore. My eyes filled with tears, but I held them back, I couldn't give them more material for their mockery.

"Are you done? But we were just getting to chapter one," Megan said with feigned disappointment. "Well, I guess every great learning has to start somewhere, right? Although... I think you need a break. Let's get out of here."

My bare feet made a dull sound against the shiny floor as I followed Megan out of the library. The feeling of the air conditioning still pierced my skin, each step a reminder of my humiliating state. I tried to keep my gaze towards the floor, hoping that no one would suddenly appear in the hallways. Please, let no one appear...

Megan walked ahead of me with confidence, balancing the access card in her hand as if it were a trophy. She didn't seem concerned at all, while I couldn't help but turn my head every few steps, making sure the hallway was empty. When we were far enough from the library and heading towards the elevator, I whispered softly, just loud enough for Megan to hear me:

"Megan... Why are you doing this to me?" My voice was trembling, filled with desperation. "Don't you realize how dangerous it is for me if someone sees me... like this? How would you feel if you were in my place?"

Megan suddenly stopped, turning her head towards me with a mischievous smile that didn't bode well. Her eyes sparkled with that spark of cruel fun that I had learned to fear.

"Me? In your place?" she asked with a mocking laugh. "Come on, Samy, don't be ridiculous. I would never be in your place. For starters, I don't have those hidden desires that you do."

"What desires?" I whispered quickly, my heart racing at her words.

Megan turned completely towards me, planting herself in front of the elevator. Her voice resonated louder than I would have liked, her nonchalance evident. "Oh, Samy, please. Do you think I forgot how quickly you gave in yesterday? How easy it was to convince you. I didn't even have to try that hard. It was all there, under the surface, waiting for someone to discover it. And fortunately, I was that person."

My cheeks burned with embarrassment as her words penetrated my mind. No, that's not true. It can't be true.

"Besides," Megan continued, completely ignoring my discomfort, "this is like a double prize. First, Amy... and now you. Valeria is delighted with the situation, just as Julia is with Amy. I have my own accomplices now, and you have no idea how much fun it's going to be to enjoy it to the fullest."

My lips trembled, but I couldn't find the words to respond. I could only keep walking behind her, with the weight of her words crushing me more with each step. When we reached the elevator, Megan pressed the call button with a carefree finger. As for me, I clung to the wall, covering myself as best I could and silently praying that no one else was nearby.

"Megan..." I tried again, my voice barely a whisper.

"Yes, Samy?" she replied, with a mocking smile as the elevator arrived with a soft ding.

"Please, don't speak so loudly..."

Megan laughed as the elevator doors opened. She stepped in confidently, turning to look at me as I remained paralyzed at the entrance. "Why not? No one is listening. Well, except you, of course. And believe me, I want you to hear every word."

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to step into the elevator with hesitant steps. Megan pressed the button for the 10th floor, something that made me flinch slightly.

"The 10th floor... Why the 10th floor?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Megan simply smiled, ignoring my question. "Come on, Samy. It's going to be fun."

As the elevator started to move, I felt my heart pounding. The 10th floor was a formal place, reserved for important meetings and high-level presentations. I couldn't imagine what Megan was planning, but I knew it wouldn't be anything good. I looked at my reflection in the metallic walls of the elevator, my pale face, my body still slippery from the soap I hadn't managed to rinse off completely. Every second in the elevator felt like an eternity as Megan maintained her triumphant smile, and I could only expect the worst.

The ding of the elevator reaching the 10th floor sounded like a knell of doom in my ears. I felt a knot forming in my stomach as anxiety took hold of me. What if there's someone there? What if they see me like this? My trembling hands clung to the side of the elevator as I instinctively sought refuge in one of the corners, pressing myself against the metal wall in the hope of becoming invisible. I knew it wouldn't work, but I couldn't think of anything else.

"Megan," I whispered urgently. "What time is it? Do you know if anyone else is here?"

She looked at me with a mocking smile, clearly enjoying my desperation. "Why do you need to know the time, Samy? Do you have somewhere important to be?"

I wanted to scream at her, but my voice died in my throat. I'm alone. Completely helpless. The elevator stopped, and Megan stepped out first, her shoes resonating with a confidence I envied. I remained still, hunched in the corner, looking around desperately. Please, let there be no one, let there be no one...

Megan stopped in front of the elevator doors, slightly turning while keeping her hand on the door to prevent it from closing. Just when I thought I might have been able to get out alone to explore the area, I heard a voice.

"Oh, Megan! What are you doing here on a Saturday?" The voice was female, warm but curious, and I froze in my place.

"Hi, Marcela," Megan replied with her usual nonchalant tone. "I'm helping my mom with some things. You know how she is, always so busy."

"Your mom? Of course, Beatriz. It's impressive how much she handles," said Marcela with a light laugh. "And you're always so efficient. Do you come here often on Saturdays?"

"Today is the first time," Megan replied, still holding the door. "And you? What are you doing here today?"

"Oh, you wouldn't believe it," Marcela sighed. "We've been working for three Saturdays in a row because we're behind on some deliveries for a client abroad. My team works on the eighth floor, but we had to come up here for a video conference. It seems the client can only do it at this time due to the time zone difference."

My heart was beating so fast I could feel it in my ears. Please, let there be no one, let there be no one... But I knew that if she got close enough, the side mirrors would give me away.

"That sounds exhausting," Megan said, feigning empathy. "I hope they at least give you time to rest."

Marcela laughed ironically. "Rest is not on the agenda, but we're almost done for today. What about you? Are you staying long?"

"I don't know," Megan responded, leaving her answer hanging in the air.

As they talked, I struggled to hold my breath. Every casual word of that conversation made me feel smaller, more vulnerable. I imagined the scene: Marcela discovering me, her eyes full of surprise, then mockery, calling her colleagues, and I would be finished. The image was too much to bear.

"By the way, Megan," she said, and I almost collapsed on the floor. "Why are you holding the elevator door? Are you going to use it or something?"

A cold sweat ran down my body, and my throat closed completely. However, Megan remained calm, as if she had nothing to hide. "Oh, no, I'm not going to use it now. I was just checking if someone was coming down, but it seems all is quiet."

"Someone coming down?" Marcela repeated, her steps approaching the elevator again. "Are you waiting for someone? Is your mom here?"

"No, nothing like that," Megan said with a soft laugh. "It's just that I thought I saw something strange in the elevator mirror as I was coming up. I was checking, you know, just in case."

My legs were trembling so much I feared the noise might give me away. Please, please, let her leave. But Marcela didn't seem convinced. Her heels resonated against the floor as she approached the elevator, and Megan took a step back, positioning herself between Marcela and the entrance.

"Something strange in the mirror? What was it?" Marcela asked, tilting her head with curiosity.

"Oh, it was probably nothing," Megan replied with disinterest. "Sometimes the light creates weird reflections, you know. These mirrors always have something odd."

Marcela must have frowned, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw her hand reaching for the edge of the door. No! Don't come in!

"Megan, are you sure there's nothing in there?" Her tone wasn't accusatory, but the doubt in her voice was enough to make me feel like the ground beneath my feet could disappear at any moment.

Before she could take another step, a male voice resonated from the hallway: "Marcela! We need you in the room. The connection is back, and the client is waiting to continue."

"I'm coming," Marcela replied, turning halfway, but her attention was still on Megan and the elevator. "Well, Megan, let me know if you see something really strange, okay? But make sure you don't stay too long. Remember that on Saturdays, the building automatically closes at two. No card works after that, and later the security guards come to inspect. You wouldn't want to get trapped here."

"Thanks for the heads-up," Megan responded, her smile unperturbed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Marcela gave her a distracted smile before turning and walking away quickly down the hallway, her heels resonating until they faded into the distance.

Megan finally released the elevator door and turned to me with a triumphant expression. "See? It wasn't that bad. You can come out now, Samy."

My feet were still glued to the floor. The cold sweat on my forehead was a constant reminder of how close I had been to being discovered. Close your eyes and walk, I told myself. With slow and clumsy steps, I crossed the threshold, feeling that every meter gained was a challenge to gravity itself.

Megan insisted with a mocking smile, "Come on, Samy. Marcela won't come back, I promise. Or do you want me to call her to confirm?"

That comment made me shiver. I had no choice. With clumsy, trembling steps, I finally crossed the elevator threshold. My feet, still wet and slippery, soon felt the texture of the dark carpeting beneath them. It wasn't like the smooth tiles of the other floors; the carpet's weave felt strange, almost rough, against my skin. I tried to walk as lightly as possible, fearing to leave any marks that would give away my presence.

My eyes scanned the surroundings anxiously. The central hallway, impeccably aligned and framed by walls in neutral tones, exuded a silent authority. Every step I took felt like an invasion, as if I didn't belong in this place. Well, not in this state.

I looked at the polarized glass doors lining the hallway. I knew those doors concealed high-level conference rooms, spaces where I had seen impeccably dressed executives debating important strategies in the past. The metal plates beside each door bore names like "Main Executive Room" or "Training Room B," a cruel reminder of how out of place I was.

I used to enter here with my perfectly ironed suit and my heels resonating with confidence on this very floor. Now... My thoughts were interrupted by a gust of cold air that made me shiver and cover myself even more.

To my right, a small reception area stood out. An elegant coffee bar, equipped with automatic machines and carefully organized shelves with capsules and cups, seemed to be there for the exclusive enjoyment of the privileged individuals who worked or visited this floor. No one was behind the counter, but that didn't diminish the feeling that everything here screamed professionalism and exclusivity.

My gaze returned to the end of the hallway, where the door to the Main Executive Room was closed, but its presence was imposing. I could imagine the executives inside, deciding the company's future, while I could barely walk without tripping over my own embarrassment.

Megan, noticing my momentary paralysis, turned to me. "What's wrong, Samy? Is this floor too much for you? Come on, it's not as scary as it seems."

I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing to disappear. But when I opened them, everything was still there: the calibrated lights reflecting off the glass, the designer furniture that seemed to look down on my disheveled state with disdain, and the cold air that constantly reminded me of my vulnerability.

Every sound Megan made as she walked with her shoes resonated in contrast to my bare, barely audible footsteps. My movements were clumsy, and my gaze couldn't help but wander to the security cameras that I knew were there, even though I couldn't see them. Who would be watching this? How many eyes were recording my humiliation?

I followed Megan, almost hugging the walls, trying to cover myself as best as I could while we moved forward. My entire body was tense, and every muscle cried out from the effort of staying "invisible." I don't belong here. Not like this. Please, let this end soon.

But I knew Megan had no intention of giving me a break. Her relaxed and confident way of walking, as if all of this were a fun game, made it clear that she had absolute control.

As we approached one of the training rooms, I heard my breathing become faster and shallower. I felt that this place, which had once been a symbol of my professional progress, had now become the setting for my greatest degradation.

Megan swiped her access card through the reader next to the door. A soft beep confirmed its authenticity, and the door opened with an automatic mechanism. Before us lay one of the most modern training rooms I had ever seen. Its neutral walls and the clean lines of the furniture gave the space a sense of efficiency and perfection. The adjustable desks and ergonomic chairs seemed ready to accommodate professionals in intensive learning sessions, but I... I didn't fit into that picture.

"Come in, Samy. Welcome to your special training," Megan said with a tone that couldn't be more mocking.

The air conditioning in the room was even stronger than in the hallway. My skin, still wet and sticky from the soap I hadn't been able to rinse off completely, reacted with a new shiver that Megan didn't miss.

"Sit at one of the desks," she added, making a casual gesture.

I stood paralyzed for a moment. "At the desk? Why not in the chairs?" I asked, unable to hide my bewilderment.

"Why could that be?" Megan replied with an enigmatic smile, tilting her head while her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Do as I say, Samy. You wouldn't want to make this more difficult than it needs to be, would you?"

My trembling and still slippery feet led me to one of the closest desks. I climbed up clumsily, holding onto the edges to avoid falling. The surface was smooth, cold to the touch, and in my state, I felt every millimeter of its hardness against my skin.

"Perfect," Megan said, taking out her phone and adjusting the camera. "Now, Samy, we're going to have a new photo session. I want you to relax. I know you can give more than you did in the library."

My heart sank. More? What does she mean by that? My thoughts raced in circles as I tried to understand her intentions. I couldn't imagine how this situation could get worse, but I had already learned that Megan always found a way.

"Megan, please... this is enough. Let's stop here," I tried to reason with her, but my voice was barely a whisper.

"No, no, Samy. We're just getting started," Megan replied with a laugh. "And don't forget: smile for the camera."

Her light and carefree tone clashed with the intensity of my embarrassment. While she framed the shot, I couldn't help but feel how the cold from the desk seeped into every inch of my body, amplifying my discomfort. The distance between my dignity and this moment seemed an insurmountable abyss.

Megan, focused on her phone, began to direct me as if she were a professional photographer. "Come on, lean forward a bit. Rest your hands on the desk, but keep your back straight. Yes, like that. Perfect."

My body reluctantly obeyed, moving clumsily while my mind struggled to disconnect from the present. Each pose Megan requested seemed designed to accentuate my vulnerability, and I could feel my face burning with shame.

The camera clicked again and again, and each sound drove me deeper into this endless humiliation. The room, which should have been a space for learning and growth, had been transformed into the setting of my greatest degradation. And all I could do was wait for Megan to get tired of her "game."

As I sat at that cold desk, exposed and vulnerable, Megan, with her sharp gaze, noticed a detail that made her smile widen. My body, still wet from the attempted cleaning, was shining in certain areas, and she, with her perverse instinct, caught it immediately.

"Oh, Samy, it seems there's a part of you that's having fun," she said with a voice full of innuendo. My heart raced as I understood what she was referring to. The air conditioning had made my skin goosebump, but in my intimate areas, the moisture had another cause.

Megan approached, her phone held high, focusing the camera directly on my crotch. "Don't move, I want to capture this moment," she ordered, her tone now serious, as if she were about to reveal a great secret.

My face burned with shame. How was this even happening? My eyes fixed on the desk, wishing it would swallow me up and hide me from Megan's invasive lens.

"That's it, relax," she said, her voice now soft and calm, as if soothing a frightened creature. "Let your body speak, Samy. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

Her words were like a sharp knife, cutting through my resistance. I felt the moisture between my thighs increase, an involuntary response to the situation. Megan, with her skill at manipulation, was getting what she wanted.

Megan, without any hesitation, took a further step in her game of humiliation. Her gaze fixed on my reaction, and her smile grew as she noticed my increasing discomfort.

"Are you excited, Samy?" she asked, her words resonating in the room with uncomfortable intimacy. My body reacted before my mind, my breath quickening and my nipples hardening under her scrutiny.

"No! What... what are you talking about?" I stammered, embarrassed by the direction this was taking. I wanted to deny the evidence of my body, but my voice trembled, giving away my lie.

"Come on, Samy, don't lie to me," Megan said, stepping closer with her phone still held high. "Your body speaks for you. Why not accept it?"

In a desperate impulse to cover my intimacy, I lowered a hand, trying to hide my physical response. But in my clumsiness, my fingers brushed against my clitoris, sensitive and exposed. A moan escaped my lips, loud and clear, resonating in the room.

Megan laughed, a sound that made me feel even more exposed. "There it is, you can't deny it. Your body is enjoying this, why not let it enjoy?"

My face burned, aware of the evidence I had just given. My treacherous body had responded to her provocation, and now Megan had the proof in her hands, or rather, in her camera. Shame consumed me, but at the same time, a new and confusing sensation invaded me, leaving my mind in a chaos of contradictory emotions.

Megan, with her usual audacity, took the next step in her perverse game. "Now, Samy, I want you to masturbate. Here, on this desk, I want to see you touch yourself." Her request left me breathless, and for a moment, my mind refused to process her words.

"No, I... I can't do that!" I responded, my trembling voice mixing fear. The idea of touching myself in that place, in that situation, was both terrifying and tempting.

Megan, always attentive to my reaction, noticed my internal conflict. "Look at the time, Samy," she said, pointing to the screen of her phone. "It's almost 2 p.m. The building will close automatically, and you'll be left here, naked and alone. Do you want to spend the afternoon like this?"

Her words hit me hard. The idea of being trapped in that state, exposed and vulnerable, was terrifying. With a resignation I didn't know I possessed, I gave in to her demands.

I slowly lowered my hand, letting my fingers explore my body, now familiarly strange. I started touching myself, slowly, feeling every curve and texture of my skin. My nipples, hardened by the attention, stood erect under my touch.

Megan, with her phone, captured every moment, every moan and expression of pleasure my body couldn't hide. Shame and desire fought within me as my body responded to my own touch and Megan's intense gaze.

The room, designed for corporate learning, had become a space for intimate discovery, where my body was the subject of study, and Megan, the relentless observer.

As my fingers explored my body, guided by Megan's instructions, I immersed myself in a world of sensations I had never experienced before. The initial shame gave way to a burning curiosity as I discovered the pleasures my body could offer.

I started with my breasts, gently caressing my hardened nipples, feeling them stiffen even more under my touch. My breasts, free and exposed, moved with each caress, inviting me to explore further. My fingers traced circles around them, awakening sensations that resonated deep within me.

I slowly lowered my hand, following the line of my abdomen, feeling the soft curve of my navel. My fingers slid through the thin layer of sweat, creating ticklish sensations that made me shiver. The sense of exposure was intense, but my treacherous body responded to every touch.

My hands found the warmth between my thighs, and without thinking, my fingers plunged into my wetness. A moan escaped my lips, loud and clear, revealing my growing pleasure. My intimate lips, sensitive to the touch, swelled under my exploration, inviting me to go deeper.

With slow and deliberate movements, I touched myself, discovering the corners of my intimacy. My clitoris, that little pleasure button, was a source of intense sensations. I caressed it, circled it, gently pressed it, and each action unleashed waves of pleasure that spread throughout my body.

My breathing quickened, mixing with the moans that now escaped my throat uncontrollably. My body moved to the rhythm of my own hand, arching over the cold desk, which now seemed to burn under my skin. Shame had transformed into a burning desire, and my mind, once filled with doubts, was now focused on the intense sensation of pleasure.

Megan, a silent witness to my discovery, captured every moment, every expression of ecstasy on my face, every movement of my body. Her presence, though intimidating, faded in my mind as I immersed myself in a sea of sensations, exploring and enjoying my own sexuality.

With growing urgency, I started touching myself more intensely. My fingers continued to stimulate the sensitive little button, my clitoris, and I pressed it, massaging it firmly. A muffled moan escaped my throat, and my body tensed, anticipating the oncoming wave of pleasure.

"There, right there," I whispered, encouraging myself. My movements became faster, more urgent, as my clitoris responded to each caress with electricity running up my spine. The desk, cold and hard, contrasted with the warmth emanating from my center, creating a delightful sensation.

My moans grew louder, filling the room, but upon hearing Megan's laughter, I realized how loudly I had raised my voice. Quickly, I tried to control myself, biting my lip to muffle the sounds of pleasure.

"Shh, relax, Samy," Megan said, enjoying my internal struggle. "Let it out, no one will hear you." Her voice, low and seductive, encouraged me to let go once more.

With renewed passion, I surrendered to my own hand, rubbing my clitoris with fast circular motions. Pleasure built up, a sweet and burning pressure that begged to be released. My entire body tensed, every muscle ready for the imminent explosion.

Just as my pleasure was about to reach its peak, Megan interrupted my moment of ecstasy. Her voice, cutting through the air, brought me back to the reality of the room.

"Wait, Samy, I have an idea," she said, her tone full of anticipation. She extended her hand, offering me a marker, one of those used to write on whiteboards. "Take it, I think this could make things more interesting."

My mind, clouded by desire, accepted the offer without questioning. I took the marker, feeling its cylindrical and cold shape between my fingers. The smooth and hard texture was a new sensation, contrasting with the wetness between my legs.

With slow movements, guided by curiosity and pleasure, I began to explore my body with this new tool. First, I ran it over my nipples, feeling how the cold tip created a unique sensation, making them stiffen even more. Then, I brought it to my abdomen, tracing imaginary lines, enjoying the feeling of the ink against my sensitive skin.

But the real test was yet to come. I slowly lowered the marker, sliding it along my groin, towards my throbbing center. The tip touched my intimate lips, and a shiver ran down my spine. Without a second thought, I pressed the marker against my entrance, feeling the initial resistance before yielding to my insistence.

The marker, wider than my fingers, filled my cavity, awakening intense sensations. I moved it slowly, in and out, feeling the friction of the object against my inner walls. My moans became more urgent, mixed with the sensation of doing something forbidden.

"Do you like it, Samy?" Megan asked, her voice full of fun. "You're quite the expert, creating your own training."

My eyes met hers, and I saw the fun reflected in her gaze. I couldn't respond with words, but my body, now in tune with the marker, spoke for itself. The feeling of being watched while penetrating myself with such an unexpected object was a powerful stimulant.

The sensation of the marker inside me was unique, a mix of pleasure and something wild that awakened my most primitive instincts. With bold movements, I pushed it deeper, feeling the resistance of my muscles giving in to the pressure. The feeling of being full, combined with the friction at my entrance, was a forbidden delight.

With one hand, I held the marker, controlling its rhythm, while the other hand took care of my clitoris, rubbing it in urgent circles. The room had become my personal pleasure stage, where the rules of reality seemed not to apply.

Boldly, I pulled out the marker, only to push it back in, again and again, in a frenzied rhythm. My breathing had turned into a series of moans and gasps, my voice no longer my own. The feeling of being on the edge of the abyss was delicious, and I clung to it, extending the moment as much as I could.

The current of pleasure intensified, running up my spine like an electric ray. My muscles tensed, and my entire body prepared for the imminent explosion. With a final movement, I pushed the marker deep, and in that instant, the world seemed to stop.

A jolt of pleasure shook me, causing my body to convulse. A muffled cry escaped my throat, and my back arched, pressing against the cold desk. The orgasm enveloped me, a wave of sensations that left me breathless and my mind blank.

Little by little, reality returned to me. My body, exhausted and satisfied, relaxed on the desk. Megan, witness to my catharsis, had captured every moment, every expression of pleasure and ecstasy. Her gaze, now full of satisfaction, made me realize that this experience, though humiliating, had awakened in me a sensuality I had never known before.

The echo of my pleasure cry still resonated in the room when Megan's mocking laughter brought me back to reality. Her gaze, full of satisfaction and fun, rested on my exhausted body. The marker, still inside me, was tangible proof of the intensity of the moment.

"Wow, Samy, I see you also like strange objects," Megan said, her voice full of mockery. "I never thought a simple marker could be so... entertaining." Her phone, still recording, captured my post-orgasmic state, my trembling body, and the evidence of my pleasure.

I felt exposed and vulnerable, the marker inside me a physical reminder of my loss of control. With an effort, I contracted my inner muscles, pushing the marker slightly outwards. Then, with trembling fingers, I removed it, feeling the moisture covering it, proof of my own excitement.

"Look at that," Megan said, focusing her camera on the soaked marker. "A true work of art, created by you." Her tone was cruel, enjoying my embarrassment. "Now, who do you think will use that marker in the next training session?"

My cheeks burned, aware of the image her camera must be capturing. The marker, now outside of me, was a symbol of my surrender to the desires Megan had awakened. My body, still trembling from the orgasm, struggled to regain composure, while my mind processed the intensity of what I had just experienced.

The post-orgasmic euphoria gave way to an overwhelming feeling of shame and confusion. I realized the gravity of my actions, how far I had gone in my loss of control. I had masturbated in a training room, with a marker, under Megan's watchful eye and her phone. The professional I had always been seemed like a stranger to me at that moment.

I looked up, searching for security cameras, aware of the inappropriateness of my actions. To my relief, I couldn't find any watchful lenses in the room. But that didn't alleviate the guilt I felt. I had let myself be carried away by desires I didn't yet understand, crossing lines I never thought I would cross.

On the tenth floor, this room was a space dedicated to learning and professionalism, now bearing the mark of my pleasure. The desk, once immaculate, was a silent witness to my transgression. The marker, now set aside, seemed like incriminating evidence, a tangible reminder of my lack of judgment.

"Do you realize what you've done, Samy?" Megan said, her voice now devoid of mockery but filled with a seriousness that made me shiver. "Now I know that you get excited by feeling humiliated."

Her words hit me hard. The reality of my situation was clear: I had let myself be carried away by humiliation and desire, but now I had to face the consequences. My mind, still clouded by pleasure, struggled to understand the extent of my actions and how they would affect my professional and personal life.

At that moment, I knew that nothing would ever be the same again. The control I had felt before was now a distant memory, and I wondered what else I would have to face in this spiral of humiliation and personal discovery.

Megan opened the training room door with a carefree gesture, and I followed her with my gaze, trying to cover myself as best I could with my arms and hands. Before leaving, she pointed at the marker I had left on the desk and said with a tone that made my blood boil, "Leave the marker where it is, Samy."

My gaze fell on the marker, and I felt a shiver run from my neck to my feet. How could I have masturbated with the marker? I bit my lip, leaving it where it was, while shame burned on my cheeks, and I hurried after her.

We walked down the hallway of the tenth floor, but this time Megan didn't head towards the elevator. Instead, she turned towards the stairs. "Let's go this way," she said, her tone light but with that unmistakable note of mockery I detested.

"The stairs?" My voice came out weaker than I wanted. I tried to swallow my panic as she easily opened the door.

"Of course, it's more fun this way. Plus, less likely for anyone to interrupt us." She gave me a quick glance, full of fun, and started climbing with a confident step.

I followed her with clumsy and silent steps, staying close to her back in a desperate attempt to hide. Where is she taking me now? What does she plan to do to me this time? Questions swirled in my head like a storm.

Upon reaching the eleventh floor, Megan took out her access card and tried to open the door. An electronic beep indicated that access was denied. She tilted her head, examining the card reader, and then gave me a casual glance.

"Well, it seems this area is restricted," she said, as if it wasn't a big deal. Then she turned and started climbing to the next level. "Too bad. I guess we'll keep going up."

My eyes widened. "Megan, what are you doing? Why are we going up further?" My voice sounded almost like a whisper, but I couldn't help the tremor in my tone.

"Because I can, Samy. Don't worry so much." Her response was so carefree that the knot in my stomach tightened even more. She didn't even bother to look back as she continued climbing.

With each step we ascended, my anxiety grew. I felt my bare feet against the cold, rough surface of the stairs. I made sure to be quiet, but the echo of Megan's footsteps resonated as if announcing our presence. Why is she doing this? Is it just to humiliate me more?

The air in the stairwell was warmer and stuffier than on the lower floors, but it didn't help calm my nerves. When we finally reached the twelfth floor, Megan stopped in front of the door and looked at it with interest. "Let's see if we have better luck here," she said, taking out her access card again.

I held my breath as I watched her bring the card to the reader. Just like before, a beep denied access. Megan sighed with feigned disappointment, but the smile on her face said otherwise. "Well, it seems we're out of luck here too. How boring."

"Megan, where are you taking me?" I asked in a faint voice, trying to keep calm. My hands trembled as I hugged myself tighter.

When Megan swiped her access card at the twelfth-floor reader, the confirmation beep made me shiver. The door opened with a soft mechanical whisper, revealing a hallway that seemed taken from a science fiction movie. I instinctively took a step back, but Megan simply gave me a mocking look and gestured for me to follow.

"Come on, Samy. You wouldn't want to be left behind," she said, her tone as light as it was cruel.

My bare feet touched the carpeted floor, and I felt the immediate contrast with the rough stairs. The dark gray carpet was soft, but my skin, still wet and slippery from the soap, made even that uncomfortable. As we walked, my eyes couldn't help but scan the space. This looks like the future, I thought, although the gleaming walls and LED lighting only served to highlight how out of place I felt.

The hallway was much wider than those on the lower floors, and each step seemed to resonate in my mind, though the carpet dampened the sound. On either side, glass doors with metal frames offered fleeting glimpses into meeting rooms and showcases filled with advanced technology. A holographic screen projected images of dynamic graphics, probably product demonstrations or corporate reports.

Megan walked ahead of me, her posture relaxed, as if she were giving a tour to an important guest. How can she be so calm? How can I be so unfortunate to be here, in this state? I felt tiny, not just physically but emotionally. My nakedness was more than a lack of clothing; it was a symbol of absolute vulnerability in a place that breathed power and control.

We reached a demonstration room, and Megan stopped to look at the showcases. Inside, small technological prototypes and augmented reality devices were displayed with millimeter precision. "Impressive, isn't it, Samy?" she asked, turning to me with a smile that seemed to enjoy my discomfort.

I weakly nodded, my arms crossed tightly in front of me, as if that could erase my presence in this cold and calculated space. The carpet under my feet seemed less comforting now, and the air conditioning maintained such a controlled temperature that the cold felt like a constant bite on my skin.

At the end of the hallway, a double door with a discreet sign indicated access to the rooftop. Megan pointed to it as if it were a final destination, but she made no move to open it. "Do you remember that this is where the company's most exclusive events are held?" she asked casually, as if she were talking about the latest movie she had seen.

I didn't respond. My throat was too dry, and the knot in my stomach made speaking seem impossible. I could only look around, registering every detail with the hyper-awareness that had accompanied me all day: the LED light lines bathing the hallway in a warm glow, the gleaming showcases that seemed to shout success and control, and the closed doors offering promises of privacy I couldn't have.

Megan finally turned to me with a mocking smile, crossing her arms triumphantly. "Hey, Samy, do you remember when you gave my friends a tour? It was a few days ago, right? How could I forget! So professional, showing us every corner as if you had designed the building yourself." Her tone was playful, but the intention behind her words was far from friendly.

I felt the color drain from my face as I tried to find an answer. I slowly nodded, avoiding her gaze, while my arms tightened even more against my body. Megan didn't stop watching me, her eyes sparkling with malicious fun.

"Remind me," she continued, tilting her head slightly, "what did you say about this particular floor? What happens here?"

I took a trembling breath, my voice barely a whisper. "This... this is the conference and demonstration floor. It's... where important decisions are made and high-level presentations are held," I murmured, wishing I could vanish at that very moment. My words came out broken, laden with the shame that crushed me like an unbearable weight.

Megan let out a soft laugh, full of mockery. She took a step towards me, leaning in to meet my eyes. "Exactly, Samy. And look at you." Her smile widened as her gaze swept over my body with cruel emphasis. "Completely naked right now... you don't even fit in with what this place tells me it represents."

Her tone was light, almost casual, but every word was a direct stab at my pride. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but I forced myself to keep my composure. Megan, satisfied with her impact, simply straightened her posture and let the heavy silence fill the hallway.

As I tried to process everything Megan had just said, she started walking confidently towards the door at the end of the hallway, the one leading to the rooftop. The sound of her steps, muffled by the carpet, contrasted with the incessant pounding of my heart.

"Come on, Samy," Megan said, turning her head just enough to look at me with that smile I hated so much. "I want us to go to the place where, according to me, it all started. It's... symbolic, don't you think?"

The rooftop. The mere thought made my entire body tense up. It was an open space, without walls to hide my vulnerability, exposed to the sky and any eye that might be watching from nearby buildings. My legs trembled at the thought of the cold breeze hitting my unprotected skin, but the worst was the possibility of someone seeing me there, naked from head to toe.

"Megan, please... I can't," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper as I clung to the hope that she might change her mind.

She stopped in front of the door, sliding her access card with a casual gesture. The lock emitted a soft beep before releasing the entrance. Megan looked over her shoulder, her mocking smile now wider. "You can't? Come on, Samy. Of course, you can. Besides, you've done it before, haven't you? Although, of course, that time you were elegantly dressed and in control of the situation. Do you remember?"

The memory hit me like a blow. Just a couple of days ago, I had brought Amy and Megan's friends to this very rooftop to show them the facilities. At that moment, my voice had sounded confident as I explained the design details and functionality of the space. I had been the impeccable professional I had always aspired to be, handling Megan and Julia's little jabs at Amy with ease. Now, that same rooftop seemed to be the place where my dignity would die completely.

"Come on, Samy. Don't be difficult," Megan insisted, opening the door and letting a gust of fresh, light air into the hallway.

With a huge knot in my throat, I took a hesitant step towards the entrance, my bare feet touching the edge between the hallway carpet and the cold concrete of the rooftop. The sensation made me shiver, but the air that hit my skin was worse. It was as if every molecule of the wind sought to emphasize how defenseless I was.

My eyes scanned the space. It was even more impressive than I remembered. The event tables were still set up, with white tablecloths gently fluttering in the breeze. The LED lamps created a warm glow that illuminated the glass railing, from which the city could be seen spreading in all directions. Under any other circumstances, it would have been beautiful, a place worth admiring.

But for me, it was now an open prison.

"Let's see if you remember your own words, Samy. What did you say when you brought Amy here? She was as naked as you are now, you can imagine how she felt. Although that day this place was full of elegantly dressed people," Megan turned to me, her tone full of mockery, enjoying my discomfort.

I couldn't speak. My lips were sealed by terror, remembering that all the company's employees were elegantly dressed, while my eyes kept searching for some refuge, some way out. But there was none. I was trapped. My arms crossed over my chest and my crotch as I tried to protect myself from the wind and, more than anything, from Megan's gaze, who was calmly strolling through the space, seemingly oblivious to my agony.

"Perfect," Megan finally said, stopping in the center of the rooftop and turning to me. "Now, let's have some more fun, don't you think?"

Megan guided me with determined steps towards one of the tables on the rooftop. From the first moment, I knew which one it was. Of course, it's that one, I thought, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten even more. It was the same table where, just two days ago, we had been sitting during that business event. Then, everything had been different. I was wearing my elegant business suit, my hair perfectly styled, and I felt in control, representing my aunt and showing my professionalism.

But now... Look at me. How ironic. From sitting at that table with Megan and Julia, going unnoticed like any other professional, I'm now just a shadow of that. Stripped, dirty, and completely naked.

Megan stopped right in front of the table and turned to me with that mocking smile that had become my nightmare. "Do you remember this table, Samy? Come on, I know you do," she said as she ran her hand along the edge of the white tablecloth covering the table. "This is where we sat two days ago. Julia and I, perfectly dressed, and you, in your role as the professional cousin. Do you remember?"

Of course, I remember. How could I forget? I thought, swallowing as my eyes tried to avoid eye contact with her.

"But the best part of that night," Megan continued, deliberately ignoring my silence, "was what was happening right under this table." She leaned slightly and gave a couple of knocks on the edge of the wood, as if she were calling someone who was still hiding there. "Amy, in her 'moment of glory,' completely naked and defenseless, while you and we enjoyed the event."

I felt my entire body tense up at the memory. Amy was terrified. No one else on that rooftop knew, but she was there underneath, naked from head to toe, hiding as if her life depended on it. And I... My thoughts abruptly stopped. I allowed it. More than that... I orchestrated it.

"What I liked the most about that night, more than Amy naked and scared, hiding," Megan continued, interrupting my thoughts, "was seeing you. You, Samy, so serious and professional on the outside, but your mind was clearly elsewhere. Every time someone passed by this table, I could see it in your eyes. That mix of excitement and fear. You couldn't help it, could you?"

I tried to open my mouth to defend myself, but no words came out. How could I explain it? How could I justify it at all? I knew Megan was right. There was something in me that I didn't want to admit, something that had betrayed me even then.

"And you know what made me realize it all?" Megan leaned towards me with a malicious glint in her eyes. "Your face. Every time Amy was at risk of being caught, your expressions were so revealing. It was then that I realized that you also have a hidden side, Samy. One that you try to deny." She took a step back and looked me up and down. "And now, look at yourself."

My body trembled as I followed her gaze. I looked down at myself and felt a shiver run through me. How did I get to this? Everything I represented, everything I was, has vanished. Now I'm just this, a distorted version of myself.

"So tell me, Samy," Megan continued with a soft but intentional voice. "How does it feel to be in this place now? At this table, on this rooftop, but being the person who is on the vulnerable side this time."

I wanted to respond, but my throat was dry. All I could do was look at the floor, with the weight of her words crushing me completely.

Megan didn't avert her gaze for a second, waiting for my response. Every second of silence seemed to lengthen my agony. How can I answer her? What does she expect me to say? Finally, with a titanic effort, I opened my mouth.

"I feel... horrible," I murmured, barely audibly, my voice trembling like the rest of my body. "This place represents everything I wanted to be. Professional. Respected. Now... look at me." My voice broke at the end, but I couldn't help it. What else can I say? Everything I was has disappeared.

Megan let out a clear, sharp laugh, so loud that it bounced off the rooftop walls. "Horrible? Oh, Samy, that's just the beginning! Do you know what would really be horrible?" Her smile widened as her eyes sparkled with malice. "Imagine this: all the company's employees, from the first to the last, coming up to this rooftop right now. All elegantly dressed, ready for an event... and then there's you, in the center of it all, completely naked."

My entire body shuddered at her description. The images invaded my mind mercilessly. A sea of familiar faces, all looking at me, judging me. Comments, laughter, whispers. Valeria and Carla enjoying my humiliation. My career, my reputation, all destroyed in an instant.

Megan, seemingly enjoying my reaction, leaned towards me, as if she didn't want to miss a single glimpse of my expression. "Come on, Samy. Tell me, how would you feel if that happened? What would you think as each person you know looks at you like that?"

I swallowed hard and hugged my arms tighter around my body. I knew I couldn't remain silent. If I don't respond, she'll just keep going. Better to say what she wants to hear and get this over with. With a faint voice, I began to speak.

"I would feel... devastated. Humiliated," I murmured, my voice barely coming out of my throat as I avoided her gaze. The cold rooftop wind enveloped me, making my arms tremble even harder around my naked body. "I couldn't bear the stares, the comments. Everyone... everyone..." I swallowed hard, feeling my voice break, "would see every inch of me, exposing me in a way that has no turning back."

I lowered my head, as if by doing so, I could protect myself from the words I was about to say. My voice became lower, almost inaudible. "I would lose everything. My job, my dignity. My life would never be the same." I swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. "I'd probably be arrested. My aunt... my parents... they would hate me for the scandal I'd cause. And the company... they would be in serious legal trouble. All of this would be a disaster."

The words came out of my mouth like blades, each one cutting deeper as I admitted out loud the worst scenarios my mind could imagine. My entire body trembled, not just from the cold, but from the overwhelming feeling of being completely trapped in a game where I had no control.

Megan clapped slowly, openly mocking my response. "Bravo, Samy! I knew you could be honest if you tried." She turned towards the edge of the rooftop, looking at the city while continuing to speak. "Do you know? I like it when you talk like that. It's so... authentic. So vulnerable."

Vulnerable. That word again. I felt the wind take away the little control I had left.

Megan turned to look at me again, her face full of fun. "So, do you imagine all that, Samy? Everyone here, looking at you, judging you, laughing. What would you do at that moment? Come on, tell me."

The knot in my throat tightened. "I don't know," I murmured. "I'd probably... hide. I'd want to disappear. I'd beg for it all to end."

Megan let out another laugh. "Beg! That's perfect! That image is simply delicious, Samy! Now, do you see? It's not so hard to be honest with yourself."

Honest? This isn't being honest. This is her tearing away every layer of who I am and leaving me completely exposed. But I didn't say anything more. I knew that any word I spoke would only feed her more. I stood there, trembling under the cold rooftop wind, wishing the ground would swallow me up.

Suddenly, voices were heard climbing the stairs to the rooftop. My body reacted before my mind could process it; a shiver ran down my spine, and I felt my heart pounding so hard I thought the approaching people could hear it.

I froze in my place, eyes wide as I looked at Megan, waiting for her to react. But, of course, she didn't seem remotely affected. Instead of worrying, her face lit up with that cunning smile I hated so much, as if she had planned this moment on purpose.

"What are you doing standing there, Samy? Are you offering yourself as a hostess?" Megan said with a mocking tone, looking towards the stairs.

My mind screamed Move, hide! but my legs were glued to the floor. The cold wind kept lashing at me, cruelly reminding me of how exposed I was. The voices grew louder, and upon recognizing Marcela's carefree laughter, panic consumed me. It can't be... not her again!

With no other option, I quickly crouched and crawled towards the only place that offered some refuge: the table. The same table... I thought, feeling a wave of irony mixed with desperation as I remembered the story Megan had just revived for me. The place where Amy had been hiding, scared and vulnerable, now became my only refuge. What kind of cosmic justice is this?

I huddled under the table, pressing my body against the cold metal legs, hugging myself tightly to occupy the smallest space possible. My hair fell over my face as I tried to control my breathing, praying that no one would look underneath.

The rooftop door opened, and the steps resonated clearly. Megan turned to the newcomers, greeting them enthusiastically. "Marcela! What a surprise!" she said with a voice that was too cheerful, as if she were meeting old friends instead of being in a nightmare scene.

"Megan!" Marcela responded, with a smile. "I didn't expect to see you up here. I thought you had already left."

"Oh, you know. I decided to explore a bit before leaving," Megan replied casually, crossing her arms and adopting a casual posture. "And you? Are you still with the video conference?"

Marcela shook her head. "We finished a few minutes ago, but we wanted to take a break before leaving the building. The view here is too good not to enjoy it."

Behind Marcela, I saw the shadows of four other people: two women and two men. One of them, a tall man with glasses, was carrying a folder under his arm and seemed to be joking with another colleague who had her hair in an elegant bun.

"It's true, the rooftop is perfect for relaxing," Megan said, without losing her carefree tone. "It's a shame it's not used more often for events."

"Yes, but what are you doing here alone?" one of the men asked with a curious smile. "Weren't you supposed to be with Samantha?"

"Something like that," Megan shrugged. "Sometimes I need a break from all the seriousness of the fifth floor."

Laughter mixed with the sound of the wind, while I remained completely still under the table, feeling my heart pounding in my ears. Please, don't come closer. Don't look under. Let this end soon.

"Well, we won't bother you anymore," one of the women said, taking out a phone and starting to take pictures of the landscape. "We just wanted a moment of fresh air before returning to the chaos."

"Of course, enjoy," Megan responded with a smile that I could barely see from my hiding place, but I knew was one of pure fun at my expense.

The conversations continued, light and carefree, while I tried to make myself even smaller, with each laugh and casual comment piercing me like daggers.

"Yes, but what are you doing here alone?" one of the men asked with a curious smile. "Weren't you supposed to be with Samantha?"

The name resonated like a gong in my ears, and I felt a pull in my stomach, as if something heavy had just fallen inside me. Sweat started to accumulate in my hands as I tried not to move a millimeter under the table. How do they know I'm here? What will Megan say?

Megan didn't miss a beat. She tilted her head and smiled with the calmness that seemed to be carefully designed to play with my nerves. "Oh, yes, Samantha," she said with a light tone, but every word felt like a direct shot at me. "She's... busy. You know how she is, always involved in a thousand things at once."

Marcela arched an eyebrow, curious. "Involved in a thousand things? I always see her so... strict. Who would say she has time for anything else?"

Megan laughed softly. "Well, strict is one way to put it. But what do you think of her? I'm always interested in hearing what others think."

What is she doing? No! This can't be happening. My heart raced even faster, and I felt my muscles tense, as if I could magically disappear if I wanted it enough.

"Samantha? Hmm..." The man with glasses scratched his chin, thoughtful. "She's very professional, but sometimes she seems too serious, doesn't she? Like she lacks... relaxation."

"Exactly," added one of the women, crossing her arms. "She's always with that 'I'm the most responsible here' attitude. Sometimes, that can be a bit annoying."

Another woman intervened, this time with a kinder tone. "Well, I think she's efficient. But it's true that she seems to carry a weight on her all the time. As if she doesn't know how to enjoy things."

"Enjoy things," Megan repeated, and I could almost hear the smile in her voice. "That's very interesting. Maybe she should learn to relax a little more, don't you think?"

"Totally," the man with glasses laughed. "Maybe she needs a day off. Something to take her out of her comfort zone."

Comfort zone? I thought, feeling my shame transform into a kind of scorching heat that rose up my neck and flooded my cheeks. If they knew... if they knew I'm here, under this table, listening to every word...

"What surprises me," added Marcela, "is that Samantha always seems so impeccable. But now that you mention it, it would be fun to see her in a situation out of her control. I wonder how she’d react."

"You’re right," said Megan, laughing in a way that felt like a private wink in my direction. "Maybe one day we’ll get the chance to see it."

The laughter filled the air, and I felt as if they were laughing directly at me, even though no one but Megan knew I was there. My breathing was shallow, my hands were trembling, and every word felt like a slap, reminding me how far I was from any semblance of dignity at this moment. How much longer can this go on?

Megan kept her smile as she gestured toward the table. "Well, since we’re here, why don’t we sit down for a moment? The view is great, and besides, we could relax a little before leaving the building."

Marcela and the others exchanged quick glances before nodding, seemingly delighted by the idea. Everyone took a seat around the table while I, underneath, felt my stomach twist with every movement. The sound of chairs sliding against the floor amplified in my mind, and my breathing grew even more shallow. Please, don’t stay too long… please.

"Now that we mentioned Samantha earlier," Megan began, leaning forward with a casual air that perfectly hid her true intentions, "have you ever noticed how tense she can get? It’s like she’s always on the verge of exploding but tries to keep everything bottled up."

The man with glasses chuckled. "Oh, yeah. I remember once during a meeting with Beatriz. Samantha was trying to explain something but got confused with the numbers, and for a moment, it looked like she was going to faint. Of course, she played it off like a pro, but her face was as red as a tomato."

Another woman chimed in with a mocking smile. "That’s nothing! Do you remember when she tried to give that leadership workshop? Someone asked her a complicated question, and although she tried to answer, it was obvious she was losing her train of thought. It was awkward, but she handled it with that stiff composure she always has."

"Yes, but the best part," Marcela added, laughing softly, "was when she spilled coffee all over her notes right before starting. She tried to clean it up quickly, but you could tell she was on the verge of a panic attack. I think it was the first time I ever saw Samantha genuinely nervous."

Every word felt like a knife cutting into my skin. How can they remember everything so vividly? I didn’t even know anyone had noticed those things. I shrank further, trying to make myself as small as possible, while my cheeks burned with shame.

"Now that you mention it," another woman interjected, "there was one time in the cafeteria. Samantha was trying to carry a stack of papers, a laptop, and a coffee all at once. Of course, she ended up dropping everything on the floor. We all offered to help her, but she was so intent on picking it up quickly that she seemed even clumsier."

Megan laughed along with them, nodding as if she had been there too. "It’s like she’s so focused on maintaining that perfect facade that any little mistake makes her seem more human… and, well, a bit funny, don’t you think?"

The laughter filled the air as I tried to hold back my tears. Is this how they see me? A caricature of myself? Every story felt like an echo of my own failures, things I had tried to forget but that were now being dragged back into the light, amplified and distorted.

Megan tapped the table lightly, as if to underline the amusement of the moment. "Maybe we should invite her more often to informal things. Who knows, maybe we can get her to come out of her shell."

Marcela laughed. "Yes, she’s always so serious. Sometimes I think she needs to learn to laugh at herself."

I can’t take this anymore. Please, let this end soon. I bit my lip hard, trying to stifle any sound that might give away my presence. Every word was a reminder of how little they understood me, of how easy it was for them to turn my seriousness into a joke. Meanwhile, Megan seemed to savor every second, as if this was the best show she had ever seen.

Suddenly, a faint whimper escaped my lips, more out of reflex than anything else. Megan had kicked me directly in the side from her position at the table. My body, caught between fear and pain, flinched as I tried not to make another sound. I covered my mouth with my hands, terrified that someone might realize I was there.

"Did you hear that?" one of the men asked, frowning as he looked around.

Marcela tilted her head, intrigued. "No, what was it? I didn’t hear anything."

Another woman shook her head with a carefree smile. "It was probably the wind. This floor always has weird drafts."

As they spoke, Megan, with her signature malevolent smile, kicked me again, this time more lightly but just as effective at making me uncomfortable. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on staying completely still. Please don’t let them find me… please.

"It must have been that," Marcela said, shrugging. "You know how these places sound when it’s windy."

For a moment, their comments faded as the group resumed their conversation about trivial topics. But Megan, as if unable to resist, continued tormenting me with small kicks. Each one was a reminder of my position—not just physically but emotionally: trapped, humiliated, and completely at her mercy.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes, one of the men checked his watch. "It’s 1:50. If we don’t leave now, the building will lock down automatically, and we won’t be able to get out until Monday."

Marcela nodded quickly, standing up. "Yes, you’re right. We should get going. Megan, are you leaving with Samantha?"

Megan raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Of course. Sam is probably waiting for me in the parking lot. We're leaving together." Her tone was casual, but I knew that sentence meant something much worse for me. She couldn't leave. She couldn't leave me here.

"Perfect," Marcela said with a smile as she adjusted the strap of her bag. "Then we'll all go together. That way, we don't have to worry about anyone being left behind."

My heart started pounding. No, no, no... Panic gripped me as I tried to imagine being trapped here, alone, completely naked and helpless. From under the table, I could feel my breathing becoming faster and shallower. What would I do if Megan really left?

"Well, I guess there's no problem," Megan replied with a slight laugh, standing up and following the group towards the rooftop exit. My mind raced. This can't be happening. She can't leave me here!

Then, just before crossing the door, Megan made an unexpected move. She looked down at me, leaning slightly as if adjusting her bag on her shoulder. With a casual gesture, she dropped something to the ground. The metallic, dry sound told me exactly what it was. The access card.

"I'll be right there, Marcela," Megan said with a radiant smile as she closed the door behind her.

The echo of her footsteps and those of her companions quickly faded, leaving the rooftop immersed in an unsettling silence. My body kept trembling as I crouched even lower under the table. I was alone. Completely alone. But there was a small spark of hope. The card.

I slid towards the edge of the table, my trembling hands reaching for the shiny object. Please, let it work. Please. I grabbed the card with a firm grip and held it against my chest for a moment, as if it were a lifeline in a stormy sea.

Less than 10 minutes. That was all the time I had before the building automatically locked down. If I didn't manage to get down to the parking lot in time, I'd be trapped here until Monday. The mere thought made me swallow hard. I couldn't afford to waste any more time.

Gathering the little courage I had left, I moved away from my hiding place and headed towards the door with quick but cautious steps. The cold rooftop air still lashed at me, reminding me of how vulnerable I was. I must hurry. I can't afford to fail now.

Upon reaching the door, I swiped the card through the reader, listening with relief to the beep indicating it was unlocked. With one last glance at the table, that place that now symbolized both humiliation and desperation, I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The clock was still ticking, and I couldn't stop. The countdown had begun.

The rooftop door closed behind me with an echo that seemed to announce the beginning of an impossible battle. The access card trembled in my hand as I tried to convince myself that I could still make it. Just get down to the parking lot. It's simple. Just twelve floors. But there was nothing simple about this situation. Each step I took was a reminder of how exposed and vulnerable I was.

I ran towards the elevator, the sound of my bare feet resonating in the carpeted hallway of the twelfth floor. I frantically pressed the call button, nervously looking at the small screen indicating the floors. Nothing. There was no movement. I frowned and pressed the button again, this time harder, as if that would make any difference. The panel remained dead.

"No, not now!" I whispered, my voice breaking. Panic began to rise like a tide. What do I do? What do I do?

Then I remembered the stairs. An option I didn't want to consider, but now it was my only salvation. I turned towards the stairwell door, now marked with a glowing sign, and ran towards it. I pushed with both hands and felt the cold breeze from the stairwell hit me.

The first step felt cold and rough under my bare feet, and the echo of the door closing behind me gave me a sense of claustrophobia. I looked down, and the endless spiral of steps made me wobble slightly. Just eleven floors. You can do it, Sam. You can.

My bare feet slipped slightly with each step, the remaining soap from my "shower" in the third-floor bathroom, now mixed with my sweaty skin, made my skin feel slippery. Every time my foot slipped, a small moan of desperation escaped my lips. I gripped the railing so tightly that my knuckles turned white, but the cold metal didn't help either.

The air was different in the stairwell. Colder, more stagnant, with a faint smell of concrete and dust. The acoustics amplified each of my movements, as if the echo of my footsteps and breaths were announcing my humiliation. My body trembled, and not just from the cold. Each floor I passed seemed like a monumental challenge.

When I reached the tenth floor, I stopped for a moment to catch my breath. I felt my legs burning, but there was no time to rest. I peeked slightly through the small window of the tenth-floor door, just to make sure no one was outside. Everything was dark and silent, but the fear of being seen was still paralyzing. What if someone comes in now? What would I say? What would I do?

My heart pounded as I resumed my descent. Nine floors more. Every time I thought about the time, a knot in my stomach tightened even more. How much time is left? How many minutes do I have?

On the ninth floor, my foot completely slipped on a step, making me fall to my knees with a dull noise that echoed throughout the stairwell. I let out a small scream and bit my lip hard to muffle the sound. The pain was sharp, but the fear of getting trapped forced me to get up quickly.

Tears began to run down my cheeks, mixing with the sweat that dripped from my forehead. I felt like the air was getting heavier, colder. Each floor became a greater challenge. My muscles ached, my hands trembled, and my thoughts were divided between pushing forward and giving up.

You can't give up, Sam. You can't stay here. No one will come to save you. It's up to you.

When I reached the seventh floor, my body was at its limit. I leaned against the cold stairwell wall, trying to calm my breathing. I felt the pain in my feet, my hands sweaty and sticky from constant contact with the railing. But I couldn't stop.

Just a few more floors. It's not that hard. You have to move. Do it now!

Gathering what little strength I had left, I pushed forward. But deep down, something told me things wouldn't be as easy as I hoped.

The echo of my footsteps remained my only company as I descended deeper into the building. Each step seemed like a greater enemy than the last. My legs trembled so much that I wondered if they could support me for much longer.

Upon reaching the sixth floor, I heard a noise. I stopped, frozen in my place. It was a low, metallic sound, as if something was being dragged. My heart pounded harder. Is there someone here? Who could it be, or is it just my imagination?

I waited a few seconds, crouching to make myself as small as possible behind the railing. The sound faded as quickly as it had appeared, but it didn't calm my paranoia. I made sure to move more carefully, each step calculated to avoid making noise.

The fifth floor was so close I could feel it, but my strength was at its limit. I felt like my body was about to give up. Every movement required more effort than I had. My hands slipped on the railing, and my feet burned from the constant friction with the rough stairs.

When I reached the third floor, I realized my thoughts were becoming blurred. Fatigue and fear were taking control. Just a few more floors, Sam. Just a few more.

The hum of the generators on the lower floors grew louder as I approached. The door to the P1 parking lot was near, but the path to get there was still a nightmare. With each step I descended, I felt like time was running out.

Finally, I saw the sign indicating the first level. I knew the door was at the end of a hallway beyond the stairs. Just one more effort, Sam. Just one more push.

My hands trembled as I pushed the door to the hallway. I looked around, still unsure if I had really overcome this trial. The parking lot door was there, just a few meters away, but my nightmare wasn't over yet.

I pushed the stair door to the first floor with trembling hands, and the sound of the mechanism opening seemed to resonate like thunder in my ears. My bare feet touched the cold, slippery marble floor of the main lobby, sending a chill down my spine.

My eyes quickly scanned the elegant and modern space I had crossed so many times with confident steps and professionalism. This time, every detail seemed to be against me. The marble floors reflected the sunlight, creating a glare that made me feel even more exposed. The information screens displayed relevant industry news, but to me, they were just reminders of how far I was from my usual impeccable image.

Across the lobby, I saw the empty reception desk. I wanted to move forward, but my body was frozen. My feet wouldn't respond. Just a few more steps, Sam. Just a few more steps. But the panic in my chest grew with each passing second, as if the walls themselves were watching me.

Gathering the little courage I had left, I moved with slow and silent steps, trying to stick to the shadows. Is it possible to disappear in such an open space?

As I approached the door leading to the parking lot, I heard sounds from the street. No. Please, don't look at the street. Instinctively, I covered myself more with my arms, though there was no way to hide the obvious. I turned my head towards the large street-facing windows, where a couple of children were walking hand-in-hand with their parents. One of them saw me and, with eyes full of wonder and amusement, pointed directly at me.

He surely mentioned that I was naked, his laughter echoing in my head.

The second child also turned towards me, bursting into laughter as he pointed. I froze in my place, unable to move. My legs trembled, and my breathing was shallow, as if the air refused to fill my lungs. No. This can't be happening.

Fortunately, the parents were too focused on their own conversations to notice what their children were pointing at. But the damage was done. My face burned, and I felt a knot in my stomach that seemed to tighten with each passing second.

Move, Sam! You have to get out of here before anyone else sees you! I repeated to myself as I fought back tears. With clumsy steps, I moved towards the security door leading to the underground parking lot.

But each step seemed like an eternity. Every sound in the lobby—the murmur of the receptionists, the echo of my own movements, the hum of the screens—felt amplified, as if the building itself was mocking my situation.

When I finally reached the door, my sweaty hands struggled to hold the access card. Please, let it work. Please, let it work. I swiped the card through the reader, and a sharp beep confirmed that the door was unlocked. I pushed with all my might, letting the weight of the door close behind me.

I was in the corridor leading to the parking lot, but the sense of relief was brief. I'm still not safe. There's one last stretch.

When I pushed the corridor door and finally stepped into the parking lot, the metallic sound of it closing echoed like thunder in my ears. I quickly turned my head and saw the LED light of the security system next to the door change from green to a deep red, indicating that no access card would work anymore. My stomach dropped as if I had just been thrown into the void. I was about to get trapped completely naked.

The air in the parking lot was cool, but it didn't bring me any comfort. My bare feet felt icy against the concrete, and my body still trembled from the cold and nerves. Before I could fully process what had just happened, I saw Megan walking towards me from one of the nearby columns. Her smile, wide and triumphant, only increased the feeling that all of this was a cruel game designed to humiliate me even further.

"Wow, Samy!" Megan exclaimed, stopping a few steps away from me. "Just in time. One more second, and you would have been stuck here until Monday. Can you imagine? Spending the weekend as a naked survivor. No clothes, no food, nothing." She let out a laugh that echoed in the empty space, as if the idea of my misfortune was the funniest thing in the world.

My heart pounded, and my legs were so weak I could barely stand. What would I have done if that had happened? How would I have survived two days like that? The possibility was so terrifying that I felt my eyes filling with tears, but I clenched my teeth to keep them from falling.

Megan took a step closer and extended her hand towards me. Before I could react, she took the access card that I still held tightly in my trembling fingers. "I'll keep this," she said, carefully putting it in her jeans pocket. "Don't want you to lose it, do we?"

"Please, Megan..." I whispered, my voice barely a thread. But she completely ignored me, turning her back as she started walking towards the area where the SUV was parked.

"Come on, Samy," she said without looking at me, her tone light and carefree as if we were about to embark on a relaxing walk. "Let's get the car. It's time to go."

I stood motionless for a moment, feeling more defeated than ever. Just in time. One more second... Megan's words kept repeating in my mind, accompanied by the image of the red light blinking on the door behind me. With a knot in my stomach and my shoulders hunched, I started following her, each step a reminder of how little dignity I had left.

The parking lot stretched before me like a vast and desolate land, illuminated only by the white lights of fluorescent tubes. The echo of our footsteps seemed to resonate endlessly, amplifying the loneliness of the place. Except for Megan's mother's SUV, the space was completely empty. My eyes fixed on the vehicle, my only hope of refuge in a place that felt so exposed and cold.

Every movement I made reminded me of my state. Without a single piece of clothing to cover me, not even the pockets of a garment to hide my hands. How is it possible to feel so small and helpless? I felt the cold air sliding over my skin as if trying to undress me even further. There was no barrier between me and the outside world, and this vulnerability weighed on me like a slab.

My bare feet barely managed to withstand the contact of the icy concrete, while my mind tried to ignore the overwhelming sensation of the moisture that still remained on my skin after the improvised "shower" in the bathroom and my sweat from descending the stairs. My arms were instinctively crossed over my chest and crotch, a useless gesture to protect myself from something deeper than the cold. It's as if even the air is judging me, reminding me of how far I am from the professionalism I always wanted to project.

Megan walked with an exasperating calm towards the SUV, as if all of this were a normal outing. Upon reaching the passenger side, she looked at me with that smile laden with authority that I both feared and despised. "Come on, Samy. Get in on the driver's side. It's time to go."

The idea of a closed space, even if it was a car, seemed like a temporary relief. Without thinking too much, I walked towards the vehicle with clumsy steps, feeling the rough concrete scraping the soles of my feet. I quickly got in and closed the driver's door behind me, as if that could somehow separate me from the outside world. I rested my hands on the steering wheel, feeling the texture of the material, a welcome contrast to the tactile void I had felt all day. At least I'm covered here, even if only symbolically.

Megan calmly settled into the passenger seat, crossing one leg over the other and looking at me with that carefree expression that both irritated and terrified me. "You have to take me home, Samy. My mother is waiting," she said, as if this were part of our daily routine.

My lips moved before I could stop them. "And my things? Where is my clothing?"

Megan laughed softly, as if the question were adorably naive. "Everything is in the trunk," she said, pointing to the back of the vehicle with a movement of her head. "When you drop me off at my house, you can go and get it. But until then..." Her smile widened, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. "You drive naked, Samy."

"This is crazy, Megan. Absolutely crazy," I began, my voice trembling as my thoughts raced faster than my ability to articulate them. "Do you know what could happen if someone sees me? If the police stop us for any reason, I'm... I'm like this. It's illegal. I don't have any identification, no clothes. If someone suspects, it would be my ruin. I could be arrested, Megan. Do you realize that? Arrested!"

Megan, without taking her eyes off me, let out a soft laugh, as if my words were the introduction to a joke she didn't quite understand yet. "Samy, Samy, always so dramatic. Look, no one is going to stop us, you know they can't see inside the car. You just have to drive, get to my house, and then pick up your stuff. It's simple. Don't complicate it."

"Don't complicate it!" I repeated, my tone breaking. "How can I not complicate it? Look at my state!" I raised a hand to point out my naked body, but quickly lowered it, aware of what I was doing. "Please, Megan, you have to understand how ridiculous this is."

Megan sighed, as if tired of listening to me. "Samy, you have no choice. We don't have all day, okay? So stop worrying and start driving. Every second you waste here is another in which you could be seen by someone else."

Her words hit me hard. She was right, but that didn't make the situation any less terrifying. My mind screamed for a solution, any alternative, but there was none. Finally, I lowered my head, defeated, and reached for the seatbelt. It's just a seatbelt, but it feels like a sentence.

The cold, synthetic material brushed against my fingers as I pulled it, and the sudden movement made my skin, still sensitive from the soap I hadn't been able to rinse off completely, tingle. Fastening the seatbelt over my chest and waist was a humiliation in itself. Every part of my body seemed amplified, hypersensitive to the slightest contact. This shouldn't feel like this. This shouldn't be happening.

As I adjusted the seatbelt, I noticed that the straps sank slightly into my skin, leaving me with a strange sensation of being held, of being trapped even more in this absurd situation. With each breath, I felt the material tighten a little more against me, reminding me of how defenseless I was.

"Well," Megan said with a smile as she turned on the air conditioning and adjusted the flow to maximum. "It's hot in here, don't you think?"

The cold air started flowing forcefully, hitting me directly in the face and neck. I couldn't help but let out a small moan as the contrast of the icy air enveloped me. My skin, already tingling, trembled even more. The cold made me shiver, intensifying the physical discomfort I was already enduring. I crossed and uncrossed my arms, trying to cover myself as best I could while my body reacted involuntarily to the low temperature.

"Seriously, Megan? Is this necessary, too?" I managed to murmur, my teeth starting to chatter slightly.

"Relax, Samy," Megan replied as she adjusted her seat and leaned back slightly, as if this were a casual ride. "Come on, drive the car. Let's not make this longer than necessary."

I took the steering wheel with trembling hands, feeling the slightly cold metal against my palms. Just do it. Get this over with as quickly as possible, I thought as I started driving, the roar of the engine filling the silence. The cold air conditioning continued to blow relentlessly as I prepared to face the next stretch of this endless nightmare.

Every inch of my body seemed to be at war with my mind as I drove. My bare feet, resting on the pedals, felt the slightly rough texture of the plastic beneath them, a strange and constant contrast that reminded me of how out of place I was. With each press on the accelerator or brake, the contact made my legs tense, sending a wave of discomfort through me. How much more can I take?

The leather of the driver's seat was no better. The smooth but cold texture adhered to my skin in some places, while in others, it seemed to want to slide me forward. I felt my back damp, not only from the air conditioning but also from a mix of cold sweat and the tension that enveloped me. My hair, messy and sticky from the improvised shower, fell in uneven strands around my face, and every time a slight movement made it brush against my neck or forehead, I felt even more trapped in this surreal state.

My hands trembled on the steering wheel, my fingers gripping the rough material tightly to maintain control. Focus. Just focus. Don't look at Megan. Don't think about anything but getting there. But even that thought seemed impossible to fulfill.

We drove a few blocks in silence, or at least in a tense silence that echoed in my mind like an endless echo. It was then that I saw them. Marcela, the same Marcela from the rooftop, was walking on the sidewalk with another woman I didn't recognize at first. They seemed to be casually conversing, their steps directed towards some unknown destination. Why don't they have a car?

They recognized the car. I could see it in their faces as their gazes followed the vehicle, as if they were trying to confirm their suspicions. Marcela even raised her hand slightly, as if to greet me or stop me to ask for a favor. No! This can't be happening!

Megan, always perceptive, noticed the change in my expression. A mocking smile appeared on her lips as she tilted her head towards the window. "What's wrong, Samy? Are they your friends? Why don't you stop? Maybe they want you to give them a ride."

My eyes widened as my breathing quickened. "Megan, no," I murmured, my voice trembling with nervousness. But she ignored my plea, turning towards me with a spark of malice in her eyes.

"Stop the car!" she ordered, her tone loud enough to make me jump in my seat. "Come on, I want to ask them where they're going. Maybe we could give them a ride, don't you think?"

"Megan, this isn't funny!" I exclaimed, but the desperation in my voice seemed to fuel her more than stop her. I felt her hand reaching for the passenger window, clearly intending to roll it down to get their attention.

Without thinking, I stepped on the accelerator. The engine roared, and the car moved forward faster than I expected. We passed Marcela and her friend in seconds, their figures quickly disappearing in the rearview mirror. Thank God, I thought.

"Wow, Samy! How rude," Megan exclaimed, laughing as she leaned back in her seat with satisfaction.

I didn't respond. My breathing was shallow, and my mind was spinning in circles as I tried to process what had just happened. My nerves were on edge, every fiber of my being screaming for calm, for some kind of escape.

With each turn of the steering wheel, I felt my hands tremble slightly, and nerves ran from the base of my neck to my bare feet still feeling the pedals. The air conditioning kept blowing hard, making my damp, sticky skin even colder, but it was impossible to feel comfortable. This is surreal. I'm driving through the city completely naked, and she... she's just having fun.

Megan reclined in the passenger seat, with a satisfied smile as she looked out the window and occasionally glanced at me. She's enjoying this. It's as if every reaction of mine is fuel for her amusement. I couldn't bear the feeling of her eyes judging me, scrutinizing me with every nervous gesture I made.

"Samy," she finally said, with a light and mocking tone, "Have you ever wondered how many people actually see you while you're driving? I don't mean just the other drivers. Think about the pedestrians, the people in buildings... All those eyes watching, maybe wondering what the driver of this car is wearing."

My shoulders tensed, and my grip on the steering wheel tightened. I tried to ignore her, focus on the road. But her soft laughter made me shiver. Why can't she just stay quiet? Why does she have to make this harder than it already is?

We stopped at a traffic light, and I noticed a group of teenagers on a street corner, laughing among themselves and looking towards the SUV. My chest sank as my mind filled with possibilities. Are they laughing at me? Can they see me from here? I instinctively looked down, as if that could make me invisible.

"Relax, Samy," Megan said, laughing. "They can't see you from here. Well, not entirely. Unless, of course, one of them comes up to the car."

"Please, don't do anything," I whispered with a pleading tone, barely audible.

"Do something?" Megan feigned indignation, placing a hand on her chest. "Me? What kind of person do you think I am, Samy? I wouldn't do anything... deliberate." Her fingers played with the passenger window control, as if she were considering rolling it down just to see my reaction.

The traffic light changed, and I quickly drove forward, trying to put some distance between us and the group of teenagers. But I couldn't escape Megan's laughter or the constant feeling that every small obstacle on the road was a judgment on my state.

We passed a bus stop where several people were waiting. Some looked towards the SUV, perhaps because it was the only vehicle passing at that moment. Their eyes seemed to fix on the car, and my heart raced again.

"Imagine if I rolled down my window right here?" Megan commented, not bothering to lower her voice. "Just to ask them what they think of you as a driver."

"Megan, please," I pleaded, my voice barely a whisper.

"Relax, Samy. I'm just imagining things," she replied with a laugh that seemed to cut through the air.

Every turn, every stop, every casual glance from a pedestrian was like a dagger to my self-esteem. My thoughts spiraled. If someone recognizes me... if someone realizes my state... this could be the end. Not just of my career, but of everything. How would I get out of this? How would I live after this?

The journey seemed endless. Every traffic light was a new opportunity for Megan to mock, to imagine the worst possible scenarios. Upon reaching a busier intersection, I noticed a family crossing the street. The young children looked towards the car, pointing at something and laughing. My heart beat faster as my mind filled with paranoia. What do they see? What do they know?

"Relax, Samy," Megan said, noticing my reaction. "They're just kids. But, who knows... maybe they're seeing something they shouldn't."

The SUV crawled forward, the constant roar of the engine barely covering the drumming of my heart. Each kilometer seemed to stretch endlessly, and my hands, tense on the steering wheel, sweated so much that I felt they might slip at any moment. The air conditioning was still on, and although it cooled the environment, it couldn't calm the fire of my anxiety. Megan, on the other hand, sat calmly, playing with her hair and giving me playful glances. How can she be so calm? Doesn't she see what this is doing to me?

Suddenly, as we turned onto a main avenue, I saw the flashing lights of a couple of patrol cars parked at the side of the road. A group of police officers were conducting a traffic stop, checking documents and signaling some cars to stop. There was no way to avoid them; the line of vehicles slowly moved towards them. Every fiber of my being screamed for me to turn around, to run away, but I knew that would be even more suspicious. This is it. They'll catch me. It all ends here.

"Oh, look!" Megan exclaimed, leaning towards the passenger window. "A traffic stop. How exciting."

"No. Megan, please, no," I whispered, my voice trembling as I struggled to keep control of the steering wheel.

"What's wrong, Samy? You're not doing anything wrong... are you?" Megan let out a contained laugh, but even she seemed a bit tense. I could see her hand nervously playing with the access card she still had.

The line of cars moved slowly, and the air inside the SUV seemed heavier with each passing second. I felt my skin burning with anticipated shame. If they ask me to roll down the window... If they come closer and see me like this...

"Relax," Megan said, though her voice sounded a little less confident than usual. "Just act normal."

Normal? How am I supposed to act normal in this situation? My bare feet moved restlessly on the pedals, and the seatbelt tightened across my chest in a way that made it impossible to ignore how exposed I was.

The officer at the corner gestured to another vehicle in front of us to move forward, and then he turned his gaze towards our SUV. His firm, determined steps brought him directly towards us. My breathing quickened, and my vision seemed to narrow. Megan straightened in her seat, and for the first time, I noticed a glimmer of concern in her eyes.

"Good afternoon," the officer said, approaching the driver's side. "May I see your license and registration, please?"

Oh my God, this isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. With a trembling hand, I reached for the window and rolled it down just a little, the bare minimum, while my other hand gripped the steering wheel as if holding onto the only fragment of reality that wasn’t falling apart. Megan, with a calmness that seemed almost rehearsed, also lowered her window slightly, leaving just a small crack.

"Officer! I'm sorry, but I think you're mistaken," Megan said with a smile that tried to be charming. "My cousin... I mean, the driver, is a bit nervous because she's never had an encounter with the police. But all the papers are in order."

The officer leaned towards Megan's window, his direct gaze seeming to pierce my soul. "Nervous, you say? Ma'am, are you okay?" he asked, leaning towards me.

I nodded quickly, not daring to speak. My lips were dry, and I felt like any word I tried to say would come out as a hysterical scream.

"Could you roll down your window a bit more, please? I just need to confirm some details," the officer insisted, now clearly suspicious.

"I don't think that's necessary, officer," Megan interrupted, raising her voice slightly to maintain control of the conversation. "We have a family appointment, and we're running a bit late. Is there any problem with the vehicle?"

The officer frowned, but before he could press further, another policeman at the side of the road urgently called out to him. "Martínez! We need backup here. There's a driver who seems to be having a heart attack."

The officer hesitated for a moment, casting one last glance at me, he stepped back. "Okay. Just go ahead. Have a nice day."

"Thank you, officer," Megan said with an exaggerated smile as she rolled up the window completely.

My entire body trembled as I sped up to get away from the checkpoint. I could barely believe we had made it. I was about to lose it all. About to be arrested completely naked. Oh my God, this was a nightmare.

Suddenly, Megan's laughter broke the silence. She laughed so hard she almost had to hold onto the dashboard. "Samy! Your face... it was incredible! For a second, I thought you were going to faint." She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to contain herself, but the laughter kept coming.

"It wasn't funny," I murmured, my voice trembling as much as my hands on the steering wheel.

"Not funny? It was perfect!" Megan exclaimed, still recovering from her laughter. "I should have recorded your reaction. That would have been pure gold."

I didn't say anything more. My heart was still racing, and my mind was trapped in the memory of the officer's gaze, in the very real danger we had just avoided. Megan, on the other hand, seemed more animated than ever, as if this had only been an exciting new chapter in her day full of fun at my expense.

As I drove towards Beatriz's house, my eyes drifted to the dashboard clock. 2:30 p.m. I blinked, incredulous. How is this possible? Have I been like this since shortly after ten in the morning? My mind tried to process what that meant. Hours and hours in this state of absolute vulnerability, hours that seemed like an eternity.

Until today, the idea of being like this for more than a few minutes, during a shower or changing clothes, was unimaginable. And now, I've spent almost half a day completely naked, moving through public places, facing people I know, and suffering endless humiliations. I felt my throat close up with the weight of accumulated shame.

Finally, we arrived at Beatriz's house. The SUV stopped smoothly in front of the large gate, and Megan, with her typical calm, began to gather her small bag. I watched her open it and carefully put away her access card. Then, she opened the passenger door and got out with the same confidence she had when she got in hours earlier.

"Megan, wait," I said, my voice trembling as I tried to gather some courage. "About the favor your mom asked me... please, tell her I'm sorry, that I couldn't do it today."

Megan turned towards me with a smile that I knew meant trouble. "Apologize? That's not my business, Samy. If my mom wants to know why you didn't fulfill her request, you should tell her yourself on Monday." She shrugged, clearly enjoying my panic.

Monday... I can't face her on Monday. Beatriz will be furious. A wave of anxiety ran through me as I imagined her reaction. I knew how strict she was with errands and how much she valued punctuality in her requests. This was going to be disastrous.

"Please, then..." I whispered, desperate. "Lend me your access card for Monday. Valeria didn't return mine, and I need to get into the office early to try to fix this before your mom finds out."

Megan stopped, pretending to think for a moment. Then, with an expression that mimicked mine when I used to lecture her, she replied: "Samy, you know what you always say: these cards are important. We have to take good care of them and not leave them in anyone's hands, right?"

Her smile widened as she closed the car door and took a step towards the house entrance. "See you on Monday," she said nonchalantly, waving without turning back to look at me.

I sat, stunned and paralyzed. My mind was spinning as I watched Megan walk away towards her house door, without a single worry in the world. How am I supposed to get out of this situation now? My only hope, my only tool to try to regain some control on Monday, was fading with each step Megan took away from the SUV.

I started driving, watching Beatriz's house slowly disappear in the rearview mirror, and a new torrent of thoughts flooded me. Monday... I would need an excuse convincing enough to explain why I hadn't fulfilled what Beatriz had asked me to do. Maybe... a technical problem. Something related to the system. My mind tried to find solutions, but I knew that whatever I said would have to sound perfectly reasonable, because Beatriz didn't tolerate mistakes, and even less excuses.

Also, I would have to solve the building access issue. Without my access card, my entry would depend on the kindness of a coworker or even the receptionist. God, how am I going to explain this to someone? I've never lost that card. I've always been so careful with it. Always... My throat closed up as I remembered how Valeria had taken it and how she had simply left with it.

And speaking of Valeria... I would have to face her on Monday as well. Asking her to return my card. Just the idea made me shudder. That woman already had too much advantage over me, and now this. I can't believe how far all this has gone. I used to be in control of everything, even Megan. But that version of myself seemed so distant now.

As I drove towards my apartment, a new problem emerged, one I hadn't considered until that moment. The parking lot. To access the building's parking lot, I needed to activate the gate from the building keys. Keys that were in my purse. My purse, according to Megan, was in the SUV's trunk along with everything else.

A chill ran down my back as I remembered Megan's expression when she told me that. Her tone always had a hint of mockery, even when she affirmed something with certainty. A small thought of fear crept into my mind: What if...? What if there's nothing there? What if she really left me with nothing, just to keep humiliating me? My heart began to race at the possibility.

"No, it can't be," I murmured softly, shaking my head as if to expel the idea from my mind. Megan can be cruel, but not to the point of lying to me about something so important... right? However, the doubt persisted, a shadow I couldn't shake off.

Each kilometer that brought me closer to my apartment made that concern grow more and more, until I could hardly concentrate on the road. There's only one way to know, I thought, gripping the steering wheel tightly. And I hope that, for once, Megan has told the truth.

I loved the dialog on the rooftop in chapter 10 between Sam and Megan. Excellently done and it puts Sam's secret desires out in the open for the first time making her even more vulnerable to Megan and perhaps Valeria and company as well.

Sam now has a much more complicated depth to her than most characters in erotica. I love that. Looking forward to seeing what happens next!

Hooked6

.

Megan is interesting too. Clever, intelligent, manipulative. But then sometimes her age kicks in with an element of recklessness and an attitude of damn the consequences, which makes her even more threatening to Samantha. Reason would tell her to guard against Samantha getting caught by the wrong people, which would ruin Samantha but also bring an immediate end to Megan's fun. But then the thrill becomes just too great. It was a nice touch to see Megan get a little nervous when almost caught out by the traffic stop.

With my apartment building getting closer, my hands trembled as I gripped the steering wheel. I need to find a place... a safe place where I can get out, recover my things, and get back to the car before something worse happens. The nearby streets were quiet, but not quiet enough for me to feel comfortable. My heartbeats echoed in my ears, and the fear of being seen made me look in the rearview mirror every few seconds.

I circled the block once, trying to find a secluded corner, a place where security cameras from the buildings couldn't capture me and where the flow of people was minimal. Finally, I found a small side alley, just behind a set of trees that provided some shade. It wasn't perfect, but it was the best I could find.

This has to work, I thought, slowly parking the SUV. I turned off the engine and sat still for a moment, listening to the silence around me. It seemed clear. There was no movement, no cars or people. Perfect. But that comfort lasted only a second. When I looked at the trunk from the mirror, the knot in my stomach returned. And if Megan didn't leave anything there... if all of this was a cruel joke... I shook my head. There's no time to think about that now.

I took a deep breath and, with my heart pounding as if it wanted to break my ribs, I slid out of the driver's seat. The cool air hit my skin, making me feel more exposed than ever. Each step towards the trunk was a challenge, as if the whole world was watching me. I stuck to the vehicle, using the SUV's side as a barrier, while my bare feet touched the rough, cold pavement.

Upon reaching the trunk, I breathed a sigh of relief at seeing my bag and my other belongings piled up as Megan had promised. "Thank God," I murmured, my hands already reaching out to take everything.

But the relief was brief. A sound behind me made me freeze. It was a soft crunch, like footsteps approaching. I turned quickly, my breath catching, but I didn't see anyone. It's just my imagination... there's no one. Still, I hurried to gather my things. In my haste, I forgot that I had left the key stuck in the ignition and slammed the trunk shut.

When I tried to open the car door, horror struck me immediately. What did I do? The door was locked, and the keys were still inside, stuck in the ignition. My mind froze as I looked through the glass. This can't be... this can't be happening now.

Panic overwhelmed me. I desperately looked around, searching for something or someone who could help, but I knew that would only mean ruining everything. I couldn't risk being seen. I leaned my forehead against the SUV's window, trying to control my breathing, while my mind searched for a solution.

Miraculously, one of the rear windows was slightly open. With trembling hands, I directed myself towards it, trying not to make any noise. I reached the opening just enough to get my hand in. I stretched my fingers desperately, straining to the maximum until, finally, I felt the keys touching my knuckles. Come on... just a little more... After what seemed like an eternity, I pulled them out.

I quickly opened the door and got into the car, panting as if I had run a marathon. I slammed the door shut, locked all the doors, and sank into the seat, clutching the keys tightly. Tears began to accumulate in my eyes, but I quickly wiped them away. I can't waste any more time.

I placed my things on the passenger seat and took a deep breath. Just one more safe place... a place to end this. The thought of getting dressed and regaining my dignity, even a little bit, was the only thing driving me forward.

The drive back to the building's parking lot was a journey in absolute silence, except for the faint hum of the SUV's engine. My hands still trembled slightly as I gripped the steering wheel. One more step... just one more and this will end. My mind repeated those words like a mantra, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions that overwhelmed me.

When I arrived at the parking lot, I found a secluded corner, far enough from the cameras and any other possible prying eyes. I turned off the engine and sat for a moment, looking at my bag on the passenger seat. There were the keys to my apartment and my cell phone, the bridge to my return to normalcy.

I took a deep breath and decided I couldn't wait any longer. I leaned towards the seat next to me to pick up the clothes Megan had left in the trunk. The familiar fabrics, though wrinkled, offered me unexpected comfort. This will end right here.

With quick movements, but trying to remain as discreet as possible, I got dressed inside the car. My body still felt sticky and cold from the attempted "shower" in the bathroom, and the texture of the clothes against my skin only accentuated that discomfort. But at least I was covered again. My bare feet touched the shoes on the floor, and although it was a bit difficult to put them on in the confined space of the SUV, I finally managed it.

When I looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror, I realized I still looked a mess. My hair was tangled and damp in some places, and the makeup I had applied that morning hours ago had completely run. But it didn't matter. I just need to get to my apartment.

Finally, I took my bag and cell phone. I turned it on to see the accumulated notifications. Several missed calls stood out on the screen, including one from Megan's mother. My stomach twisted at seeing it, but I decided to ignore it. That will be a problem for Monday... I can't take any more today.

I put the phone in my bag and made sure I had the keys in my hand before getting out of the SUV. I closed the vehicle behind me and walked with a firm step towards the elevator. This time, there were no nerves, just a burning desire to end the day.

When I arrived at my apartment, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, letting out a long sigh. The feeling of finally being in a private space was overwhelming. I headed straight to the bathroom, dropping the dirty clothes one by one on the floor. When I turned on the shower and felt the hot water falling on my skin, tears began to mix with the water.

I need to forget this... forget everything that happened today.

As the water washed away the marks of the day, I tried to imagine that it was also washing away the weight of shame and stress. But I knew it would be much harder to erase the images and words from my mind. At least, for now, I was safe in my home.

After the longest shower I had taken in years, I wrapped myself in my softest bathrobe and collapsed into bed, watching some series and movies. Then, the exhaustion was so deep that I could barely pull the blankets over me before my eyelids closed with an impossible-to-resist weight. Tomorrow will be another day. I have to recover. All of this... it just has to stay behind.

But rest didn't come as expected. Instead of falling into a restorative sleep, my mind sank into an abyss of chaotic images and feelings of vulnerability that haunted me.

First, I was standing completely naked in Valeria's office, but it wasn't as I had seen it during the day. The walls seemed to narrow, pushing me towards the center of the room while Valeria and Carla's laughter resonated around me, amplified as if coming from every corner. When I tried to find an exit, the doors disappeared, leaving only the reflections of my terrified face in the glass windows.

Then, the scene changed, and I was back on the rooftop, but this time I wasn't alone. The entire company's staff was there, elegantly dressed as if for a corporate event. I was at the front, naked from head to toe, exposed under the spotlights, while the CEO made a toast. "I want to thank Samantha, our most... naked employee," he said with a malicious smile as everyone laughed. Their laughter transformed into whispers that seemed to envelop me, repeating my name over and over again.

Sunday passed in a strange way, as if I were living in limbo. I spent much of the morning reorganizing my apartment, trying to regain some normalcy after the chaos of the previous day. I cleaned the floor with obsessive attention, as if erasing the marks of dirt on the tiles was a way to erase the feelings of vulnerability that still weighed on me. I checked my bag several times, making sure that every item was in place: my keys, my cell phone, my wallet. Everything seemed to be in order, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was still out of place.

In the afternoon, I tried to distract myself by catching up on some overdue reports. However, my mind kept returning to the images from Saturday. Every time I saw my reflection on the computer screen, I found myself comparing it to the mess I had been just hours earlier. This has to stay behind, I repeated to myself over and over. Before dinner, I went for a short walk around the neighborhood, looking for a break from my own head. But even then, I felt that every glance from passersby carried a spark of judgment, although I knew it was just my paranoia playing tricks on me.

Night came slowly, and as I prepared dinner, I found myself checking my work clothes for Monday. Everything has to be perfect, I thought, carefully choosing each garment. But even with that preparation, a shadow of anxiety settled in my chest as the weekend came to an end.

That night, I had another nightmare. I was in the parking lot, walking barefoot between slowly moving cars, but when I tried to run, my feet were stuck to the ground. Suddenly, Megan appeared, balancing my access card like a pendulum in front of my eyes. "Do you want this, Samy?" she asked, while a group of strangers approached, pointing at me and taking pictures. I tried to scream, but my voice didn't come out, only a desperate silence that felt like a prison.

I woke up startled several times during the night, my heart pounding a thousand beats per minute. They're just dreams. Just dreams. But even when I opened my eyes, I felt the images following me.

Monday morning dawned through the curtains when I finally managed to sleep a little more deeply. The alarm sounded too early, pulling me out of a state of exhaustion rather than rest. I lay staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, unable to move.

I woke up early, turning off the alarm with an automatic movement. I still dragged the weight of the weekend's nightmares. Today has to be different, I thought as I opened the closet and searched for something that would give me back a little of my lost dignity. I chose a white silk blouse with a discreet bow at the neck, paired with a fitted gray blazer that gave me a professional air. I added a perfectly ironed black dress pants that fell to the ankle, highlighting my classic black leather heels.

I paired the outfit with a minimalist silver watch and small pearl earrings that added an elegant touch. My hair, carefully straightened, fell softly over my shoulders, and the light makeup helped disguise the shadows under my eyes. But the void at my neck was unavoidable: my access card, which used to be an essential part of my attire, was missing. Without that card, it's like I'm missing more than just an accessory, I thought as I hung a delicate silver necklace, trying to fill the space.

I grabbed my structured black handbag and left the house, trying to ignore the mixed emotions building up in my chest.

The trip to the building was calm on the outside, but my mind kept going over the possible excuses I'd have to give to Mrs. Beatriz for not sending the email on Saturday. Should I mention that I couldn't get in? Or should I say I was dealing with other tasks? The questions bounced around in my head without an answer.

I arrived at the parking lot twenty minutes earlier than usual, hoping to use the time to send the email before she arrived. However, as I got out of the car, I faced the harsh reality: without my access card, I couldn't use the elevator to get to the fifth floor.

I took a deep breath, adjusted the blazer, and directed my steps towards the main doors on the first floor. There was no other option but to enter through reception.

Martina, one of the receptionists, greeted me with her usual kindness. "Good morning, Samantha. How was your weekend? Everything okay with the package the messenger delivered on Friday?"

I shivered at her words. How do I respond to something I couldn't even fully process? I forced a smile, remembering how I had hidden naked under the desk that Friday. "Yes, all good, thank you," I lied with a tone I hoped sounded convincing.

Martina nodded, apparently satisfied, and continued with her work. I took the opportunity to get a little closer. "Martina, could you help me access my office? I forgot my access card."

Martina shook her head with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, Samantha. I don't have access to the fifth-floor offices. You'll have to wait for Mrs. Beatriz to arrive."

Great. I forced a smile and nodded. "Thanks anyway," I murmured before turning towards the stairs.

The climb to the fifth floor was heavier than expected. Why do I feel so fragile today? Each security camera I passed seemed like a watchful eye, a silent reminder of Saturday's humiliation. If these walls could talk... they probably already would have. The thought made me swallow as I climbed, one step at a time.

When I finally reached the fifth floor, I stopped in front of the office door. I knew I hadn't finished facing the challenges of this day yet, but I was determined to regain at least a little control. It has to be different, I repeated to myself, although the cameras seemed to whisper otherwise.

With fifteen minutes still ahead of the official start of the workday, I decided to try my luck at Beatriz's office. If the door was open, I could at least leave the mail ready and avoid a reprimand. I approached the access panel and gently pulled the knob, but as expected, the building's security was impeccable. Closed.

I sighed, feeling the weight of my situation once more. I'll go up to the seventh floor. Maybe Valeria is already there, and I can ask her for my card. The ascent to the seventh floor was a quick but unsettling journey. Every time the doors opened, I mentally prepared myself to face her. But when I arrived on the seventh floor and walked towards Valeria's office, I found the place empty. Her impeccably organized cubicles and the meticulously functioning air conditioning were the only signs of life on the floor.

Great. Now, what do I do? I looked around, searching for a place to wait. I sat down in one of the chairs in the small waiting room. It was a modest but comfortable space, with gray sofas and a low table with carefully stacked technical magazines. The minutes passed slowly, and I started drumming my fingers against the table, nervous. Just when I thought I might have wasted my time coming up here, I heard the sound of the elevator.

I turned my head towards the noise, hoping it was Valeria. But instead of her, Carla stepped out, accompanied by the guy in charge of the building's security cameras. My stomach instantly flipped. No... not now, not her and him together.

Carla had that mischievous smile she usually reserved for moments when she knew she could make me uncomfortable. She was dressed in a casual yet elegant outfit, her fitted jacket contrasting with the dark pants. The guy, with messy hair and glasses, looked relaxed as he held a folder under his arm. They were talking and laughing.

"Oh, look who's here!" Carla exclaimed when she saw me, stopping a few meters from the waiting room. "Samantha, as punctual as always."

I tried to return a smile, though I knew it was more of an uncomfortable grimace. "Good morning, Carla."

"Waiting for Valeria, right?" she asked, as if she knew exactly why I was there. Her gaze shifted to the guy. "Have you met Lucas? He's in charge of the building's security cameras. Isn't it funny? We've been reviewing some videos from this weekend. Right, Lucas?"

The knot in my throat tightened. Lucas looked up, meeting my eyes for the first time. "Ah, yes. Good morning, Samantha," he said with a calm smile.

"B-Good morning," I managed to murmur, my hands gripping my handbag tightly.

Carla, clearly enjoying the tension in the air, leaned against one of the walls. "Lucas and I had an interesting time this weekend. Reviewing videos can be more entertaining than it seems. Did you know that, Samantha?"

Sweat started to gather on my forehead. It can't be. Has he already seen something from Saturday? No... that's not possible. How embarrassing. I swallowed, unable to find words.

Lucas, oblivious to the discomfort or pretending not to notice, spoke up. "Well, some areas of the building are more... interesting than others," he said, adjusting his glasses. "But nothing out of the ordinary."

"Yes, of course," Carla added, with a mocking laugh. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

Her words hung in the air like an invisible weight, and each second seemed to last an eternity. I forced myself to stay calm, though my muscles were tense and my mind was racing. Carla finally broke the silence.

"Well, good luck waiting for Valeria. I'm sure she'll be here soon." She took a step towards Lucas, casually linking her arm with his. "Thanks for accompanying me, Lucas. Time to work."

I nodded silently, unable to look at Lucas as they walked away down one of the hallways. My heart was still pounding. Does he already know? Was he hinting at something? No... I don't think they've seen it yet. There's no way to enter the building until today, unless they arrived very early.

The echo of their laughter still resonated in my head as I sat in the waiting room, struggling to keep my composure. Please, Valeria. Show up already.

Valeria appeared in the hallway with a firm step, her impeccable elegance standing out even on an early Monday. She wore a gray pantsuit and a white silk blouse that shone under the lighting. When she saw me, her gaze slid indifferently before shifting towards her office. She didn't say a word. No greeting, no comment, she simply continued on her way and closed the door behind her.

I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Be professional, Sam. Don't lose your composure. I stood up from the chair and walked towards her door. I knocked softly, hoping not to seem too desperate.

"Valeria," I said, trying to sound calm. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

There was no response. Come on, don't do this now. I knocked again, this time a little harder. "Please, Valeria. I need to talk to you. It's important."

The silence continued, and my heart started pounding. I knew she was deliberately ignoring me, enjoying the power she had over me. Eventually, my professionalism turned into pleading.

"Valeria, please. It'll only take a few minutes. It's urgent."

Finally, I heard the sound of the lock turning, and the door slowly opened. Valeria leaned against the door frame with an ironic smile on her face, studying me up and down.

"Good morning, Samantha," she said in an exaggeratedly formal tone, as if she were in a business meeting. "How can I help you on this beautiful morning?"

I swallowed, struggling to maintain a neutral tone. "Good morning, Valeria. I need to ask you to give me back my access card, please. I have less than five minutes before Mrs. Beatriz arrives, and I need to send an urgent email she asked for on Saturday."

Her smile widened, and her eyes sparkled with a glint of amusement. "Your card? Oh, yes, your card." She paused deliberately, as if considering something. Then, she straightened up and added, "Come with me to the creativity room. I need to check something there first."

My heart sank. Why? Why does she have to make this so difficult? But I knew I had no choice but to follow her. "Valeria, there's not much time..."

She raised a hand, interrupting me. "Relax, Sam. The day is just beginning. We have all the time in the world." She turned and started walking down the hallway without waiting.

I sighed and followed her, my heels clicking lightly on the floor as I tried to maintain a professional stride. Every step towards the creativity room felt like I was losing valuable seconds. Upon entering, Valeria turned to me with a satisfied smile.

"You know, Samantha? I think today will be a very fun and productive day for both of us." Her tone was sweet, but her words were loaded with clear intentions. "Plus, Megan is at school this morning. So... you don't have anyone to cover for you if I happen to need something from you."

The lump in my throat grew stronger, and my stomach churned. It can't be... not here, not now. I knew the building was full of employees, and the idea of Valeria trying to make me do something inappropriate in the middle of a workday was terrifying. But with her, one never knew how far she was willing to go.

"So, Samantha?" Valeria said with a smug smile, sitting comfortably in one of the adjustable chairs in the creativity room. "Ready to start this interesting Monday?"

I tried to speak, but my throat was dry, and the words just wouldn't come out. Instead, I nodded timidly, keeping my gaze down to avoid Valeria's satisfied smile. I felt the weight of her assessing gaze on me, and with each passing second, my discomfort only increased.

"Perfect," Valeria said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs with a relaxed air. "Remember what we talked about on Saturday, Samantha. If something important comes up in the systems department, I want to be the first to know. Understood?"

I nodded again, not daring to say anything more. My mind was focused on a single goal: getting my access card back and leaving that room as soon as possible. Finally, after a few minutes that felt like hours, Valeria took the card out of her pocket and handed it to me.

"Now you can complete your professional look," she said with a sarcastic smile, as the card hung from my fingers. Thank goodness, at least this... I thought, hanging the card around my neck. Feeling the familiar weight of the card against my chest was a small relief in the midst of the storm.

"You can go," Valeria said in a casual tone, as if she hadn't just enjoyed every second of my discomfort. "See you later, Samy."

I hurried out of the room, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. Just focus on the next thing, Sam. You can't waste any more time. I quickly walked towards the stairs, trying to ignore the security cameras that seemed to mock me with every step. Finally, I reached the fifth floor, my office.

There was Mrs. Beatriz, right at the door, swiping her access card to open it. We looked at each other for a brief moment, and we exchanged a short greeting.

"Good morning," I murmured, trying to sound neutral.

"Good morning, Samantha," she replied, in a professional tone.

We entered the office in silence, and each of us started organizing our things at our respective workstations. I hung my handbag on the back of my chair and turned on my computer. Beatriz placed her folders and adjusted some papers on her desk, all with methodical and silent movements.

The atmosphere was charged, not with tension, but with a complete absence of words. A silence that, though not uncomfortable, reminded me that any conversation could break the fragile calm I had achieved on this already complicated morning. Just focus on working and forget the rest for now, I told myself as I tried to concentrate on my computer screen.

The silence that had enveloped the office was abruptly broken by Beatriz's voice, who looked up from her documents to address me.

"Samantha," she said, in a tone that wasn't entirely severe but firm enough to capture my full attention. "What happened to the Strategic Alliances Protocol file I asked you to send on Saturday? I didn't find it in my email."

I felt my heart jump and drop like a dead weight in my stomach. Damn, I knew it. What do I make up now? I took a deep breath, trying to maintain a professional appearance while quickly searching for an excuse that sounded reasonable.

"Ah, Mrs. Beatriz," I began, my voice a bit louder than expected. I coughed slightly to clear it. "On Saturday... there were some technical issues. I thought I had sent the file, but it seems something went wrong with the system. I'm very sorry. I can fix it right now if you need it."

Beatriz frowned slightly, putting her pen down. Her eyes showed a trace of disappointment that made me feel small in my own chair.

"I was also calling your phone," she continued, her tone firm but not aggressive. "You didn't even answer, Samantha. This file was important. I needed it to work over the weekend."

I lowered my gaze to my desk, playing with a pen between my fingers. I was completely trapped on Saturday, how could I explain that to her? My thoughts ran disorderly as I tried to find something to say.

"I'm so sorry," I murmured, in a faint voice. "It won't happen again. I can take care of it right now."

Beatriz sighed, crossing her arms. Though she seemed a bit angry, her demeanor showed she didn't want to extend the topic too much. "I hope so," she finally said. "This time I'll let it go, but make sure it doesn't happen again. If there's any inconvenience, you must always communicate it to me."

"Yes, Mrs. Beatriz. Thank you for your understanding," I responded quickly, feeling the knot in my throat start to loosen a little.

"I'll take care of it," she added, with a tone more resigned than annoyed. "But I need you to go to the server room now. Talk to Javier about the Strategic Alliances Protocol project. There are technical issues with data storage and integration on the servers. I need you to personally review it and ensure everything is in order."

"Understood," I replied, standing up immediately. Anything is better than staying here with this tense atmosphere.

The trip to the server room on the upper floor was quick, though my mind kept replaying the conversation with Beatriz like an echo. The server room was one of the most critical spaces in the building, and its cold, technical atmosphere gave me back a sense of control.

There was Javier, leaning over one of the open servers, with a laptop connected to the system. "Good morning, Javier," I greeted him, trying to sound as professional as possible.

"Ah, Samantha," he said, looking up. "You're just in time. We have an interesting problem here."

"What is it?" I asked, approaching.

"It's about the implementation of the Strategic Alliances Protocol data," he explained, turning his laptop screen towards me. "The main servers are having issues with data synchronization. There's a mismatch between the management software and the servers. I'm adjusting response times and reviewing the data, but I need you to confirm if this data structure makes sense according to the project planning."

I observed the screen as Javier continued explaining the details. The data flow was poorly distributed, causing bottlenecks that could slow down information loading at critical moments. I quickly analyzed the flow and diagrams as Javier pointed out the issues.

"Yes, it seems the problem is here," I said, pointing to a segment of the flow. "If we redistribute the loads between these two auxiliary servers, it should be solved. But we also need to verify that the software is configured to handle priorities correctly."

Javier nodded, starting to make the adjustments while I reviewed the real-time data. As we worked, the tension I felt during the morning began to dissipate. Working on something concrete and technical gave me back the sense of control I so desperately needed.

After almost an hour of joint work, we managed to stabilize the system. Javier performed a final test and confirmed that the data was now flowing correctly.

"Good job, Samantha," he said, giving me a smile. "I think this should keep the system running smoothly."

As Javier packed up his laptop and disconnected the test equipment we had been using, he turned to me with an expression that mixed tiredness and a hint of urgency.

"By the way, Samantha," he said, raising an eyebrow as he organized his notes. "I need to ask you for a favor."

"What is it?" I asked, adjusting the collar of my shirt, trying to appear calm, though I didn't feel it.

"This week, I have to go on a trip with Carlos and Juan," he explained, mentioning the other technicians on the team. "We're attending an advanced server management and network optimization training in another city. It's important, but we'll be gone for two days. Beatriz should arrange for people to cover for us while we're away. Please remind her. We can't leave the server room unattended."

"Understood," I replied, taking a mental note. Another problem for Beatriz in the midst of all this. Fantastic.

Javier gave me a grateful smile and bid farewell. As he walked towards the door, I felt the weight of expectations fall back on my shoulders. Not only did I have to deal with my own recent mistakes, but also with issues requiring immediate solutions.

Back in the office, Beatriz was busy at her computer, typing rapidly. I took a breath before approaching and relayed what Javier had told me. Upon hearing the news, Beatriz stopped abruptly and looked at me with a mix of frustration and fatigue.

"I had completely forgotten about it," she said, massaging her temples. "I knew about that training, but with everything going on, I forgot to organize the replacements. I can't leave the server room unattended, and I can't postpone their trip. It's crucial for the system update."

I nodded, maintaining my professional posture while waiting for her instructions.

"This means I'll have to go to Monterrey personally," she continued with a sigh. "There's no time to find someone else to handle the meetings I had scheduled here, but we can't leave this project half-done. Samantha, I need you to go to the Human Resources office and talk to them to help us find four people to cover the technicians' positions while they're away."

"Of course," I replied promptly. "I'll go right now."

"Thank you," Beatriz said, refocusing on her computer screen. "Make sure this is managed today. The trip is in two days, and we can't afford to improvise."

I went down to the third floor, where the Human Resources office was located, feeling the weight of the day still accumulating on my shoulders. I just need to handle this quickly and efficiently, I repeated to myself, adjusting my pace to calm my nerves.

The Human Resources office was a well-lit space with an air of efficiency. I approached the main counter, where a young receptionist greeted me with a professional smile.

"Good morning," I said, trying to sound confident. "I'm Samantha from the Systems Department. I'm here to coordinate an issue related to the temporary replacement of some technicians."

"Of course," she replied kindly. "Give me a moment to find someone who can help you."

While waiting in the Human Resources office, my mind started to betray me, reliving the memories of Saturday. The room I was in now, with its perfect lighting and professional atmosphere, was the same space where I had been completely naked. I shouldn't think about this now. I must focus, I told myself, clenching my fists tightly to stay focused.

However, my thoughts were interrupted when Valeria and Carla entered the area. My body tensed immediately. Valeria saw me and, with a smile that mixed professionalism and a hint of mockery, approached me.

"Hi, Samy," she said, crossing her arms while observing me with that gaze that made me feel smaller. "How are you today? Did Beatriz say anything about the document you didn't send on Saturday?"

I straightened in my chair and tried to remain calm. I can't let her see my nervousness.

"Hi, Valeria," I responded with a forced smile. "Yes, we talked about it this morning, and everything is being taken care of. We're handling it."

"Oh, really?" Valeria replied, raising an eyebrow, clearly amused by my effort to sound confident. "What a relief. For a moment, I thought you'd be in trouble... you know, more trouble than you already are."

Before I could respond, the receptionist returned with an uncomfortable expression. "Samantha, I've spoken to my supervisors, and due to the short notice of this request, it will be very difficult to find replacements for the server room positions in such little time."

My heart sank. Of course. Everything has to get more complicated, I thought, feeling Valeria's gaze like daggers on me.

"Won't the technicians be there?" Valeria asked, interrupting the awkward silence.

"Well," the receptionist continued, clearly nervous about the tension in the room, "there is an alternative. They could assign internal staff to cover the tasks during those days. But that would mean reorganizing some responsibilities."

Valeria took a step forward, with a smile that was now more of satisfaction than mockery. "How interesting," she said, looking directly at me. "It seems we have a solution, Samy. Why don't you tell Mrs. Beatriz that Carla, you, and I can take care of the server room while the technicians are away? I'm sure she'd be delighted to know you're being so proactive."

The knot in my stomach tightened even more. "Valeria... I..." I tried to protest, but my voice faded.

"Come on, Samy," Valeria leaned towards me with a soft yet threatening voice. "Do whatever it takes to convince Beatriz. I'm sure you don't want to disappoint her more than you already have."

Carla, by her side, watched the scene with an amused smile, as if enjoying the show.

"What do you say, Samy?" Valeria insisted, her gaze making it clear she wouldn't accept a no for an answer.

I slowly nodded, feeling the pressure building up inside me. I have no other choice.

"Perfect," Valeria said, straightening up with satisfaction. "Make sure you convey it well. And remember, Samy, we're here to help... or to make sure you don't forget your priorities."

As I got up to return to the fifth floor, Valeria stopped me with a wave of her hand. "Before you go, Samy," she said with her usual tone of authority mixed with mockery, "I want you in my office an hour before lunch. Let's say... at eleven o'clock sharp. Make up some excuse for your boss to let you come. I'm sure you can be... creative."

"What... what do you need?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"You'll see. Don't worry too much, Samy. Just make sure you're there," she replied, her smile widening as she let me pass.

I returned to the fifth floor with heavy steps, feeling like each stair increased the tension in my chest. Upon entering the office, I saw Mrs. Beatriz arranging her papers on her desk, her expression focused yet calm. I took a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for what I had to say.

"Mrs. Beatriz," I said, breaking the silence.

She looked up, her face kind yet serious. "What did you find out, Samantha?"

"Well," I began, trying to sound as professional as possible, "I spoke to Human Resources about the replacement for the server room technicians, and... it seems it won't be possible to find anyone on such short notice."

Her expression changed slightly, a mix of concern and discontent. "What did they suggest then?"

"They gave me an alternative," I continued, feeling the knot in my throat. "We could reorganize some internal responsibilities to cover the positions during those days. I thought that perhaps Valeria, Carla, and I could handle those tasks temporarily."

Beatriz looked at me intently, her brow furrowed. "Valeria and Carla? I'm not sure they are competent enough for that. Especially Valeria, you've told me she's never shown much interest in the technical side."

"I know," I replied quickly, "but I can guide them. I'm familiar with the work, and... I think we can manage it together. It's a temporary solution, and this way, we can ensure everything runs smoothly during the technicians' absence."

She fell silent, evaluating my proposal. Please accept... please accept, I thought, trying to maintain my composure.

Finally, she sighed. "Okay, Samantha. If you think you can handle it, I trust you. But make sure everything is under control. I don't want any issues while we're away."

"Yes, Mrs. Beatriz," I responded, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. "Thank you."

Before I could leave, I remembered Valeria's request and had to come up with something quickly. "Oh, by the way," I added, "is it okay if I take an hour before lunch to attend to a personal matter? I promise to make up for the time later."

Beatriz looked at me for a moment, as if evaluating my request. Finally, she nodded. "It's okay. But make sure it doesn't interfere with your work. This is an important day, Samantha."

"Of course, Mrs. Beatriz. Thank you," I replied, internally grateful that she didn't ask for more details.

As I left her office, I felt my body relax slightly, though the weight of what awaited me remained heavy on my mind. I just need to handle this day step by step, I told myself, though I knew the real test was yet to come.

The clock struck eleven sharp as I got up from my desk, my stomach tight and a sense of terrifying anticipation. I walked towards Valeria's office on the seventh floor, trying to keep my breath controlled. It's just a professional conversation... or so I want to believe.

When I arrived, I noticed all the blinds were closed, creating a sense of privacy that only intensified my discomfort. I knocked on the door softly, and after a few seconds, Valeria's firm voice instructed me to enter.

"Come in, Samy."

I pushed the door slowly and found Valeria sitting behind her desk, perfectly composed. She gestured for me to sit across from her. I took a seat carefully, feeling the atmosphere in the room grow heavier.

"Well, Samy," she began with that tone that was always a mix of mockery and authority. "Tell me, what did Mrs. Beatriz say about the replacement for the technicians?"

I took a deep breath before answering. "I proposed the idea that you, Carla, and I handle the positions temporarily. She was a bit doubtful at first, but eventually agreed."

Valeria nodded slowly, her eyes evaluating me. "And what excuse did you give her to come here now?"

"I told her I needed to attend to a personal matter," I responded, a knot in my throat. "She allowed me to leave, but asked me not to interfere with my work."

She let out a soft, sarcastic laugh, as if my response amused her. "Always so... careful with words, aren't you, Samy?"

An uncomfortable silence filled the room after that. My hands twisted in my lap while she observed me, clearly enjoying my discomfort. Finally, Valeria broke the silence, but her words made me feel like the floor had disappeared beneath my feet.

"Well, Samy, there's no time to waste. I want you to take off your clothes just like you did on Saturday," she said with a lopsided smile. "And I want you to take off everything."

My eyes widened, and my body tensed immediately. "What? I can't... we're on a workday. This... this is dangerous," I stammered, my voice barely a whisper as I looked around, searching for an exit that didn't exist.

Valeria crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, clearly enjoying my panic. "Samy, I don't think I asked for your opinion. You know you don't have many options here. Besides, the blinds are closed. No one will see you."

"Valeria, please," I whispered, my eyes desperately scanning the room as if the walls could offer me some form of support. "This... this is too much. Someone might come in."

"That won't happen," she replied calmly but firmly, cutting off any attempt at protest. "Or do you prefer that I tell Beatriz what you really did on Saturday? I'm sure she'd be... interested to know."

My throat dried up, and a cold sweat began to run down my back. My eyes fixed on the floor while my thoughts swirled. I knew I had no way out.

"Come on, Samy," Valeria insisted, her voice lowering a tone as her eyes narrowed. "I know you can do it. You've done it before."

My hands trembled slightly as I debated between indignation, shame, and powerlessness. What choice did I really have?

Valeria, in her chair, continued to observe me calmly, enjoying every second of my discomfort. My gaze shifted to my perfectly pressed black pants, and then to the minimalist watch on my wrist. The hands moved slowly, each second resonating like a blow in my mind. My pearl earrings tinkled as I turned my head to look at the closed door behind me. There was no way out.

"Samy, I don't have all day," Valeria said, crossing her legs with a calmness that contrasted with the chaos within me. "Do it now."

The first step was always the hardest. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to gather courage. When I opened them again, my hands trembled as they moved towards the buttons of my blazer. The sound of the first button opening was like a gunshot in the room's silence. I continued with the others, one by one, feeling my body temperature rise, not from the heat, but from the shame burning inside me.

I placed the blazer on the chair in front of me and stood still for a moment, as if that could stop time. My straightened hair brushed my cheeks as I lowered my gaze. Valeria, on the other hand, seemed not to miss a detail. The blazer was just the beginning, and we both knew it.

My fingers slowly moved towards the bow of the silk blouse, untied it carefully, as if I could gain time with each movement. When I finally took off the blouse, I felt the cool office air brush my arms, a sensation that would normally be insignificant, but now felt like a dagger of discomfort. I placed the blouse next to the blazer, my hands trembling more than I would have liked to admit.

"Faster, Samy," Valeria insisted impatiently. "We're not at a fashion show."

I slowly bent to unbuckle my black heels. The leather, which usually made me feel confident and professional, now seemed like a cruel mockery. I took them off one by one, feeling the cold floor against my bare feet. I placed them carefully next to the blazer and blouse, though the act of arranging them only underlined the irony of the situation.

Then, I unbuttoned my dress pants and, as I lowered them, the fabric's touch against my skin was a painful reminder of what I was leaving behind: my dignity, piece by piece.

"And the accessories, Samy. Everything." Her voice was as calm as a blade sliding without haste.

With trembling hands, I took off the delicate silver watch, my silver necklace, and finally, the small pearl earrings. Each accessory I left on the chair in front of me was a reminder of how far I was from my usual image. I felt stripped, not only of my clothes but also of any symbolic barrier that protected me.

With mechanical movements, I removed my underwear, feeling how each piece of clothing stripped me of a bit more of my security. My body, now completely exposed, was a canvas of conflicting emotions.

"There you go," I said, my voice barely audible. "I'm... naked."

Valeria, observing each of my movements with evident satisfaction, extended her hand. "Not yet, give me the access card. You don't want to lose it again, do you?"

When I was finally completely naked, I instinctively tried to cover myself, crossing my arms in front of me and looking at the floor. This isn't happening, this isn't happening, I repeated to myself, though each sensation of cold, each glance from Valeria, told me otherwise.

"Much better," Valeria said, her tone light and mocking. "Now we can start our workday."

My heart was beating so hard I feared it could be heard. I felt empty, vulnerable, as if my professional attire had been the last barrier between me and the chaos that Valeria brought with her.

"Stand up, Samy." Valeria's order resonated in the room, cutting through the tense air.

My heart skipped a beat. Stand up? Now? The idea of standing up, completely naked, in front of her was terrifying and surreal. But her tone didn't admit discussion. Slowly, I stood up, feeling the cold floor beneath my bare feet and the total exposure of my body. Every muscle, every curve, and mark on my skin were now in full view of Valeria.

Valeria, elegantly dressed, observed me with a mix of satisfaction and curiosity. Her perfectly styled hair framed her impassive face. Seated behind her large desk, she looked like a queen on her throne, judging her most vulnerable subject.

My eyes fell on the chair where I had left my clothes, now in a shameful mess. The silk blouse, the unbuttoned pants, and my delicate underwear lay there, silent witnesses to my humiliation. My cell phone, which I had left in the jacket pocket, and my access card, were now in Valeria's hands, like trophies of her power over me.

The room, with its smooth walls and polished floor, felt like a cage, highlighting my nakedness. The cold fluorescent light bathed my body, revealing every inch of my skin, every curve, and bone. I felt Valeria's eyes scanning my figure, examining every detail that normally remained hidden under layers of professional clothing.

The silence became heavy, only interrupted by the soft tick-tock of the wall clock. My breathing quickened, mixing nervousness and shame. I wanted to cover myself, hide my vulnerability, but there was no escape. I was exposed in every sense, at the mercy of Valeria's will.

The air conditioning hit my skin like an invisible slap, intensifying the feeling of vulnerability that consumed me. Each cold draft was a piercing reminder of my current state, stripped of any physical or emotional protection. The floor beneath my feet was cold and slightly rough, a texture that under normal circumstances I would have completely ignored, but now it imprinted itself on my consciousness as a constant affront.

My bare arms instinctively clung to my torso in a desperate attempt to cover what I could, but it was futile. Every time I moved, I felt a shiver run down my spine, as if even the slightest movement was a threat. How did I end up like this? The question echoed in my mind, but there was no time to answer it.

Valeria slowly rose from her chair behind the desk, and for a moment, the sound of her blazer's fabric brushing against the backrest seemed amplified, marking the beginning of something irreversible. My eyes followed each of her movements, frozen in a kind of mute panic. She calmly walked towards the chair where I had left my belongings—my clothes, my heels, my accessories, every small symbol of normalcy—and without ceremony, she gathered them into a messy pile.

Her footsteps resonated firmly in the oppressive silence of the office. It felt like everything around me was slowing down, as if time was conspiring against me, forcing me to absorb every detail of what was happening.

Valeria returned to her desk and deliberately opened one of the drawers. She stuffed all my belongings inside, making the last piece of fabric disappear from my sight. She closed the drawer with a soft click, took out a small key, and locked it. Then, with a satisfied expression, she put the key in the pocket of her elegant pants. That simple, calculated, and precise gesture confirmed that any trace of control I might have had was now beyond my reach.

A shiver ran through me while my racing mind tried to process what had just happened. I instinctively felt my hands gripping my body, as if they could protect me from more than just physical exposure. My fingertips touched the bare skin of my arms, every texture amplified by the hypersensitive state I was in. Goosebumps covered every inch of me, as if my own body was betraying me.

Panic started to set in again. Valeria could do anything at that moment. She could call Beatriz and tell her to come to her office, forcing me to face her in this surreal and humiliating state. Or worse, she could call Human Resources, report me, and turn this situation into a scandal from which there would be no escape. She could even open the door and take me out, exposing me to every worker in the hallway. No, she wouldn't do that, would she?

My heart was pounding, a constant drumming that seemed to resonate in my ears. What am I going to do? How do I get out of this? Every second felt like an eternity while my mind constructed and deconstructed possible scenarios. My legs, barely held up by pure instinct, trembled under the weight of my vulnerability.

Suddenly, the click of Valeria's phone camera shattered the tense office silence like a bolt in an already storm-laden sky. My muscles instinctively tensed, a faint squeak escaping my throat before I could stop it. Is she taking pictures? No... damn. My hands, clenched onto my body like a desperate armor, trembled as my mind raced with growing panic.

"Samy, don't make such a drama. It's just a couple of photos," Valeria said with that casual, almost bored tone, making all of this feel even more surreal.

My eyes welled up with tears that couldn't fall. The impotence was as suffocating as the air conditioning surrounding me. Every part of my body was on high alert, registering the cold texture of the floor beneath my bare feet, the incessant tingling of my goosebumps, the oppressive weight of my own vulnerability. Each click of her phone was a reminder that there was no escape.

"Samy," Valeria continued, her voice dropping to a whisper that carried an unbreakable authority. "Let your arms down. Don't hide."

A knot formed in my throat as I tried to swallow the panic consuming me. My arms, trembling almost imperceptibly, clung tightly to my body. They were my only refuge, my last shield against this humiliation.

"Come on, Samy, hurry up, I don't have all day," Valeria insisted, her tone laced with mockery and patience.

With a slow, hesitant movement, I allowed my arms to fall to my sides. The invisible weight I felt as I lowered them was almost unbearable, as if I were completely surrendering to her control. The sense of nakedness intensified, as if I had lost my last defense. The cold air licked my skin, raising goosebumps on every pore, reminding me of my vulnerability. Each click of the camera was a dull thud in my consciousness, an indelible mark of this humiliating moment.

When my arms finally rested at my sides, Valeria smiled with satisfaction, the flash of her camera briefly illuminating the room. Each click was a blow, a persistent buzz in my ears that seemed to synchronize with the beating of my heart.

As Valeria aimed her phone and took each photo with precision, my body reacted against my will, betraying me in the most primitive way. My nipples, sensitive to the cold caress of the air conditioning and the intensity of the moment, hardened into two rigid points, pointing at her like silent accusers. The feeling was uncomfortable and revealing, as if my body refused to accept the humiliation I was experiencing.

My stomach contracted in response to the sudden change in my physical state, an involuntary reaction to the shame I felt. It was as if my body was folding in on itself, trying to protect itself, to hide from the invasive lens. My shoulders hunched forward, a defensive posture that betrayed my desire to disappear, to merge with the wall behind me and escape the exposure.

I felt every muscle tense, begging to be covered, to escape Valeria's fixed gaze and her camera. My erect nipples seemed to amplify the sensation of vulnerability, as if my body was silently screaming, pleading for a shred of privacy. The cold air in the room slipped between my legs, adding another layer of discomfort to the situation, as I struggled to maintain composure and prevent my body from revealing the complete internal chaos I was experiencing.

"Spread your legs a bit, Samy. Don't worry, it's just for the photo," Valeria said, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Valeria's request struck me like lightning, and my eyes widened in shock, reflecting the shock and shame I felt at that moment. "What...?" My voice broke before I could form a coherent protest.

My mind screamed in protest, but my traitorous and obedient body yielded to her demand. Slowly, with a sense of unreality, I spread my legs, exposing my deepest intimacy. The cold air in the room caressed places that should never be touched by anything other than myself.

There it was, my completely shaved pussy, exposed to the cruel light of the office. I felt like every pore of my skin blushed, aware of Valeria's fixed gaze and the inquisitive lens of her phone. My clitoris, sensitive and exposed, seemed to have a life of its own, as if begging to hide, but at the same time, very curious about the unexpected attention.

"See, Samy? It's not that terrible," Valeria said, her voice laden with irony. "Just a bit of innocent fun."

My body burned with shame, but my face, in an attempt to maintain composure, showed resignation. At that moment, I realized that the exposure was not only physical but also emotional. Valeria had captured more than just my image; she had captured my vulnerability, my intimacy, and now it was hers forever.

I can't believe this is happening. Every part of me feels invaded, as if her camera lens could capture more than just my image: my humiliation, my complete vulnerability. My legs, unable to hold me firmly, trembled slightly. I felt cold sweat gathering at the base of my neck, sliding down my back. My hair, fallen in messy strands around my face, couldn't hide the expression of defeat that was surely written on every feature.

As I stood in the midst of this surreal situation, my mind, in an attempt to escape, clung to the sounds of the outside world, to the echoes of reality seeping in under the office door. The hum of the air conditioning mixed with the soft tick-tock of the clock created an unsettling soundtrack for this intimate and humiliating moment.

Somewhere nearby, a printer impatiently spat out sheets, its mechanical sound interrupting the room's silence. The tinkle of a coffee cup on a table, the murmur of voices in the hallway, and the distant tapping of a keyboard were constant reminders that, beyond this bubble of shame, office life continued its routine.

"Perfect," Valeria murmured, looking at her phone screen with a satisfied smile. "You know, Samy, these photos are priceless. But don't worry, I don't plan to share them... for now."

Every laugh that slipped through the closed door felt like a slap, a cruel irony of how far I was from normalcy at that moment. I imagined my colleagues, unaware of my situation, chatting about projects and pending tasks, while I, here, exposed my body and dignity to Valeria's will.

The sound of footsteps approaching and retreating in the hallway reminded me that time was passing, that the world kept spinning, indifferent to my personal torment. Each noise was a reminder of my own vulnerability, of how exposed I was, and that at any moment, someone could interrupt this scene and find me completely naked.

The awareness of these sounds, of the life flowing beyond this room, intensified my sense of isolation and shame. It was as if I were living in two parallel realities: the outside world, filled with tasks and trivial talks, and mine, where time had stopped in a raw and naked exposure.

Valeria's voice cut through the air, cold and challenging. "Now, Samy, I want you to turn around. Show me how you move." Her words were an order, a cruel request that made me feel even more exposed.

I obeyed, knowing I had no choice. My body, naked and vulnerable, began to turn slowly. Every movement was torture, an exhibition of my intimacy. My breasts, freed from any restraint, swayed with the rotation, accentuating their shape and size. I felt the air brushing my erect nipples, intensifying the sensation of exposure.

As I turned, my back arched slightly, revealing the curve of my waist and the roundness of my hips. My buttocks, now exposed, clenched with each step, as if dancing to the rhythm of my shame. Every muscle, every bone, felt exaggerated, as if my body were screaming its intimacy to the world.

Valeria watched with a cruel smile on her lips. "Wow, Samy, I didn't know you had such an... artistic side. Do you like to show off, huh?" Her taunt was a sting, piercing my pride and exposing my vulnerability.

I continued turning, aware of every part of my body, of how it moved and presented itself to Valeria's evaluating gaze. My hair, which would normally frame my face, now freely fell, brushing my shoulders and back, accentuating the feeling of nakedness. Each step was an internal struggle, a battle between my dignity and forced obedience.

"Stop!" Valeria's command cut through the air, and my body, obedient to her voice, froze. My heart was pounding as if I had been running a marathon. I felt every muscle tense, aware of the exposure I had just experienced.

Valeria, with a satisfied smile, raised her phone once more. "One last photo for the memory, Samy." Her tone was light, as if capturing a beautiful landscape instead of my humiliation.

I stood still, knowing any movement could ruin her "composition." My mind, in an attempt to escape, focused on the feeling of the cold floor beneath my feet, the breeze of the air conditioning on my bare skin.

The camera's click resonated in the room, capturing my image at that instant. I felt like my soul was stolen, like that moment of shame was imprinted forever in Valeria's phone's digital memory.

Valeria lowered the phone calmly, tilting the screen towards herself as she examined the image she had just taken. A satisfied smile curved her lips. "Perfect," she said with a relaxed yet intentional tone. Her eyes lifted towards me, evaluating me as if I were an object she had just molded to her will. "Now, Samy, go into the creativity room. Seems like you like that place."

My heart was pounding, each pulse resonating in my ears. I tried to articulate a response, something that could express my desperation or indignation, but my trembling lips only let out a series of incoherent babbles. I can't... this is too much... how can she expect me to do this? My hands automatically clenched against my body in the classic pose trying to cover the impossible: arms crossed in front of my chest, elbows firmly pressed against my sides, while one leg slightly stepped forward, a vain attempt to protect myself from any inquisitive gaze. The cold air in the office only accentuated the feeling of vulnerability, as if even the molecules were conspiring to remind me of my nakedness.

My eyes shifted towards the creativity room, that small space that now seemed like a prison disguised as corporate functionality. The walls with whiteboards and projectors reflected a normal workday, but the weight of my current state distorted everything. Each step towards that room was like walking towards an abyss, a fall with no safety net to stop me.

I opened my mouth to try to reason with Valeria once more, but before I could even attempt to speak, a knock on the door made me involuntarily squeal. My eyes widened, and my arms clenched tighter against my body, if that was even possible. A man's voice from the other side of the door firmly asked, "Valeria? Do you have a moment?"

Panic flooded me like an unstoppable torrent. My feet wanted to move, but they were anchored to the floor by fear. Oh my God, no. This isn't happening. Who is it? What if he comes in and sees me like this?

Valeria, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy every second of my torment. Her expression was one of pure delight as she slowly turned towards the door, her eyes sparkling with that malicious spark I had come to recognize all too well. With a slight nod of her head, she gestured towards the creativity room. Her voice was almost a whisper, but no less forceful: "Come on, Samy. Now you have no other choice. Unless you want to stay here and greet him yourself."

The knot in my throat tightened even more as my legs finally responded, taking me, trembling and reluctantly, towards the room. I felt each step as if I were moving through quicksand, with the cold floor beneath my feet amplifying the discomfort that already enveloped me completely. My mind was a chaos of frantic thoughts. Who is behind that door? What would he say if he came in and found me like this? Can Valeria do this... or can she?

From my position, just crossing the threshold of the creativity room, I turned enough to see Valeria place her hand on the doorknob with the tranquility of someone who was in complete control of the situation. Her face radiated overflowing satisfaction as she turned slightly to give me one last look. "Good girl," she murmured, just before opening the door to attend to the visitor, leaving me alone with my shame and the horrible certainty that this day was just beginning.

With clumsy steps and arms still clenched against my body, I moved awkwardly inside the creativity room, closing the door behind me with a soft click. A wave of fleeting relief flooded me, but it quickly vanished when I realized the door had no lock. What kind of corporate privacy room can't be locked? Why can't anything go right today?

I leaned against the wall next to the door, my goosebumps brushing against the cold material. The smooth, slightly rough texture of the wall offered no comfort; it only reminded me of how exposed I was. What if someone suddenly comes in? What if Valeria allows it?

My eyes quickly scanned the space. The mobile tables and interactive whiteboards were useless as hiding places. There were no curtains or dark corners to offer me refuge. This is a bad dream. I'm naked, trapped in the worst place, and there's no way out.

Then, I heard Valeria's voice filtering from outside, calm and professional, completely opposite to mine, which trembled silently as I clenched my teeth to keep from making a sound. "Mr. Davis! What a surprise to see you here. How can I help you?"

The impact of that name hit me like a brick. Mr. Davis! My mind spiraled. He was a high-ranking executive in the company, someone closely related to Beatriz, and whom I used to cross paths with at the most important events. I remembered his authoritative demeanor, the way he looked at others as if he were evaluating every detail. If he sees me like this... I can't even imagine the consequences.

My knees buckled as I slowly slid down to the floor, my back still against the wall. My heart was pounding so fast I could feel each beat in my temples. The air conditioning in the room hit my naked skin, intensifying my vulnerability. The cold draft enveloped every inch of my body, forcing me to hug myself tighter to retain the little warmth I had left.

Run. Do something. Go out and face whatever comes. But my body was frozen, as if every muscle had decided to betray me. My bare feet barely touched the cold tile floor, and I could feel the icy tingling at the soles of my feet climbing up my legs. The trembling in my body increased, but not only because of the cold. It was fear, absolute terror, that stabbed at me like a dagger.

Valeria kept talking, and every word they exchanged was like a hammer blow to my consciousness. Her demeanor was impeccable, full of respect and professionalism. How could she switch roles so quickly? It was as if what had happened minutes ago didn't exist, as if I wasn't here, vulnerable and hidden.

The sound of footsteps was getting closer and closer to the room's door. For a moment, my chest filled with pure panic. What if they come in? What if Valeria brings him here? My hands clenched my body tighter, as if that could make me disappear.

Mr. Davis's name echoed over and over in my mind, each repetition pushing me further into the abyss of panic. I can't let this happen. If he sees me here like this, it will be the end of everything. My career, my reputation, and even Beatriz won't be able to save me from this.

I tried to control my breathing, but it was useless. Each exhalation was a trembling whisper that resonated in the room's silence. Every cell in my body screamed to run, to find the nearest exit, but I was trapped. Behind me was the door with no lock, and ahead, there was no refuge.

Please, Valeria. Don't bring him here. I closed my eyes and pressed my lips together, trying to calm the deafening pounding of my heart.

The silence in the creativity room was almost oppressive, barely broken by the faint hum of the air conditioning and the frantic beating of my heart. I noticed that the walls seemed to absorb external sounds, isolating me in an environment that somehow felt even more suffocating. However, fragments of conversation from Valeria's office still filtered through, as if mocking my attempt to ignore them.

"Hello, Mrs. Beatriz!" Valeria's voice, warm and professional, hit me like lightning. My entire body tensed, and cold sweat ran down my back. Beatriz is here! Disbelief mixed with paralyzing terror. How is it possible that she's here? Why now, when I'm naked?

I felt like my heart was trying to escape my chest, each beat resonating like a drum in my ears. I brought my hands to my face, as if that could protect me from the panic that invaded me. My mind began to spin, imagining all the possible ways this scenario could end. Beatriz could come in at any moment, discover me here... No, no, no. This can't be happening.

The sounds of footsteps and the slight creak of a chair indicated that Beatriz and Mr. Davis had settled in Valeria's office. I tried to focus on their words, hoping for some indication that they would leave soon.

"Valeria, thank you for receiving us," said Beatriz, her voice serious and authoritative as always. "We need to discuss the progress of the strategic alliances and how they are linking to the objectives of the technical development department."

Strategic alliances? Of course, the document I didn't send on Saturday! Guilt and fear mixed within me. My skin was covered in cold sweat as I tried to control my breathing.

"Of course, Mrs. Beatriz," Valeria replied, her tone impeccable. "I've been reviewing the preliminary reports, and I believe we can optimize some processes to improve project delivery times."

Mr. Davis intervened: "That's exactly what we need. This initiative has to be efficient if we want to stay competitive in the market." His deep, calm voice filled the space with an authority that made me tremble.

My hands began to shake. I was trapped, completely vulnerable, while three people with some sort of power discussed important matters just a few steps away. What if they decide to use this room? What will I do? How can I explain this?

"I also want to talk about team performance," Beatriz continued. "Valeria, your department has shown good results, but I've noticed that some performance indicators could be improved."

Valeria responded serenely: "You're right, Mrs. Beatriz. I'm working on identifying areas that need adjustments. I'm also considering reorganizing some roles to maximize productivity."

The buzz of the conversation felt surreal. They were talking about strategies, numbers, and roles, while I was hiding, terrified and sweating, clinging to the hope that none of them would decide to open the door. This isn't real. It can't be.

Sweat dripped from my temples, and my hands were damp and cold. My feet barely touched the floor, trembling with every word coming from Valeria's office. Please, let this end soon. Let them leave now. I can't take this any longer.

The air in the creativity room was cold, but my body was enveloped in a layer of icy sweat. Despite the soundproofing, every word coming from Valeria's office felt like a hammer blow to my nerves. My hands kept trembling, and the desire to run clashed with the certainty that I had no escape. My thoughts were a whirlwind: Please, let no one open this door. Please, let no one come in here.

"Valeria," I heard Mr. Davis say, "that door over there, what is it? Another office?"

My heart seemed to stop. No, no, no, no, no way. A tremor ran through my legs, and I pressed myself against the wall, as if I could disappear into it.

"Oh, no," Valeria responded with apparent calm, "it's our creativity room. We use it for brainstorming, group strategies, and some special projects."

"Ah, interesting," said Mr. Davis. "I've heard that those rooms are very useful for fostering collaboration. I'd like to see it someday."

My hands instinctively flew to my mouth to stifle a gasp. I felt the sweat dripping from my forehead and chest, and my thoughts raced. Please, not now! Any day but today! The panic inside me felt like a trapped scream, a cry that couldn't escape.

"If you want, we can see it right now," Beatriz offered, her tone professional as always. "It's an interesting space. I'm sure you'll like it."

My legs gave way, and I felt like I was going to collapse to the floor. No, it can't be! Please, Valeria, do something! Tears threatened to escape my eyes, but I forced myself to remain silent.

"Oh, it's not necessary right now," Valeria intervened, her tone light and disinterested. "The room is a bit messy because I had a work session early. I'd rather show it when it's more presentable. I'm sure you'll like it more then."

"Ah, I understand," Mr. Davis responded. "No problem. We'll see it another time."

The relief I felt was so intense that I almost collapsed to the floor. I closed my eyes for a second, trying to regain control of my breathing. But before I could relax, I heard Beatriz mention my name.

"By the way, Valeria," Beatriz said, "I want to thank you for supporting Samantha with the technicians' coverage tomorrow. With your experience, I'm sure everything will go well. Speaking of which, have you seen her? She asked for permission to leave for a while, but she didn't tell me where she was going."

Valeria paused for a moment, enough to make my entire body tense again. What is she going to say? Please, don't give me away!

"Samantha?" Valeria replied with a slight smile in her voice, the one she always used when she knew she had the upper hand. "No, Mrs. Beatriz. I haven't seen her around here. Although I'm sure she's busy with something important. You know how... dedicated she is."

The weight of those words, with their carefully calculated tone, made me clench my teeth.

"I hope so," Beatriz responded. "I wouldn't like her to take liberties right when we need the entire team the most."

Davis and Beatriz began to say their goodbyes, but I couldn't relax. Every passing second was torture, every word a reminder of how close I was to being exposed. As their footsteps faded and the sound of Valeria's office door closing reached my ears, I finally let out a trembling sigh. But I still couldn't allow myself to feel relieved. This isn't over yet.

The sound of the office door closing and the echo of footsteps fading finally returned the breath I didn't realize I was holding. My body trembled like a leaf caught in the wind. For a moment, everything was silent, except for the low hum of the air conditioning that seemed to mock my situation.

Then, the footsteps returned.

I recognized them instantly: firm, confident, approaching with a cadence that made my heart shrink. It's her. Without thinking, I ran to the nearest wall, my back pressing against the cold material, as if I could merge with it and disappear.

The door opened with a slight creak, and there stood Valeria, smiling with that mix of satisfaction and mockery that made me feel even smaller.

"They're gone," she said with a lightness that chilled my blood. "It was close, don't you think?"

My lips quivered, but I couldn't articulate a single word. Valeria took a couple of steps towards me, her eyes assessing me as if she was enjoying every nuance of my reaction.

"Tell me, Samy," she continued, leaning slightly forward, "how would you feel if they had come in and found you... like this?" Her finger moved in a gesture that encompassed my entire body, reminding me of my state.

A shiver ran down my spine, and my arms instinctively closed around my torso, my hands clutching my sides as if I could somehow protect myself from her words.

"I... I don't know," I murmured in a tone so low I barely recognized my own voice.

"You don't know?" Valeria tilted her head, feigning surprise. "Come on, imagine it. Mr. Davis, such a respected man, walking in and seeing you like this... And what about Beatriz? Your dear aunt. I wonder what she would think of you then."

My knees slightly bent, and I slid a little further against the wall, trying to make myself even smaller. The cold skin on my arms prickled under the air conditioning, but it wasn't the cold that was freezing me from within; it was the terrifying possibility of her words. I can't even think about it... I can't...

Valeria took a step back and looked at me with an even wider smile. "But don't worry, Samy. They didn't come in. And you... you're still here, safe. For now."

Before I could process her words, Valeria walked towards the desk where I had left my belongings earlier. With calculated movements, she picked up the access card hanging from the messy pile I had locked away before.

"I think I'll take this," she said, lifting the card and waving it slightly in front of me as if it were a trophy. "I don't think you need it now, do you?" Her tone was mocking, but there was a certainty in her words that made me feel even more trapped.

"Wait here, Samy," she added as she turned towards the door. "Don't go anywhere." she says mockingly, knowing I won't move from where I am without clothes.

The door to the creativity room closed, followed by the sound of her office door closing with a soft click. Now I was completely alone. Totally and absolutely naked from head to toe, not even the faint security that the access card might have given me.

My legs finally gave way, and I let myself fall to the floor, my back still pressed against the cold wall. The creativity room had never seemed more ironic: a space designed for ideas and possibilities, turned into my personal prison.

My hands clutched my shoulders, seeking some sort of comfort while the echo of Valeria's words continued to resonate in my mind. What is she going to do now? How long will she leave me here? What if she doesn't come back?

The silence became deafening, and my thoughts, an endless chaos.

After the door closed behind Valeria, the sound of the click resonated in my ears like an endless echo. The air conditioning hummed softly, but the coldness in the room seemed to have doubled in intensity. My arms wrapped around my body, trying in vain to protect me from more than just the cold.

I'm alone. Completely naked in Valeria's office in the middle of the workday.

I slowly slid down to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. The smooth, hard texture of the floor felt like a constant reminder of my vulnerability. My heart was racing, and every passing second made me more aware of the surreal and humiliating nature of my situation.

I looked around desperately, searching for something, anything, that I could use to cover myself. My eyes scanned the room, moving frantically between the smooth walls, the mobile desk, and the whiteboards. But the creativity room lived up to its name: it was a minimalist space, designed to inspire ideas, not to provide refuge for a naked girl.

There has to be something... I can't stay like this. Valeria can't just keep me here like this.

With effort, I stood up, feeling the cold from the floor sliding up from my feet to my entire body. I walked towards the mobile desk in the center of the room. My fingers ran across its laminated wood surface, but there was nothing on top. I knelt down to look underneath, hoping to find something forgotten, but there was only accumulated dust in the corners.

"Come on... something, please," I murmured, my voice trembling as much as my hands.

I got up and headed towards the corner where the whiteboards were leaning. I ran my fingers along the edge, feeling the smoothness of the plastic material and the rounded corners. Could I use one as a shield? No, that would be ridiculous. My mind searched for increasingly desperate alternatives, but there was nothing useful in sight.

How did I get myself into this? Why wasn't I firmer? Why do I always end up giving in to Valeria? I knew the answer; she had me in her grasp.

The skin on my arms prickled with a shiver. Think, Sam, think. I tried to open one of the small storage cabinets on the wall, but they were empty, as if they had been specifically cleaned to leave me without options.

Panic began to settle in my chest. Rapid, gasping breaths escaped my lips as the hum of the air conditioning seemed to grow louder, as if the room itself was mocking my state. My hands trembled as I clung to the edge of the desk, my thoughts running in desperate circles.

There's nothing here. There's absolutely nothing. I'm trapped.

I paced back and forth, with my arms crossed around my torso, my bare feet sliding against the polished floor. Each step seemed to amplify my desperation. Every second made me more aware of my own skin, of the total absence of any barrier between myself and this place. My mind wandered to the worst-case scenario: Valeria returning with someone else, or worse, not returning and leaving me here defenseless.

Finally, I collapsed against one of the walls, letting my legs fold as I slid to the floor. There's no way out. There's nothing I can do.

I closed my eyes tightly, trying to block out reality. But even with my eyes closed, I could feel everything: the relentless cold of the air conditioning clinging to my skin, the hardness of the floor beneath me, the emptiness of the room that amplified each of my fears. Desperation swirled in my chest, drowning out any hope of regaining control.

How am I going to get out of this? My mind filled with images: Valeria with her triumphant smile, the laughter resonating in the background, the whispers of judgment I imagined coming from every corner of the building.

My arms closed tighter around me, as if I could hold myself together in the midst of this storm of humiliation. I'm completely naked and defenseless.

I remained motionless, staring at the ceiling, waiting... for something. But deep down, I knew no one would come to my rescue.

The minutes in the creativity room passed like hours. I felt like a cornered prey, every noise in Valeria's office amplified in my mind as an omen. My arms remained wrapped around my body, and the cold of the air conditioning was a constant reminder of how exposed I was.

Then I heard it: the sound of the office door opening. My heart skipped a beat, and my breath stopped. Footsteps started to enter, not one or two, but several. Who are they? What are they doing here?

The echo of the footsteps resonated in my head like a drum. I stood completely still, paralyzed by fear, my nails digging into my own arms as if that could protect me. Then, another noise: the door of the creativity room.

The handle turned, and my heart raced as if it wanted to jump out of my chest. The door opened slowly, and I saw Carla enter with a malicious smile on her face. She closed the door behind her with a click that made me shrink even more against the wall.

"Well, well, Samy!" exclaimed Carla, leaning casually against the door and crossing her arms. "Look at you. Feeling creative today?"

Her mocking tone made my face burn with shame. I tried to respond, but my throat was dry, and all that came out was a faint, barely audible sound.

"What's the matter, did someone take your tongue?" Carla laughed, enjoying every second of my discomfort. Her eyes scanned my body, and the gesture of satisfaction on her face only increased my humiliation. Why is she here? Why did Valeria bring her?

"You know, this is better than I imagined," Carla continued, leaning slightly forward as if inspecting me. "Valeria told me you were... naked, but she didn't tell me how much. You're as naked as the day you were born."

I wanted to disappear. My goosebumps were a reflection of how vulnerable I felt. I tried to cover myself more with my arms, but Carla just laughed louder.

"Relax, Samy. I don't bite... well, at least not without permission." Her comment made my eyes widen even more, and she noticed, laughing as if she had just told the best joke in the world.

"You know, Valeria asked me to keep you company. But I also thought it would be fun to bring someone else."

Panic hit my chest like a wave. My eyes locked onto Carla, silently pleading, begging her with my gaze not to do what she was implying. Please, no. Don't bring anyone else. I can't bear it.

"Calm down, don't get like that," Carla said, although her malicious smile belied any attempt at comfort. "It's someone you already know. Though, of course, he's never seen you like this... so natural."

My entire body trembled, and my voice finally managed to come out, broken and desperate. "Carla, please... don't do this."

She pretended to think, putting a finger to her chin and looking at the ceiling. "Hmm? I don't know, Samy. I think it's fair. I mean, everyone in the office should have the chance to get to know you better, don't you think?"

"Please," I repeated, my voice a desperate whisper. "Don't do it."

"We'll see," Carla said, opening the door again. Her triumphant look was the last thing I saw before she disappeared through the door.

I was left alone, trembling and hugging myself tighter. Who did she bring? What's going to happen now? Each passing second felt like an eternity.

When the door opened again, the sound of the click resonated like a hammer in my head. My heart was about to burst, and my breathing became faster and irregular. When I saw Carla enter again, a faint glimmer of hope crossed my mind. Maybe she just wanted to scare me. Maybe she didn't bring anyone else.

But then, behind her, I saw him. Lucas. The guy in charge of the security cameras.

My entire body tensed, and I felt a searing heat run through me from head to toe, as if my skin were trying to defend itself from the cold air conditioning with the shame that burned within. My hands clenched against my body, covering me as best they could, but it was useless. Lucas was there, looking at me.

His expression was initially one of surprise. His eyes opened a bit wider, as if his brain was trying to process what he was seeing. Then, a tense smile appeared on his lips, and he looked at Carla as if seeking confirmation that this wasn't some kind of joke.

"So... is it true, she's here?" Lucas asked, his voice a bit low, as if trying to maintain composure.

I wanted the ground to swallow me up. This isn't happening. This can't be happening. My legs began to tremble, and I felt like a cornered animal, unable to move, unable to escape.

"Of course, it's true," Carla replied with a playful smile, leaning casually against the wall. "I told you it would be worth it, didn't I?"

Lucas looked at me again, and I felt his gaze run over my body like an invisible blade. I clenched my teeth and lowered my head, wishing to disappear.

Carla continued as if this were the most normal thing in the world. "Look, Lucas. We know you're the camera guy, the one with access to all the videos. And well, you know that Saturday was an... interesting day for Samy here."

Lucas nodded slowly, but his eyes didn't leave me. Please, no. Please, don't talk about that.

"So, we made a deal. You keep everything secure, out of reach of curious eyes... and in return, we give you a little live experience. Nothing like seeing things with your own eyes, right?"

The casual way Carla said it made me feel like I wasn't a person, like I had no will of my own. An experience? Is that what I am now? A show for their entertainment?

"Carla, please..." I tried to say, but my voice came out weak and broken.

"Shhh, Samy," Carla interrupted me, raising a hand. "This is already arranged, you understand? You don't have to do anything more than what you're doing now."

Lucas finally spoke, his voice carrying an uncomfortable tone. "Well... it's... different than I imagined, but... thanks for keeping your part of the deal, Carla."

Every word he said felt like a dagger stabbing my stomach. Different than he imagined? What the hell does that mean? Did they discuss this beforehand? How long have they been planning this?

"You see, Samy?" Carla turned to me, a satisfied smile on her face. "Lucas is happy. I'm happy. We all win here."

I couldn't look at him. My face was burning, my eyes fixed on the floor while my whole body trembled. My hands kept protecting me, but the cold of the air conditioning felt more relentless with each passing second.

Lucas, however, couldn't take his eyes off me. It was as if he were studying me, evaluating me, while I just wanted to vanish into thin air.

"Well, I think we're done here, aren't we?" Carla said, breaking the silence that seemed to linger. "Now you know what you have to do, Lucas. Keep everything secure, and remember who to thank. You'll be able to see her from time to time, just as you see her right now, but only when we tell you to."

"Yes, of course," he responded, although his eyes remained fixed on me for a moment longer.

Lucas stood in front of me, as if waiting for something. His gaze was filled with curiosity, as if he couldn't decide whether to speak or just keep watching me. I could do nothing but hug myself tighter, feeling my body tremble with sheer embarrassment. My eyes averted to the floor, unable to bear the discomfort of his fixed attention.

"Hello, Samantha," he finally said, his voice a bit shy, though he tried to sound casual. "I've always wanted to talk to you. You know, about systems and stuff. I've heard you're really good at your job."

I let out a sound that I barely recognized as my own, a faint squeak that got lost in the room's air. My throat was dry, and though I wanted to reply, the words wouldn't come out. Why is he talking to me like this is a normal situation? How can he ignore what's happening right now?

Carla, as always, intervened, crossing her arms with a feigned air of authority. "Come on, Samy, don't be rude. Lucas is trying to be nice. Is this how you treat someone who admires you?"

Admire me? How can anyone admire me in this state? I forced myself to lift my gaze for a moment, meeting Lucas's eyes. He looked nervous, but there was a glint of excitement in his gaze that only intensified my discomfort.

"Yes, I've always wanted to learn more about systems," Lucas continued, ignoring my evident discomfort. "What you do is fascinating. But, well, I thought I might never get the chance to talk to you because... you know, you're a professional and I'm just a technician."

Another faint squeak escaped my lips. I felt my body shrink with every word he said. Carla, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy every second of my suffering.

"Oh, please, Lucas," Carla replied with a mocking smile, "if Samy were really professional, she wouldn't be in this situation, right?"

I wanted to scream, to say something to defend myself, but my voice simply wouldn't respond. Instead, my skin burned with embarrassment, and the air conditioning made every shiver feel like torture.

"Well, it seems you're right," Lucas said after a pause, his voice now more confident, "since I already have the security camera footage... Could I take some pictures? You know, for the memory."

My eyes widened, and the knot in my stomach tightened to the point of being unbearable. Pictures? He wants to take pictures of me? This can't be happening. He can't be serious.

Carla let out a light laugh and shrugged. "Why not? You already have more than that, so a few pictures won't hurt. Plus, we can make sure you're in one of the pictures with her, if you want."

"Seriously? Would that be okay?" Lucas asked, his excitement clearly visible.

"Of course," Carla replied, turning towards me with a malicious smile. "Right, Samy?"

I couldn't move. My feet were glued to the floor, and my arms were wrapped around myself as if they were the only barrier between me and complete humiliation. How can they decide without even asking me? Don't they care about what I want?

Lucas took out his phone, and the sound of the click as he unlocked it felt like a slap in my face. He started adjusting the camera while Carla approached to take the phone and position it.

"Come on, Samy. Lucas wants a decent photo with you," Carla ordered, her tone as casual as if she were talking about any trivial matter.

My knees trembled as my eyes desperately searched for an escape, but there was none. My voice was trapped in my throat, and all I could do was close my eyes, wishing for this to be over soon.

Carla looked at me impatiently, her arms crossed and a smile that only intensified my anguish. "Come on, Samy, drop the drama. Lucas just wants a photo with you. Isn't that sweet of him?"

I was curled up on the floor, with my knees pressed against my chest and my arms wrapped around myself as if that could protect me. My breathing was irregular, and I felt like every fiber of my being was fighting to not collapse. I couldn't process what was happening. Is this really happening to me? Is a guy watching me naked at work and now wants to take a picture with me? This can't be real. This can't be happening.

"Lucas, help her get up," Carla said with a determined tone, nodding her head towards me.

Lucas, with a mix of nervousness and excitement, extended his hand towards me. "Do you need help, Samantha?"

My body reacted before my mind could process it; I curled up more on the floor, trying to make myself invisible, as if somehow I could escape his presence and his gaze.

"Oh, don't be rude," Carla snapped, now with a hint of irritation in her voice. "Lucas is being nice to you, and this is how you respond. Don't be childish, Samy. Get up."

The pressure in my chest increased, as if the air around me became denser. My legs were trembling, and the cold floor reminded me of my total vulnerability. But I knew I couldn't stay like this forever. This won't end until I do what they want. I have no choice.

Finally, I took a deep breath and, with slow and clumsy movements, I started to get up on my own. Carla took a step back, watching me as if she were enjoying every second of my suffering.

"That's more like it," she said with a satisfied smile. "I knew you could do it on your own."

Once standing, my arms instinctively moved to cover myself, but Carla didn't allow it. "None of that, Samy. Lower your arms. Lucas wants a decent photo with you, and we don't want it to look like you're fighting the camera."

My legs were stiff, and every muscle in my body felt like it was on the verge of collapse. But, again, I had no choice. Slowly, I let my arms fall to my sides, though my body visibly trembled.

Lucas approached with an uncomfortable but excited smile, placing his hand on my waist. His hand? Why does he have to touch me? Why is he doing this to me? I felt a shiver run down my spine. Carla, always with her sarcastic tone, laughed. "Wow, Lucas, seems like you have a special effect on her."

The feeling of Lucas's hand on my naked waist was like an electric shock, an immediate reminder of my vulnerability. His touch, warm and firm, contrasted with the cold floor beneath my feet and the air conditioning's breeze on my exposed skin. Every cell of my body seemed to react to the touch, sending alarm signals to my brain.

I felt a shiver that started at the point where his hand touched me and spread throughout my body, making my skin tingle and every muscle tense up. It was as if my body refused to accept the unwanted intimacy, to be touched that way in such a humiliating moment.

The warmth of his palm against my bare skin was a painful contradiction, a sensation I couldn't process. My mind screamed for personal space, for privacy, but my body was there, exposed and vulnerable, unable to escape Lucas's proximity.

Every fiber of my being rebelled against the invasion of my personal space, against the forced intimacy being imposed on me. The shame intensified, mixing with a sense of indignation and a desperate urge to free myself from his touch.

His hand, which was probably a simple gesture of friendship for a photo to him, was torture to me, a violation of my intimacy bubble, a cruel mockery of my current state. At that moment, I wished I had the strength to push him away, to scream and demand my space, but my voice was trapped in my throat, suffocated by shame and surprise.

Lucas tried to defuse the situation. "It's just a photo, Samantha. You don't have to get so nervous."

But I couldn't help it. My breathing was shallow, and my gaze was fixed on the floor, unable to lift it to face the camera or the people holding it. This is not just a photo. This is the height of my humiliation. I've never felt so helpless, so small, so... stripped of myself.

"Smile, Samy," Carla said as she lifted the phone to take the photo. But of course, I couldn't do it.

The sound of the phone's shutter resonated like a hammer hitting my head. Each click was a reminder of my vulnerability. Carla kept taking pictures, and I could feel her gaze assessing me, enjoying every moment of my humiliation.

I couldn't take it anymore.

With a clumsy and desperate move, I pushed Lucas away from my side, barely touching his arm, and I covered myself again, crossing my arms in front of my chest and shrinking once more. I backed away to my "refuge" in the corner of the room, where I let myself fall to the floor, curling up on myself. My knees pressed against my chest, and my arms wrapped around my body as if that could protect me from everything that was happening. I can't take it anymore. I can't keep doing this. It's too much.

"How rude, Samy!" Carla exclaimed with a mocking laugh, lowering the phone. "Poor Lucas, here he is helping you, and you act like this. So ungrateful."

Lucas raised his hands in a calming gesture, his tone trying to defuse the situation. "Don't worry, Samantha. It's not that big of a deal. I just want to make sure everything is okay. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Uncomfortable... really? I'm way beyond that. I slowly opened my eyes, looking at Carla, who was still enjoying my misery. Her words, however, pierced something deep within me.

"You should be grateful, Samy," Carla continued, leaning slightly towards me. Her tone was so casual that it made it even crueler. "Because thanks to Lucas, those videos of you wandering around the building on Saturday aren't circulating. Can you imagine? You, in all your glory, becoming the entertainment of all the employees."

My eyes widened, and my body tensed as if I had been hit. The videos...? Those videos...? The fear that was already consuming me turned into a wave of absolute panic. I couldn't speak; my throat was closed, but my gaze must have been begging her to stop.

Carla smiled, noticing my reaction, enjoying my desperation. "What's the matter, Samy? Didn't you realize? Lucas here was very generous in making sure those videos didn't see the light of day. Shouldn't you be grateful? Come on, a little gratitude never hurts."

"Please..." I managed to murmur, my voice barely a broken thread. I lifted my gaze towards Lucas, who seemed to be trying to appear kind, though he couldn't ignore the discomfort in his posture.

"Don't worry," Lucas said, condescendingly, as if he were talking to a little girl. "I'll take care of it. I don't want you to worry."

But Carla wasn't so kind. "That depends, Samy," she said, interrupting Lucas and dropping her words like a sentence. "Because keeping those videos under control requires an effort. And that effort completely depends on you. You know what I mean, right? On your obedience."

My body shook involuntarily. What do they want from me? What else can I do? I'm trapped. I bit my lip, my eyes moist as I tried to find an answer. Carla just crossed her arms, watching me with a triumphant smile.

"Come on, Samy. Tell us, are you willing to be obedient? Because if not, those videos could become the talk of the day in the office," Carla added, her tone biting.

"I am..." I finally whispered, my voice broken. My gaze was fixed on the floor, unable to lift it towards them. I have no other option. I have no power. Nothing.

Lucas walked towards the door with a satisfied smile, but not before turning to give one last look at my shrunken and humiliated body. "Thanks, Carla. I hope to see more of this soon," he said with a tone that turned my stomach. Carla responded with a light laugh, as she took out her phone.

"I'm already sending you the photos, remember what I told you before," Carla announced enthusiastically, moving her fingers across the screen. The characteristic sound of a WhatsApp message delivered resonated in the air. Lucas took out his own phone and, with a satisfied smile, checked how the images were arriving on his device. Each notification was like a direct blow to my already worn-down dignity.

My stomach knotted as I watched that interaction, and my entire body tensed up. These photos are out of my control. Now they're on another phone, in other hands. What will happen next? What is he going to do with them? My thoughts swirled in my mind, quickening my breath. When Lucas finally left, the relief was momentary; my nightmare was far from over.

The door had barely closed behind him when Valeria entered the creativity room. Her gaze scanned me from head to toe, and a slow, calculating smile spread across her face. Carla, as always, seemed to enjoy the show and wasted no time in showing Valeria the freshly captured photos.

"Aren't they great?" Carla said, enthusiastically handing the phone to Valeria.

Valeria took the device and started swiping through the images calmly, evaluating them as if she were selecting a piece of art for her personal collection. Her eyes sparkled with amusement and something more, something that made me feel even smaller than I already was. "These are excellent, Carla," she commented, letting out a soft laugh. "But this one... this is my favorite," she added, stopping at a specific image.

Then, without warning, Valeria turned the phone towards me, bringing it closer so I could see the screen. "What do you think, Samy?" she asked with a malicious smile.

My eyes focused on the photo, though I wished I didn't. There I was, standing next to Lucas, with his hands resting on my waist. My face reflected a mix of panic and humiliation, my body tense and vulnerable under the cold lighting of the creativity room.

Every detail, my nipples, hardened by tension and cold, pointed towards the camera, my hair, disheveled and wild, framed my face, which showed an expression of panic and shame, a mask of emotions I couldn't hide.

The posture of my body in the photo was telling. My legs, though I tried to press them together, couldn't hide the intimacy completely, revealing a shadow that betrayed my deepest privacy. The image captured my helplessness, my body tense and vulnerable, and my expression revealed the inner torment I was experiencing at that moment. It was as if the photo had stolen a piece of my soul, exposing my privacy to the world.

How did I get to this point? How is it possible that this image exists? My mind filled with a cacophony of contradictory thoughts. I couldn't look away, as if I were forced to face the harsh reality of what my life had become in that instant.

"It looks good, doesn't it? It perfectly captures... everything, look even here between her legs," Valeria said, emphasizing the last word as her eyes fixed on me. Carla laughed out loud, enjoying every second of my reaction.

I wanted to speak, but the words stuck in my throat. I could barely breathe. My body visibly trembled, and my arms tightened around my torso in a desperate attempt to protect what was left of my dignity.

"Come on, Samy. Don't be shy," Valeria continued, slightly shaking the phone in front of me. "It's just a photo. No one else will see it... well, at least not yet." Her words were a cruel game, a threat wrapped in mockery.

My lips finally moved, though only a whisper came out. "Please... no," I said, my voice broken and weak.

Valeria simply smiled, slightly tilting her head. "Carla already told you, it depends on you, Samy. Everything depends on you."

Time seemed to dissolve in the creativity room, each second stretching into eternity. Valeria, always attentive to control, checked the time on her elegant wristwatch. Her expression, a mix of satisfaction and amusement, put me on alert.

"Carla," she said with a casual tone, "it's almost lunchtime. Do you remember the restaurant's special promotion today? I think we should take advantage of it."

My heart raced at those words. Lunch? They can't leave me here... and Beatriz? She must be wondering where I am. Unable to contain myself, I tried to take the initiative.

"Valeria," I murmured, my voice almost inaudible but filled with urgency, "please, can you give me my things back? It's been almost an hour, and... and Beatriz must be looking for me." My throat closed up with the words, feeling the desperation palpable in every syllable.

Valeria stopped, turning towards me with an evaluative look that scanned me from head to toe. Her smile slowly spread, as if she were enjoying my silent plea. "Carla," she said, deliberately ignoring my request, "let's go to the restaurant. Today they have international food we can't miss."

"Sure, let's go!" Carla replied, her enthusiasm sincere, though mixed with a clear intent to mock. Then she turned towards me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Samy, if you want, you can come with us." Her tone filled with almost palpable sarcasm as she added, "Though I doubt they'll let you in without shoes..."

My face burned, and my arms tightened around my torso. I wanted to retort, but I knew I had nothing to say. My lips moved, but no words came out.

"Relax, Samy," Valeria intervened, taking control. "We won't be long. Just wait for us here, in your favorite room. Get comfortable. Besides, some tranquility will do you good."

The weight of her words fell on me like a wall. I had no other option. Valeria had decided, and any attempt to reason would be futile. Carla let out a laugh before heading towards the door, and Valeria, with her access card in hand, followed with a confident stride.

When the door closed behind them, the echo of silence filled the room. They were leaving me alone again, trapped in this endless nightmare. I didn't know how long they might take, but every minute that passed would be torture.

How is it possible for this to keep happening? What have I done to deserve this? My thoughts were chaotic, but all I could do was stay in my "refuge," waiting for Valeria's next move.

Time in the creativity room seemed to have frozen, each second stretching to the limit of what was bearable. Without a clock in sight, it was impossible for me to know how much time had passed since Valeria and Carla left. My stomach, empty and traitorous, let out a low growl that resonated in the room. Great, just what I needed. Now even my own body humiliates me.

I sat on the floor, hugging my knees. The cold air conditioning felt more piercing with each minute, and the sensation of my skin against the smooth floor material didn't help. I tried to distract myself by observing every detail of the room, from the straight lines of the mobile tables to the dull colors of the walls. But my rebellious mind kept returning to recent events. What are they planning now? How much longer will I have to endure this?

The growl of my stomach became more insistent, a raw signal of how hungry I was. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breathing, but even that was complicated. The sensations of my state, my vulnerability, were impossible to ignore. I curled up more, as if I could disappear in that position.

And then, the sound I least expected filled the room: the ringtone of my cell phone. I froze. It was that familiar ringtone I used to identify Beatriz's calls. I knew it because she always insisted on using a predetermined, practical, and professional ringtone. My eyes snapped open while my entire body tensed up. Is it Beatriz? Is she calling me?

The sound was coming from Valeria's office, behind the closed door. My cell phone, along with all my belongings, was locked in that drawer. It must be Beatriz... and she's trying to contact me. She probably wants to know where I am, why I haven't answered her calls before. This can't be happening.

I tried to block out the sound, but it was impossible to ignore it. Every time the ringtone restarted, it felt like the volume increased inside my head. I knew I couldn't do anything to answer. My hands clenched against my ears, as if that could drown out my desperation. What will she think when she gets no response?

The ringtone finally stopped, but only to start again a few seconds later. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt my chest. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to erase the idea from my mind that if she were on this floor, she would recognize my ringtone, and at any moment the door could open, revealing me in this deplorable state. If she finds out, my life will be completely ruined. This can't be happening.

After what felt like an eternity, the ringtone stopped again. I let out a trembling sigh, but I dared not relax. I knew the next time could be worse. Perhaps she wouldn't call again, but she would simply show up in person. My thoughts spiraled in anxiety while my entire body continued to tremble.

After what seemed like hours—though it was probably just minutes—I heard the main office door opening. The echo of footsteps and the murmur of voices filtered into the room. I recognized Valeria and Carla's voices, but there was something in their tone, a slight excitement in their words, that made me nervous. I moved closer to the door to listen better.

"Do you think she's capable of doing that?" Valeria asked, her tone low but filled with intrigue.

"If she does it carefully, she might be able to," Carla replied with a slight laugh. "Though it won't be easy for her."

"Well," Valeria replied, her tone light but cruel, "I don't really care how she does it. It would be entertaining to see that."

"Yes," Carla added enthusiastically. "Plus, Lucas will be keeping me informed as he watches from the cameras."

My stomach contracted, but this time it wasn't due to hunger. My hands clenched against the floor as I tried to understand what they were talking about. Who are they talking about? Me? What does Lucas have to do with this? Every word coming from the other side of the door seemed to confirm it. I couldn't breathe. My mind filled with images of what they might be planning, but nothing made sense.

The sound of the creativity room door opening snapped me out of my spiral of thoughts. Valeria and Carla entered, their faces radiant, as if they had just had a wonderful time. Carla shot me a mocking glance while Valeria spoke.

"Samy, you have no idea how delicious lunch was," Valeria said, with a false sympathy that made me shudder. "You should go and try it. Oh, if you could..."

Carla laughed softly as she nodded, as if agreeing with Valeria. I lowered my gaze, unable to find an answer. My arms instinctively tightened around my torso, and the heat of embarrassment rose to my cheeks.

How much longer? How much more can they do this to me? My thoughts were chaotic, but all I could do was remain silent, waiting for this ordeal to end soon.

The silence in the creativity room was so dense I could feel it pressing on my shoulders. My eyes shifted from Valeria to Carla, waiting for them to break the uncomfortable quiet with something that wasn't... something even crueler. Valeria crossed her arms, with a smile that seemed even more pronounced after her pause.

"Well, Samy, we have news for you," Valeria began, her tone casual, as if she were announcing something trivial and not the nightmare she was about to unleash. "While you were here... enjoying the atmosphere, Carla and I went to the restaurant. And guess who we saw."

My stomach contracted as if I'd been punched. I could only imagine Beatriz or someone equally important. My gaze fixed on Valeria as I tried to find the words.

"We ran into your dear aunt and Mr. Davis," Valeria continued, observing my face for the reaction she clearly wanted. "You know? They were very interested in hearing about you."

The air got stuck in my throat, and my arms tightened around my body. My legs trembled slightly as I waited for her to continue.

"Beatriz asked why you weren't answering her calls," Carla added, leaning against the wall with an expression of barely concealed amusement. "She seems to be... a little upset with you. But also worried."

"Of course, Carla and I took care of that for you," Valeria said, leaning towards me as if she were about to tell me a secret. "We told her you've taken the server room replacement very seriously and that you've been working with us to sort out the details."

Did they really say that? How am I going to sustain that lie? My thoughts were chaotic. I tried to open my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

"Oh, and also," Valeria added, raising an eyebrow as if she were about to mention something of little importance, "she asked me to remind you to pick up Megan from school. She seems to be busy all afternoon preparing for her trip tomorrow. She also said she was looking for someone to stay with Megan at home during those two days."

My eyes widened, if that was possible, and my throat emitted a muffled sound. I didn't know if it was more out of terror of facing Megan or the idea of how all this could unfold.

"So, Samy," Carla said, taking the word with an energy that contrasted my growing desperation, "we're going to accompany you to pick up Megan. So, we thought you'd have to go down as you are now. It'll be fun, won't it?"

The world seemed to stop. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt my chest. I looked at their faces, searching for any sign that this was a cruel joke. This has to be a joke, right? Please, let it be a joke.

"Go down to the parking lot?" I finally managed to murmur, my voice barely audible and broken.

"Completely naked," Valeria affirmed, her tone light, almost carefree, as she examined me with her gaze. "That's what we want you to do. We have to go to the parking lot to get the car."

"But... but..." I stammered, unable to find the words to describe how absurd and dangerous the idea was. "That's impossible. There are employees all over the building."

"Oh, Samy," Carla intervened with a smile that only increased my panic. "Luckily, today the vast majority is at the restaurant enjoying the special promotion. And, besides, Lucas agreed to help us by watching the cameras. He'll let us know if anyone gets close to the areas you'll be passing through."

My breath quickened, and my mind filled with images of the possible humiliating scenarios that could occur. I can't do this. I can't. My eyes moved quickly between Valeria and Carla, searching for any sign of clemency that was clearly not going to come.

"Though, it won't be easy for you," Valeria said, her tone calm but filled with authority. "Just follow our instructions, and everything will be fine."

A giant knot formed in my throat, and a cold sweat broke out on my body. I knew there was no way to convince them. How can I get out of here without losing what little dignity I have left?

"This can't be happening..." I whispered, more to myself than to them, as I felt my hands desperately clinging to my arms, seeking comfort in the cold reality of my naked skin.

"Samy, why are you making this more difficult than it already is?" Valeria asked, crossing her arms, her gaze fixed on me as if she were evaluating how much more I could take before breaking.

"Please, Valeria, Carla, I can't do this," I begged, my voice trembling as I tried to stand firm. "Don't you see how absurd it is? I'm going to get caught. There are cameras, employees... it's impossible for me to leave here without someone seeing me."

Carla let out a light laugh and shook her head. "Always so dramatic, Samy. Believe me, we've thought of everything." Then, with her mocking smile, she took out her phone and dialed a number. Lucas's voice came through on the other end, which made my stomach sink even more.

"Lucas, can you check the cameras on the 7th floor? We want to make sure the exit is clear," Carla said calmly, as if she were planning a simple errand. While Lucas spoke, Carla nodded with a smile that seemed to grow with every word he said. "Perfect. Then we'll follow the plan."

"Plan?" I asked, almost in a squeak. My breath was quick, and my eyes went from Carla to Valeria, hoping one of them would take pity. "What plan? This is crazy. I can't do this."

"Of course you can," Valeria said, her tone calm but full of authority. "And you will, Samy. Because if you don't, I have Beatriz's phone ready to call her right now. Do you want her to come pick you up here? Like this?"

The threat hit me like a sledgehammer. My mind bombarded me with images of Beatriz entering through that door and seeing me in this state... Vulnerable wasn't even the right word. It was the image of absolute disaster. My career, my life, everything would come crashing down.

"I thought so," Valeria continued, seeing that I remained silent. "Come on, Carla, explain the plan so our dear Samy knows what to do."

Carla, with almost childlike excitement, stood in front of me and began to explain. "It's simple. I go first. I'll make sure the coast is clear. Lucas will help us by watching the cameras to make sure no one is nearby. I'll give you the signals, Samy. If all is clear, you advance. If someone appears, you hide."

"Hide? Where?" I asked, my voice on the verge of panic.

"In the corners, behind doors, under tables... you're an expert at that," Carla replied with a smile that seemed to enjoy my discomfort. "The goal is for you to go down the stairs from this floor to the fourth. There, we'll take the elevator to the parking lot."

"The elevator?" I repeated, incredulous. "And if someone calls it?"

"Relax, Samy," Valeria said, rolling her eyes. "Most people are at the restaurant for the special promotion, though we tell you that the first, second, and third floors are busy. And Lucas will be watching and will let us know if anything happens. All you have to do is follow Carla's signals and obey."

"No," I said, my voice firmer than I expected. "This won't work. This is a trap to humiliate me in front of the whole office. This can't work!"

Valeria took a step towards me, lowering her gaze to meet mine. "The only thing that's not working here, Samy, is your attitude. This is going to happen. So, you do it the easy way or the hard way. Your choice."

Desperation engulfed me like a giant wave, drowning me in a sea of despair. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. My hands trembled as I looked at them, searching for an escape, an alternative that simply didn't exist.

Carla sighed, visibly impatient. "Lucas says everything is clear. What do you say, Samy? Are you ready for your big escape?"

My legs felt like jelly, and my mind spun out of control, trapped between the terror of what they were asking and the threat of Beatriz finding me here. Finally, with a lump in my throat, I weakly nodded, knowing I had no other option.

The office door opened slowly, and the hallway stretched before me like a death sentence. My skin reacted immediately to the change in temperature, and a chill ran through me as the building's air conditioning hit me directly. This isn't happening. It can't be happening.

I tried to back away, but I felt Valeria's hands on my shoulders, firm, giving me slight pushes forward.

"Come on, Samy," she said with that light tone I so detested. "We don't have all day."

"Please, Valeria," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Let me get my phone back. At least let me call someone..."

"And ruin the fun? No, Samy. This is part of the game. Now, forward." Her smile was almost maternal, but her words were pure poison.

The door closed behind me, a soft click that resonated like thunder in my mind. I turned immediately, trying to open it, but the latch was secured. I knocked softly, begging once more.

"Valeria, please..." I murmured, barely audible.

From the other side, I heard her muffled laugh. "You'll be fine, Samy. Carla is watching over you, I'll see you downstairs."

I turned towards the hallway, and there was Carla, at the end, speaking quietly on the phone, the device away from her ear as she signaled me to move forward. How can she be so calm? This is a workday. There are people here.

My feet moved clumsily over the carpeted floor, the soft touch contrasting with the hardness of the tiled floor in the common areas. Each step I took seemed to resonate in my ears as if the entire building could hear me. My hands crossed in front of my body, trying to cover myself as best as possible while my eyes frantically scanned every corner of the space.

The work area was silent but not empty. In the distance, I heard the click of a keyboard and the muffled voices of a phone conversation. Please, don't let them come over here.

Carla signaled me again, her arm moving exaggeratedly, like a traffic signal. I took a few more steps, feeling the sweat starting to accumulate in my palms and at the base of my neck. The air conditioning, far from refreshing me, made me feel more exposed, as if the cold were penetrating directly into my skin.

Suddenly, I heard a noise: steps, firm and determined, approaching from somewhere nearby. Carla signaled me to hide. My heart jumped to my chest, and my body reacted before my mind could process it. I rushed to an empty cubicle and curled up under one of the desks, pressing myself against the wall.

The cold texture of the metal desk and the contact of the floor against my knees made me shudder. I can't believe I'm doing this. What am I doing?

I held my breath as the steps approached. From my position, I could see someone's shoes a few meters away. They were elegant, probably belonging to a manager or supervisor. The buzz of a phone conversation reached my ears, unintelligible words that only added tension to the moment.

"Is it all clear?" I heard Carla whisper, though I couldn't tell if she was talking on the phone or to herself.

The steps stopped right in the common area, and my entire body tensed up. The idea that that person might turn around and see me under the desk was too much to bear. A faint moan escaped my throat, but I quickly covered my mouth with both hands.

The steps finally moved away, and my muscles began to relax, though the trembling in my legs remained.

"Move it!" Carla made a broad gesture, as if all of this were a game.

"I can't," I whispered, not loud enough for her to really hear me. My hands trembled as I tried to gather the courage to leave my hiding place. This makes no sense.

I felt my senses sharper than ever: the touch of the air conditioning, the cold of the floor under my feet, and the distant echo of conversations in other parts of the floor. I forced myself to look at Carla again, who was still signaling impatiently.

With a last sigh of desperation, I prepared to move forward, my body still stuck to the floor, looking for any sign of danger before continuing.

I reluctantly left my hiding place, every fiber of my being begging to return to the tiny refuge under the desk. This isn't real. It can't be real. I tried to breathe, but my lungs seemed to collapse with each inhalation. In the distance, Carla was still signaling, her impatience clearly visible.

As I moved forward, a strange thought crossed my mind, one I couldn't help but have. This is like that scene in The Matrix, I reflected, remembering the protagonist, Neo, as he fled from the agents within his office. He was being guided by a phone, with clear and precise instructions, dodging his pursuers with surgical precision.

But unlike Neo, I didn't have a phone to my ear or someone guiding me with precision; Carla's instructions weren't that great, to say the least. My steps were clumsy, and my hands remained stuck to my body in a futile attempt to cover myself. He had a suit. Me... well, I'm completely naked. A shiver ran down my spine, and not from the air conditioning this time, but from the desperation of my reality.

As I walked, every sound seemed amplified. The click of a keyboard in the distance, the buzz of the lights, the echo of steps I couldn't locate... everything felt like it was conspiring to make me stumble. Each corner I turned seemed like a new challenge. Was there someone else? Would they discover me? My imagination showed me images of employees pointing at me, their laughter resonating in my mind as if I had already been caught.

A slight stumble against a desk leg made me gasp softly, but I kept going, my legs trembling with each step. The staircase door was just a few meters away. Carla was there, waiting for me with a mix of amusement and haste on her face. I felt like a pawn in her game, moving under her command with the promise that all of this would soon be over.

But just as I was about to reach it, I heard a sound that made my heart stop. The unmistakable creak of a door opening behind me. My eyes widened as I slowly turned my head. It was Valeria's office door. And there she was, stepping out with her bag on her arm, her posture casual yet impeccable, as if everything were normal.

The contrast between us was overwhelming. She, dressed with that professional air that always characterized her, with a bag perfectly placed over her shoulder, walked calmly towards the elevator. I, on the other hand, felt like a shadow of my former self, stuck to the wall, vulnerable, desperately trying not to be seen.

Won't she help me get to the parking lot? I thought, my body frozen at that moment. The difference between Valeria and me was a cruel reminder of how much I had lost on this surreal day. I clenched my teeth, trying to find a solution while Carla made an urgent gesture from the staircase door.

The air in the staircase was different, charged with tension, as if it knew that my presence there was a complete anomaly. My skin reacted to the breeze filtering through some crack, every little gust amplifying my exposure. How am I going to get out of this? I thought as Carla kept talking on the phone with Lucas, her voice light and carefree, as if we were playing a child's game and not exposing me to the risk of the most absolute humiliation.

"Two people on the sixth floor," Carla announced, turning towards me with a mischievous smile. "Lucas says we have to wait a bit before going down."

My heart pounded. Wait here? Like this? My legs were trembling, and I hugged myself even tighter, trying to cover up. But the bare, gray walls of the staircase seemed to reflect my state of vulnerability. I was trapped, like prey waiting for the right moment to flee, but with no guarantees of success.

Carla, on the other hand, was completely relaxed. She leaned against the railing and, still with the phone to her ear, lowered her voice, addressing me. "You know, Sam? It's incredible that you're doing this. I mean, look at yourself." Her laughter was soft but devastating, like a dagger slowly sinking in. "You're completely naked from head to toe here at work."

My mind screamed that I shouldn't react, that any response would only fuel her amusement. But her words were like a whip, forcing me to face the reality I was trying to ignore. Slowly, I lowered my gaze towards myself. My naked skin was marked by goosebumps, and my arms clung tightly to my body, trying to provide coverage that I knew was useless. I'm a mess. This shouldn't be happening.

Without saying a word, I curled up even more against the wall, trying to disappear into the dull gray of the staircase. But Carla wasn't going to leave me alone. Her light laughter filled the space again. "I just can't believe it. This is... unforgettable." Her words were unnecessary, but I couldn't ignore them.

The phone in her hand vibrated, and Carla smiled. "Green light," she murmured, and then, with a quick movement, she started descending the stairs. "I'm going first, Sam. Stay here and don't move until I tell you. We don't want you to get caught, do we?" Her tone was a mix of joke and threat, making it clear that she was in complete control.

As Carla disappeared from my sight, my knees almost gave way. I leaned against the wall, feeling its coldness against my back. My thoughts were a whirlwind, a mix of disbelief, fear, and shame. How am I going to go down here? What if someone else comes up? Why am I letting this happen? But the worst question was the one I avoided formulating. How will this end?

From below, Carla's voice reached me, barely audible but filled with fun. "Okay, Sam. Come slowly. Lucas says the sixth floor is clear, but I'll keep watch just in case."

Clear. The word left me cold, because I knew it didn't mean safety, just a small truce in this endless game. With trembling legs, I started moving towards the next descent, feeling how the emptiness of the open space of the staircase amplified my exposure with each step. My shaky legs carried me to the next flight of stairs, and with each step, the exposure intensified. The cold air of the open spaces enveloped me, making my skin shiver.

As I descended, an unexpected sensation began to grow between my legs. A warm dampness, a moisture that contrasted with the cold environment. My treacherous body was responding to the situation with unwanted excitement, a physical reaction to tension and humiliation. I felt the dampness accumulating, a physical reminder of my vulnerability, of how exposed I was in every sense.