Pantsing and Stripping Forums

Hello everyone!

I’m excited to announce that I’ve started Samantha’s spinoff, a character who has been present since the early chapters of Amy Unfiltered, but whose story I’ve decided to explore in greater depth. Samantha’s narrative begins from the events in Chapter 26 of Amy Unfiltered, although I’ve added a brief introduction to provide some context and ensure her story can be enjoyed independently.

This time, I’m writing in the first person, which has been an exciting challenge and a great way to explore new perspectives and emotions in my storytelling. I also have a few illustrations of how I imagine Samantha. While I’m still deciding on the final version, let me know if you’d like me to share them as part of the story.

I hope you enjoy this new adventure as much as I’m enjoying writing it. Thank you all for your ongoing support and enthusiasm!


Before continuing with the story, I need to ensure that the translations into English are being done in the best possible way, so that the words and style of the story are not altered. Please make sure it is crafted in the best manner.

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Chapter Index
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21 (coming soon)


Samantha Uncontrolled

Themes: ENF, Public Nudity, OON, CFNF, CMNF, Naked at Work, Humilliation.

As I arrived at my apartment that night, I felt my body moving on autopilot. I placed the keys on the small entry table, next to a plant that always seemed to need water, and sighed in relief as I kicked off my heels. The weight of the day had followed me home, infiltrating the corners of my mind like a persistent whisper that refused to be ignored.

I dropped my bag on the beige leather couch and made my way to the living room window. From there, I could see the bustling city, flashing lights in an endless parade of vehicles and buildings seemingly competing to touch the sky. But my gaze was unfocused, lost in the events of the day. It had all started so innocently, so normally.

When Megan arrived at the office that morning with Julia and Amy, I thought it would be a simple family favor: a quick tour of InnovaData Systems while I handled my own responsibilities. Megan, my cousin, had insisted that the girls wanted to see "where the technological magic happened." I admit I found her enthusiasm amusing as she explained it, as if she were showing off a king's castle. But what followed was something I could never have anticipated, even in my wildest imaginings.

Megan's schoolmate, Amy, the shy and introverted Amy, seemed out of place from the start. Her petite figure and perpetually nervous gaze stood out against the impersonal professionalism of the building. But what really caught my attention wasn't her presence, but her vulnerability. There was something about her demeanor, the way she moved as if trying to disappear, that stirred a strange mix of curiosity and empathy within me.

It all started when Megan mentioned, with a laugh, that Amy was "participating in a contest." I didn't pay much attention at first, assuming it was another of my cousin's mischievous jokes, but it soon became clear that there was more to that statement. Megan's playful, cunning look told me this was something elaborate, something she had planned with a purpose only she understood, and that was to have Amy completely naked in various public places.

As I guided them through the floors of InnovaData Systems, a part of me remained professional, fulfilling my duty as a host. From the moment we left Amy's backpack and clothes in my aunt's office on the 5th Floor, something started to change in the air. Megan's carefree gesture of leaving them there seemed insignificant at first, but it quickly took on a different weight. It was as if she had marked the beginning of a game in which Amy seemed to be the main piece, and I, inadvertently, found myself witnessing it.

The 6th Floor, in the server room with its relentless cold and constant humming, was the first moment I clearly perceived Amy's discomfort. Her vulnerability was not only evident; it felt palpable. Seeing her tremble, trying to maintain her dignity while Megan and Julia didn't hide their amusement, stirred a mix of emotions within me. On one hand, I felt a slight enjoyment of her situation, but on the other, I couldn't help but feel a tingle of curiosity. How would I feel in her place? That question started to linger in my mind, silent but persistent, especially after learning that she had also masturbated with a screwdriver in that frozen environment.

When we reached the 8th Floor, the air changed again. This level was filled with technical spaces and impersonal voids, but the exposure Amy faced as she crossed it affected me in an unexpected way. It was impossible to ignore the contrast between her vulnerability and the professional coldness of the environment. My thoughts wandered between genuine empathy for her and an intrigue I couldn't deny. There was something deeply human in the way she tried to hold herself together, even as her discomfort increased with every step.

The 10th Floor was, without a doubt, the most critical moment of the entire tour. From the start, the atmosphere in the conference rooms had an almost intimidating formality: elegant tables, ergonomic chairs, and giant screens dominating the room. But what was supposed to be a brief informative stop turned into an unexpected twist when my aunt Beatriz and Mr. Davis, a high-ranking executive, entered the room and reviewed some documents in their hands. My aunt seemed focused, discussing contracts with Davis while he nodded, searching through his papers.

I felt the air tense immediately. Amy, caught without time to escape, slid under the large meeting table in a desperate move. From where I stood, I could see her motionless, holding her breath, eyes wide open. Megan and Julia, feigning casual interest in the room's decorations, could barely hide their smiles. I, for my part, tried to maintain a neutral expression, my mind racing to find a way to get the girls out of there as quickly as possible.
Everything seemed to be going well. Beatriz and Davis were too busy discussing contract details to notice anything out of place. But then it happened: Mr. Davis dropped his pen, which gently rolled to a stop just under the table, inches from where Amy was hiding. My heart stopped for a moment. Mr. Davis leaned over to pick it up.

That's when I saw it. Amy, with surprising speed and stealth, pushed the pen with her finger, sliding it towards him just before his hand reached it. Mr. Davis picked it up, unaware of what had almost happened. He returned to his conversation with Beatriz, completely oblivious to the fact that he had almost discovered Amy, naked and hiding there.

Finally, upon reaching the 12th Floor and the rooftop, the tension reached its climax. Amy, always trying to go unnoticed, was clearly out of place amidst the elegance of the corporate event. The risk of being discovered was real, and that possibility added an intensity that resonated within me in ways I hadn't expected. Seeing her deal with that situation, so exposed yet trying to maintain her composure, awakened something in me that I couldn't define. Was it empathy? Fascination? A disturbing mix of both? Finally, after so much thinking, I fell asleep.

The sound of the alarm filled the air with an insistent and punctual tone. I slowly opened my eyes, letting the dawn light illuminate the light-colored walls of my room. I stretched on the bed, feeling my body waking up after a restorative night's sleep. I had the day perfectly structured in my mind, as always: every detail under control.

As I got out of bed, I went to the bathroom, where the mirror showed me the usual image. My dark brown hair, long and straight, still had the controlled perfection of the night's care routine. It felt soft and healthy to the touch, as expected. My almond-shaped eyes, a warm shade of brown, reflected the morning calm, and my skin, smooth and slightly tanned, looked impeccable thanks to my meticulous care routine.

After showering, I opened my closet, choosing from the carefully organized options. Today, I picked an outfit that projected confidence: a fitted white silk blouse with delicate mother-of-pearl buttons, a tailored navy blue jacket that defined my elegant posture, and dark gray fabric pants, perfectly ironed. Medium-heeled black shoes complemented the look, providing the ideal mix of sophistication and comfort for a day at the office. Finally, I added a minimalist silver watch and discreet gold earrings, my preferred accessories to maintain a professional and refined style.

As the coffee bubbled in the coffee maker, I mentally reviewed my tasks. Megan's mother, my aunt Beatriz, had her usual routine: dropping Megan off at school before arriving at work. At noon, it would be my turn to pick her up and take her to the building, where I often helped her with small tasks to keep her entertained while Beatriz finished her workday. It had started as a favor, but now it felt like a natural part of my day.

I took a sip of coffee, enjoying the warmth spreading through my body. As I put on the final touches of my outfit in front of the entrance mirror, I couldn't help but smile. My image projected the professionalism I valued so much. Every line, every carefully executed detail, was a statement of who I was: Samantha López, a woman who maintained control in every aspect of her life.

In the elevator, heading to the parking lot, I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and made sure everything was in order. My mind was already thinking about the morning's first tasks: reviewing some important emails and confirming the delivery of certain documents that Beatriz would need for a key meeting. There was always something that required attention, and I enjoyed being up to the challenge.

As I started the car my aunt lends me and headed towards InnovaData Systems, the rhythm of the day began to take shape. The city was slowly waking up, and I, as always, made sure to stay one step ahead. I knew that at noon, Megan would be waiting for me at school, and in a way, that little break in the day made me feel good. It wasn't just another task; it was a way to connect with my cousin and, somehow, balance the seriousness of work with a personal touch.

The fresh morning air caressed my face as I drove out of the building where I lived. The neighborhood streets were quiet at this hour, a calm respite before the city's bustle filled every corner. My neighborhood was a mix of modern houses and small residential buildings, each with unique details reflecting the character of its inhabitants. Well-maintained trees lined the sidewalks, their leaves glistening under the soft sunlight. In the distance, I could hear the baker's echo greeting his first customers while the aroma of freshly brewed coffee blended with the scent of flowers from the nearby small park.

The route to InnovaData Systems cut through the heart of the city, a fascinating transition between residential and urban life. I passed by a small boutique café that already had its regular customers lining up for the first coffee of the day. Further ahead, skyscrapers began to dominate the skyline, their glass facades reflecting the first rays of light. Each traffic light, each turn, was part of a routine I had come to enjoy. The scenery always changed slightly, but the city's essence remained constant: movement, life, purpose.

Upon arriving at the InnovaData Systems building, my gaze landed on the elegant facade of polarized glass and gray aluminum, reflecting the clear morning sky. The crystal marquee at the main entrance shone, adding a modern and sophisticated touch that always reminded me of the importance of the place where I worked.

I entered the underground parking lot, descending the wide and well-marked ramp to the first level, reserved for employees like me. LED fluorescent tubes illuminated the space clearly, while the echoes of other cars parking resonated in the cold air. I found my usual spot near the main entrance, got out of the car, and took my bag, adjusting my jacket before heading to the elevator.

The security guard in the nearby booth greeted me with a friendly smile. "Good morning, Miss López," he said, with a slight nod.
"Good morning, Martín," I replied, returning the smile before entering the elevator. These exchanges always added a human touch to the mornings, a reminder that professional relationships could also be cordial, although there were days when that booth was empty, maybe it didn't need so much surveillance.

The elevator rose with a soft buzz to the fifth floor, where my aunt Beatriz's office was located. As the doors opened, the well-lit hallway welcomed me with a familiar feeling: impeccable gray porcelain tiles, light beige walls with white moldings, and metal plaques with the managers' names marking each door.

I walked straight to Beatriz's office. "Good morning," I greeted the receptionist with a slight nod. Before entering, I always make sure to have my access card hanging around my neck, ready to use. Inside, the routine was in motion: the soft hum of computers, the murmur of conversations, and the faint aroma of coffee from my aunt's personal coffee maker.

I placed my bag in my assigned space, to the left of Beatriz's main desk. I turned on my computer and quickly checked the emails that had accumulated overnight. Everything was in order. I took a deep breath and smiled to myself. The day had just begun, and every little detail of this routine was a reminder of how much I valued the balance between professionalism and the controlled rhythm of my daily life.


I was going through emails on my computer when the office door opened softly. I looked up and saw my aunt Beatriz enter with her characteristic air of calm authority. She was wearing a dark-toned pantsuit that emphasized her professional presence. She carried a folder full of documents, and as always, a faint aroma of fresh coffee seemed to accompany her.

"Good morning, Samantha," she greeted me, placing the papers on her desk and giving me a direct look. "Did you get Valeria to review the documents I needed yesterday?"

I nodded with a slight smile. "Yes, she came straight here in the afternoon to go over them. We sent them by email once she confirmed them."

"Perfect," she replied, clearly satisfied. Then she added in a more casual tone, "Well, you know how Valeria is. She wants everything instantly. It's best not to give her reasons to complain."

I tried to maintain a neutral expression, but I couldn't help but feel a slight knot in my stomach at the mention of Valeria. My relationship with her had always been tense. Although I tried to maintain professionalism, her competitive and manipulative attitude was hard to ignore. But for the sake of work and my aunt, I always made sure to fulfill what was needed.

Beatriz took a sip of her coffee and continued, "Today I need you to do a couple of things in the morning. First, review those reports I left on your desk. I need them before noon. Also, go up to the server floor and talk to Javier. There's a rack that's been having storage issues, and I want you to confirm with him exactly what's going on."

"Understood," I replied, mentally noting both tasks.

Beatriz nodded, quickly organizing her documents before diving into her own to-do list. Meanwhile, I finished reviewing the emails on my computer and prepared the reports she had requested, making sure everything was in order before heading to the elevator.

The 6th floor, where the servers were located, was a place I always enjoyed. I stepped into the elevator, listening to the soft hum of the motor as the doors closed behind me. When the doors opened on the sixth level and I entered the server room with my access card, the change in atmosphere was immediate. The cold, controlled air of the room enveloped me, accompanied by the constant hum of the servers. The precise white lighting reflected the technical precision that defined the place.

I made my way down the aisles until I found Javier, one of the lead technicians, leaning over a rack that he was clearly inspecting. He held a screwdriver in his hand while adjusting a side panel of the equipment.

"Good morning, Javier," I greeted him as I approached. "Beatriz asked me to verify the status of this rack with you. Have you found the problem?"

Javier looked up with a brief smile before responding. "Good morning, Samantha. Yes, it seems there's a failure in the internal fans. It's causing overheating, and I'm trying to determine whether it's a system issue or something with the hardware."

I nodded, listening attentively. However, my gaze briefly rested on the screwdriver he was holding. Something about that simple object captured my attention: it was exactly like the one I had seen the day before in Amy's hands. The image of her naked with that object beside her appeared in my mind with unexpected clarity. It wasn't a tool that made sense in that context, but I was sure she had masturbated with it.

"Are you okay?" Javier asked, raising an eyebrow as he noticed my brief distraction.

I shook my head slightly, trying to clear my thoughts. "Yes, I'm fine. I was just thinking about something else. Let me know if you need me to pass any information to Beatriz."

"Sure, I'll let you know if I find out anything else," he replied before refocusing on the rack.

With the mental report made, I returned to the elevator to go back to the fifth floor. However, while waiting for the doors to close, the memory of the screwdriver remained in my mind, I wonder if it was sticky when Javier picked it up, did he smell it?. It was a detail that wouldn't leave my thoughts.

The soft hum of the elevator filled the air as it descended to the fifth floor after my encounter with Javier in the servers. The 6th floor always had a cold and technical atmosphere that seemed to not only calm me but also focus me, but now my mind was scattered.

As the elevator doors opened, I stepped out and began walking down the hallway toward Beatriz's office. That's when I saw Valeria and a colleague who was always with her, Carla, walking together toward me from the opposite direction.

Valeria was unmistakable. Tall, with platinum blonde hair perfectly pulled back into a low bun, she always stood out for her impeccable presence. Her blue eyes seemed to analyze everything around her with a calculating air. She wore a dark gray business suit, fitted but not too tight, with a light blue blouse adding a touch of color to her professional appearance. Her black heels clicked lightly against the floor, marking a constant and confident rhythm. Despite her elegance, there was something in her smile, or lack thereof, that always put me on guard.

Beside her was Carla, her inseparable team member. Carla had a smaller frame and a more approachable expression, almost shy. Her light brown hair, short and perfectly straight, framed a face with soft features and brown eyes. Although she projected less authority than Valeria , her attire reflected the same level of professionalism: a beige suit with a simple white blouse and a discreet pearl necklace. Her shoes, lower than Valeria's, made barely any noise as they walked together.

They had an evident synergy. Where Valeria radiated confidence, Carla seemed to complement her with her attention to detail and willingness to keep up with her pace. It wasn't uncommon to see them together; they seemed to work as a synchronized team, and their presence on the floor always brought an air of expectation, as if they were bearers of important news.

"Samantha," Valeria greeted me with a slight nod, her tone perfectly neutral. "What a coincidence to find you here."

Carla gave me a warmer smile, adding a shy "Good morning" while adjusting the handle of the folder she was carrying.

"Good morning," I replied with a polite smile, although I always felt that exchanges with Valeria were more of a diplomatic exercise than camaraderie. "How's your morning going?"

"As always, full of things to sort out," Valeria said with a slight smile that didn't reach her eyes. "We're coming back from Beatriz's office to review a couple of details. You?"

"I just came back from the server floor," I explained briefly. "Javier is checking a technical issue, and I came to confirm some points for Beatriz."

"Always so efficient," Valeria commented, although her tone had a nuance that was hard to decipher. Perhaps sarcasm, perhaps a sincere compliment. With her, I was never quite sure.

"I try," I responded diplomatically. I looked at Carla, who seemed less comfortable with the conversation. "And you, Carla? Anything interesting going on?"

"We're preparing the data for the meeting," she replied quickly, her voice calm but firm. "There are some things we need to adjust before presenting them."

"That sounds important," I nodded, maintaining a cordial tone. "I hope everything goes well."

After a brief exchange of words, we politely said goodbye and continued on our way. However, as I walked away, I couldn't help but think about how Valeria and Carla always seemed to have an agenda beyond the obvious. Their interactions, although seemingly simple, always left an impression, as if there was more at stake than they were willing to reveal.

Upon reaching my office, I shook off those thoughts. There was too much to focus on to allow distractions. After all, the day had just begun.

Upon returning to the office, I placed the report on Beatriz's desk. She looked up from her screen, nodding with approval. "Always efficient, Samantha," I thought as I briefly explained the report details. She seemed satisfied, immediately reviewing it without making too many comments, which I always considered a positive sign.

With the first tasks completed, I settled in front of my computer to continue with the pending work. The office had a calm and productive atmosphere; the soft sounds of keystrokes and the hum of the printer filled the space. I took advantage of this tranquil rhythm to make progress on important emails and review additional documents that required my attention. This is my favorite time of day, when everything flows in an organized manner, I reflected, enjoying the feeling of control.

The morning passed without any surprises, something I always appreciated. When the clock struck one o'clock, Beatriz left the office in a hurry, mentioning she had an urgent meeting. I took advantage of her absence to have lunch in the building's small cafeteria, where I served myself a light salad and coffee to recharge.

Time flew by, and soon I was back at my desk, organizing my things for the next task of the day. At two o'clock, I stood up, grabbed my bag, and left the office for the parking lot. It was time to pick up Megan from school, a task I had come to enjoy simply for the joy of seeing her light up at my arrival. A small break from the day's hustle and bustle, I thought as I got into the car and headed to her school.

I arrived at the school parking lot just in time, watching as students poured out in groups, their voices filling the air with a mix of laughter and lively conversations. I slightly lowered the car window, letting the noise and energy of the afternoon filter into my space.

Megan appeared among the group, walking with the naturalness of someone who knew she drew attention. Her white blouse with the Woodcrest logo on the chest was impeccably ironed, but the top buttons were undone in a way that never seemed casual. The pleated skirt, slightly shorter than allowed, fell perfectly in line with each of her steps, and she wore a decorated headband that held her blonde, wavy hair with a touch of calculated style.

Her smile was easy, a gesture that seemed to light up her face as she nodded to classmates with a confident and carefree attitude. Megan always knows how to stand out without seeming to try, I thought as I watched her approach. There was something magnetic about her being, a confidence that, although sometimes challenging boundaries, was hard not to admire.

When she reached the car, she opened the passenger door with a quick and elegant movement, dropping her backpack on the back seat before sitting down.

"How was your day?" I asked as she casually adjusted her skirt.

"Interesting," she replied, with a smile that suggested there was more behind her answer. Then, she turned her gaze to me, her eyes full of curiosity. "And you? Did you survive without me at the office?"

I smiled as I started the car, preparing for the conversation I knew was coming. Megan always has something up her sleeve, I thought, anticipating the tone of what she would say next.

The car slowly made its way through the city traffic, with the distant murmur of the streets filling the occasional silences. Megan had turned on the radio and was bobbing her head to the music, carefree, but there was something in her expression that told me she was waiting for me to break the ice.

After a few seconds, I decided to do so.

"And Amy," I asked, feigning a casual tone while keeping my eyes on the road. "Did you and Julia make her do something naughty today?"

Megan turned her head towards me, her easy smile transforming into something more cunning. It was an expression I knew well, a mix of fun and intrigue.

"Oh, no, today I let Julia have her fun with her alone," she replied lightly, almost as if she were talking about something as trivial as lunch. "I was busy with other things."

I slightly furrowed my brow, though I tried not to show too much interest.

"Other things?" I asked, more to divert the topic than out of real curiosity.

"Mmm, things you don't need to know, Sam," she replied, drawing out my name at the end as if she were enjoying my apparent discomfort. Then she looked at me with those eyes full of playful malice. "Although... now that I think about it, why so curious about what we do with Amy?"

I felt a slight warmth rise to my face. Why was she asking me now? I let out a small nervous laugh, too low to sound natural.

"No, just curious," I replied quickly, glancing out the window for a moment. "I'm just worried they might get into trouble... you know, because of my aunt."

"Aha," Megan responded, drawing out the word with a smile she made no attempt to hide.

I glanced at her sideways, trying to appear calm, but the slight tremor in my hands on the steering wheel gave me away. Megan noticed it, only curiosity, she commented, leaving the conversation hanging but with a triumphant smile on her face.

Silence returned, but I knew that in her mind, Megan was already plotting something else. I must handle this with more care, I thought as I tried to focus on the traffic.

After entering the building, the elevator came to a soft buzzing stop on the fifth floor, and the doors opened to reveal the familiar gray-tiled hallway and beige walls. I walked forward with Megan close behind, her shoes softly resonating on the floor. Her energy, always so present, seemed to infect even the most serious environments.

Upon reaching Beatriz's office door, I took the access card hanging around my neck and swiped it through the reader. The familiar beep confirmed access, followed by the click of the lock disengaging.

"Come in," I said, gently pushing the door open.

Megan entered the space with her usual naturalness, as if it were her own. I watched her head straight for her usual desk, where she spent the afternoons "helping" with small tasks assigned by Beatriz or myself. It was curious how at ease she seemed here, as if the building were an extension of her own territory.

I saw her open the first drawer of her desk, searching for something with deliberate movements.

"I'll need the access card," she commented casually, holding the plastic between her fingers as if it were a trophy.

I nodded from my desk, organizing some papers before sitting down. "Remember not to forget it anywhere," I warned her, more out of routine than genuine concern. But with Megan, it's always good to insist on these things.

"Relax, Sam," she replied with a light smile, twirling the card between her fingers. There was something in the way she did it that always radiated confidence, that youthful assurance that could be both irritating and fascinating.

As she settled into her chair, I took out my computer and started going through the morning's accumulated emails. The silence in the room was comfortable, but it didn't last long.

"What are you up to now?" Megan asked, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at me from the other side of the room. There was a touch of curiosity in her tone, as if she were genuinely interested.

"Catching up on the morning's tasks," I replied without looking up, maintaining my professional tone. And making sure nothing out of the ordinary happens while you're around.

She didn't respond right away, but I could feel her gaze fixed on me, as if she were plotting something.

The sound of the door opening made me look up from the screen. Beatriz entered with her usual familiarity, but this time she wasn't alone. By her side, a tall man in his forties, probably, wore an impeccable dark gray suit that contrasted with his sky-blue tie. His short, brown hair showed some streaks of gray, and he held a tablet in his hand, which he consulted from time to time.

"Good afternoon, Samantha," Beatriz said with the tone that always conveyed authority, even in the most casual moments.

"Good afternoon," I replied, standing up immediately. My access card hung from the lanyard around my neck, as always, swaying slightly with my movement. I couldn't help but look at the man beside her, trying to recognize him. I hadn't seen him before, which was unusual. Could he be a new client?

"This is Mr. Ramírez, a representative of a company we are exploring new collaboration opportunities with," Beatriz explained, clearly reading my confusion. Her tone was cordial but direct, typical of her when dealing with important matters.

"Nice to meet you," the man said, extending his hand toward me. I shook it firmly, responding with a professional smile.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Ramírez," I replied, trying to maintain my composure despite my curiosity. What kind of collaboration could they be planning? I knew it wasn't my place to ask, but the thought lingered in my mind.

Beatriz headed to the desk where she had left some papers earlier, quickly organizing them before turning to me. "Samantha, I need you to take care of Megan for the rest of the afternoon," she said, checking her watch. "I'm going out with Mr. Ramírez. We have an important meeting with potential partners from his company."

"Of course," I replied without hesitation. It was common for her to entrust me with these responsibilities, but there was something in her tone that suggested this meeting was more crucial than usual.

"I'll leave the usual instructions," she added as she approached Megan, who was at her desk, playing distractedly with the access card in her hands. "Megan, make sure you finish your tasks before getting distracted. And, Samantha, if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me. I'll be available on my cell."

"Understood," I responded with a slight nod, mentally registering everything she said. As if I haven't done this dozens of times before. Beatriz nodded in satisfaction, took her bag, and walked toward the door with Mr. Ramírez.

"Behave yourselves, both of you," she joked, giving Megan a quick glance before leaving. The door closed behind them, leaving a momentary silence in their wake.

Megan looked at me with a mischievous smile, leaning slightly in her chair. "So, are we free for the afternoon?" she asked, making it clear she was already planning something.

I sighed as I sat back down at my computer. "Not exactly, Megan. We have things to do before you even think about 'being free'." And I'll do my best to keep it that way.

Silence reigned in the office, interrupted only by the soft click of keys as I went through the last emails of the day. About thirty minutes had passed since Beatriz and Mr. Ramírez had left, enough time for anyone who had pending matters with her to know she wouldn't be available. The fifth floor was quieter than usual, a rarity I appreciated, or so I thought until I noticed Megan staring intently at me from her desk.

"Sam," she suddenly said, breaking the silence with a casual tone that made me look up from my screen. There was something in her expression, a mix of curiosity and that characteristic glint of mischief that always foretold trouble.

"What's up, Megan?" I asked in a neutral voice, trying to stay focused on my tasks. Don't play along, just ignore her. But I knew it wouldn't be that easy.

"I was just thinking about something." She placed the access card on the desk and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the surface as she looked directly at me. "What do you think about what happened yesterday?"

My heart skipped a beat, though I tried to maintain an impassive expression. "What exactly do you mean?" I replied, pretending not to understand, though I knew perfectly well what she was talking about. Keep it professional, Samantha. Don't show interest.

"You know," Megan said, drawing out the words with a playful tone, "with Amy. Being naked here in the office. It must have felt... weird, right?"

I swallowed, feeling a slight warmth rise to my face. I forced myself to keep my gaze fixed on my screen, but my fingers froze over the keyboard. "It was... unusual, yes," I responded carefully, choosing my words like chess pieces. "But it's not something that should be repeated."

Megan smiled, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Unusual? Wow, I thought you felt something more... I don't know, interesting. You seemed very focused on everything that was happening."

"I was making sure everything was under control," I replied firmly, though my voice trembled slightly at the end. Control yourself, Samantha! Don't let her get to you.

"Sure," Megan said with a smile she didn't try to hide. "But tell me, don't you wonder how it would feel to be in her place? I mean, you're always so... professional. Aren't you curious?"

I felt my face warming even more. I couldn't deny that the same question had crossed my mind the day before, but the way Megan brought it up put me completely on the defensive. "It's not something that crosses my mind," I lied, though my voice betrayed a slight nervousness.

Megan laughed softly, leaning back in her chair. "What a curious response, Sam," she said, not taking her eyes off me, as if she could see more than I wanted to reveal. "I think you take things too seriously sometimes."

I looked at her seriously, regaining some composure. "Someone has to," I replied. "And speaking of that, are you done with your tasks?"

She smiled, as if my attempt to change the subject confirmed something she had already suspected. "I'm about to start," she said, getting up from her chair with a mischievous expression that promised nothing good.

I watched her walk to the papers on her desk, feeling my breath starting to calm down. But I knew the conversation wasn't over.

Megan continued to move around the office with that energy that always seemed to fill every corner, but this time there was something different about her attitude. A cunning smile crossed her face as she sat down again in front of me, resting her elbows on the desk and intertwining her hands under her chin. Her gaze was intense and calculating, making my breath a little heavier. What's she up to now?

"Sam," she said in a soft, almost sweet tone, as if she were about to ask for a completely innocent favor. "Don't you think yesterday was... interesting? You yourself said it was 'unusual', but not bad."

The way she said it divided my attention between the emails on my screen and her. I decided to ignore her completely. "Megan, I don't know where you're going with this, but I have things to do," I replied with the firmest voice I could muster.

She wasn't discouraged. "I just want you to listen, okay? I promise it'll be quick." Her tone was now more persuasive, accompanied by a look I knew well: the same one she had used before to convince me to do small favors or allow certain liberties with my aunt.

I sighed, stopping my typing. "Okay, Megan. Talk."

"Think about this," she began, getting up and slowly walking around the office. "Yesterday, Amy was completely naked in a vulnerable situation. But she handled it, right? Nothing bad happened."

"That was completely different," I interrupted, crossing my arms as I leaned back in my chair. "Amy was in a situation you created. It wasn't something she chose to do on her own."

Megan turned to me, raising her eyebrows as if she had just gained a small advantage in our conversation. "What if it were something you chose to do? Just to see how it feels. We're alone, Sam. No one can come in here without the access card, and you know no one will come while my mom isn't here."

My stomach twisted at her words. The logic behind what she was saying was, in a sense, correct, but it was still completely absurd. "Megan, that doesn't make sense. Why would I do something like that? It's unnecessary and totally inappropriate."

"Because it's a unique opportunity," she insisted, coming closer to my desk and leaning on it with her usual confident attitude. "Aren't you curious? Just for a moment. A second to feel what it's like, with no consequences."

"This is ridiculous," I murmured, looking back at the screen in an attempt to avoid her gaze. My face was starting to warm up, and the discomfort was growing in my chest. Why is she insisting on this? She can't be serious.

"Come on, Sam," Megan continued, leaning a little closer to me. "I'm not saying you should do something you don't want to. Just a quick test. Who would know? Just you and me."

I swallowed, closing my eyes for a moment to calm my mind before responding. "Megan, listen," I said firmly, trying to regain control of the conversation. "I'm not Amy, and I'm not going to let myself be convinced by these ideas. I understand that for you, this is a game, but for me, it's not. I'm a professional, and this is out of place."

She tilted her head, her smile fading slightly but not disappearing completely. "You're a professional, I know. But you're also human, Sam. And humans are curious, even the most professional ones."

The way she said it disarmed me for a moment, but I quickly shook my head, standing up from my chair to put some distance between us. "No. This is not something that's going to happen, Megan. So please, finish your tasks and stop distracting me with these nonsense."

"Come on, Sam, I'm not asking you to jump into an empty pool. Just a little test," Megan insisted, her tone gentle but carrying a confidence that put me on the defensive. She walked around the office with her usual carefree energy, though I could sense that every word was calculated, seeking any crack in my resistance.

"Megan, I already told you no. There's no reason to do something like that," I replied, sitting back down at my desk, hoping my firmness would dissuade her. But even as I said it, I could feel the slight tremble in my voice. Calm down, Samantha. You're in control here.

"Sure, sure. I understand," Megan said with a smile, as if accepting my response. But then she stopped by my desk, leaning slightly towards me with a look that radiated confidence. "Though... are you sure it's because of that? Because you don't seem to mind the idea itself. You seem more... nervous."

My fingers tensed slightly on the keyboard, and I felt her take a step closer. "I'm perfectly calm," I responded, though my tone wasn't as convincing as I'd hoped.

Megan tilted her head, as if analyzing every micro-expression of mine. "Really? Because that little line you have on your forehead... That's not there when you're calm."

I rolled my eyes, trying to regain some authority in the conversation. "Megan, this doesn't make sense. And honestly, I don't have time for your games."

"Games?" Megan let out a soft laugh and took a step back, raising her hands in a gesture of innocence. "This isn't a game, Sam. It's... an experiment. Just a second of your time. No one enters this office without an access card. It's the perfect moment to try. No risks."

My lips tightened into a tense line as I tried to ignore Megan's words, but her persuasive tone kept piercing my facade. No. This doesn't make sense. It's absurd. I'm not like her... I thought, though my mind clung tightly to the images from the day before.

"Besides," Megan continued, her voice now softer, almost a whisper, "you yourself said Amy's experience was interesting. Don't you want to know what it feels like? Maybe it's less scary than you think."

The words hung in the air, and I felt a knot form in my throat. My mind tried to find a logical response, something to shut down the conversation immediately, but every argument that came up seemed to crumble before reaching my lips.

"Megan..." I started, but stopped when she interrupted me with an even wider smile.

"It's just for a moment, Sam. No one will know, no one will judge you. What do you have to lose?" Her tone was so convincing, so sure, that for the first time, I felt my resolution starting to waver.

I stood up from my chair, trying to maintain control over the situation. "This is completely unnecessary. Besides, it has nothing to do with my work. I'm a professional, Megan. You know what that means."

"I know," Megan said, crossing her arms with an expression that mixed defiance and amusement. "You're professional, you always have been. But that doesn't mean you can't step out of that bubble for a second. Just one. Do it because you want to, not because someone is forcing you."

I felt the heat rise to my face as I turned towards the window, trying to avoid her gaze. My mind was a whirlwind of contradictory thoughts, and every time I tried to hold on to a rational excuse, her soft, persuasive voice would disarm it with an ease that both irritated and scared me. It doesn't make sense. This doesn't make sense.

The silence in the office became heavy, and I could feel Megan's fixed stare on my back. Finally, I turned towards her with a long sigh. "Megan, this... isn't right. We shouldn't."

She smiled again, triumphant, as if she already knew she had me trapped. "I know. That's why it'll be our little secret. Come on, Sam. Just for a moment. And if you don't like it, we'll stop. Okay?"

My hands tensed at my sides, and my heart started beating faster. I knew I had to maintain my position, that I shouldn't give in to her tricks, but something in her confidence and the silence surrounding us seemed to erode my resistance bit by bit. Finally, I let out another sigh, unable to find the words to stop her.

"Megan..." I said softly, unsure if I was about to refuse again or take the first step towards something I couldn't fully comprehend.

The air in the office became heavy, as if every corner of the space knew what was about to happen. I stood up and faced Megan, who was watching me with a mix of determination and satisfaction. Her relaxed posture, leaning against the desk, contrasted with the tension that ran through my body from head to toe. I felt the heat on my face, the slight tremble in my hands, and my mind screamed in conflict as the words finally left my lips.

"Okay," I whispered, barely audible, looking away to an empty spot on the wall. What am I doing? Why am I doing this?

Megan smiled, a broad, triumphant gesture she barely tried to hide. "I knew you wouldn't resist," she commented lightly, but her eyes held an intensity that made me feel even more vulnerable than I already was. "Come on, Sam. Let's start. Take off your jacket."

My gaze met hers for a moment. "Here? Now?" I asked, my voice sounding more shaky than I wanted it to.

"There's no better time," Megan replied, pointing to the desk in front of her. "Put it here. Don't worry, I'll take good care of it."

My hands moved almost automatically to the buttons of the navy blue jacket I was wearing. My fingers, clumsy and slow, seemed to betray my attempt to maintain composure. As I unbuttoned the first button, I felt my breath grow heavier, and my mind tried to find some refuge in the midst of the chaos. This is just a test, nothing more. No one will know. No one can enter here without an access card.

Finally, I took off the jacket, feeling the weight of the fabric leave my shoulders. I carefully folded it, my movements mechanical and stiff, before placing it on the desk in front of Megan. She observed it with a calm smile, not taking her eyes off me.

"Good," she said softly, her tone low but firm. "Now, the blouse."

My eyes opened slightly at the instruction, and a shiver ran down my back. Am I really doing this? I swallowed, feeling my heart pounding loudly in my ears. "Megan, this is enough..."

"Sam, you agreed," she interrupted, with a tone that mixed patience and authority. "You don't have to worry. Just keep going. No one will interrupt us. Trust me."

I let out a long, tense sigh, my hands moving towards the delicate, pearly buttons of my white blouse. Each click of the button sliding through the buttonhole seemed to resonate in the office's silence. As my fingers worked clumsily, my mind filled with a whirlwind of emotions: shame, nervousness, and something else I couldn't identify.

When I finally opened the blouse, I felt the fresh air of the office brush against my skin, sending a slight shiver from my shoulders down to the base of my spine. With slow movements, I took off the garment, trying not to meet Megan's gaze as I folded it and placed it on top of the jacket.

She nodded with approval, her expression unwavering. "You're doing great, Sam. Now the heels and the pants."

My hands trembled at those words. "Megan, this is too much," I said, my voice barely a thread I could recognize as my own.

"It isn't, Sam," she replied, with a calm but firm tone. "Trust me, you're doing something incredible. Just keep going."

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting a deep breath try to calm the whirlwind within me. With clumsy movements, I first took off the left heel and then the right, placing them carefully on the desk, away from my clothes to avoid dirtying them. My hands trembled slightly as I unbuttoned the gray pants and slowly lowered the zipper, feeling that with each movement, a part of my dignity seemed to slip away with the fabric.

As I slowly lowered them down my legs, the voice in my head kept shouting. This isn't right. Stop. You can stop. But I didn't. Instead, I bent down to pick them up, carefully folding them before placing them next to the other garments on the desk.

Megan remained silent for a moment, watching me with an expression I couldn't decipher. Finally, she took a step closer, and her voice was softer than I expected. "You're doing great, Sam. Trust me."

My eyes met hers, and I felt something inside me break. But I didn't know if it was my professionalism, my pride, or my resistance. I only knew I couldn't turn back.

The silence in the office was deafening. Each of my movements seemed amplified, as if the simple gestures of arranging the clothes on the desk resonated in the walls. Megan remained still, watching me with that confident gaze that characterized her, a look that seemed to disarm any resistance I tried to maintain.

"Sam," she finally said, her voice soft but unwavering, "you're not that far. Just one more step."

My hands, now bare from the long sleeves of my blouse, tensed slightly at my sides. I felt my skin react to the fresh air in the office, my senses hyper-aware of everything around me. My thoughts were trapped in a constant back and forth between logic and that strange mix of curiosity and vulnerability that took hold of me. Why did I agree? What am I doing? But there was no turning back, at least not without losing what little control I had left over the situation.

"Megan, this is enough," I tried to say firmly, though my voice trembled more than I wanted to admit. "I think it's clear enough..."

"No, Sam. It's not clear yet," she interrupted with that smile that was a mix of complicity and victory. "We're almost there. You just need to take that last step. It's simple, isn't it?"

My eyes lowered to the floor, trying to avoid her gaze, but I couldn't ignore what she was asking of me. My mind kept searching for excuses, arguments to stop everything, but my body didn't seem willing to move. It was as if each of her words had an invisible weight that kept my feet anchored to the ground.

"Come on," Megan insisted, taking a step towards me, though still maintaining a safe distance. "You're already doing it incredibly. Just this and we'll be done. I promise."

My hands instinctively rose to my chest, crossing over my white bra, as if trying to protect what little remained of my dignity. "This is... too much," I murmured, feeling my voice break.

"It isn't," Megan replied calmly, tilting her head slightly. "What you're feeling now is just the fear of stepping out of your comfort zone. But, Sam, you're already out of it. It's okay. Just trust me."

I let out a long sigh, letting my arms slowly fall to my sides. I knew she was right about something: I was completely out of my comfort zone, and the feeling was as overwhelming as it was unsettling. My thoughts swirled, a constant battle between logic and emotion.

"Okay," I finally said, my voice barely a whisper. My breathing was shallow, and my hands moved towards the elastic band of my underwear without me being able to stop them. But just before continuing, I lifted my gaze to Megan, searching for some kind of signal.

She smiled, but this time there was something more in her expression, something I hadn't noticed before: a glimpse of genuine curiosity. "That's it, Sam. Just do it at your own pace. I'm here with you."

My hands, with a touch I could barely feel, unbuttoned the white bra, a fabric I dared not remove. I felt the fabric slide, a breath against my skin that made me shiver. With slow movements, the garment unbuttoned, and finally, I placed it on the table.

My hands, almost without feeling it, covered my chest, "Come on, just your panties left," Megan insisted.

My movements, almost without thinking, unbuttoned the last garment, with trembling fingers, the fabric slid down, a sensation of warmth that I couldn't ignore, then my muscles, which didn't take a step, relaxed, and with a movement, gravity took care of bringing the soft fabric to the floor.

The air in the office seemed to stop, heavy and charged with an almost deafening silence. Each garment I left on the desk seemed to take with it a layer of protection, leaving me more exposed than I had ever been. The cold of the room caressed my skin, reminding me with every second of the surrealism of the situation. How did I let this happen?

Finally, I stood still, completely naked from head to toe, except for the access card hanging around my neck, swaying slightly with each of my nervous movements. Its weight seemed much more significant now, as if it were the only thing left of the professional and controlled Samantha who had entered the office that morning. But that person seemed distant, unreachable.

"There you go," Megan said with a voice that was a mix of satisfaction and admiration. Her eyes briefly scanned me, though her expression wasn't mocking or cruel. There was something in her gaze that I couldn't fully decipher, a mix of triumph and... respect. "You did it, Sam."

My arms instinctively remained crossed over my chest and my crotch, and my legs slightly pressed together in an attempt to cover myself, though I knew the effort was futile. I felt a burning heat rise to my face as I looked at her shyly. "This is... incredibly uncomfortable, Megan," I murmured, barely able to find my voice.

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as she approached the desk to organize my clothes into a neat pile. "I know, Sam. But I can't help but admire you for doing it. Most people wouldn't even consider something like this, let alone someone like you."

"Someone like me?" I asked, with a slight tremble in my voice as I tried to understand the meaning of her words.

"You know," Megan replied, still busy with the pile of clothes. "Always so professional, so... controlled. But now you're here, completely naked and out of your comfort zone. And look at you. You're handling it."

I wanted to protest, to tell her I wasn't handling it well, that every second was a struggle not to run and get dressed, but the words seemed to get stuck in my throat. Instead, I just swallowed and looked at an empty spot on the wall, trying to ignore the occasional feeling of her gaze on me.

"By the way," Megan continued, lifting my blouse and folding it carefully, "you should relax a bit. You have nothing to be ashamed of. No one can see you here. Besides, I admit I'm impressed. I thought you'd stop sooner."

"So did I," I murmured without thinking, letting out a small nervous laugh that had no humor.

Megan carefully finished stacking my clothes, but instead of leaving them on the desk as I had hoped, she walked over to her own desk with them. I watched, still crossing my arms over my body, as she opened the top drawer and placed my clothes inside. She shut the drawer with a firm click, and before I could react, she pulled a small key from her pocket, turned it in the lock, and then slid the key back into the pocket of her skirt.

"Perfect," she said with a wide, satisfied smile, taking a step back to admire her work. "Now, see? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

The reality of what had just happened settled in my mind like a heavy fog. My eyes, still lowered, landed on the closed drawer and then on Megan's face, which was looking at me with a mix of confidence and amusement. Did she just lock my clothes away? Why? I felt a chill run through me, but I wasn't sure if it was from the cool air on my skin or the growing embarrassment that enveloped me.

"Megan," I said in a low voice, trying to maintain some composure as my words trembled slightly, "this isn't funny. Give me back my clothes."

"Relax, Sam," Megan replied, leaning against the edge of her desk as if she owned the situation. "I just locked them up to make sure you don't give up too soon. We're in this together, remember?"

My breath quickened as I tried to process what she had just said. I looked around, as if searching for some kind of answer, but the empty office only reminded me of how alone I was in this situation. "This doesn't make sense, Megan," I insisted, my voice sounding more desperate than I intended. "We did the test, as you said. I'm done."

"Done?" she repeated, arching an eyebrow with a smile that seemed to challenge me. "Sam, you've barely started. Take this as an exercise to get out of your comfort zone. Trust me, you're doing better than you think."

I felt the heat rise to my face as my professional confidence, which I had built with such effort, began to crumble. Every attempt to rationalize what was happening clashed with the reality of my vulnerability. I stood there, completely naked, with nothing but the access card hanging around my neck, while Megan seemed to have everything under control.

"This... this isn't right," I murmured, my voice almost drowned out by the shame that was now impossible to ignore. "Give me back my clothes, Megan. Now."

She sighed theatrically, as if she were the voice of reason facing unnecessary resistance. "Sam, think about it for a moment," she said, leaning slightly towards me. "What if someone were to walk in right now? What would they say? Probably nothing. Because they can't enter without my card or yours. And no one is going to come because they know my mom isn't here. You're completely safe here."

Her words made sense, but that sense was a cruel paradox that only intensified my discomfort. No one is going to come in, but here I am, trapped in this situation I can't control.

My arms tightened even more around my body as I averted my gaze to the floor. "This is crazy," I whispered, more to myself than to her.

"Maybe," Megan replied, taking a step back as her tone took on a lighter note. "But it's a crazy situation that you're handling. Look at you, Sam. You're still standing, and you haven't even crumbled. That's something."

The air in the office felt colder now, caressing every inch of my skin with an intensity I had never noticed before. I felt the touch of the atmosphere as if it were a tangible presence, sliding over my arms, shoulders, and back. My bare feet against the floor seemed to anchor me to reality, though everything in me screamed to get away from this sensation that made me feel smaller and more exposed with each passing moment.

Megan stood before me, completely at ease, her school uniform perfectly arranged. Her crisp white blouse, with the school logo on the chest, was ironed to perfection. The top buttons left open seemed intentional, making her outfit, though regulation, look casual and confident. The pleated skirt fell with perfect symmetry, framing her figure in a carefree manner. The polished school shoes shone, reflecting the office light with a neatness that painfully contrasted with my vulnerability.

She has everything under control. She always has, I thought, as a stab of shame pierced me when I compared my situation to hers. There I was, completely stripped of everything I had built as a barrier of professionalism and authority. Each missing piece of clothing seemed like another layer separating me from who I had always been, leaving me in this state I couldn't fully understand or accept.

I tried not to look at her directly, but I couldn't help it. Each time I did, the contrast between us became more evident. She, perfectly put together, immaculate, and with that innate confidence that had always set her apart. Me, reduced to nothing but my bare skin and the access card hanging around my neck, an ironic reminder of the position I used to hold.

My arms tightened further against my body, but no matter how hard I tried to cover myself, the feeling of being exposed didn't disappear. In fact, it seemed to intensify with every second that passed under Megan's calm gaze. I felt like even the slightest movement of mine was exaggerated, as if my body were amplifying everything: the gentle office breeze, the touch of the cold floor against my feet, even the pressure of the card's lanyard on my neck.

What must she think of me? I wondered, though I knew Megan probably wasn't thinking about it at all. That was just how she was—confident, carefree, and in complete control of the situation. While I was trapped in a whirlwind of thoughts and sensations I couldn't stop.

The mere idea of how we must look from the outside made me shudder. Me, in this state of absolute vulnerability, trying to stand while she looked so comfortable and secure. It's almost absurd, I thought, my throat tightening. But in that same thought, I felt something else: the undeniable reality that Megan knew it. She could sense my shame, my discomfort, and she was using it as a tool to keep me exactly where she wanted me.

I wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence that now felt almost oppressive. But every word I tried to form crumbled before reaching my lips. I could only stand there, looking at the floor, aware of everything: every inch of my exposed skin, the weight of the card hanging around my neck, and the overwhelming contrast between us that seemed to mock me with each passing second.

"Your mom... left me in charge," I managed to say, though my voice sounded weak and broken, so different from the firm, professional tone I had always tried to maintain in this place. The words seemed to get stuck in my throat before coming out, each syllable trembling with the weight of my shame. I can't even mention her name. What's happening to me?

Megan, on the other hand, remained calm, as if my words were no more than a gentle breeze that couldn't move her. She tilted her head, her eyes fixed on mine with an expression that mixed amusement and challenge. "Sam," she finally said, with a light and calm tone that cruelly contrasted with my state. "Do you really think that matters now? Who exactly are you trying to convince? Me... or yourself?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came. The logic of her words, as simple as it was devastating, left me without arguments. It was as if every attempt to regain some control crumbled in the face of her relentless confidence. I can't win this conversation. She knows it... and I know it too.

"Listen," Megan continued, taking a small step towards me, though her posture remained relaxed. "This has nothing to do with who's 'in charge.' You know as well as I do that no one is going to come here, and even if they did, they can't enter without an access card." She smiled slightly, a gesture almost kind, but that only intensified my discomfort. "So instead of worrying about things that won't happen, why don't you relax a little and let this be something... interesting?"

My legs trembled slightly as I tried to stand firm. "Megan, this has gone too far," I whispered, barely able to hold my voice. But even as I said it, I knew my words lacked strength. I had lost control of the situation from the moment I agreed to her "test."

She looked at me for an instant, her smile widening slightly. "Sam, you keep saying 'this,' but you never finish the sentence. Maybe because you don't even know how to call it. A mistake? A crazy thing? Or something you don't want to admit you're enjoying, even a little bit?"

My face flushed at her words, and I averted my gaze to the floor, unable to hold the intensity of her stare. I wanted to shout at her that she was wrong, that she didn't know what she was saying, but the truth was that I couldn't even explain what I was feeling at that moment. Shame mixed with something else, something I wasn't ready to face.

Then, Megan moved slightly to her right, gesturing casually towards my aunt's desk. "You know, I've been thinking," she said, with that carefree tone that made her words seem almost harmless, "it would be great to have a few photos of you. You know, something to capture this... unique moment."

My heart skipped a beat at her words, and I looked up abruptly, momentarily forgetting my nakedness. "What? No!" I exclaimed, though my voice didn't have the strength I expected. Photos? This is too much.

"Relax, Sam," Megan replied, with a smile that seemed to want to calm me but only intensified my discomfort. "It's nothing bad. Just a few photos in front of my mom's desk. Something symbolic, don't you think? After all, this is her space, and you've always been so... professional here."

"That's... completely inappropriate," I managed to say, though my voice still trembled. I tried to cross my arms even more tightly over my chest, as if that could protect me from her words. "I can't do that."

"Why not?" Megan asked, tilting her head curiously. "No one will see them. Just you and me. They'll be a reminder of this day, of how far you've come. Isn't that exciting?"

Blood pounded in my ears, and I felt like the floor beneath my feet was about to give way. "This isn't... right, Megan," I whispered, my words drowned out by the weight of my confusion.

"Of course, it's right, Sam," she replied, with a tone that was almost reassuring. "It'll be our little secret. Come on, it's not a big deal. I promise you won't regret it."

The card hanging around my neck was now my only connection to any semblance of identity. The small plastic rectangle bore my name clearly printed, as if even in my current state, it wanted to remind me of who I was supposed to be: Samantha López. However, that version of myself seemed to fade with each minute that passed under Megan's calm and confident gaze.

"Okay, Sam," Megan said, pulling out her phone from her pocket and unlocking it with a casual motion. Her voice was light, as if she were organizing something completely normal and everyday. "Let's start with something simple. I want you to stand in front of my mom's desk and lean against it slightly. Nothing complicated."

My arms tightened against my chest, and my legs seemed incapable of moving. "Megan, this is absurd. I can't do this," I murmured, though the firmness in my voice had long since disappeared.

"Of course, you can, Sam," she replied, her tone so calm and convincing it seemed almost unreal. "Just think of it as a regular photo session. Nothing out of the ordinary. Besides, you're already here, so there's no turning back, right?"

I swallowed hard and took a slow step towards Beatriz's desk, each of my movements heavy and full of doubt. I stopped in front of it, feeling the cold wood against my bare legs. "Megan, this is completely unnecessary," I tried to say again, but she just smiled and lifted her phone.

"Hands to your sides, Sam," she said, like a professional photographer giving instructions to her model. "I want a natural pose to start."

My mind rebelled, but my body seemed to move on its own. I slowly lowered my arms, letting them fall to my sides, though my posture remained stiff and tense. I felt every fiber of my being screaming to cover myself, but under her gaze, it was as if I had no other choice.

Naked, my body feels exposed and vulnerable, a shocking contrast to the polished image I usually present to the world. My almost 5'6" height feels more evident without the protection of my carefully chosen clothing. My slightly tanned naked skin shines under the light of this imposing office, revealing every curve and line of my body.

My hair, which normally frames my face elegantly, now hangs loose, partially covering my shoulders and back, providing a partial veil of intimacy. My almond-shaped eyes, normally intense and curious, now reflect a mix of nervousness and determination, as if trying to keep calm in the midst of this unusual situation.

My slender and athletic build is on full display, with my slightly broad shoulders and defined waist, which are usually softened by clothing, now the center of attention. My long, toned legs extend from my rigid posture, revealing well-defined muscles that betray my dedication to exercise.

I forgot to mention that Megan also made me remove my silver watch and gold earrings, which further accentuates the nakedness of my body. The only connection to my identity, the access card hanging around my neck, seems like a cruel irony at this moment.

At this moment, I feel like a raw, unrefined version of myself, my insecurities and vulnerabilities exposed, while Megan, with her calm gaze, captures every moment on her phone.

The click of the phone's shutter filled the air, and a shiver ran down my spine. "Perfect," Megan commented, checking the screen with an approving smile. "Now, lean forward a little, rest your hands on the desk, and look at the camera."

"This isn't right, Megan," I murmured, though my voice lacked strength. But even as I said it, I leaned forward slightly, resting my hands on the edge of the desk. The position made me feel even more exposed, and my face burned as I tried not to look directly at the camera.

As I lean over the desk, following Megan's instructions, I feel a wave of heat in my cheeks as I realize my intimacy is completely exposed. My pubic hair, or lack thereof, is evident. I have a habit of shaving completely, a personal preference that now feels like an uncomfortable revelation.

Megan, with a mischievous smile on her face, notices my embarrassment and decides to play with the situation. "Well, Sam, I see you prefer a clear view. Any particular reason for keeping it so... clean?" Her voice has a mocking tone, as if she had discovered an embarrassing secret.

My face flushes even more, and I feel the need to cover myself, but I strive to maintain my composure. "It's just a personal preference, Megan," I respond, trying to sound less shy, though my voice betrays my discomfort.

Megan laughs softly, as if my response had amused her. "Well, at least you're consistent in your minimalism, Sam. Even in the most intimate details," she adds, capturing another image with her phone.

At that moment, I realize that my body, my intimacy, and my personal choices are now a spectacle for Megan, and I struggle to maintain my dignity in this uncomfortable and unexpected situation.

Another click sounded, and then another. "Good," Megan said, as if she hadn't noticed my discomfort. "Now, cross one arm over your chest and let the other hang by your side. I want it to look casual, relaxed."

My movements were clumsy, almost automatic, as I followed her instructions. I crossed one arm over my chest, covering myself as best I could, while letting the other arm fall to the side. The access card hung around my neck, swaying slightly with each movement, a constant reminder of my name and position. The click of the shutter continued to fill the silence, each sound like a blow that reinforced my shame.

"Now turn a little towards the window," Megan continued, pointing with one hand to the exact spot where she wanted me to position myself. "Let the light hit you in profile. It will be a beautiful photo."

I did as she asked, moving slowly towards the window while trying to cover myself as best I could. The cold glass against my bare arm was a painful contrast to the heat rising in my face. The camera kept capturing every moment, and Megan didn't stop giving me directions.

"Lift your chin a little... That's it. Perfect," she said, her tone filled with a confidence that made me feel even more vulnerable. "Now, cross your arms over your chest and look down, as if you're deep in thought."

Each pose was a new test, a reminder of how far I had come in this situation. I felt like I couldn't escape, trapped between Megan's orders and the reality of my own vulnerability. The weight of the card on my chest seemed to mock me with every click of the camera.

Finally, Megan lowered the phone, reviewing the photos on the screen with a satisfied expression. "That was amazing, Sam," she said, looking up at me. "You're much better at this than I imagined."

I said nothing, unable to find words as I stood by the window, my arms crossed over my chest in a desperate attempt to regain some dignity. How did I get here?

The final click of the phone echoed through the office, and finally, Megan put down the device, reviewing the photos with a satisfied smile. I stood frozen by the window, my arms crossed over my chest, feeling my breath quicken as I tried to process what had just happened. My mind was a whirlwind, and the silence that followed the photo session only amplified my embarrassment.

"Well," Megan said at last, strolling back to her desk with a carefree stride, "that was interesting, wasn't it? I think we got everything we needed."

I remained in my spot, unable to move or respond as she sat down and placed her phone on the table. Her demeanor was so relaxed, so calm, that it almost seemed like what had just occurred was a completely normal activity.

"Sam, we should get to work," she continued, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "I have some school assignments to finish, and you... well, I'm sure you have something important to do."

The normalcy with which she spoke was disconcerting, and for a moment, I almost forgot my current state. But then, the cold of the office, the weight of the card hanging from my neck, and the lack of clothing abruptly brought me back to reality.

As I struggled with my thoughts, Megan turned in her chair, opening her backpack to take out a notebook. She placed it on the desk, along with a pen, and began flipping through it casually. "Oh, I almost forgot," she said suddenly, looking up at me with a mischievous smile. "I'm thirsty. I think I'll go to the cafeteria for something."

My eyes widened slightly, and my stomach tensed at her words. Before I could respond, Megan continued, her tone light and playful. "Want to come with me, Sam? We could get something to drink and relax a bit before getting back to work."

Her question was obviously a joke, but the impact was immediate. I felt the heat rise to my face, and my mind struggled to process a response. "Megan, that's not funny," I murmured, my voice still shaky.

"Come on, Sam, don't be so serious," she replied with a soft laugh. "You know it would be interesting... though I think it's not the best time for you." Her playful tone only intensified my discomfort.

"Can you just give me back my clothes, please, and go?" I responded, trying to regain some firmness in my voice, though I knew it sounded more like a plea than an order.

"Okay, okay, though I haven't given you your clothes back yet," Megan said, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender as she stood up from her chair. "I was just joking, Sam. You don't have to get like that."

I watched her as she made her way to the door, her relaxed attitude as if everything was perfectly normal. Before leaving, she turned to me one last time, with that smile that seemed to know more than she let on. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

When the door closed behind her, silence filled the office again, and I was left alone with my thoughts. I felt my legs tremble slightly as I sank into one of the chairs by the desk. How can I even begin to understand what just happened?

The weight of the card hanging from my neck felt more intense than ever, like an ironic reminder of who I was and the state I was in now. How do I move on from this?

I slowly sank into the chair in front of the desk, as if my movements could somehow cushion the intensity of the sensations engulfing me. As I sat down, the synthetic leather of the seat felt cold and smooth against my bare bottom, an immediate contrast to the warmth still coursing through my face. The lack of any barrier between my body and the seat material made me feel even more vulnerable, as if the whole world was aware of my situation.

I tried to get comfortable, but every little movement caused my breasts to shift, further emphasizing my nakedness. The office's air conditioning, always set to a cool temperature, gently blew from the ceiling vents, enveloping me in its breeze, caressing my exposed skin. The cold embraced me, sliding over my arms, my neck, and especially my back, which now seemed hyperaware of every draft. I felt the chill particularly on my nipples, which had involuntarily hardened, betraying my discomfort. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to concentrate, but even that was a challenge.

My hands automatically moved to the table in front of me, seeking support. The varnished wood felt smooth and solid beneath my fingers, but every texture seemed heightened, as if my skin could perceive details it had never noticed before: the softly rounded edge, the tiny irregularities in the finish that were barely noticeable to the touch. My fingers slowly slid over the surface as I tried to steady my breathing. It's just a table. Focus on that. On something.

I looked down, seeking refuge in the floor, where my bare feet clung to the cold tiles. The sensation of cold rose up my legs, traveling along my naked thighs and causing my skin to prickle. The reality of my nakedness was palpable, especially in my crotch, where the lack of clothing made me feel exposed and insecure. My thighs, usually hidden under elegant skirts and pants, were now on display, revealing their toned shape and the delicate curve of my hips.

Every involuntary movement of my feet caused my thighs to brush against each other, and I felt a growing dampness between my legs, an uncomfortable sensation that intensified my embarrassment. The friction of my own skin against itself seemed to amplify the awareness of my body, of my nakedness. The situation made me feel exposed in a way I had never experienced before, and I struggled to control the physical reactions that escaped my will.

The floor, smooth and cold, felt strange beneath my feet, a constant reminder of my current situation, so different from my daily life. I tried to keep my feet still, but nervousness made me move them slightly, feeling the uniform texture of the floor against my skin.

I took a deep breath and turned my attention back to the desk. I have work to do. I need to focus. I turned on the computer, and the familiarity of the screen's glow offered a brief respite from my own mind. The emails were waiting, as always, with their formal and urgent subject lines. I clung to them as if they were a lifeline, a way to regain some normalcy in the midst of all this.

The keyboard beneath my hands felt different. Every keystroke was a reminder of my state, of how the lack of clothing made even something as mundane as typing an email feel out of place. The faint click of the keys seemed to resonate louder in the office's silence, a sound I usually ignored but now felt amplified.

I tried to focus my mind on the words on the screen, but distractions were inevitable. The brush of the access card against my chest every time I leaned forward to type made me feel a strange weight, not physical but emotional. This isn't normal. This must be a nightmare. But still, I forced myself to continue. Responsibilities didn't disappear just because my world seemed to have turned upside down.

Every now and then, a shiver ran through me as a draft of cold air passed by my back or neck. I tried to ignore it, focusing on the to-do list I had reviewed that same morning, before all this had started to unfold. Just keep typing. Ignore everything else.

But even as my fingers typed, my mind kept wandering. The events of the past hour replayed in my head, every detail, every sensation, every word Megan had said. I tried to push those thoughts away, but they were there, like a persistent buzz in the background of my mind.

One email was completed, and then another. But time seemed to crawl slower than ever. Every second in the chair was a test, a constant struggle to maintain composure and concentration in an environment that now felt completely different. Just a little longer. I can handle this.

The sound of the phone broke the heavy silence of the office like a thunderbolt. I jumped, immediately dropping my hands from the keyboard and staring at the device as if it had just burst into flames. My thoughts raced in all directions, and the cold I had felt in my skin seemed to transform into a scorching heat. Who could it be? Why now?

The ringing persisted, cutting through the air with an insistence I couldn't ignore. Finally, I extended a trembling hand toward the phone, trying to compose myself. Answer, Samantha. Act normal. I picked up the receiver and slowly brought it to my ear.

"Beatriz's office," I said, though my voice came out much shakier than I expected. I swallowed hard and tried again, attempting to add some firmness. "This is Samantha López. How may I help you?"

"Samantha, it's me, Beatriz," the voice on the other end said. The immediate recognition made my stomach twist into a knot. My entire body tensed, and my heart began to pound. Oh no, no, no. This can't be happening now.

"Beatriz!" I exclaimed, too loud, too fast, as if my heightened tone could cover my nervousness. Calm down, calm down. I lowered my voice immediately, trying to sound more relaxed. "I mean, Beatriz, good afternoon. How's everything with... Mr. Ramírez?"

"Everything's fine, thank you," she replied, her tone calm and professional, in stark contrast to my agitation. "I just needed your help with something. I left my laptop on my desk before leaving. I need you to access it and find a file I forgot to send."

My eyes widened, and my breathing quickened. Access her laptop? Now? My mind searched for an excuse, anything to avoid that impossible task. "Oh, of course. Sure," I responded, though my voice still trembled. "What file do you need?"

"It's a PowerPoint presentation," she explained, her tone still calm, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "It's called 'Collaborative Proposal.' It's on the desktop. I just need you to send it to my email so I can review it before the meeting."

"Understood," I said, though my voice barely came out as a whisper. The weight of the card hanging from my naked neck seemed to intensify suddenly, reminding me of the absurdity of my situation. This feels surreal.

"Perfect," Beatriz continued. "Make sure you send it soon. It's very important for the meeting. And, Samantha, are you okay? You sound a bit... nervous."

The question hit me like an electric current, and a cold sweat broke out on my back. "Yes, yes, I'm fine," I lied, trying to soften my tone. "Just... a lot of work. You know how it is."

"Sure," Beatriz responded, though her tone suggested some doubt. "Well, I trust you can handle it. Please let me know when you've sent it."

"I will," I assured her quickly. "Don't worry."

"Thank you, Samantha. Anything else, I'm available by phone," she added before hanging up.

The click of the receiver disconnecting was deafening, and I placed the phone back with clumsy movements. My hands were trembling, and my mind kept screaming in disbelief. Why now?

I slowly turned to Beatriz's desk, where the laptop rested closed, harmless and completely out of my emotional reach at the moment. The air conditioning kept blowing, and the cold reminded me that every second I spent in this state was an invitation to disaster.

You just have to do it, Samantha. Do it quickly and get it over with. But even as I approached the laptop, my legs were trembling, and the weight of my vulnerability seemed to sink me deeper into the chaos of the situation.

With unsteady steps, I approached Beatriz's desk. The laptop remained closed, its metallic surface gleaming under the office's white light. Every fiber of my being screamed that I shouldn't sit there, not naked, but I knew I had no choice. Do it quickly, Samantha. Just open the file, send it, and get it over with.

I pulled out the chair, and the smooth sliding of its wheels against the floor made me shudder. As I sat down, the cold leather against my bare skin was a cruel reminder of my vulnerability. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to calm my breathing, and opened the laptop with trembling hands.

The black screen lit up, displaying a faint reflection of my body in the dark background. My eyes widened, and the weight of what I saw hit me like a punch. There I was, completely naked, with the access card hanging from my neck, an image I couldn't help but look at despite my embarrassment. Instinctively, I crossed my arms over my chest, looking away. This is ridiculous. Where's Megan?

The home screen appeared, demanding the password. My fingers, still trembling, moved to the keyboard. I tried to remember the combination Beatriz used, one she had used countless times. Come on, Samantha, you know this. It's not complicated. I typed the first option and pressed "Enter."

"Incorrect password."

A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. "How could I have forgotten it?" I murmured, adjusting the card's lanyard around my neck as if that could calm me. I typed another combination, this time more carefully.

"Incorrect password."

My hands began to shake more. Come on! I only have one attempt left before it locks. I closed my eyes, trying to visualize Beatriz's hands on the keyboard, and finally, as if a small spark ignited in my memory, I typed what I believed was the correct one. I pressed "Enter."

The screen unlocked. I let out a sigh of relief, but my body was still trembling from the tension. Quickly, I navigated to the virtual desktop, where I saw the file titled "Collaborative Proposal." I clicked on it and then opened my email to attach it. My fingers were still clumsy as I typed Beatriz's address and a brief message: "Here's the file you requested."

I pressed "Send," and the confirmation sound of the email made me release a second sigh. It's done.

Before I could even relax, the office phone rang again, making me jump once more. My breathing quickened, and I hesitated for a few seconds before answering.

"Beatriz's office," I said, trying to sound professional, though my voice was tinged with nerves.

"Hello, Samantha, it's Javier," the calm voice on the other end said. The server technician. My mind filled with images of his face as he worked on the server rack earlier that day. "I wanted to inform you about the server status I checked this morning."

"Oh, sure, Javier," I responded, forcing myself to sound more relaxed than I was. "What did you find?"

"Well," he began, and his tone became more technical as he explained the problem with the fans and storage. His words passed through my mind like a cloud, almost impossible to process as I struggled against the constant reminder of my state. The cold of the chair against my skin, the lack of clothing, the feeling that anything could go wrong at any moment.

"Samantha, are you there?" Javier interrupted my thoughts.

"Yes, yes, I'm here," I replied quickly, trying to compose myself. "Sorry, I was taking notes."

"Okay," he said, though he sounded a bit skeptical. "Do you want me to come to your office to deliver a detailed report?"

"No, no," I said almost too quickly, my voice rising slightly. No, that can't happen! "I mean, it's not necessary. You can send it by email, right? That would be enough."

Javier paused on the other end of the line. "Sure, I can send it by email, but I thought it would be clearer to explain it in person."

"I trust your email will be sufficient," I insisted, my voice trembling slightly but firmly. "I'm... a bit busy right now, so I'd prefer you send it. I'll review it as soon as I receive it."

"Okay, I'll do that then," Javier responded, though his tone suggested he wasn't entirely convinced. "I'll send it in a few minutes."

"Thank you, Javier. I appreciate your help," I replied, trying to sound as professional as possible before hanging up. I placed the receiver down slowly, and my body sank into the chair as my mind tried to calm down.

This is a disaster. I need Megan to come back soon. I need my clothes; I can't handle any more surprises.

An excellent adventure. I hope it takes a bit longer before Megan returns her clothes. I look forward to more chapters.

Great story which I shall follow avidly. However, I think I noticed a continuity error in chapter one; Valeria morphs into Veronica ? Or are they different people ?

You're absolutely right; it was a name confusion. Thank you so much for catching that! I've already made the correction, and I truly appreciate your sharp eye and support.

The office phone rang again, cutting through the air and making me jump in my seat. The situation was already tense, and the insistent sound of the ringing seemed like a cruel reminder of how little control I had over what was happening around me. Another call. Please, let it not be something complicated.

I reached out a trembling hand for the receiver, feeling my breath quicken. I answered, trying to sound as professional as possible, though my voice still betrayed me.

"Beatriz's office," I said, though the tremor in my words was unmistakable.

"Hello, Samantha," said the cheerful voice of Martina, the building's receptionist. "Just wanted to let you know a package arrived for Mrs. Beatriz. The messenger is already on his way up to deliver it directly to the office."

Panic gripped me instantly. "Up here? To the office?" I repeated, almost in a whisper, as if saying it aloud made it even more real. My mind started spinning in circles, desperately searching for a way to stop him. He can't come up. He can't see me like this.

"Yes," Martina replied with her usual carefree tone. "He said he'll deliver it directly to you because it's urgent."

"Martina, wait," I said quickly, trying to stay calm. "No... it's not necessary for him to come up. I'm in the middle of something important, and I can't attend to him right now. Could you please tell him to leave it at the reception? I'll pick it up later."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Martina responded. "Mmm, I don't think that's possible, Samantha. The messenger is already on his way. Plus, he said he has instructions to deliver it personally to Beatriz's office. Sorry."

"Martina, seriously... it's not a good time," I insisted, my voice rising slightly as I tried to sound convincing. "Please, tell him not to come up. It's urgent."

"Sorry, Samantha, but he's already in the elevator," Martina said nonchalantly, as if she didn't realize the internal storm she was causing. "He won't be long."

Before I could respond, the line went dead. I froze, the receiver still in my hand, as the weight of the situation hit me. A messenger. He's coming here. What am I going to do?

I quickly got up from the chair, the cold leather briefly sticking to my skin before releasing me. My eyes automatically turned to the office door, where a large one-way glass panel allowed me to see the outer hallway but prevented anyone outside from seeing in. It was a small comfort, but not enough to calm the chaos in my mind.

Think, Samantha. Think. I paced around the desk, as if movement could clear my mind. But each step made the panic grow. I heard the sound of footsteps approaching down the hallway, firm and steady, and my breath quickened even more.

Finally, I saw the messenger. He wore a simple uniform and carried a medium-sized box under his arm. He stopped in front of the door and, as expected, tried to open it. The small card reader flashed red, indicating he didn't have access. From my side of the glass, I watched him frown and press the door handle several times, clearly frustrated.

The relief that he couldn't get in was immediate, but it didn't last long. My state was still precarious, and just seeing him there, a few steps away from where I was, made my skin crawl. I crouched behind the desk, as if hiding could make the messenger disappear faster, though I knew he couldn't see me through the one-way glass.

From my position, I could hear him murmur something, probably trying to decide what to do. He knocked lightly on the door, a polite signal to get my attention, though I knew I couldn't respond. Please, please, give up and leave.

Time seemed to slow down as I remained hidden behind the desk. My heart was pounding so hard I could almost hear it, and with each passing second, I felt my nervousness grow. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He'll just realize no one's here. He'll leave soon. Everything will be fine.

From my position behind the desk, the silence in the office was only interrupted by the messenger's faint murmurs on the other side of the door. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to calm down, but my heartbeat echoed in my ears.

Then, a new sound caught my attention: light, determined footsteps approaching down the hallway. I slowly opened my eyes and sat up enough to look at the door. Who's that now? My stomach sank when I recognized her. It was Megan.

She had her usual carefree attitude as she approached the messenger with a charming smile, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. From my hiding place, I watched them exchange words, though I couldn't hear what they were saying. Megan gestured with her hand, her face reflecting a relaxed kindness that, for a moment, made the scene seem like a simple interaction between a friendly student and a diligent worker.

The messenger showed her the package, and Megan nodded as she said something else. Her light laughter reached me, amplifying my nervousness. She seemed completely at ease, even enjoying the conversation. She leaned slightly towards him while pointing at something in the direction of the office door, as if explaining a trivial detail.

My initial relief at seeing her quickly turned into absolute panic when Megan pulled out her access card and swiped it through the reader. The characteristic beep and click of the lock echoed in the office like a sentence. What is she doing? She can't let him in!

With wide eyes, I watched as Megan pushed the door and held it open, inviting the messenger to enter. He smiled, thanked her, and crossed the threshold with the package in his arms. Megan followed him in with the same relaxed attitude, closing the door behind them. My heart stopped for an instant. This can't be happening.

I immediately crouched down, pressing my bare back against the desk while my mind screamed in all directions. They can't see me. They can't see me. I'm naked. What do I do? I felt like my body was on fire, and with each passing second, my desire to disappear completely grew.

From my hiding place, I heard Megan's calm voice: "You can leave it here, on this table." The sound of the package being placed on the table resonated in the office, followed by a slight crinkle of paper. "Thanks for bringing it so quickly," Megan continued, her tone friendly and casual as if this were any other day.

"No problem, miss," the messenger replied, his voice deep and serene. "If you need anything else, just let me know."

"Sure, I will," Megan replied with a smile audible in her tone. "Have a good day."

"You too," he responded before heading back towards the door.

From my hiding place, I heard the sound of the door opening again, followed by the dry click of the automatic lock when it closed behind him. Silence filled the office once more, but my mind was still in absolute chaos. I still couldn't move, my body rigid and stuck to the desk, as if that could protect me from the disaster that almost occurred.

"Megan..." I murmured to myself, a mix of disbelief and desperation filling my chest. Why did you do that? Didn't you think about what could have happened?

From the hallway, the echo of the messenger's footsteps fading away mixed with the deafening beat of my own heartbeat. Then, I heard the faint sound of Megan's access card swiping as she put it back in her skirt pocket. I knew she wouldn't take long to notice my hiding place.

The silence in the office was almost deafening, but not enough to calm my heart, which was pounding hard as if trying to escape my chest. I was curled up behind the desk, my body tense and hunched, as if I could disappear if I made myself small enough. The cold of the tiles against my skin was a constant reminder of my vulnerability. Please, let Megan just sit at her desk, give me back my clothes, and leave me alone.

However, Megan's light and determined steps approached in my direction. Each one was a blow to my fragile control over the situation. I couldn't see her from my position, but I knew she was looking for me. I felt her presence like a shadow looming over me, knowing exactly where I was.

"Mmm, where could our dear Sam be?" Megan said in a mocking tone, her voice full of the playful energy she always seemed to have. I heard the familiar sound of her phone unlocking, and a shiver ran down my spine. No. She wouldn’t dare...

Suddenly, I saw her from the corner of my eye: her face peeking over the side of the desk, her phone pointing at me with the camera on. "There you are!" she exclaimed with feigned surprise, as if she had just found a treasure.

"Megan!" I cried out, unable to contain my reaction, as I tried to cover myself with my hands and legs, curling up even more into a ball on the floor. The sound of my voice echoed in the office, sharp and desperate. "Stop recording! This isn't funny!"

"Oh, but it is," Megan replied, her laughter soft but cutting as she moved closer with the phone. "Look at this. It's adorable how you're trying to hide like a little girl caught doing something naughty."

I pressed against the floor, my body trembling as fear and shame battled for control of my emotions. I felt my cheeks burning, and my eyes began to fill with tears of frustration. "Megan, please, stop!" I pleaded, my voice breaking.

"Stop what?" she responded, leaning in a little more with the phone in her hand, pointing it at me from different angles. "This is pure gold, Sam. The great Samantha López, always so professional, curled up naked like a little mouse under the desk. What a sight!"

"This isn't funny!" I shouted again, my voice more desperate than before. "Do you realize how dangerous it would have been if the messenger had seen me? What would have happened then, Megan? This isn't a game!"

Megan straightened up, lowering the phone momentarily, but the smile on her face remained intact. "Dangerous for you, maybe. But for me, it would have been the most fun part of the day." Then, she added with a gleam in her eyes: "The expression on your face would have been absolutely incredible. I would have loved to see that."

Her words were like a slap. My fingers dug into the floor tiles as I tried to control my breathing, but her carefree and mocking attitude only made my frustration grow. "How can you even say that?" I whispered, my voice barely a whisper as I curled up more on the floor. "This isn't a joke, Megan. This could have ruined my life."

She took a step back, putting the phone in her pocket with an expression that combined satisfaction and defiance. "Relax, Sam," she said nonchalantly. "Nothing happened, right? No one saw you. Plus, I was here to handle it. Shouldn't you be thanking me, don't you think?"

"Thanking you?" I repeated, feeling indignation begin to overcome my shame. "You almost made this even worse! What's wrong with you, Megan?"

She shrugged, seemingly immune to my anger. "Oh, come on. If something had gone wrong, I would have taken care of it. You just need to learn to relax a little." Then, she smiled again, but this time with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Though I must admit, seeing you like this... priceless."

I fell silent, without the strength to keep arguing, while my body remained tense and curled up on the floor. The weight of her words and the growing sense of loss of control made me feel like the office itself was closing in on me. How am I supposed to keep going with this?

As I remained curled up on the floor, my thoughts kept spinning senselessly, trapped between humiliation and panic. I tried to find the words to confront Megan, to regain at least a small part of my dignity, but every time I opened my mouth, the lump in my throat left me silent.

Suddenly, the sound of a notification broke the tense silence of the office. It came from Beatriz's computer. My eyes snapped open, and my breath stopped for a second. I lifted my head enough to see the screen from my position on the floor. In the center of the screen, a message flashed: "Incoming video call from Luis Hernández."

The name was unmistakable. Luis Hernández was one of Beatriz's top clients, a serious and formal businessman who always expected professionalism in every interaction. Just seeing his name on the screen made my heart pound. Why is he calling now? This can't be happening!

"What's going on now?" Megan asked with a playful smile, leaning slightly to follow my gaze towards the computer.

"It's... it's a video call," I managed to say in a faint voice. "From Luis Hernández. I can't answer that. I just can't!"

"Well, of course you can't," Megan said, shrugging her shoulders as she crossed her arms. "Not in your current state, all naked." Her smile widened as she looked at me, clearly enjoying my desperation. "So, what are you going to do, Sam?"

"I can't do anything," I said, feeling my voice tremble. "I can't show up like this in front of him! Megan, please, you have to help me."

"Help you?" Megan replied, feigning surprise as she put her hand to her chest. "After you like to keep everything under control? And now you need my help? That's interesting."

"Megan, I'm serious, this isn't a game," I pleaded, sitting up a little straighter but not leaving my position on the floor. My hands trembled as I tried to keep myself as covered as possible. "If we don't answer, he might think we're ignoring him. He could report it to Beatriz. This could be a disaster!"

Megan leaned towards me, with a smile that mixed fun and power. "Oh, I understand perfectly what's at stake, Sam. But if I help you... well, you'll owe me big time. Are you okay with that?"

"I have no choice," I responded with an almost desperate tone. "Whatever you need, just please do something. Quick!"

Megan let out a small theatrical sigh and walked towards Beatriz's computer with that carefree attitude she always seemed to have. "Okay, okay. I guess I can't let you sink... yet." She sat in front of the screen and adjusted her posture before accepting the call.

The screen showed Luis Hernández in a formal setting, probably in his office. His expression was serious, as always. Megan, without wasting a second, slightly tilted her head and smiled professionally. "Good afternoon, Mr. Hernández," she said with a calm and confident tone. "Beatriz is not available at the moment, but I can assist you with whatever you need."

"Ah, good afternoon," Luis replied, slightly confused to see someone different in front of the camera. "I suppose you're part of her team. I need to confirm some details about the presentation you sent this morning."

Megan nodded, her tone impeccable as she pretended to take notes. "Of course. Let me check it quickly. Is there anything in particular you'd like to review in the meantime?"

While she spoke, I remained curled up on the floor, watching her in a mix of disbelief and relief. Her ease in handling the situation was baffling, and without her help, I would have been completely lost. Megan seemed to be in complete control of the conversation, navigating each of Luis Hernández's questions with a calm I could never have mustered at that moment.

However, it soon became clear that Megan didn't have all the context of what Luis was asking. As he continued talking about specific details of the presentation, she slightly turned in the chair, glancing at me with a barely perceptible smile.

"Sam," she murmured quietly, slightly covering the microphone with her hand. "What does he need to review from the proposal? I have no idea what he's talking about."

My heart skipped a beat. I felt all the blood rush to my face. "What?" I whispered back, my voice muffled. "I don't know! You'll have to look at the file or make something up."

"Miss," Luis's voice interrupted our brief interaction, and we both turned our attention back to the screen. He frowned slightly, as if something in the conversation didn't fit. "Excuse me, is that Samantha López's voice? I recognize her voice."

Time seemed to stop. My eyes widened, and I felt like my entire body had frozen. Before I could react, Megan, with a disconcerting speed, cheerfully replied: "Yes, of course it's Samantha! She's right here."

"Oh, yes?" Luis responded with an interested tone. "Then, why doesn't she come over? I want to ask her something directly about a point we discussed last time."

Panic gripped me instantly. I quickly shook my head, as if physically denying it could prevent the inevitable. "No, Megan, I can't do it!" I whispered with a mix of desperation and fear. "Tell him I can't right now! Make something up."

But Megan, with that smile that seemed immune to anything, tilted her head towards the camera and said: "Oh, of course. She's busy with something, but she can pop in for a second to say hello. Just a moment."

"No, no, no, Megan," I whispered with a trembling voice, as I curled up even more against the floor. My entire body was shaking, and my mind frantically searched for an excuse, anything to avoid approaching the camera. "I can't do it! This is crazy!"

Megan turned towards me, her expression mischievous, though with a glint of seriousness. "Sam, seriously, just pop your head in. He just wants to see you. It's no big deal, and besides, you could resolve this much faster."

"I can't..." I started to say, but the pressure of the situation and Megan's insistence were pushing me to the limit. Finally, knowing I had no other option, I weakly nodded, with tears threatening to spill. "Okay," I whispered. "But just for a second."

When I got close enough, I leaned to one side of the monitor, showing only part of my face while keeping the rest of my body out of the camera's view. My hair fell messily over my face, but I didn’t care. Just do it quickly, Samantha. Just a second.

When I reached one side of the monitor, feeling ridiculously exposed, I leaned in to peek at the camera, showing only part of my face while keeping the rest of my body out of the camera’s view, fully aware that Mr. Hernández was on the other side of the screen. My hair, which would normally be neatly styled, now fell messily over my face, a small concession to the urgency of the moment. I felt absurd, a feeling amplified by my nakedness, as I tried to hold a conversation with Mr. Hernández.

"Hello, Mr. Hernández," I said, my voice tense and trembling as I tried to sound as normal as possible. "How can I help you?"

Luis tilted his head slightly, looking at me curiously. "Good afternoon, Samantha. It's nice to see you, though you look... different today." His tone was polite, but his words were like a blow. My heart beat faster, and I felt an unbearable heat rise to my cheeks.

Megan suppressed a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand while maintaining her expression of innocence.

"Uh... yes, well," I responded clumsily, trying to regain my composure. "It's just that I've had a... complicated day. But I'm here to help you with whatever you need."

Luis nodded, still with that inquisitive look. "Understood. Well, regarding the proposal we discussed, I have some doubts. In the second section, you mentioned a timeline for the project phases, but the dates seem a bit contradictory. Could you explain how you planned to handle that part?"

My mind went blank. The project. The phases. The dates. I tried to remember the details, but the tension of the situation made my thoughts chaotic. "Ah... of course. Let me... let me think for a moment," I stammered, unable to hide my discomfort.

Megan, from her place, whispered to me with a mocking smile: "Come on, Sam, weren't you the expert on this?"

I ignored her comment and forced myself to smile at the camera. "The dates... yes, I understand what you mentioned. Uh, I think that was related to... a modification in client priorities. But I can confirm it as soon as I review the details."

Luis narrowed his eyes slightly, as if he were evaluating my response. "Could you give me an example of the modified priorities? I'd like to make sure we're aligned."

Megan let out a barely audible giggle, but loud enough to make me feel even more exposed. "Come on, Sam," she murmured quietly. "Give him something concrete. You can't leave him hanging."

"Well," I said, with a desperate attempt to sound convincing, "one of the priorities that changed was... the distribution of resources for the first phase. They wanted to make sure the teams had additional time for more thorough testing before moving forward."

Luis slowly nodded, but his gaze remained inquisitive. "That makes sense. But, in that case, how does that affect the dates in the third section? According to my understanding, that should have been adjusted as well."

My mind was still stuck. I desperately searched for an answer, anything that sounded reasonable. "Oh, uh... the adjustment in the third section," I babbled, feeling the sweat start to accumulate on my forehead. "It was... a temporary extension due to the need to integrate the additional tests with the existing systems. That... took a little longer than expected."

Luis seemed to consider my response for a moment before nodding. "Understood. I suppose that explains some things. But I still have one last doubt. In the budget mentioned at the end of the document, there's a discrepancy with the initial figures. Could you clarify that?"

The budget? My breathing quickened as I tried to remember any detail about the numbers he was mentioning. Megan, seeing my flushed face, took the opportunity to whisper: "You know you're making this much more interesting than I expected! Bravo, Sam!"

"Megan, shut up," I muttered through clenched teeth, but my attention quickly returned to Luis. "Yes, of course, the budget... Let me confirm that. Maybe it was an adjustment in operational costs. Uh... could you tell me which figure specifically concerns you?"

Luis seemed even more intrigued, but not by the budget, but by my growing discomfort. "In the human resources section, there's a 15% increase compared to the initial proposal. Was that previously discussed?"

"Of course!" I exclaimed, too quickly, as if the energetic tone could make up for my lack of clarity. "That was... a decision made in collaboration with... with the technical team, to ensure that human resources were fully trained before implementing the operational phases."

Luis slowly nodded, though his expression reflected some doubt. "I understand. Well, I hope you can send me a detailed confirmation soon."

"Of course," I said, nodding frantically. "I'll do it as soon as possible. Thank you for your patience."

"Thank you, Samantha," Luis responded, slightly inclining his head. "It was a pleasure talking to you. Have a good afternoon."

"The same to you, Mr. Hernández," I responded, trying to maintain a smile as he ended the call.

As soon as the screen went black, I let out a long sigh and dropped back to the floor. My heart was still pounding, and I felt the heat in my face slowly dissipating. Megan, meanwhile, stood up from the chair, laughing out loud.

"That was spectacular," she said, crossing her arms as she looked down at me. "You should consider it an achievement, Sam. Not many people could handle that in your... situation."

"This isn't funny!" I exclaimed, looking at her with a mix of anger and humiliation. "Do you realize how close I was to ruining everything?!"

Megan shrugged, still smiling. "Relax, Sam. You handled it well... more or less. Though I must say, that part about the budget was pure gold." She leaned towards me, her eyes sparkling with fun. "Seriously, you deserve a round of applause. But remember, you owe me one more."

The clock on the computer's corner read 4:10. Each passing second felt like a heavy weight on my chest, reminding me of how little time was left until the end of the workday. The thought of someone arriving early or Megan deciding to extend her "game" was almost unbearable. My breathing was shallow, and my skin still felt the breeze from the air conditioning as a constant reminder of my state.

From her desk, Megan appeared to be engrossed in her schoolwork, her eyes scanning the lines of her notebook while her pencil moved carelessly. She seemed completely at ease, as if the situation held no weight on her. I need to regain control. Now.

"Megan," I said, my voice barely a whisper at first. I cleared my throat and tried again, this time more firmly. "Megan, we need to talk."

She lifted her gaze, arching an eyebrow with an expression that mixed curiosity and amusement. "Talk about what, Sam?" she asked, setting her pencil down on the desk and swiveling in her chair to face me. "I'm all ears."

I took a deep breath, gathering the little courage I had left while trying to sound rational. "Look, it's been a long time," I began, with my hands clenched against my side to try to maintain my composure. "This... what you're doing, has gone too far. The game is over. Please, give me back my clothes. I need this to end before someone else arrives or it's time to leave."

Megan tilted her head, feigning consideration of my words. "Too far, you say?" she replied, her tone laced with irony. "I don't see it that way. In fact, I think it's been quite... educational for you."

"Megan, please," I continued, my voice cracking slightly despite my efforts to stay firm. "This isn't funny anymore. I'm asking you as a favor. Give me back my clothes and let's forget this ever happened."

She crossed her arms, her expression shifting to a mix of amusement and authority. "Forget it? Is that what you want, Sam? Forget that you've given me one of the most entertaining days of my life? I don't know... it seems a bit unfair to me, don't you think?"

My hands started to tremble, but I tried to ignore it. "Megan, it's not fair. You put me in this situation, and you're the only one who can get me out of it. I don't understand why you're doing this. It doesn't make sense."

Megan smiled broadly, as if she had been waiting for those words. "It doesn't make sense? Oh, Sam, of course, it does. Look, you've always been the professional, the one who has everything under control. But today... today, you're none of that. You're vulnerable, and let me tell you, seeing you like this is something I don't want to forget anytime soon."

"You have no right to do this to me," I murmured, feeling desperation taking hold of me. "Please, Megan, I don't want to argue. Just give me back my clothes."

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees while looking directly into my eyes. "You know what's interesting, Sam? You're not in a position to ask for anything." Her tone was softer, but the threat in her words was unmistakable. "In fact, I could say that you owe me something."

I frowned, my heart racing. "What do you mean?"

"Well," she began, her smile turning more calculating, "let's say I have some... interesting evidence of how well you've handled things today. Like those photos I took during our little session, for example. Can you imagine what my mom would say if she saw them?"

I felt the ground disappear beneath my feet. "You wouldn't do that," I whispered, barely able to breathe. "You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" Megan replied, arching an eyebrow in disbelief. "Oh, Sam, of course, I would. But wait, there's more. What do you think my mom would say if she knew you talked to Luis Hernández in that... particular state? Or if any of your coworkers found out?"

Each word was like a stab. I bit my lip, unable to find an answer. My entire body trembled as I tried to process what she was saying. "Megan, that would be... devastating," I murmured, my voice barely audible. "You can't do that. You can't ruin me like that."

"Relax, Sam," Megan said, slowly getting up from her chair and approaching me with a smile that was no longer just mischievous but showed absolute control. "I have no intention of doing it... unless you give me a reason to, of course."

"What... what do you want?" I managed to say, my voice trembling.

"I just want you to keep cooperating," Megan replied with a light tone, as if discussing something trivial. "And that you understand that here, I'm in control. Not you."

I fell silent, my mind a chaos of emotions as I tried to process the situation. I knew I couldn't keep confronting her. She had all the cards, and I... I was completely stripped of any weapon, both literally and figuratively.

Resigned, I crawled back to my desk. The cold leather of the office chair immediately reminded me of my vulnerable state, but I barely paid attention. The weight of the situation with Megan was still oppressing me. I tried to focus on the screen in front of me, although the lines of text seemed to dance instead of forming coherent words. Just focus, Samantha. Finish at least one email. Do something useful.

My fingers barely moved on the keyboard as I instinctively covered myself with one arm. Every now and then, I adjusted the access card hanging from my neck, as if I could use it as a shield. But every attempt to write was interrupted by my mind, which kept returning to the humiliation of the last few hours. This can't get any worse, can it?

"Mmm, Sam," I heard Megan's voice from her desk. My stomach instantly sank. I saw her swivel in her chair, with a piece of paper in her hand and a feigned innocent expression. "I know you're very busy, but I need your help with something. It's for my computer homework, and I don't understand anything."

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment before responding. "Megan, I have a lot of work to catch up on. I really can't right now."

"Come on, Sam," she said with that light tone she knew how to use to push. "It's quick. Plus, you're a genius at this stuff, aren't you? It won't take you five minutes."

The smile on her face made it clear that she wouldn't accept a no for an answer. I tried to resist, but my own guilt and exhaustion defeated me. "Okay," I finally said, pushing the chair back and turning towards her. "What do you need?"

"I knew I could count on you," Megan replied, getting up from her chair with a notebook in one hand and her laptop in the other. She walked towards my desk, and I shrank slightly, feeling each step of hers as an invasion of my personal space.

She placed her laptop on my desk and leaned in to show me the assignment. "It's about basic programming," she explained, pointing to a series of lines of text on her screen. "The teacher wants us to create an algorithm that solves a problem, but all this looks like it's written in another language."

I looked at the screen, trying to focus, although my mind was still clouded. "Okay," I said, keeping my voice neutral. "First, explain to me what problem you're supposed to solve."

"Oh, it's about organizing things," Megan said, making a gesture with her hand. "The program is supposed to take a list of numbers or something like that, sort them in a certain way, and then display the result. But I don't understand it."

"Well," I replied, taking a deep breath to try to calm my nerves, "the first thing is to think about the logical process. What steps do you need for the program to do that? Think about how you would organize those numbers if you had to do it manually."

Megan frowned, as if processing my words. "Manually? I guess I would put them in order from smallest to largest, wouldn't I?"

"Exactly," I said, nodding slightly. "That's basically what you tell the program to do. You break it down into small steps: first, you tell it to compare the numbers, then to reorganize them, and finally to display them in the correct order."

"Aha," Megan responded, still with a thoughtful air. "But I don't understand how to write that. All this 'if this happens, do that' confuses me."

"It's like giving clear instructions," I explained, pointing to her laptop screen. "Think about how you would explain to someone step by step what to do. That's basically what you're doing with the program. Writing the steps in a way that it can understand."

Megan nodded slowly, although the confusion on her face didn't disappear completely. "Okay, but what if I skip a step? Will the program break or something?"

"More or less," I replied, trying to soften my tone. "If you don't give clear instructions, the program won't know what to do. But if you follow the logical process, it works as it should."

Megan let a playful smile form on her face, and at that moment, I knew there was something more behind her apparent interest. "I see. So, it's like with you, isn't it? If I don't give you clear instructions, it seems like you don't know what to do either."

"What?" I asked, frowning slightly, although my tone reflected more nervousness than indignation.

"Of course, Sam," Megan continued, leaning in a little closer. "Think about what we've done today. If I had told you, 'go down the hall and out to the lobby,' would you have done it? Because, to be honest, I think you might have gotten a little confused." Her smile widened, her words full of mockery as she watched my face turn red.

"That has nothing to do with this, Megan," I said with a weak attempt to sound firm. My voice barely came out as a whisper.

"Doesn't it?" she replied, pretending to think about it. "Well, maybe I should try it. What if I try to give you step-by-step instructions right now? For example: leave the office, cross the hall, take the elevator, and go to the lobby. Easy, right? Of course, I wouldn't give you your clothes back for that. It would be much more interesting that way."

My stomach twisted at her words. "Megan, please, don't joke about that," I murmured, feeling my entire body tense up.

She laughed softly, clearly enjoying my reaction. "Oh, come on, Sam. I'm just saying. Maybe the program isn't the only one who needs clear instructions." She put her hand to her chin, feigning reflection. "Although, if I'm being honest, I think you'd look adorable walking down the hall like that. Imagine it: 'Look, there goes Samantha! Always so professional.'"

"Megan," I insisted, my voice cracking as my cheeks burned. "Stop saying those things."

"Okay, okay," she finally said, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender, although her smile remained. "I finished my homework, so I guess I don't need to give you more instructions. For now."

With that, she got up and returned to her desk, taking her laptop with her. I stayed in my chair, unable to move while trying to process what she had just said. How can she enjoy humiliating me so much?

Just as I was trying to regain my composure, the office phone rang again, cutting short the brief moment of calm I had tried to find after Megan's teasing. My stomach immediately churned as I imagined who might be calling this time. Please, no more.

With a clumsy move, I lifted the receiver. My voice trembled as I answered, trying to sound professional. "Beatriz's office, Samantha López speaking."

"Samantha, it's me, Beatriz," said the unmistakable voice of Megan's mother. A shiver ran down my spine. Her again. What does she want now?

"Beatriz, good afternoon," I replied quickly, forcing a more stable tone. "How are things?"

"All good, thanks," she replied with her usual professional tone, but there was a hint of urgency in her voice. "I'm calling because Luis Hernández told me he spoke to you a while ago about the proposal. He said he noticed you were... a little different. What happened?"

I swallowed, my mind working frantically to find a convincing answer. "Oh, yes, I spoke to him," I began, trying to stay calm. "It was a brief call, and we discussed some details about the timeline and budget. I think everything is clear, but I was... a bit rushed at the time. Maybe that's why he noticed."

"I see," Beatriz responded, although her tone suggested she wasn't entirely convinced. "Well, he seems satisfied, but make sure to send me a summary of the conversation before the end of the day. I want everything documented."

"Of course," I replied quickly, my voice still trembling. "I will."

"Good," Beatriz continued, but her tone changed slightly. "Now, there's another matter we need to discuss. It's about Valeria."

The name made my stomach tighten even more. My relationship with Valeria had always been complicated. She was demanding, direct, and never missed an opportunity to point out any mistake, no matter how small. What does she want now?

"Valeria called me a while ago," Beatriz explained. "Apparently, there's an issue with some documents she needs to review before Monday. She's available to come to the office today and sort it out, but I know it's late, and the workday is ending."

I felt my heart stop as I imagined Valeria coming here, right now, while I was completely naked...

"So, I thought of giving you two options," Beatriz continued, as if unaware of my growing panic. "We can receive her today and stay late working on this, or we can postpone it until tomorrow morning. It would be just half a day, but you could work with her without pressure."

"I... understand," I responded, trying to buy time while my mind desperately searched for a solution. Staying late meant facing Valeria in my naked state, which was unthinkable. But working tomorrow, even if it was just half a day, meant sacrificing my personal time on a Saturday.

Beatriz waited in silence, her usual patience making me even more nervous. From her desk, Megan watched me with interest, clearly noticing my discomfort. The smile on her face told me she was enjoying every second of my internal struggle.

"What do you prefer, Samantha?" Beatriz finally asked, her tone neutral but firm. "The decision is yours, and you'll be compensated with overtime, but we need to make this decision now."

My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Staying today meant immediate humiliation. Going tomorrow gave me time to regain some control, but it also meant prolonging this feeling of vulnerability. What do I do?

I looked at Megan, hoping to find some sign, but she just gave me a mocking look, enjoying the show. I had no one to turn to. It all depended on me.

"Beatriz," I began, my voice trembling but determined. "I think it's better to deal with this tomorrow morning. That way, we can work more calmly and make sure everything is resolved correctly."

"Okay," Beatriz replied after a brief silence that felt eternal. "Then, we'll do that. I'll tell Valeria to meet you tomorrow early. I won't be there. Please make sure everything is organized before you leave today."

"Yes, of course. I will," I assured, although my voice barely came out of my throat. The knot in my stomach grew bigger, and I knew my nervousness was evident.

"Perfect," Beatriz concluded. "Anything else, I'm available by phone. Thank you, Samantha. And have a nice weekend."

"Have a nice weekend," I murmured before hanging up. The click of the receiver echoed in the office, leaving a heavy silence in the air.

Megan, who had been watching me curiously from her desk, didn't take long to break the quiet. She swiveled her chair towards me with a malicious smile I knew all too well. "You have to come tomorrow morning, huh?" she said, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "And what about that?"

I sighed, knowing there was no way to avoid the conversation. "Yes, I have to come," I replied, trying to maintain my neutral tone while adjusting the access card hanging from my neck. "Thanks to you, Megan."

She arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Thanks to me? And why would that be my fault now?"

My frustration bubbled to the surface, and I raised my voice a little more than I intended. "Because you have me in this state, Megan. How am I supposed to receive Valeria like this? How do you expect me to work with her when... when I'm so... so... naked?" I lowered my voice at the end, almost to a whisper, hoping no one else would hear.

Megan burst out laughing, resting her elbows on her desk while looking at me with a mix of amusement and audacity. "And why not? What's wrong with Valeria seeing you like this? It could be interesting, don't you think?"

"Megan, no!" I exclaimed, feeling panic taking over my voice. "I'd rather die than have Valeria see me naked at work or anywhere. It's the last thing I could bear!"

"Really?" Megan asked, feigning disbelief as she put her hand to her chest. "Why all the drama, Sam? What could Valeria do? She's just another person."

"You don't understand," I murmured, my words tumbling out. "She... she'd take advantage of this. She'd humiliate me. She'd do everything possible to make me feel useless, and she'd probably find a way to get me fired from the company. That's what Valeria would do."

Megan smiled broadly, as if my fears were the best joke she'd heard all day. "Get you fired from the company? Oh, Sam, you're exaggerating. But I admit it would be fun to see you try to explain yourself to her."

"No, Megan. I can't. I won't," I responded, my voice dropping to a whisper as I averted my gaze. The shame and fear were too much, and all I wanted was for it to end.

"Well," Megan said, shrugging with a mocking smile, "I guess you'll have to come tomorrow then. Maybe Valeria isn't so bad after all. Who knows, you might even learn something from her."

I ignored her, turning back to my computer to try to focus on something, anything other than the conversation. Beatriz had asked for a summary of my call with Luis Hernández, and although my mind was in chaos, I knew I had to do it before leaving.

My trembling fingers moved over the keyboard, typing clumsily. I tried to remember the details of the conversation, but the sensation of the cold air and the constant pressure of the situation didn't help. Just do it quickly, Samantha. Finish this and get out of here.

The text on the screen grew bit by bit as I described the key points I had discussed with Luis, trying to sound as professional as possible despite my mental state. From time to time, I glanced at Megan, who had returned to her desk and seemed focused on her laptop, although I knew she hadn't stopped enjoying my discomfort.

When I finally finished the summary, I quickly reread it to make sure there were no obvious mistakes. My mind was still in a state of chaos, but at least I had done what Beatriz had asked. With a long sigh, I saved the document and turned off the computer.

Another wonderful start to this sequel. You have seamlessly connected your original story "Amy Unfiltered" with this sequel which is not always easy to do.

I just loved the character Valeria from "Amy Unfiltered" and seeing Sam's interaction with her in this sequel will be something worth waiting for! Oh the possibilities! I can see Valeria becoming the "Julia" in this story combining with Megan to make Sam's life miserable (or should I say exciting?

Hooked6

The clock struck 4:55, and the office began to empty out. The sound of doors opening and closing, farewell whispers, and footsteps echoed in the hallway. Each noise made me jump, the stress in my body building up like a storm ready to unleash. I was once again hiding naked under my desk, my mind a whirlwind as I desperately looked towards Megan, hoping she would take pity on me and end this nightmare.

But Megan didn't seem to be in a hurry. She remained at her desk, distracted by her laptop, as time cruelly marched on. My breathing was ragged, my hands shaking, and the cold floor beneath me only reminded me of my vulnerability. Please, Megan. Give me back my clothes. I can't take this anymore.

That's when I saw her. My heart instantly stopped. At the office door, Valeria and her inseparable companion Carla stood, chatting casually while looking inside. Valeria wore a formal gray outfit, perfectly tailored, and her hair was pulled back in an immaculate bun. Her expression was as always: a mix of authority and disdain. Carla, on the other hand, stayed in the background, with her smaller figure and a more relaxed posture, though clearly following Valeria's lead.

My breath completely stopped when I saw what Megan did. Without a moment's hesitation, she walked towards the door with a carefree smile and swiped her access card. The lock's click resonated in the office, and my blood ran cold.

"Megan, no..." I whispered to myself, my voice cracking with panic.

Megan opened the door with a wide smile and said, "Valeria! Carla, what a surprise to see you here at this hour. Come in, please."

This can't be happening. I pressed myself against the back of the desk, my heart pounding as I watched the two women enter. Valeria walked in confidently, surveying the space with her usual critical gaze. Megan led them to the round glass table in the right corner of the office and seated them on the padded chairs.

"Thanks, Megan," Valeria said, placing her bag on the table and crossing her legs elegantly. "We didn't plan on staying long, but you know how these things go."

"Of course, I understand perfectly," Megan replied, sitting with them as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "What brings you here so late?"

Valeria sighed and leaned back in her chair, as if exhausted by the very idea. "Oh, well, let's just say it's Samy's fault."

I shivered at the sound of that nickname. No. Not now. Not like this. I hate being called that, and Valeria knew it. She always used it as a way to remind me that, to her, I would never be fully professional. But now, in my current state, I couldn't do anything to reproach her.

"Samy?" Megan asked, feigning surprise while glancing sideways at my desk. "What did she do this time?"

"The usual," Valeria replied, waving a hand as if it were insignificant. "Leaving things unresolved. Because of her, I'll have to work tomorrow when I could be doing something more fun. It's Friday, for God's sake, I should be able to stay out late. Nobody wants to spend their Saturday in the office."

Carla, who had been quiet until then, let out a brief, nervous laugh. "Yes, it's really annoying. But well, that's how it goes, isn't it?"

From my hiding place, my hands clenched into fists, humiliation burning inside me. Every word from Valeria was like a dagger, but I couldn't do anything. My only option was to stay silent and hope they didn't discover me. Please, let them leave quickly. I can't bear this anymore.

"Well, at least tomorrow you'll have time to sort everything out calmly," Megan said with a carefree tone, as if she were talking about the weather. "And who knows, maybe Samy will do something to make up for it."

Valeria laughed softly, but with a touch of sarcasm. "I highly doubt that, but we'll see. At least I'll be there to make sure everything is done right."

Megan nodded, glancing at my desk for a brief moment before turning back to the women. "Anyway, it's good that you came. Can I offer you something? Water, coffee?"

"We're fine, thanks," Valeria replied, adjusting her posture with the confidence that always seemed to fill any space she occupied.

As the three of them continued chatting, I felt like the floor could open up and swallow me at any moment. Every word from Valeria made me feel smaller, more insignificant, and Megan's calm smile only amplified my helplessness. This can't get worse... can it?

From my hiding place, cold sweat ran down my back. My muscles were tense, and my breathing was barely audible. I could hear every word of the conversation between Valeria, Carla, and Megan, and each mention of my name made my heart beat faster. Just leave, Valeria. Please, just leave.

Valeria looked around the office with her ever-critical expression. Her gaze fell on my desk, where my bag was. She frowned slightly before speaking. "And where is Samy? I see her bag, but not her."

My throat instantly closed up. I felt my hands trembling, and the cold floor became unbearable. Megan, please. Don't say anything. Don't do it.

Megan, as if she had been waiting for the question, smiled broadly. "Oh, Samy is here, but I think she just went to the bathroom. She should be back any moment now."

"Ah, of course," Valeria replied with a mocking tone, crossing her arms. "Who needs punctuality or professionalism, right? It's so typical of Samy to disappear just when she's needed."

Carla let out a small, nervous laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. "Yes, well, you know how she is. Always... peculiar."

From my hiding place, I felt the humiliation burning. Every word was like a blade, cutting away any remaining shred of dignity. I can't believe this is happening.

"Well, I hope she at least shows up on time tomorrow," Valeria continued with an exaggerated sigh. "I don't want to waste more time than necessary. It's already annoying enough to have to come in on a Saturday."

"Totally," Megan said, feigning empathy as she nodded.

Valeria, with her usual calculating gaze, tilted her head towards Megan. "You know, if you don't have anything to do tomorrow, you could come with us. It would make the morning less boring, and you could help us a little. What do you say?"

Megan smiled, clearly enjoying Valeria's interest. "Me? Tomorrow? Well, it could be interesting. But I'd have to check with my mom first, you know, to make sure she's okay with it. If she gives me permission, I'd be happy to come."

"That would be perfect," Valeria replied, leaning towards Megan with a smile that almost seemed genuine. "Carla and I could use some help, especially if Samy disappears again. You know how she is."

The three of them laughed softly, the sarcasm in their words as evident as a slap. From my hiding place, I felt heat rising to my face. How can they talk about me like that?

"Well, I think it's time for us to go," Valeria finally said, standing up and adjusting her bag. "Thanks for letting us in, Megan. See you tomorrow, hopefully."

"Sure, see you tomorrow," Megan replied as she accompanied them to the door. "If I can come, that is."

Valeria and Carla nodded before leaving the office, and the sound of the door closing and locking behind them resonated as a temporary relief. Megan turned towards me with a triumphant smile as she returned to her desk.

"Well, that was fun," Megan said, letting out a small laugh. "Can you imagine if I had told them where you really were? Valeria's face would have been epic."

I didn't respond. My body was still trembling as I tried to regain control of my breathing. I just wanted this day to end.

I was still hiding under my desk, my body tense and my mind in chaos. I dared not move, fearing Megan would decide to prolong my humiliation further. But then I heard the sound of her footsteps approaching.

"Well, Sam," Megan said, leaning slightly to look under the desk where I was curled up. Her mocking smile was unmistakable, and her eyes sparkled with that glint of fun I detested. "I think you've had enough for today, haven't you?"

I didn't respond. My lips moved, but no sound came out. Just seeing her there, in total control, made me feel even smaller.

"Nothing to say?" she continued, enjoying my silence. "Come on, Sam, you should be grateful. I was very good to you! Can you imagine if I had told Valeria where you were? The look on your face if you were caught naked would have been... unforgettable."

"Megan, please..." I managed to murmur, my voice barely a whisper.

"It's okay, it's okay," she said with a soft laugh as she straightened up. "I guess it's time to give your things back. I don't want you to say I'm cruel or anything."

I watched her walk casually towards her desk, her movements deliberate, as if she were enjoying every second. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out the small key she had used before. She twirled it between her fingers while glancing at me from the corner of her eye.

"You know, Sam," she began, her tone dripping with irony. "You could have handled it much worse. Though I admit I had a lot of fun. I think we should do this more often. What do you think?"

"No, please, no..." I murmured again, my voice filled with a mix of pleading and desperation.

Megan laughed as she leaned down to open the drawer of her desk. The sound of the lock turning resonated in the office, and then she carefully pulled out my clothes and belongings, piling them in her hands.

"Well, here you go," she said as she approached me with her arms full. "Come on, Sam. It's time to get dressed. Though I must admit I'll almost miss seeing you like this."

She handed me my clothes with a triumphant smile. I felt overwhelming relief mixed with such deep embarrassment that I struggled to look her in the eye. "Thanks," I murmured, taking my things with trembling hands.

"Oh, it's no problem," Megan replied, turning to give me some privacy, but not without one last joke. "Just make sure you dress properly this time. We don't want anyone to get confused and think this is a new office uniform."

I didn't respond. With quick, nervous movements, I began to get dressed, feeling the weight of her presence behind me. Each piece of clothing I put back on was like reclaiming a part of myself, though I knew the damage had already been done.

When I finished, I slowly stood up, still unable to look at her directly. Megan turned towards me and gave me a satisfied smile. "You look like always, Sam, as if nothing happened."

I couldn't say anything. I just wanted this day to end.

Once dressed, I tried to regain some dignity. But even with every piece of clothing in place, the feeling of vulnerability persisted. It was as if the clothes couldn't erase what had happened, as if, in front of Megan, I was still completely naked. No matter what I do, I'm not the same here anymore.

Megan sat at her desk, watching me with a satisfied smile as I tried to keep myself busy. Reorganizing Beatriz's papers, turning off the computers, and ensuring everything was in place became my only refuge. If I leave everything ready, maybe I can get out of here without further humiliation.

"Ready to go?" I finally asked, forcing a neutral tone as I picked up my bag.

Megan stood up, adjusting the headband in her hair with her usual confidence. "Almost ready," she said, walking towards her desk. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out her own access card, holding it up in front of me with a smile. "I think I'll take this with me."

"Your card?" I asked, confused for a moment. "Why do you need it outside the office?"

"In case I decide to come tomorrow," Megan replied with a carefree tone. "Valeria and Carla invited me, remember? If I get my mom's permission, I could join them. Maybe I'll make the morning more... interesting."

"No, there's no need for you to come," I said quickly, trying to keep my calm. "It will be a boring morning. We'll just be working. There's nothing fun about that."

Megan arched an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my attempt to dissuade her. "Oh, Sam, do you really think I can't find ways to have fun? You've seen it, I'm quite creative."

"Please, Megan," I insisted, my tone becoming almost pleading. "Let me handle it. This is part of my job, and I don't want to bother you or waste your time."

"Bother me? Not at all," Megan replied with a mocking smile. "Besides, Valeria said it would be good to have me there. Don't you want to contradict her?"

"It's not that," I said, feeling my control over the situation slipping again. "It's just that... I don't want you to waste your Saturday on something so insignificant."

"I'll decide if it's insignificant or not," Megan replied, sliding the card back into the pocket of her skirt. "For now, I'm taking it. If my mom says I can come, then I'll be here. Don't worry, Sam, I'll let you know tonight."

I briefly closed my eyes, feeling frustration and helplessness building in my chest. I can't stop her. She always has the last word.

"Well, shall we go?" Megan finally asked, as if nothing had happened. "It's getting late, and I don't want you to be tired for tomorrow."

I didn't respond, carrying my bag as I headed towards the door. Though I was dressed and ready to leave, the feeling of discomfort still enveloped me, like a shadow I couldn't shake. I just want to get home and forget about this day... though I know it will be impossible.

Megan opened the door and stepped into the hallway with her usual carefree attitude. I followed her silently, feeling more defeated than ever. As we walked towards the car, I knew that even in my own clothes, Megan still held all the power.

As Megan and I crossed the hallway towards the elevator, the last employees of the day bid their farewells cordially. I managed a weak smile and murmured a "good evening," striving to sound professional, though my mind was still trapped in the chaos of the day. Megan, on her part, seemed completely carefree, throwing casual greetings with that smile that always seemed to hide something more.

We entered the elevator, and the doors closed with a soft buzz. The silence between us continued as we descended. I stayed near the corner of the elevator, watching the panel lights marking each floor we left behind. Megan, however, couldn't contain herself for long.

"You know, Sam," she finally said, breaking the quiet with a light tone. "Today has been a very... entertaining day, don't you think?"

I didn't respond. I felt my entire body tense, trying to ignore her as words piled up in my throat. But Megan, as always, didn't need a response to continue.

"I think we've discovered a new side of you," she continued, turning to look at me directly. "A much more... wild side. And I must say, I'm not ready to let it go just yet."

"Megan," I murmured, finally finding my voice, though it was barely audible. "Please, stop. This has gone too far already."

"Too far?" Megan repeated, feigning surprise as she tilted her head. "I don't think so. In fact, I feel we're just getting started. Don't you agree?"

"No, I don't agree!" I responded with more firmness than I expected, though my voice still trembled. "This isn't fair, Megan. You can't keep doing this to me. Why can't you understand?"

Megan let out a soft laugh, one that made my cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Can't keep doing this? Why not? Look, Sam, you said it yourself. You're in my hands now. Why would I stop when this has been so much fun for both of us?"

"It hasn't been fun for me!" I exclaimed, my voice cracking as the elevator doors opened to the underground parking lot. "This is so humiliating, Megan. You have no idea how I feel."

Megan stepped out of the elevator first, walking with her usual confidence while I followed with faltering steps, trying to keep my composure. My aunt's SUV was parked near the entrance. I took the keys from my bag and walked towards the driver's seat, with Megan following and taking the passenger seat.

As I started the engine and adjusted the mirrors, Megan couldn't resist continuing her comments. "Well, maybe it's not fun for you now," she said, throwing me a quick glance as she turned the steering wheel to exit the parking lot. "But someday you'll look back and laugh at all this. Or at least I will."

I sighed deeply as I drove towards the exit, focusing on the road ahead. The hum of the engine filled the space between us, but the quiet didn't last long.

"You know, I think tomorrow could be even more interesting," Megan said, with her carefree tone. "Valeria and Carla will be there, and who knows... maybe I can show them a side of you they never imagined."

"Megan, no," I said quickly, my voice trembling but desperate. "Please, don't do that. I beg you. This is enough. I can't take any more."

"Oh, come on, Sam," she replied, her tone light as if she were talking about the weather. "Don't be dramatic. Look, if you behave tomorrow, maybe I'll be nice to you. Maybe."

"Megan, this isn't right," I insisted, my voice cracking again. "You have to understand what you're doing. It's not a game. I'm... I'm losing all my control here."

"Exactly," Megan responded with a satisfied smile. "That's what makes it so interesting."

The rest of the drive was silent, with my gaze fixed on the road as I tried to hold back tears. I just want this to end. I just want to reclaim some of my life before today.

Finally, we arrived at my aunt's house. Megan got out of the vehicle with her usual carefree attitude. Before closing the door, she leaned in and gave me a final mocking smile. "Well, Sam, see you tomorrow... maybe." She closed the door and walked towards the house entrance, while I remained in the car, watching her disappear.

I sighed deeply and started the car again, heading towards my apartment. The drive was enveloped in a heavy silence, my mind replaying every humiliation of the day. I knew it would be impossible to forget, but I had to try. I just want to get home and lock myself in my room. Maybe tomorrow will be different.

When I finally arrived, I turned off the engine and sat in the car for a moment, unable to move. The streetlights shone through the windshield, and silence enveloped me. I have to be stronger tomorrow. I have to find a way to regain control.

Upon arriving at my apartment, I closed the door behind me, letting out a long, trembling sigh. The silence of the place was a momentary relief, but not enough to calm the whirlwind in my mind. I dropped my bag on the sofa and walked straight to my bedroom, feeling the weight of the day accumulate with each step.

I stopped in front of the full-length mirror next to my closet, seeing my reflection with a mix of exhaustion and embarrassment. My work clothes, which usually made me feel professional and confident, now only reminded me of how little of that feeling remained. With slow movements, I began to unbutton my blouse, taking it off and letting it fall to the floor. Then I slipped off my heels and pants, each piece of clothing feeling like a reminder of my vulnerability in front of Megan.

When I was naked, I walked towards the bathroom and turned on the shower. The sound of running water filled the space, creating a soft echo that was the only thing capable of soothing my thoughts, if only for a moment. I stepped into the shower and let the hot water cascade over me, enveloping my body like a mantle trying to erase the day.

I pressed my hands against the cold tiles of the wall, tilting my head under the stream. The events of the afternoon kept replaying in my mind like an endless loop. The photos, Megan's laughter, her absolute control over me... I closed my eyes tightly, trying to push away the images, but it was futile.

I closed my eyes tightly, trying to push away those memories, but it was like fighting against a powerful current. The feeling of vulnerability and exposure still pursued me, even in the intimacy of my shower.

The water fell on my hair, sliding down my neck and back, while I felt my muscles starting to relax slightly. But with each drop, the memories became clearer. I remembered the moment when Valeria asked about me, the fear I felt imagining her discovering me. What if Megan had kept that door open? What if Valeria had seen me in that state? The thought made me start exploring my body, as if seeking comfort in touch.

My fingers slid down my neck, down my collarbone, following the curve of my shoulders. The sensation of the water mixed with the touch of my own hands was hypnotic. My hands stopped at my breasts, feeling their weight and shape under the caress of the water. I began to massage them gently, feeling my nipples harden under my touch. The sensation was both pleasurable and liberating, as if I were reconnecting with my body after a long day of embarrassment. My fingers traced circles around my now sensitive nipples, and a sigh escaped my lips. The intimacy of the moment allowed me to explore every curve, every sensation, as if I were rediscovering myself.

My hands, following the impulse to explore and comfort, descended to my abdomen, tracing a path to my intimate area. My fingers found my soft, hairless skin, and a shiver ran through my body.

Gently, I began to explore my intimate folds, feeling the moisture and sensitivity of my body. My fingers found my clitoris, that pleasure point waiting to be awakened.

With a soft moan, I began to touch myself, to masturbate, allowing pleasure to take over me. The sensation was intense, a mix of relief and desire, as if my body were reclaiming its right to pleasure after a day of exposure and tension.

As my fingers moved with urgency, my mind wandered into unexpected territory. I imagined how it would have been if Mr. Luis Hernández had seen me naked during the video call. Although he wasn't physically attractive to me, the idea of him seeing me in that state excited me in a strange way.

In my fantasy, I saw him surprised, his eyes widening as he discovered my naked body. I imagined his reaction, his voice faltering as he tried to speak, and the idea excited me even more. My movements became more intense, more urgent, as I recreated this scene in my mind.

The mix of embarrassment and excitement was a powerful cocktail, and my body responded to every thought, to every image that passed through my mind.

The fantasy took an unexpected turn when my mind wandered to Valeria and Carla, my coworkers, and the possibility of them finding me hidden naked under the desk. The idea of being found by them, whom I considered my rivals, filled me with a mix of fear and excitement.

I imagined their laughter, their looks of surprise and mockery, and how my humiliation would have been complete. The idea of being exposed to them, of being the center of their amusement, excited me in a perverse way.

With this vision in my mind, I inserted two fingers into my intimate area, seeking a deeper pleasure. My movements became frenzied, driven by the image of being discovered and humiliated. My body trembled, and a powerful orgasm shook me, releasing the tension and excitement that had been building up throughout the day.

The orgasm hit me like a wave, starting deep within me and spreading throughout my body. A muffled groan escaped my lips, followed by heavy, gasping breaths. My legs shook, and I leaned against the shower wall, feeling the intensity of pleasure consume me.

My entire body tensed and relaxed in a rhythmic dance, responding to the sensory overload. Soft, muffled moans escaped my throat, mixing with the sound of the falling water. My breathing quickened, as if I were running a marathon, while my mind lost itself in a nebula of pleasure.

After the orgasm, I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the warm, humid air of the bathroom. Steam accumulated around me, creating a hazy atmosphere. The contrast between the hot water and the cold feeling on my chest was palpable, as if the day and its events were imprinted on my skin, an indelible mark.

I ran my hands through my hair, trying to clear my thoughts. /i]It's just one day,[/i] I told myself, though I knew it wasn't true. Tomorrow will be different. But even as I repeated it, I couldn't shake the feeling that Megan wouldn't let things go back to normal.

I stayed under the water a little longer, letting it envelop me, wishing it could erase more than just sweat and fatigue. Finally, when the water started to cool down, I turned off the shower and stood in the shower, wrapped in silence and moisture, still struggling to find some peace amid the chaos of the day.

I stepped out of the shower wrapped in a towel, with the steam from the bathroom following me like a faint reminder of the warmth that had tried to dispel the moments of the day. I dried myself slowly, letting the cold of the apartment contrast with the warmth that still lingered on my skin. Each movement was methodical, as if clinging to this routine could bring me some control.

I opened the closet and took out my favorite pajamas: a loose cotton shirt and a pair of soft pants, comfortable and as far from the tight, professional clothing I had worn for hours. I put them on with slow movements, feeling how each piece of fabric added a small barrier between my skin and the memory of the day.

Once dressed, I got into bed, letting the softness of the sheets envelop me. I just need to rest, disconnect, and tomorrow will be better, I told myself, though a small voice in my mind insisted otherwise. I grabbed my phone, looking for something to distract my mind as I settled into the pillows.

I spent a few minutes browsing through social media, seeing images and posts from friends and acquaintances who seemed so carefree, so unaware of the chaos that had been my day. I was starting to feel that fatigue was finally winning the battle when a notification lit up the screen: a WhatsApp message from Megan.

My heart tensed. What does she want now? I hesitated for a moment before opening the message.

"Hi, Samy . My mom already gave me permission to go to the office with you tomorrow. In fact, she's proud that I want to help with something work-related, even on a Saturday! She'll drop me off at the office early, so you don't need to pick me up. See you there ."

I read the message several times, trying to process it. Proud? Megan? Taking the initiative to help at work? It's a lie. I knew no student would want to spend their Saturday in an office, much less someone like Megan. This was nothing more than an opportunity for her to continue her games.

I pressed my lips together, feeling a mix of frustration and determination. I won't let myself be intimidated again. Megan won't get away with it again.

Despite my thoughts, I decided not to respond and to ignore the fact that she called me Samy. I didn't want to argue now and give her more reasons to keep pushing me, let alone make her think she had any advantage over me. I put the phone aside and turned off the light, settling under the sheets while trying to calm my mind.

But even in the darkness, the message kept circling in my head, along with the memory of her mocking smile. What is she planning now? And, more importantly, how can I prevent her from affecting me again?

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the feeling of unease that refused to leave me.

Saturday morning arrived too soon. After the emotional storm of the previous day, I felt a mix of exhaustion and resignation as I prepared to face whatever Megan might have planned. I can't let myself be affected like yesterday. Today, I'll be the one in control, I told myself, though I wasn't sure I believed it entirely.

I opened my closet, aware that, even though it was Saturday, I couldn't afford to look disheveled. I finally opted for an outfit that balanced comfort and professional style. I put on a white silk button-down blouse with a fluid cut that felt light yet elegant. I tucked it into a pair of dark blue skinny jeans with impeccable seams that highlighted a polished silhouette without sacrificing comfort.

To complete the look, I added a light beige linen jacket that fell perfectly over my shoulders, giving it a more sophisticated touch. On my feet, I wore brown leather moccasins with flat soles, comfortable enough for an active day while still looking good. I kept the accessories simple: a minimalist silver watch on my left wrist and small pearl earrings.

Before leaving, I checked my bag to make sure I had everything I needed: my phone, the access card, and a small notebook for taking notes. I looked at myself in the hallway mirror, tucking my hair behind my ears. You're ready, Samantha. It's just another day.

I took the keys to my aunt's SUV and went down to the building's parking lot. The city had an unusual calm at this hour, especially on a Saturday. As I started the engine, the soft purr of the vehicle filled the empty parking lot, reminding me how different it felt to drive without the usual traffic.

I drove towards the offices, observing how the city seemed half asleep. Upon arriving at the building, I confirmed what I expected: most of the area was almost deserted. Closed businesses, emptier streets than usual. The automatic parking system did its job as the usual security guard wasn't at the booth. I stopped at my usual spot, turned off the engine, and took a deep breath before taking my access card from my bag. I put it around my neck, the movement as natural as ever. Come on, it's just another day.

I entered the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor. The soft buzz of the elevator was more noticeable in the building's quietness. When the doors opened, the emptiness of the place hit me immediately. The echo of my footsteps seemed to amplify in the hallways. It was so quiet that I could even hear the faint hum of the fluorescent lights.

It's amazing how this place changes on a Saturday morning, I thought as I walked. Instead of going straight to Beatriz's office, I decided that a cup of coffee would help clear my mind and calm my nerves. I headed towards the small cafeteria on the same floor.

The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, a pleasant contrast to the sterile coldness of the rest of the building. The automatic machine was one of those luxurious ones that allowed you to choose from various options. I served myself a simple Americano, the warmth of the cup in my hands providing a small comfort.

I looked around as I took a sip, enjoying the moment of tranquility. Everything is so empty, but maybe it's better this way. Fewer distractions, less pressure. For an instant, I even managed to forget about Megan and what her presence might mean today.

Holding my coffee, I finally headed towards Beatriz's office. Whatever comes, I can handle it. There's no other option.

Upon entering Beatriz's office, the space was as quiet as I expected. The initial dimness of the room faded as I turned on the lights, which flickered a couple of times before stabilizing, bathing the room in its cold, professional light. The air conditioning was already on, filling the room with a barely noticeable breeze. I approached the thermostat on the wall and adjusted the temperature, setting it to a level that would be comfortable for me, not too cold, but enough to keep me alert.

I placed my bag on the small shelf next to my desk, an automatic movement that was part of my routine. I sat down and turned on my computer, watching as the corporate logo appeared on the screen before giving way to the desktop. As the system loaded, I took a sip of my coffee, enjoying the warmth spreading through my body.

I opened my inbox and started reviewing the accumulated emails. Some were routine updates, others were details about ongoing projects that would require attention during the week. Everything seemed sufficiently routine, and for a moment, I allowed myself the illusion that this Saturday would simply be a normal work day.

Valeria and Carla will be here soon. I just need to stay focused and not let anything distract me. I was determined to ignore Megan as much as possible if she showed up. I wasn't going to let her take control again.

However, my determination was tested much sooner than I expected.

The sound of the lock clicking startled me, and I looked up just in time to see Megan entering the office. She was using her own access card, which didn't surprise me at all, but the ease with which she moved around the place still managed to irritate me.

Megan looked as carefree as ever. She wore a pair of light-colored jeans, tightly fitted to accentuate her long legs. Her cotton blouse was black, with a modern, casual design that let one shoulder fall slightly, giving her a youthful rebellious air. White sneakers completed the outfit, immaculate as if they had just come out of a store. Her blonde, wavy hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, but loose strands framed her face, highlighting her confident and relaxed attitude.

"Good morning, Sam!" Megan greeted with a wide smile, closing the door behind her while holding her small bag in one hand.

I took a deep breath and returned a neutral greeting, striving to maintain my composure. "Good morning, Megan."

She placed her bag on the desk she usually occupied when helping in the office and stretched a bit before turning towards me. Her gaze rested on me for a moment, with that playful glint in her eyes that I knew all too well.

"Ready for a fun Saturday?" she asked, as if she were talking about a trip to the park instead of a workday.

"I'm here to work," I responded with a deliberately neutral tone, turning my attention back to my computer screen. I didn't want to give her any reason to start another conversation that might destabilize me.

Megan let out a soft laugh, as if she found my attempt to ignore her amusing. Then, without saying more, she settled into her space. Despite my efforts to focus on my emails, I could feel her presence in the room, a shadow that wasn't going to disappear so easily.

Not today, Megan. Today I won't fall for your games, I thought as I took another sip of my coffee and immersed myself in my work again.

While Megan turned on her computer and immersed herself in her own affairs—most likely, watching videos or browsing social media—I tried to stay focused on my work. I didn't want to know what she was doing. Any attempt to observe her would only distract me, and after yesterday, I couldn't afford to lose control. It's Saturday. I just need to keep calm and let this day pass quickly.

After a while, a soft but firm knock on the door startled me. I looked up from my screen as Megan lazily turned her chair towards the door, evidently with no intention of getting up.

"It must be Valeria and Carla," Megan commented with her carefree tone, resting her feet on her desk for a moment.

I sighed and stood up, adjusting the access card hanging around my neck. I approached the door, taking a second to breathe deeply before opening it. Please, let everything be calm today.

When the door opened, the presence of Valeria and Carla struck me. Both looked impeccable as always, but their Saturday attire was a more relaxed, semi-formal version of their usual business wear.

Valeria wore a beige linen blazer, open over a sleeveless white silk blouse that fell perfectly over straight-cut dark blue jeans. Her nude patent leather heels and minimalist design handbag completed the look, emitting an air of discreet elegance. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, giving her a polished yet relaxed touch, and the small gold earrings in her ears subtly sparkled under the light.

Carla, by her side, looked equally well-groomed. She opted for a light gray cardigan, slightly fitted, over a high-quality white cotton t-shirt. Her black matte jeans contrasted perfectly with shiny leather moccasins that looked as expensive as they were comfortable. She wore a small silver necklace and a crossbody bag, completing her image of effortlessly relaxed professionalism.

I was surprised by how good they both looked. It wasn't a drastic change from their usual business attire, but these more informal and modern outfits made them stand out in an unexpected way. Even on a Saturday, they projected a status and personal care that I couldn't ignore.

"Good morning, Samy," Valeria greeted with her characteristic tone, a mix of courtesy and mockery.

"It's Samantha," I corrected, raising my voice slightly, though I tried to sound calm. My gaze met hers, and I felt the spark of challenge in her eyes.

Valeria arched an eyebrow, as if my correction had entertained her. "Of course, Samantha," she replied, drawing out my name as if it were a private joke.

"Good morning," I added quickly, with no intention of prolonging the exchange, and stepped aside to let them in.

Carla offered me a more genuine smile as she entered behind Valeria. "Thank you, Samantha. It's always a pleasure to see you."

Megan, still in her chair, greeted them with a wide smile. "Valeria, Carla! What a surprise to see you so early and so elegant. It looks like you're coming to an important meeting."

"Well, it's always important to make a good impression, even on a Saturday," Valeria replied as she headed towards the small meeting room in the corner of the office. "You never know who might see you, don't you agree, Samantha?"

Carla let out a soft laugh as she settled into one of the chairs at the round table, and Valeria took the chair next to her with the same confidence as always.

Megan didn't seem affected by the slight tension between Valeria and me. In fact, she seemed to enjoy the show as she slowly turned her chair to watch them. I, on the other hand, felt a slight pressure in my chest, but I forced myself to maintain my composure as I returned to my desk.

This will be a long day. I just need to keep control. That's all.

As Valeria and Carla settled into the small meeting room within the office, their enthusiasm noticeably grew as they greeted Megan, as if her presence brightened the atmosphere.

"Megan!" Valeria exclaimed with a warm smile. "It's great to see you here on a Saturday. You definitely make the day more enjoyable."

"Absolutely," Carla added, adjusting herself in her chair. "It's always nice to see you. Unlike other days, when we're surrounded by... pure formality."

Megan, enjoying the compliment, smiled broadly as she casually leaned on her desk. "Well, you know I love to help. Besides, what better way to spend the morning than with the two of you?"

I observed the exchange from my place. Although I tried not to give it importance, I couldn't help feeling a bit out of place. Maybe it's because Megan is the daughter of a high-ranking executive. They respect her for that. While me... they probably think I'm here only because of my aunt.

I shook those thoughts from my mind as Valeria settled into her chair and pulled out some documents from her bag. Her tone became more professional as she pointed to a set of papers on the table.

"Well, let's get started. There's a lot to do," Valeria said, sliding the documents towards the center.

I approached the group, while Megan remained seated at her desk, completely uninvolved in the conversation. She was just watching, relaxed, with no intention of getting involved in what we were doing.

Valeria began to explain: "We need to correct and reconfigure some aspects of the main system performance report. The Strategic Development Department is reviewing the proposal to optimize the servers and the internal network, but the analysis sent from Systems has significant errors. Here," she pointed to a graph, "the server load data is outdated, and these performance projections don't match the actual usage reports."

Carla added, pointing to another section: "Also, the projected storage capacity figures are incorrectly distributed. We need to make sure these are accurate before presenting the proposal to the executive committee on Monday."

I nodded, feeling more comfortable with the technical work. "Okay, I can handle cross-referencing the server data with the actual reports and adjusting the strategic plan figures. How about if I review it before noon?"

"Perfect," Valeria responded, satisfied with my proposal.

As they all focused on their tasks, I felt Megan's gaze on me. I turned towards her, and I saw her still at her desk, clearly not doing anything work-related. She was doing her own thing, probably watching videos or browsing her social media.

I took a deep breath and turned to her. "Megan, since you're here, could you help us with something?"

She looked up, arching an eyebrow. "Me? Help?"

"Yes," I responded calmly. "You could go to the cafeteria and get coffee for all of us. That way, we could better focus on making progress here."

Megan fell silent for a moment, evaluating me with an expression that mixed surprise and incredulity. "You want me to get coffee? Am I your assistant now?"

"It's not that big of a deal," I replied, maintaining a calm but firm tone. "It would just be helpful. We're busy with this, and you don't have to be directly involved in the details."

Megan crossed her arms, leaning back slightly in her chair. "How convenient, Sam. Well, if you need it so much, I guess I can do it. But don't get used to it."

"Thanks, Megan," I said, trying to sound sincere, though I noticed the slight glint of annoyance in her eyes.

She stood up, took her bag, and walked towards the door with a casual air, as if she were doing me a huge favor.

When she left, I noticed the momentary silence that filled the office. Carla and Valeria barely looked up, too immersed in the documents to pay attention to the dynamics between Megan and me. However, I knew Megan wouldn't let this go easily.

Maybe it wasn't the best idea to ask her for this, but at least it keeps the peace for now.

Very good build up of tension. I'm intrigued as to how Megan contrives to get Samantha out of her clothes this time, given what is likely to be a much higher level of reluctance !

Here it comes . . . a meeting with Megan, Valeria and Carla. The tension among the four of them is palpable.

Hooked6