~Jane's POV~
The fluorescent lights of the office had been flickering like a bad omen all week, casting harsh shadows over my desk where spreadsheets blurred into endless rows of numbers.
As Jane Thompson, a 28-year-old marketing coordinator at a cutthroat ad agency, I was no stranger to the grind, but this week hit different. My boss, Mr. Anderson, had been riding me harder than usual...late nights rewriting campaigns, coffee fueled arguments in boardrooms, and emails piling up like accusations.
By Thursday, my neck was a steel cable, shoulders screaming, and a dull ache throbbed between my temples.
Sleep? A joke. Intimacy? Even funnier.
My last date was a disaster three months ago, some guy who fumbled through foreplay like he was defusing a bomb. I needed release, real release,
