"Hell no!"

I shout my admonition right in Frost's smug visage, and shake the panties off my hands, fuming visibly as I climb up from the bed; my Ahab has gone catatonic on account of her harassment and Hoo boy— I'm not about to let them off with a warning. "No, no, no! What could have possibly made you assume I'd want you intruding on my sex life?!"

"You see, we—"

"—No, you see! I've been pining after this guy for months, and you just assume you can barge in here and harass us? "

They both stare at me, plain expressions seeming to answer 'obviously'.

I shoo both of these shits out my bedroom, escorting them physically away from the borderline-**** hunk. Although I'm far stronger than anyone seems to know, Frost still puts up a fight— she pushes against my shove, but soon finds my **** irresistible. Changing tactics—like an absolute juvenile—the Director tugs my sundress over my head, depriving me of all clothes aside from my bra. Before I know it, she's sprinted out the door, Helen in tow.

Bottomless and remembering that the billowy garment was my only clothing in this skyscraper besides some old lingerie, I give chase, leaving Ahab behind. I've no trouble catching up, because…

Right outside my room lies a figurative wall of office workers, Frost standing proud as its keystone; they're all eyeing my glistening crotch, all grinning like ghouls. If that weren't bad enough already— they're also holding cameras. A blinding supernova of flashes hits my nude body, my bra being the only barrier between me and the indelible humiliation of their photographs: Everything else I had to hide was on display.

"Oooh? A landing strip? How scandalous!"

"Looks like 'Iron Fāng' has a softer side after all!"

"Nice tits, boss! Hahaha!"

"Look how wet she is— does she get off on being embarrassed?"

"Or maybe we interrupted her 'me time'? Hahaha!"

Their laughter and cajoling ring unwelcome in my reddened ears. I'm humiliated, but when I throw down my hands to cover my pussy, a paper clerk jumps from her phalanx and unclips my bra, leaving me totally naked for Frost's cinematographic firing squad. They snap at minimum a dozen photos each before I find the wherewithal to cover my hard-nippled breasts.

Shivering with my arms clutched over my privates, blushing carmine at the mortifying ambush, I battle to stay upright. As the blood thunders through my face, The orchestrator of my humiliation steps forth: Frost hoists her camera, beaming with frigid glee as she snaps more pictures of me. I wither under her admonishing smile.

Playing with her auburn tresses, she addresses me, "Like my little surprise, Miss Fāng?"

It takes a while before I can breathe enough to speak, nearly shamed into silence by a crowd's applause, "Seriously, Frost? You would do this over a guy you've barely met?!"

Frost joins her entourage in their punishing laughter, pointing and cackling while she makes my life Hell, "Hahaha! Is that what you think this is? No no no Honey, he was nothing more than a stroke of luck— this is good old fashioned ****."

Leaning in for superior snapshots of my nude, quivering body, Director Frost lays out her threat, "Just a quick upload to the web, and your reputation as a businesswoman is good as gone; I am going to ruin you Ming Zhao, good luck making your way up in this company after this scandal!"