Calm things down.

You feel a little guilty about what you’ve done. Perhaps it is time to calm things down. You become aware of the fact that you still have your pants tangled around your ankles. You slip off your shoes, and then your pants and underwear, before sitting on the floor next to Doe.

“I…I’m sorry,” you say. “I took things too far.”

Doe won’t look at you, but her sobs grow quiet and less frequent. You look around for something you can let her use to clean her face, but there’s nothing except your underwear. That’ll have to do.

“Here,” you say, “clean up a little. It’s all right, Doe.”

Still sniffing, Doe sits up slowly. She looks a mess, and takes the proffered underpants with a look of mixed humor and disgust. A few moments later, Doe’s looking almost human again, her face wiped dry. “You’re a bastard,” she says managing a smile at last.

“I thought you knew,” you reply, and smile briefly. She doesn’t seem that amused, though, and the moment passes. “I am sorry, Doe.”

“Look at me,” Doe says. “How am I supposed to work?”

Doe does look ravaged. Walking around the office now is out of the question; people will think Doe’s been dragged through a hedge backwards. Her eyes are puffy and bloodshot from crying and all her makeup has been wiped away. At the very least, your coworkers will know something happened the minute Doe steps outside your door.

“Um…,” you say, thinking. Doe needs new clothes and way to exit gracefully. What started off as a fairly harmless (and easy to conceal) blowjob has turned into the kind of thing that gets people fired.