Doe wants YOU to go.

“You go,” Doe says.

“But...” you start to object, but Doe cuts you off.

“No, you go. My keys are at my desk. Just take them and go. You know where my flat is; you can be there and back in an hour if you hurry.”

It occurs to you to argue, but Doe has her mind made up. Things are already teetering on the edge of spinning out of control, so a fight over who goes to get new clothes for Doe hardly seems like the smart thing to do. “Fine,” you say. “What kinds of things do you want?”

“Nothing like I was wearing,” Doe replies. “I want to be covered up. And don’t try to be funny and bring me a bunch of slutty things, or you'll never hear the end of it.”

There’s no disputing Doe’s position, so you get yourself squared away – pants up, shirt tucked in, and so forth – before leaving Doe to deal with what’s transpired between the two of you. You close the door firmly in your wake, just to be sure the latch catches and the door doesn’t swing wide on its own.

Your secretary, Ashley, sits at her desk outside your office, sorting through email. She’s a lovely young girl with a lovely, petite form and short-cropped red hair that frames her doll-like face. Ashley glances up as you pass by. “Good morning, sir,” she says. “You beat me in today.”

“Did I? Oh, yes, I suppose so,” you say nervously. What if Ashley decides to go in there when you’re gone, if only to put something on your desk? What if…the possibilities are endless and terrifying. “Anyway, I’ll just be right back. I need to take care of something.”