Head to Maya’s office.

Obliging by her traditional ‘open-door’ policy, you walk into Maya’s main office space to see the redheaded woman once again at work at her bench.

Softly humming along as she fixes up a bedazzled pushup bra and matching panties, she only becomes aware of your presence as you walk up to her.

“If you want new duds, sweetie, just sketch out your design on the notepad and I’ll get it done within the week,” she greets you without even turning around.

“How have you been, Maya?” you smile.

“Could be better. So, if you don’t need new duds, what brings you here?” She finally lifted her gaze up from her work, curiosity apparent in her attractive face.

“Has there been a blonde girl who’s come by here recently requesting a black mask and matching gear? If so, I would very much like to know who she is.”

She arched an eyebrow in remembrance, but her lips didn’t betray a name. “You know, the official policy is to not disclose information about fellow sexfighters, especially pertaining to their personal identities.”

“Well, this woman has a very personal vendetta against me. For some reason, she wants to ruin my career.”

“In my experience, there’s always a reason.” Sighing, she reluctantly asks you, “Blue eyes, blonde eye, apple pie type, right?”

“Right on the money.”

“I’m not going to tell you her name, but maybe you should ask the woman who signs my check. Such rules don’t apply to her,” Maya tells you with a knowing smirk.

Instantly, the lightbulb goes off in your head.

Mentally chastising yourself for not thinking of that earlier, you grin at her, “Awesome, thanks for coming through, Maya.”

“Be careful what you wish for, John.” Turning away, she returns to your work, but you’re already out the door.