Humiliates you and takes you home.

Amanda returns in three minutes, flushed with embarrassment and her eyes brimming with tears.

“I told him. I did what you said. Everybody looked at me. Looked at me like this. I’m so ashamed,” she sobs, breaking down. “You didn’t have to embarrass me like that, you didn’t! How can I ever show my face here again?”

“They’ll just know that you’re the slut that you’ve always been. It should get you more attention in the future. Don’t pretend you don’t like attention. Now, if you’re done with the dramatics, let’s be going. We’ll take the side door from the office so you don’t have to walk through everybody again. You’ll just have to worry about who sees you in the elevator.”

“Can’t I wear a coat? Please sir,” she whimpers.

“Do you have a coat?”

“At my desk. And my purse is there too,” she says in sudden realization.

“Well then, if you want them, go and get them.” Her face deepens its look of anguish.

“I can’t go there again, looking like this. Won’t you get it for me, please sir? Or send her?” She gestures at you, still standing passively by his desk

“No to both. Get them yourself or do without. Whatever you choose, choose now. I’m not debating this with you.” He takes your arm and starts towards the door.

“Coming or not?” he growls at Amanda. You see her nod despondently. Brushing tears from her face, she follows.

He takes you through a side door to the main office. You see no one, and the elevator hallway is empty. When the elevator comes, it too is empty and you echo Amanda's sigh of relief as you get on.

Your relief is short-lived. The elevator stops two floors down and two men in suits get on. They interrupt their conversation and stare openly at you and Amanda, who blushes furiously. One man looks at your boss with a quizzical expression.

“Photo shoot for a new product,” he answers the unasked question. “We needed models dressed as cheap whores for the concept.” The men nod their understanding.

“You’ve nailed that look. Especially you honey,” one says to Amanda. Her face somehow manages to turn an even deeper shade of red.

In the parking garage he leads you to his car, a sporty Porsche, and opens the passenger door. “You’ll have to cuddle together, unless one of you wants to ride in the trunk.” You passively slides into the seat and after a moment Amanda squeezes in beside you.

After a short drive he parking outside a townhouse and helps you both out of the car, escorting you up the stairs and through the front door. As the door closes behind you, you hear a woman's voice call from the inside the house.

“Are those the bitches? Bring them here to me,” she says in a voice of command.