A word with the manager

As you head down the stairs towards reception, a nagging thought enters your head - as nice as the triplets were, who was this manager who picked them out for you? Perhaps he'd have some other good suggestions for how to spend your time here, you figured.

Entering reception, you spot the same brunette behind the desk as last time, staring intently at the computer screen in front of her. She hasn't noticed you yet, so you march up to her and grab her hair to lift her gaze up to you.

"Sir, so glad to see you again," she says, smiling widely. "How can I help you this morning?" She's already squeezing her tits together, pushing her best assets forward.

"The girls that were sent up yesterday. They were sent up the manager, or so they said. Right?" you ask.

"That's right," she replies, looking worried now. "Were they not satisfactory? Please, you can take out any displeasure on my holes if they weren't up to your standards," she begs.

"Maybe later. They were okay enough, though. No, I want to know who this manager is."

The receptionist visibly brightens up a little at the words of praise. "You mean Ms. Hargreaves? She runs this place. I can pass on any compliments if you'd like."

A dangerous note enters your voice as you process her reply. "Ms. I did hear that right?" Here you were, thinking you might have someone who you could enjoy the island alongside, but now you find out it's run by a woman.

"Yes, she's ever so-" the receptionist starts to explain before you slam her face down into the desk in anger before letting go of her hair. You take a couple of deep breaths to regain your composure, then look down at the receptionist raising her face back up, still smiling, and a plan comes to mind. "Alright, Ms. Hargreaves. Fine. She got an office around here or something? I think I need to speak to her."

"She's in the office, yes. Back of the building. I can call her to come over if you'd like?"

"No. Just tell me where she is."