She's going to pay for this

You lean back against your door, pushing it shut, turning the latch to lock it and pushing in the tab that freezes the latch. The brunette turns in shock at the sound of it closing, staring at you with wide, frightened eyes, your wallet still in her hand. You stare at her, but before you can say anything she regains her composure.

"I came in to pick up your empty coffee cup and take it back to the break room, Mr. Chandler. I saw your wallet laying on the floor and was just going to put it back in your jacket. It must have fallen out when you hung it up." She gives you another of her glorious smiles and holds the wallet out to you.

"Just put it back in my jacket, Lisa," you say quietly. She nods, smiling at you and tucks it away, then walks to your desk to pick up the empty cup. She's utterly brazen, obviously thinking she's getting away with it.

"I'll get rid of this," she says, picking up the cup and walking towards you and the door. You smile at her and step aside. She tries the knob and looks surprised to find the latch set. She tries to turn the latch and finds it immobile. She glances at you with the first tendrils of fear touching her eyes, then struggles with the latch again.

"Having trouble Lisa?" you ask solicitously.

"The latch seems to be stuck," she says, still trying to turn it.

In a sudden move you step forward and grab her by the back of the neck, pushing her against the door. She gives a shocked gasp, and drops your cup from nerveless fingers. You push your face close to her ear, smelling the scent of her perfume.

"It always sticks for thieving sluts," you say. Holding her against the door with one hand while running the other over her body.

"I'm not! I didn't! Your wallet was on the floor! It was!," she protests. "Why would I steal from you, Mr. Chandler?"

"Because you need the money and you're an entitled little cunt, that's why. What else have you got?" you demand, squeezing her breasts and ass.

"You can't do that to me! Let me go! I didn't do anything! Stop groping me!" You ignore her, continuing your exploration of her lush body, pressing her against the door. "I didn't do anything you bastard! Stop it!" she yells, trying push you away.

"There are security cameras in here you fucking slut. There will be footage of you searching my office and taking my wallet. Don't think you're walking out of here." Her body slumps a little at your words and her eyes widen in fear. You pull her skirt up and probe between her thighs, feeling the soft silkiness of her skin.

"You can't just **** me! Somebody help me! Help!" she yells, struggling, then falters somewhat as she hears your laugh.

"The office is pretty much sound proof, bitch. Scream your whore head off, it won't help you."

"Oh God! Don't **** me! I didn't steal anything, please Mr. Chandler. It's just a misunderstanding," she begs.

"It's a misunderstanding all right. You misunderstand how much trouble you're in."