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"If Ms. McPhee is here, please send her in," you tell your receptionist as Katharine McPhee walks into your office in an outfit in a low-cut white top and a pair of black pants.

"Hi John, nice to meet you," Katharine tells you as she sits on your couch, her tits staring you in the face as she leans over.

If she wore that shirt with the intention of making you stare at her tits all meeting long, than she definitely knew what she was doing.

But anything to sign a client, you tell yourself, and you soon immerse yourself in your work, constructing a deal that you and Katharine both hope will get her on her feet in Hollywood again.

Even if her tits kept trying to knock you off of yours.

"Please look through this and tell me if it is to your liking, Katharine," you tell her as she looks through it and gets up to leave.

"I will be dropping by again sometime in the next few days to sign this," she tells you, before saying how much she's looking forward to the arrangement.

And looking at her tits as they tried to bust out of her shirt, you certainly were, too.