No

"Hell no, I'll find it myself." Disappointed, Amelia leaves the way she came, leaving you alone. You sigh, and turn around to find a door right behind you labelled "O'Connor". Wow, you dodged a bullet there.

You knock on the door, and a gruff voice says, "If that's Strickland's assistant, leave it outside, I'm--" He is interrupted by his own deep moan. "I'm a little busy!" Is he having sex? Is everyone in this office utterly psychotic?

Leaving the box by his door, you go down to Mr. Blair's room to type his e-mail. When you arrive, you enter the room to find it empty. Confused, you cautiously walk in farther. You stand in the dark for a moment, until you hear someone walk right up behind you.

You turn around to find a massive man, wearing shorts and a sweat-covered gym shirt standing behind you. He is ripped, and the sweat beads running down his head and forearms just make that all the more obvious. He's at least 6 foot 6. He towers over you.

"JoAnne, I assume?" the sweaty man asks in a deep, handsome voice. "I'm Mr. Blair."

"Y-yes," you stammer. "I-I'm here to type your e-mail?"

"Yes," he says. He isn't even commenting on your boxers? "I apologize for not being here when you arrived, I decided to use the gym. Did you know we had a gym? Anyways, I apologize about the sweat; I rushed up here the moment my secretary saw you come in."

"O-oh, it's fine," you say. Apparently, something inside you thinks it's more then fine--as he passes by you, his sweaty forearm brushes you. You get a quick, intoxicating smell of Mr. Blair's sweaty man-musk, and you feel a tent start forming in your exposed boxers. You scramble to cover it with your shirt.