Do I call overtime or closing time?

I need the money - so... overtime it is

The day was messed up anyway, so I drove to this goddamn advertising agency. It was based in one of those technocratic glass boxes in the city center. One in which one is checked by at least one receptionist, three security guards and ten cameras on arrival. But since Anytise ordered one technician at least twice a week because of trivialities, I was already familiar with the reception counter and was admitted to the agency's premises without any formalities. Usually, I'd be received by their boss, whom I'll never find sympathic me with his "I'm successful and you're not" grin. But that day something very different awaited me.

On the way to the copy room, I passed several glass doors. Behind these doors were the offices. Because of the advanced hour, they were almost all abandoned. Only the last one was lit. And since I had to announce that I was there to repair the copy machine I went to the end of the corridor.

What I saw there made me stop for a moment. The label told me, I was at the texting Department office. One of these modern and minimalist furnished Think-tanks in which two desks face each other, a large-scale art print, nothing else. Not even computers on the tables, because all employees carried his notebook around with them, In case of sudden inspiration striking them with the idea of the century in the lunch room. Apparently little was thought of such old-fashioned things as paper and pencil.

Through the door I could see a woman who was no older than 25. Her natual blond, straight hair reached to the middle of her back and she wore a light, short summer dress. She was slim. Not skinny, but slim. Various programs were opened on her notebook. One of them was clearly a chat. The woman was sitting with her back to me. Although - to say she was sitting would not be a very accurate description.

She had advanced to the very edge of the seat, leaning far back. Her left hand seemed to disappear in her crotch as she typed something in the chat window with the other. Could that really be?

Three facts stood out very clear

she was the last person in the advertising agency.
I had to bother her to find out what was going on (both the copier and her current job).
The third fact stood in my pants ...

Did I just see one of the most stunning women my eyes ever fell upon satisfying? Or was my perception only distorted by wishful thinking? How do you react in such a situation?