The Money is About to Arrive

I'm standing outside her building, clutching the paperwork like a lifeline, demanding those unpaid taxes she owes. She swears the money's on its way—her friend's just minutes out. Fine, I think, I'll wait. Minutes drag into what feels like hours, my patience fraying as she fidgets, tossing out lame excuses with that sly little smile. Then she amps it up, getting bolder, more playful—brushing against me "accidentally," her fingers lingering on my arm, hips swaying just a bit too teasingly as she shifts her weight. The air thickens, that financial standoff twisting into something raw and electric, my cock twitching harder with every second her friend ghosts us. Professionalism? It's crumbling fast under her heated gaze and those distracting curves begging for attention. Turns out, the real payoff isn't in the cash—it's in finally giving in to this fire she's stoking.