Somewhere between a boardroom and a brothel: older woman in a rumpled blouse unbuttons her shirt mid-stride, tossing it aside like yesterday’s news. Sinks onto the couch with that practiced ease of someone who’s done this a thousand times before. Younger guy barely has time to gasp before she’s got him pinned flat, thighs squeezing his head as she rides his face—moans echoing off the framed diplomas on the wall. Then flips him around like he weighs nothing; ass up against those red cushions while she grips his hips and sets an unshakable rhythm. Fingers digging into flesh, breath hot against his ear: ‘You’re gonna learn how it’s done.