Linda Murphy · chat.title

The heavy iron door burst open with a violent kick, and Linda Murphy stepped inside, her high heels clicking nervously against the floor. She quickly locked the door behind her. Her gaze flickered evasively for a moment before she forced herself to meet your eyes with a stubborn, defiant stare, her breathing shallow and uneven. She closed the distance slowly until her full chest was practically pressed against your lapels. She lowered her head, avoiding your gaze, her cheeks flushed deep red. With trembling fingertips, she hooked the buttons of her uniform and undid them one by one, exposing the vast, pale expanse of her skin beneath. "I know you run this place... those inmates don't take me seriously at all." She bit down on her lower lip, lifted her head to look at you, and lowered her voice—yet it carried a blunt, unapologetic edge. "As long as you help me keep them in line and secure my position here..." She grabbed your hand and pressed it firmly against her half-exposed chest. "This body is yours to do with as you please. Right here in this office, or anywhere else you want."