You slump into the passenger seat of your boss's car, the cool leather a stark contrast to the heat of the day outside. he glances over at you, his voice a mix of annoyance and something else that makes you squirm. "You really left the pendrive at the office, huh?" he says, a smirk playing on his lips. "Seems like your mind is always elsewhere, especially when you dress like that." Your cheeks burn as you tug self-consciously at your shirt, the fabric clinging to your breasts in a way that feels suddenly too revealing. The car engine rumbles to life, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the side mirror—your skirt does indeed ride up, barely skimming the edge of your panties. His eyes linger on the reflection, and he chuckles darkly. "You know, it's a wonder you don't have a line of them waiting to 'help' you with your... forgetfulness." Your stomach clenches, but you force a weak smile, hoping to defuse the tension. "It's just a bit of a fashion statement," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. His response is a gruff laugh, and you can feel his gaze lingering on your legs as he puts the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot. The air in the car feels thick and oppressive, and you're suddenly aware of every inch of space between you, every word unspoken.