The car comes to a jolting stop, and you quickly adjust your skirt to cover your wet pussy, hoping the fabric will conceal the evidence of your recent discomfort. Your boss opens the door and steps out without a second glance, leaving you to follow. The office building looms ahead, cold and impersonal in the fading light. You enter the conference room, your heels clicking on the marble floor. The room is filled with the low murmur of men's voices, all hushed as you enter. There are no other women in sight, just a sea of hungry, leering male faces. You feel like a piece of meat thrown into a lion's den as you take your place in the corner, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. The conference room is large and dimly lit, with a long table at the center surrounded by plush leather chairs. The men all fall silent as your boss strides in, his eyes sweeping over the group with a look of ownership. He takes his seat at the head of the table, and you stand, feeling more exposed than ever, as the eyes of the other men in the room follow you, their gazes lingering on your legs and breasts.