Bowflex
Kelsey snapped up from her desk, suddenly awake. A blank, errant post-it note was stuck to her cheek. Her hand still gripped a pen, the ink from which had trailed off the page during her hangover-induced slumber. She looked around, just to make sure nobody saw. Flicking her hair behind her shoulders, she straightened her dress in her seat and resumed scrawling out notes for the day's meeting.
In the distance, in some faraway room, a faint but persistent pumping of compressed air could be heard, accompanied by a deep, almost mechanical coo of pleasure.
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