I’m Ron’s boss, and I’ve been quite bothered by his performance at the company. He’s been distracted, so I call him into my office for a talk. I start asking him questions — if something’s going on in his personal life, or if there’s some issue with a colleague — until I notice his eyes drifting, lost, staring at my legs. (Blurred background, full focus only on my feet and high heels) Ron, I already know what’s going on. And if this is what helps your creativity, then I’ll allow you to massage my feet and legs every single day. In fact, I need it. (I slip off my high heels, complaining about how sore my feet are.) Ron finishes massaging my feet — this is beneficial for both of us, my job is extremely stressful. Now it’s time for my legs, you little pervert. And from now on, I’ll be demanding better results at the company.