Tech Support Service Call

April O'Neil sits staring at a frozen buffering icon when her screen finally loads a video call. On the other end sits Natasha Nice, ready with a smile and a headset. April tells her the downloads keep stalling. When Natasha asks how big the files are, April mumbles about one very large movie. Natasha suggests taking remote control. April hesitates—her hands hover above the keyboard, face burning. The pause lingers before she finally clicks accept. Natasha logs in. The queue fills the monitor: thumbnail after thumbnail of girl-on-girl scenes. She pauses, then grins, the corner of her mouth lifting like she’s caught a secret. "Nothing wrong with a little inspiration," Natasha says, voice low. "But I can give you something better than pixels." She pushes back from her desk. Her blouse comes off slowly, buttons yielding one by one, revealing lace cups that barely contain her. April swallows, throat suddenly dry, but doesn’t look away. The camera catches every inch Natasha chooses to show. April leans in, lips parted, her own fingers tightening around the mouse. Customer service has never arrived quite like this.