A Perv's POV

"What the hell were you thinking standing so close behind me?!"

"Um..."

Ortega could now see her clearly. And he subconsciously gulped, her appearance confirmed it—she was Laura, the third interviewer. The woman who had kindly encouraged him to feel free as she sensed his worries during the interview.

That simple, genuine act alone had left a powerful impression on him. However, she remained a mystery to him—he had no idea what her position was in the hierarchy—and as he gazed at her alluring presence, his eyes couldn't help wandering where it shouldn't.

He had never seen a woman in real life with boobs as... sufficient as hers. They weren't too big like the hentai female protagonists he obsessively drooled at, rather, they were perfect for her voluptuous, petite frame.

Though she wasn't skimpily dressed, her cream-colored body-hugging gown and amber lip gloss made for a devastating and outrageously sexy combo.

"Hello? I asked you a question!" She called, obviously not pleased with the way he was staring.

"Oh..." Yawning, he said, "honestly, I thought you were someone else. I'm sorry."

Then, he held his breath as he made a shocking observation:

"Blonde hair, same skin complexion..." He parted his lips in surprise, "Could it be?— are Laura and Selene related?"

He wondered, amused at the possibility. No wonder he had mistaken Laura for Selene earlier.

He could only come to this conclusion as he dared not ask her for confirmation.

Laura narrowed her eyes at him, obviously not buying his explanation. However, she shook her head. Not having the zeal to interrogate Ortega any further.

"Ok..." She said, a hint of suspicion in her voice. Then, she bent over and picked up her card.

Turning away, she added;

"You've got a little... situation down there."

"Oh."

Ortega shuffled awkwardly, a blush creeping up his neck. "Did she have to point it out? Gah! This is so embarrassing."

"You seem to be struggling," he finally managed, trying to shift the focus back to the issue at hand. All he wanted was to go home and sleep. Maybe tomorrow, he thought, this awful mistake would seem like a wacky dream.

"Yeah, it's this stupid time clock. I think it's faulty or something."

"Let me have a look," Ortega offered, pulling out his swipe card and stepping towards the terminal. Laura stepped aside, watching curiously as he swiped the card.

Beep!... Error! The machine read.

"Any luck?" Laura asked, her arms crossed in front of her.

"Nope," Ortega sighed, turning to face her, another yawn escaping him.

She seemed unsurprised by his answer. "What's the problem exactly?"

"Like you said—it's glitchy," he shoved his card in his pocket.

"Well, if it is, there's nothing we can do to fix it. I also don't think it's worth our time, seeing as we're both beat," Laura said, stretching her arms with a frown on her face for some reason.

"Yeah... I should get going," Ortega said abruptly, heading towards the exit, leaving behind a startled Laura.

It might have been rude, but he needed rest; otherwise, he wouldn't be able to perform at his best tomorrow. Plus, he didn't want to ruin his streak of gaining experience points by not getting at least 8 hours of sleep.

"Wait," Laura called after him.

Ortega felt like sighing. "What now?" he thought, slowly turning around.

"Yes?"

"How's work?" Laura asked, genuinely curious.

"Great. I love it here."

"Good... but for what reason exactly?"

He smirked. "I know what you're thinking, but I'll have you know that I'm a man on a mission."

She playfully rolled her eyes. "Okay then, let's see how far you get," she teased, waving him off. "Chow now, I look forward to our next meeting."

"Okay," Ortega muttered to himself as he left the company, a strange feeling dwelling in his heart.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he felt like there were things he should have said and asked—like letting her know how much he appreciated her encouragement, and using that as a means to slowly ingratiate himself towards her.

"Ah, what a miss... There's always next time I guess."

The cool night breeze whispered past Ortega's ears as he walked down the dewy pavement, the rhythmic honks and screeches of passing vehicles filling the busy street.

The skies above were a deep shade of black, punctuated by the vibrant lights emanating from billboards and the headlights of cars, creating a lively contrast against the darkness.

Ortega felt the little droplets of water form blotches on his shirt and hair as he navigated through the bustling atmosphere.

The air was thick with the scent of exhaust and the faint aroma of street food wafting from nearby vendors. Neon signs flickered and buzzed, casting an otherworldly glow on the pavement below.

He sighed with relief as he finally managed to wave down a taxi.

"Downtown," he said to the middle-aged driver through the open window. The man nodded in acknowledgment, and Ortega climbed into the back seat.

The drive seemed somewhat short, although Ortega had dozed off for most of the journey. He jolted awake the moment the vehicle came to a halt outside his apartment building.

Arriving at his apartment, he took a quick, refreshing shower, the warm water washing away the city's grime.

Dropping onto his bed in exhaustion, he slipped into sleep as easily as a baby, the events of the day fading into the background as his mind drifted into dreams.