She hasn’t been to the office in weeks. So you drop by—with soup, concern… and no idea what you’re walking into. Mona opens the door in nothing but a blue silk robe and panties. Flushed, needy, aching. She confesses the real reason she’s been sick: She hasn’t had your cum. And her body simply can’t function without it. She straddles your lap like it’s the only treatment left. Whimpering, grinding, demanding every drop. Because today, she’s not your employee— She’s your patient. And you’re about to fill her prescription. Bring the soup. She’ll take the cream.