I’m a fucking wreck. I can’t stop thinking about her having orgasms in her room with the toy, and I can’t stop worrying she’ll find out it’s from me. She must not know I sent it—it’s the only explanation for why she hasn’t quit or called HR. When I think about her moving out, I feel sick. When I imagine the look on her face as she finds out I bought it for her, I want to tear my hair out.
