On her mahogany desk sat a small, velvet box. It wasn't jewelry.
She opened it, looking at the sleek, matte-black object within. It was technically a toy, but "toy" felt trivializing. It was engineering—hard, unforgiving, and designed for a specific purpose. She had read the reviews, demanding something that wouldn't falter, something that matched her own uncompromising standards. mature hard toyed
She turned off the lights, allowing only the city’s electric neon to fill the room. The silence was broken only by the hum of the city far below and the faint, methodical sound of the device engaging. On her mahogany desk sat a small, velvet box