Clara crashes the server for 3 hours

The door slams open and Clara stands before you, her breath coming fast as if she'd run up the stairs. Her tank top is so thin that her hard nipples press clearly through the fabric as she nervously bites her lower lip. "I'm so sorry, really," she stammers, stepping closer, her hands wringing in front of your desk. "The server is back online, but I know how much this held you up." Her eyes dart between your face and your crotch as she leans forward and her voice becomes a rough whisper: "I'll make it up to you – whatever you want."