The whole mess started on a regular workday—computer, phone, cubicle, all that. I had a new employee, “Tiff,” who I had to start training that morning. “Whoopee!” I thought sarcastically, leaning back my chair. Then she walked in.

About six-feet tall, great body, ok grill-piece–but her curves smoothed over any visible flaws. Like every girl in NYC who’s six-feet tall, she was an “aspiring model.”

Less than 15 minutes after I started training her, she pops a flash drive into my computer, with over 100 pictures of her in sexy lingerie, some spread shots. All amateur, but not bad to look at–and NFSW, any way you put it. Read More »