An Incubus and an Accountant, or How I Tried to Write Erotica

Tanya sat at the computer and worked on the reports. Yes, of course, she could have not done it. But don’t you need money? You do. Is the end of the quarter here? It is. And for an accountant, the end of the quarter is no different from the end of the world—everything is the same: bad, bad, bad.
The balance wouldn’t balance. It seemed she’d done something wrong with depreciation—well, she did it, but not the right way. So Tanya sat there, painfully searching for what, exactly, she had done “wrong.” She ruffled her hair with her hand. She suppressed the sharp urge to smash her head on the desk. She went back to the computer again.