I’ll see you again tonight, and I can’t wait.
I’m wearing a new, black pencil skirt with a golden zipper down the back. I think you’ll like it. It’s tight on my curves and makes me strut a little more than usual. The zipper calls for a little experimentation. How far can I unzip it while still at the office?
The teal blouse makes the blue color of my eyes pop. It’s modest in the front, but has a long slit in the back. When I move, I give everyone a flash of skin. I love it. Understated sensuality, I call my style.
I stand in front of the Xerox machine, feeling the heat of the mechanics and knowing that everyone passing by the little aquarium has the full view of my back, the golden zipper curving over my ass, and my patent leather heels.
A male colleague enters the tiny room, giving me a polite, quick smile and waiting his turn. There is barely room for the two of us. I can basically feel his proximity. I reach for my papers. In order to accommodate me, he slides his hand over my back, through the slit, and on to my bare skin. His touch is electrifying. He isn’t you, but in the anticipation of you, any touch can make me breathe heavily.
He doesn’t stop. The heat of his hand caressing my back, applying pressure in that zone that sends jolts to my loins. I can’t help myself. I lean back and feel his arousal pushing against me. I know, you will discipline me, if you find out, I leading someone on. I imagine I’ll hear you growl from deep in your throat. You’ll make me beg, won’t you? I feel a drop of moisture escaping down my thigh. If I don’t stop now, I won’t be able to.
‘Excuse me,’ I say, holding my stack of paper and leave the tiny room.
I better not tell you about the incident, but I can’t wait for tonight.