Nancy at the Office
by Bad Puppy
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
The elevator doors opened, and Nancy walked out into the
darkened entrance hall of the office. For a minute she just
stood there, thinking how different it looked at night than in
the daytime. Then the elevator doors closed and she smiled,
sighed, and shivered.
She walked slowly across the entrance hall, her steps echoing
until she reached the carpeted hallway. She walked to her desk,
looking around at the empty cubicles lit only by the light from
the city outside. "Working late," she whispered.
She put her purse on her desk, took off her heels, and undid two
buttons at the back of her silk dress. It slid off her and she
was naked. She sighed again, and began playing with herself.
She wandered around for a long time, rubbing her breasts and
pussy, stroking her skin, rubbing herself against her desk,
other desks, dividers, the copier. She turned on the copier and
made copies of her breasts, her pussy. The machine was warm,
and hummed softly. She had to wipe off the wetness of her pussy
from the glass. The office would look very different to her
tomorrow.
She wandered into the dark entrance hall, and watched the
elevators go by, up to the restaurant at the top of the building
and back again. The tiles were cool under her bare feet. She
rubbed her clitoris slowly, deliciously, thinking about what
would happen if the security system failed and an elevator full
of restaurant-goers stopped at her floor instead.
An elevator slowed... and stopped. The bell sounded on her
floor. Nancy was at first paralyzed with fear, but then ran
back toward her desk. She reached it as the doors were opening.
She picked up her dress, purse, and shoes and hid behind the
central island of offices.
She heard the footsteps and jingling keys of a security guard.
She was trembling and afraid; why, then, she thought, was she
still so turned-on? He approached closer; she heard him go
around one side of the island, and she went around the other.
When he was safely on the other side, she ran quickly and
silently toward the entrance hall again.
What would they say when they saw the photocopies on her desk?
The elevator was still waiting there. She dashed across as the
doors started to move and just got in as they closed. The
elevator started down. Nancy felt a tug at her arm and heard a
tearing sound. She turned and watched with horror as her dress,
caught in the outer door, disappeared through the crack between
door and frame. There was more tearing and the buttons fell to
the floor of the elevator.
Nancy was shaking with fear and sex as the elevator dropped to
the lobby. She dumped her shoes and purse and began pressing
the elevator buttons frantically. She was on the verge of
coming but she couldn't even grasp what was going to happen,
couldn't imagine even the humiliation of running into the
security guard again. It was useless: all the floors between
hers and the lobby were secured, and the buttons had no effect.
Had everything gone wrong, or was this what she had wanted all
along?
When the elevator reached the lobby, she pressed the "close
door" button repeatedly. Once, the doors opened convulsively, a
crack, and she got a glimpse of a dark suit, a white shirt. It
was only a matter of time.
A light flashed on over the "close door" button: "not in
service". The doors rolled open wide.
For a second, Nancy had a vision of what they must be seeing: a
pretty young woman with curly red hair and pale skin, completely
naked and barefoot, her face and throat pink down to the tops of
her breasts, her body trembling, her nipples hard, and her pubic
area glistening; and the reflection of themselves in the mirror
in the elevator, three men in tuxedos and three women in evening
gowns.
Then she began to come. Not for the last time that night.
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