How much time had she lost?
Lauren awoke for the second time that morning in a rather unnerving position. She was still on her knees, her ass pointed up in the air. Her hands and arms, however, had completely given out beneath her, and it was only her face against the tile — her right cheek, to be exact — that had kept her propped up in her hunched-over position. Her left nipple was poking through the grating of the drain under her, her whole left breast blocking the drain itself and causing a pool to build up around it. She rolled over to one side, not yet capable of doing pulling herself to her feet. Never had she experienced anything remotely like what she’d just been through. Had she cum four times or five?
Her whole body was nothing but pins and needles, and her pussy ached as if she’d just been on the receiving end of ten men. She was physically exhausted right down to the core of her being, and it took everything she had left in her to keep from going back to sleep on the tile floor. Her breathing was still irregular, and she couldn’t help but emit a squeaky, girlish sigh as she exhaled.
Given her prunish-looking pink fingertips and the size of the puddle initiated by her breast-turned-drain plug, Lauren estimated that she’d been out a good fifteen to twenty minutes. She’d been lucky she hadn’t drowned, considering the posture she’d found herself in. She rubbed the side of her face, and could feel the tile-shaped ridges in her cheek.
At least there’d been no one around, Lauren told herself. Had she cum like that in the middle of Bramley’s office the day before, there would have been no hiding it. But, she told herself, she had best be on her way that morning, because she wasn’t going to be alone for too much longer.
Lauren didn’t let herself reflect on what had just transpired. Weakly, she brought herself to her knees, and then upright on wobbly legs. She ran a handful of shampoo through her hair, rinsed, a handful of conditioner, rinsed, and was on her way. Sopping wet, she stepped into the hallway, her shower items tucked under one forearm. In the darkened corridor, she found her yellow towel, and quickly patted herself dry. The first night’s lesson fresh in her memory, Lauren resisted the urge to wrap the towel around herself as she left the pitter-patter of the men’s bathroom behind her.
Back in the relative safety of her own office, Lauren groaned at herself when she was greeted by the naked imagine of a supine Jurgita Valts on her desktop. She clicked out of Explorer, and then ran the termination command for the sprinklers. She dried her hair. She applied make-up. She slipped back into her jewelry. She booted up her digitally annotated copy of the acquisition contract. And, only then, as she stopped, took a breath, and began to think about her day, did the incident in the men’s bathroom catch up with her.
Panicked, Lauren reached for her phone, and for the business card tucked safely in her first drawer. Adams wouldn’t be in, of course — it was still only a half past six in the morning. But Lauren needed to talk to someone, even if that someone was a recorded greeting from the psychiatrist and a familiar “beep.”
“What the fuck?!!” Lauren squealed. “What the fuck is happening to me? I just passed out.”
Pause.
“I just passed out because of the single most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.”
Another pause.
“Well, okay, no, it was a couple of them, rapid-fire. Four. Five, maybe? One after another. Oh, God, Dave….this can’t keep happening! I know, I know, I know…I should be going home. I know that’s what you’re going to say, that I shouldn’t be here. But I’ve got to conquer this thing, right? I’ve got to face it? But, Jesus…
“I can’t cum like that again. Especially if it’s during the day. I can’t. I just can’t. The nudity, well, the nudity’s humiliating. It really is. Anyone who ever had any respect for me, well…well, no longer. But, oh god, I can’t cum like that in front of anyone. I just can’t. That’s my career. Forget about Associate General Counsel. I’d be lucky to stay where I am now.”
She whimpered, her voice breaking.
“I can’t walk away now, Dave. I’m so, so close. And, I mean, look at what I’ve gone through already. Even if I still have two more days… Well, I guess it’s really only one more night. But you’ve got to help me, you’ve got to help me get this under control. I don’t know why this is happening to me. I don’t know why my body’s reacting this way to the stress. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, deep-seated or otherwise. I don’t know if, deep down, I’m some sort of exhibitionist slut, some sort of masochist, or something. I promise, I promise, I swear, I promise, I’ll work it out with you after Friday. I’ll come right to your office on Saturday morning. You just have to help me get through this…”
***
In many ways, the beginning of the day was less excruciating than the previous. While still exciting and titillating, Lauren’s situation was old news — everyone in the office had seen her the previous day. They knew about her condition, they weren’t shocked by her state of dress, they didn’t need to check in on her or whisper about what was going on. But in the back of Lauren’s mind, as she greeted Ginger, Dmitri, Rachel, and Bramley, as well, there was the ever-present concern that she’d launch into a series of gasps and moans, cumming as she wished someone a “good morning.”
And so, when Julie Lambourne appeared in Lauren’s doorway with a large, brown cardboard box, Lauren was less than enthused. But the paralegal’s tone attracted Rachel from next door, Ginger from around the corner, and even Jessica Braeburn, who was on her way to grab another cup of coffee from the kitchen. If Lauren were to launch into orgasm once more, it would be in front of a growing audience.
“Unsexy thoughts,” Lauren told herself. “Get your mind off of this morning, get it off orgasms, get it off nudity, get it off anything sexual.”
“What the hell….?” Julie asked aloud, pulled a mesh, see-through, raspberry-pink thong from the cardboard box.
Lauren just groaned.
“What is this?” Jessica asked. She peaked over Julie’s shoulder, and reaching into the box, pulled a white satin slip from inside.
“Oh my god,” Julie stammered.
“This is the box?” Ginger asked. “The stuff your guy friend was sending you?”
“No!” the paralegal yelped. “I mean, yes, but no. Not what I had asked for. Not what I wanted.”
“Did you look in the box? Before you brought it in?” Rachel asked.
“No,” the blonde girl shook her head. “No, not until I brought it in here.”
Lauren stood, and began to poke through the box herself. Bras, panties, slips, chemises, garter belts, a corset. All Eve Intimates, all from the previous spring’s collection. Digging deeper, Lauren found a handful of tank-tops, a few miniskirts and summer dresses, and five or six flirty little cocktail dresses. But the few items of legitimate clothing near the bottom didn’t change the fact that three quarters of the box was full of lingerie.
“Guy friend?” Ginger asked the paralegal, stressing the second word.
“Well, that’s what I thought,” Julie replied. Her face was a deep shade of red, and Lauren could tell that Julie now wished she’d taken a peek in the box before opening it in front of the other women.
“Oh, cute,” Jessica mewed, pulling a pistachio green lace camisole and a matching set of boy short panties from the box.
“I mean, maybe not,” Julie continued. “Maybe this is his way, weird as it might be, of wanting something more…”
“Well, there ARE a few dresses in here,” Rachel offered. “That’s what we were looking for, right? For Lauren, for Friday night?”
“Right,” Lauren nodded, pulling a low-cut, red strapless party dress, which she’d initially mistaken as lingerie, from inside, and holding it up over her naked body. She wanted to try it on, but she knew just where that particular exercise would lead. “Right. This other stuff is…just…just extra.”
“It looks like it’s leftover stuff from the Spring catalog,” Rachel offered. “Just extra stuff he had lying around…?”
Ginger pulled a purple split-crotch teddy from inside the box. “So, you going to try it on for him?”
“No, no, no,” Julie stammered nervously. “No. No, this is Lauren’s box, not mine.”
Lauren shook her head. “No, I certainly don’t need this much underwear. Especially in my current state…”
“I’ll take this,” Jessica offered, holding up the green cami and panties set.
“Fine,” Lauren nodded. “Take as much as you want.”
“Leave it here for now,” Ginger instructed the intern. “We don’t need to go parading underwear around the halls this morning, not with, ahem, everything else going on.”
“Should I give it back?” Julie was asking Rachel. “It’s kind of disgusting, right? Kind of an inappropriate gift?”
The redhead shrugged. “It’s what he’s got access to down there. And even if it is a bit, well, lewd, it’s still good stuff. This,” she said, picking up a black and red garter belt, “this goes for like twenty-five bucks in the catalog.”
“Well, it’s Lauren’s box,” Julie repeated. “I asked for it for her. It’s really hers to decide what to do with…”
Lauren reached for the box top, and once each of the items had been replaced, she closed it up and pushed it under her desk. “Fine, then. You all can go through it later this afternoon — take what you want. But we really need to get going today.”
“You forgot something,” Rachel offered as the rest of the girls slipped from Lauren’s office. She twirled a white lace and black satin garter on her index finger, something that looked like it belonged to a French maid’s costume.
“Thanks,” Lauren huffed, snatching it from her friend. She tossed it carelessly towards her desk, pushed the redhead out the door, and sighed with relief. She’d managed to make it through those five minutes, at least, without spontaneously bursting into orgasm.
Adams called in as soon as he’d gotten Lauren’s message, and insisted he’d be over as soon as he could. He had one patient that morning, and an errand to run for Lauren that he thought might help, but he’d be in soon enough.