The post office was crowded a swarm of people intent on not being noticed, and in not noticing those around them.
This, I would soon discover, was to my benefit. Just minutes earlier I was one of them, here only out of necessity, wanting to take care of my postal business, and then return to the real world. But then I saw her.
In an instant I knew I was not about to get the stamp I needed from a machine; a machine that lacked the smile, the eyes, the look... the subtle sexiness which reached out from her and grabbed me the moment my eyes glanced her way. No, if I were going to get a stamp, it would not be from a machine. In fact, it not only would not be from a machine, but it would also not be from any of the other workers toiling behind the counter.
I got in line.
I was not originally in any particular hurry. It was my lunch break, and I was about to begin a long walk as soon as I got my stamp and my letter mailed. But as I watched her, I knew I couldn't wait in that interminable line, nor could I take the chance of not getting called to her location.
I began to fidget, at first unconsciously, but then with an idea in mind.
I had noticed that she would occasionally look up to check out the status of the line. I was intent on drawing her attention to my plight. I fidgeted more, I fixed my gaze on her... and I willed her to look my way. Seconds passed, but seemed like minutes piling upon minutes building into hours. She looked up again, drew her gaze across the crowd, and then stopped as her eyes caught mine.
My eyes were locked on hers, and they pleaded with her as my body rocked restlessly. She looked away for a second, and then back, but in that moment in which I thought I had lost my chance, my urgency turned to near panic. As she returned her gaze, she noticed this, and a confused look crept into her eyes and on her mouth.
I waited.
She was just finishing up with a customer at her window. As he walked away, she looked at me again for a second, and then pulled out a closed sign, which she placed, on the counter. I froze as she walked away from her window, not sure where she were going. She came out from behind the counter, but still away from the line of people, and then motioned for me.
I shuffled out of line, trying not to draw any extra attention to myself, and approached her. As I walked up to her, she smiled, and asked if there was anything wrong. I looked down for a second, not having thought this far ahead, trying to think of something to say. My mind was a whirl, the panic having been replaced by confusion, and now nervousness at being so close to her.
Not being able to think of anything, I began babbling, not sure if I was making any sense. "I'm sorry," I began. "I just needed a stamp..." and I held out my letter as evidence, "... and I was going to get one from the machine but then I saw you, and, well, I'm not sure what I wanted except that I knew I had to be near you and hear you say something even if it was only to get a stamp..." I kept on almost unintelligibly as I shuffled my feet, "... and I wasn't sure if I was going to get called by you..."
And then I stopped, frozen, not sure where to go from there. Then I noticed a slight grin on her face, and noticed her gaze had dropped from my face, to my loose blouse barely covering my breasts. I looked down, and realized that while I was talking, I had inadvertently popped the top button. I blushed, and looked down but off to the side, not wanting to draw any more attention to my predicament.
Then I heard her giggle.
I looked back up at her, and saw that her smile had returned.
"I'm flattered," she said, as she looked me directly in my eyes.
I paused for a moment, and as the blood began its retreat from my face, I too smiled, and replied, "You should be." We stared at each other, still smiling, wondering what to do next.
She glanced at the people in line, and at her fellow workers, all of whom still seemed contently wrapped up in their own worlds. "Follow me," she said with some urgency, and she turned and walked towards a door marked Employees Only.
As soon as I got through the door, she pushed me against the wall, her hand found the tiny bulge inside my bra and squeezed it firmly through the thin fabric, and with her other hand she reached up and pulled my head down towards hers, until our lips met in a demanding, hurried kiss. Instinctively, my hands wrapped around her, slid down her back, and grabbed aggressively at her ass, pulling her to me as I warmed under the caresses of her fingers.
Her mouth burned against mine as she kissed me harder, her hand at the back of my head pulling at me incessantly. Just as her tongue began slipping into my mouth, just as her hand had begun inching upward in order to find its way under my skirt, she heard her name spoken by someone outside the room.
It was her supervisor, out at the counter watching the line grow longer and more restless, asking her coworkers where she was. She pulled away from me slowly, told me to wait, and with one last squeeze she went out a second door that opened to the employee side of the counter area. I heard her mumble some apology to her supervisor before returning to her position at the counter, just a few feet from the room in which she had left me.
When I heard her boss return to the office, I peaked out from the door, and watched her. She sat at a stool behind a high, old-fashioned counter, motioning one customer after another to her spot. I knew she could feel my gaze as it wandered over her body. She stole furtive glances in my direction during those brief moments between customers, but it wasn't enough. I could see in her the same frustrated, urgent fidgeting that I had so recently exhibited.
I wanted her.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash at the opposite corner of the lobby from where she sat. Someone had accidentally knocked a display rack from a shelf. Without thinking, as everyone's attention was momentarily focused on the commotion, I sneaked out of the room, made my way to where she sat, and knelt down under the counter directly in front of her.
She looked down at me, panicked slightly, and started to say something to me. With a smile, an eager look in my eyes, and a finger at my lips, I convinced her to remain quiet, and continue her work. When the commotion had died down, she motioned the next customer forward, and continued with what she was doing, occasionally stealing glances below her. For a while, I just sat there, watching her, listening to her, wanting her.
I sat back and leaned against the wall of the counter. As I let my gaze travel up the length of her legs, to where her thighs met just above the hem of her skirt, I reached into my blouse, and slowly, began to unbutton it. When she looked down again, I was slowly stroking myself, and I smiled up at her mischievously.
She was startled at first, and unsure of what to do. But as she watched my hand slowly tease my nipples, a grin crept onto her face, and she gave me a knowing look. I continued to play as she continued working. And as she did, she began slowly parting her legs in front of me, until finally I caught my first glimpse of the white, lace underwear that so delicately covered the flesh that I had already begun planning to taste, to devour.
While continuing to play myself with one hand, I reached out and began running my other hand over her legs - warm, soft, silky - that were parted as wide as her skirt would allow. She caught her breath at the first touch, breathing in quickly, and jumping slightly on her stool.
The customer at the counter brought her attention back to work with an inquiry as to whether she was all right. She muttered an embarrassed apology, said she was fine, and carried on with her work, as I proceeded to let my hand slide further up her legs. I could feel her fidget slightly as my hand caressed the soft skin of her legs, and I could hear in her voice that she was struggling to keep her composure. All of this only heightened my excitment.
She looked down again as the most recent customer was walking away, and before the next approached her window. She saw that I was now on my knees, my blouse completely opened. My eyes were fixed on her panties, and what lie just behind. My hand was high up on the inside of her thigh, inching ever so closely to the edge of the white cotton that stood between my imagination, and my lips.
As an older woman approached her window, walking delicately and, fortunately for us, slowly, she slid off of her stool for a moment, and moved it closer to the counter. I reached up quickly, pulling her panties down over her hips and off her legs at the same time she was pulling herself back onto the stool, this time leaving herself perched as near to the edge as possible.