As a serial goody two-shoes, I've never acted on my sexual fantasies though I must admit, my thoughts get me wetter than any boyfriend could ever make me. I've spent far too much time in public spaces, gazing out blankly all while imagining some stranger or crush forcing their way into me when there's a risk we might be spotted. It's my nature-ordained blessing, I suppose, that as a woman I can easily hide my arousal in some underwear... provided I'm wearing underwear. My day job at the historic Arroyo Lea Library gift shop nets me some pretty nifty perks, one of which includes dressing up in whatever outfit I deem fitting-- and for me, this usually means an aesthetic that crosses librarian with an understated form of sexy. In my mere six months here, I've established myself as "the gift shop girl who dresses extremely nice every day," which is a compliment I'm willing to hang my hat on. The Library attendants, however, have to traverse the many acres of our exhibitions and grounds while wearing a prim formal getup: a navy blazer and tie, with matching slacks. Though it comes without individualism, I've learned that this outfit, too, can have its own allure.
It would simply be a lie to say that I haven't noticed many of the men (and maybe a few of the queer women) at my work establishment have developed some form of crush on me. I've largely ignored the flirtatious energy, taking it in stride because being a customer service worker means some amount of allure will always be expected of you. One man in particular-- Francois, the chef for our Library dining hall, has taken a particular shine to me and I've enjoyed every minute of it. He's your average Abercrombie model, that is to say- blonde, buff, utterly gorgeous, and entirely uninteresting to me. But if given the chance to mess around with him... I might not say no.
I was beginning to think Francois would be the only work crush I'd have until Brent came along. He was hired as an attendant two months ago and immediately caught my attention. Bright eyed, bushy-tailed Brent-- with last name unknown because that's all I've been able to glean from him in our chance passings in the hallways thus far. I am so inexplicably drawn to him. Not because he's conventionally handsome, per se, even though he is tall (I tend not to like the male model types that girls my age so feverishly comb the dating sites for) but specifically because he looks bookish, introverted, and thoughtful. The kind of face I'd love to see flustered beyond belief as I sit on it and ride it into oblivion.
Brent and I have made eyes at each other on multiple occasions now, especially because I ensure that we do each time I pass by. At this point, I've practically memorized his traversal during his shifts because I'll always show up "unexpectedly" in his vicinity just to say hello and shoot him a warm smile. These last few weeks, I've also noticed him coming inside the gift shop even if he doesn't mean to purchase anything, just to glance at me. There's only been about three times when we've had at least a minute's worth of conversation before we had to go about our ways, but each time we've spoken we've been able to exchange some witty repartee and a few book recommendations. Put simply, he is all I could have asked for in a workplace crush, and a subject for all the fantasies I dared to dream.
All the wet daydreaming in all the world, however, could not have prepared me for today.
I made the fateful decision this morning to go to work in my favorite white lace cottage-core dress (homegirl loves her Tolkein) WITHOUT any panties or bra. I am never one to go without either of these essentials but for some reason or other, the god of lust compelled me today. I often have guilt about not wearing bras because the sheer weight of my breasts always leaves me with back pain by the end of the day-- but I honestly wanted the liberation more than the support. As for panties, I NEVER go without them. Not once, not ever. Not even during my college years when all the sorority sisters in my hall were doing it. I honestly don't know what possessed me, but in hindsight now I see it as a little spell I cast at the start of this day, signaling the wetness to come.
I swear men have a sixth sense when it comes to the amount of clothing a woman is actually wearing, because I seemed to be getting some extra attention from the male attendants this morning. I had thrown on a cardigan just to add some modicum of modesty, but I think either my pheromones or the easy swing of my pendulous breasts through my dress were giving it away. I was HORNY. And I felt like everyone knew it, somehow. But I carried about my tasks: sorting new inventory, stacking cartfuls of books and items. My mind achingly wondered when Brent would arrive, and what he would think when he saw me in this dress. Usually, I could keep my horniness at bay while working, but the decision to go without underwear today made it especially hard to not constantly think about getting fucked mercilessly. Customer after customer, my wetness inched a little further out of my pussy and down to my thigh, and I would have to surreptitiously wipe it with my dress before continuing. It soon became more frustrating than fun.
Lunch break came, and I made the quick decision to rub one out for myself in the bathroom, because this level of horniness was sure to shatter my psyche if I didn't do something about it soon. I rushed to the break room to clock out, darting past patrons and guards and other attendants before smashing my punch card through the machine. Whipping back around at breakneck speed, I collided with a taller, lankier body and felt my head and chest ricochet off of them before I landed on my ass.
"Oh shit, Lou I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" It was Brent. Of fucking course.
Dazed, I took the hand extended before me as it pulled me back onto my feet. A slight pounding in my brain had to still before my eyes could focus... upwards... at the familiar face before me.
I never knew until this moment that Brent has hazel eyes. Huh.
He seemed to say some other words to me then, and I just clutched my throbbing forehead, flustered. I quickly marched past him, eager to not let on that I had been waiting to see him all day, and fully intended to hide my shame by entering the elevator.
Our Arroyo Lea elevator is a relic in itself, resistant to renovation and stubborn as all hell. Our library building only has two floors-- two!-- and still, the elevator evades reliability. Sometimes it takes a full three minutes to arrive, and another full minute for the doors to close, if you're lucky. Often, it won't work at all, and ADA patrons have to rough it with our outdated ramp systems instead.
I smashed the Up button repeatedly, eager to shake off this entirely ungraceful encounter with the one person I had wanted to see in an ideal fashion today. No such luck, I suppose. And my head was still radiating pain as I clutched the front of my long black hair. At last, the doors clunked open, and I stumbled inside.
Holding my hand over my eyes, I leaned against the elevator wall, catching my breath. Feeling a flush of heat, I shed my cardigan and flung it to the floor. Shielding my eyes from the light did relieve some of the pain, so I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples until the ache melted away. It seemed that my senses were returning to me, because as I massaged myself, I could hear footsteps entering the elevator before the doors jumbled back shut. My heart skipped a beat. I dared myself to look.
Brent.
"Lou, are you okay? You never answered me, so I just had to make sure."
"Oh...hey!" I chirped back, hoping to god I didn't look as dazed as I felt.
"You hit your head pretty hard like right on my sternum," he said as he placed a delicate hand over his chest.
"Yeah, sorry about that."
"No, no. I'M sorry. That's what I've been trying to tell you," he insisted.
I managed to eke out an ironic chortle, and he smiled in response.
He bites his lower lip a bit, meeting my eyes. "You know, you never answered my question."
"Um, which question was that?"
"The one titled 'Are you okay?' since there's only been one question." At this point he was smirking, even while his eyes squinted with concern. I couldn't tell-- was he flirting?
I laughed again, feeling my head clear as blood gushed into my cheeks.
"Right, yeah. The one I couldn't hear while cerebral hemorrhaging."
"Still not answering the question. Interesting."
"...You're confrontational."
"You're insistent."
I realized at this point that I hadn't pressed any directional button inside the elevator and was simply floating in a liminal moment, inside a metal box with Brent. I floundered for what to do next, and realized I owed this man at least some assurance.
"I feel fine now, really, thanks for checking in on me."
"Of course. Can't have our best-dressed girl suffer any injury on my watch."
I sheepishly giggled again, then kicked myself in my brain for doing so. God, I am so not this girl. I usually have it pretty kept together, a portrait of confidence made for customer service and...
Brent was walking towards me. I sucked in a breath as he lifted up a hand. By instinct, I closed my eyes. I felt his hand reaching for my upper arm, where he attempted to lift my dress strap back up to my shoulder. When I opened my eyes, my strap is back in place, but my left breast had wormed its way out of the gathered bustier top of my dress and Brent was fighting the inclination to ogle.
"Your, um--"
"Oh--" is all I managed to say before cramming my breast back into its pocket. All things considered, I wouldn't be ashamed if Brent took a glance at my breasts and got a private show. I was only terrified, somehow, of letting on about how MUCH I wanted it. Wanted him.
We stood in silence for a moment.
"So this elevator, huh?" he quipped, and we both burst into laughter. Almost instantly, we were at ease, like old friends who always had a thing for each other and never had the chance to explore something more until now.
I cleared my throat. "Do you think we should, uh, pick a floor? Before anyone knows we went missing?"
"I don't know, there might be too many to choose from."
"It's difficult, but we'll just have to try."
"I defer to you."
"Well, let's see, there's the one we were just on."
"Yeah, I don't like that one."
"No? Ok then. 'Up' it is."
I walked over to the buttons and pressed the one for Up. As if on cue, I heard a crackling sound before the lights buzzed off, plummeting me and Brent into blackness.
"Oh shit!"
"You ok, Lou?"
"Yeah, I just-- did the power go out for the whole building? Or just the elevator?"
"Not sure..."
We listened intently for any sounds outside the elevator, and the scattered exclamations from patrons confirmed that power was indeed out for the entire building.
A voice rang out over the PA system: "Hello beloved patrons, the library is currently experiencing some electrical difficulties and may need to be closed for the time being until we can identify the issue and restore power. Please safely and slowly make your way to the exits and our attendants would be happy to guide you to a waiting area until we can resolve the issue. We apologize for this interruption to your visit, and thank you for your patience."
A red emergency light came on inside the elevator as Brent and I blinked at each other, taking in our newly-brightened setting. The entire elevator seemed to be cast in a soft red glow, amplified by the fact that all four walls of the space were made of mirrors.
"That was your supervisor, wasn't it?" he asked.
