What had started as an evening of skimpy lingerie and five women in various states of undress, an evening that had seemed destined to be the stuff of wet dreams, quickly settled into a rather dull, uneventful affair. Sure, Jessica Braeburn, Ginger Gold, and Amy Melrose were all sitting in intimate apparel, and the breasts of both Rachel Wilks and Lauren Laframboise were on display for any of the other girls to see. But collating, proofreading, and initialing weren't anyone's idea of a sexy sleepover.
Lauren, who at that moment was poring over Evelyn Apparel's complex acquisition contract for the Cortland Menswear takeover, had been naked since Tuesday afternoon two days earlier. At twenty-nine years old – though, with her thirtieth birthday waiting for her on the far side of midnight – Lauren was one of the fastest-rising attorneys within the company. She'd graduated from Vermont State at twenty-one, from Penn Law at twenty-four, and been promoted from Senior Legal Counsel to Assistant General Counsel in the Commercial Transactions office in record time. The role of Associate General Counsel and the accompanying $17,000 raise would follow, so long as Lauren could successfully submit the contract before the end of the quarter, the following day by five o'clock.
For the first time in weeks, that deadline looked feasible. If the girls continued to work through the night, they'd probably be able to put the contract to bed before the sun came up. But it had been a struggle to get to this position, and Lauren's ordeal over the past few days had driven home the fact that her promotion wouldn't come cheap. The pressure and anxiety she'd experienced had triggered a psychosomatic reaction, and Lauren – an employee of a clothing conglomerate in the process of acquiring another clothing company – had developed an unprecedented allergy to her clothes. To any clothes, for that matter. And, to heap indignity upon indignity, Lauren's body had decided the most effective form of stress relief was to launch itself into a series of spontaneous orgasms.
Throughout it all, Lauren had remained at work, her nose to the grindstone. If the stress of the contract was what was causing her affliction, she needed to face her demons, not run away. And so, for the past two days at work, she'd stalked the hall in nothing more than heels and jewelry. If she needed to a weather a few unexpected orgasms along the way, so be it; she'd managed to take matters into her own hands, quite literally, by masturbating and toying herself to climax in private in an effort to prevent herself from cumming in front of her coworkers once more. She had put a price on her dignity – two hundred and thirty five dollars an hour, stretched over the seventy-two hours from when the affliction first hit and the end of the Third Quarter.
Long, straight blonde hair spilling past her shoulders and framing her gorgeous face, Lauren certainly had the looks to keep any of her male colleagues from complaining. She had been a cheerleader in high school and a member of the dance team at Vermont State, and seven years later remained every bit the goddess she had been then. She was a bit of an exercise freak - or at least had been, before her entire life had been consumed by Cortland Menswear - and her slender, toned body attested to the fact that she spent a good portion of her time outside of work in the gym. Her breasts looked disproportionate to the rest of her body – full, ripe, and perky, the stuff of male fantasies. Her pussy, on display since Tuesday, was adorned with a thin, vertical strip of blonde pubic hair; Lauren had trimmed and sculpted that first night, concerned that if her coworkers were going to see her in the nude, she would want to leave a good impression.
There were approximately twenty-five other people who worked with Lauren in Suite 2600, twenty-five other people who'd gotten to know see a side of her she had successfully to that point been able to hide beneath a layer of clothes. Most had gone home for the evening, as the clock was ticking closer and closer to midnight. But, despite the fact that Lauren had hoped for a little time to herself before bed, she'd been joined by four of her female colleagues for a grown-up sleepover in the office.
Not all of them were grown-ups, exactly. Jessica Braeburn was just twenty years old. The dirty blonde had taken summer classes that year, freeing her up for a full-time internship with Evelyn Apparel that fall. Somehow, Lauren doubted that this was what Columbia had in mind when Jessica had told them about the internship. She had shed the clothes she'd been wearing earlier in the day, and was now dressed in a pistachio green lace camisole and a matching pair of boyshort panties. Both items had been designed and manufactured by Evelyn Apparel's lingerie unit, Eve Intimates, and delivered in a box with similar items to Lauren's office that morning.
Lauren's secretary, Ginger Gold, had found an outfit for herself in the box, as well. The dark-haired girl, only a few months younger than Lauren herself, had donned a purple, floral lace flyaway babydoll and a pair of purple bikini-cut panties. Both were made from a semitransparent mesh, material that allowed full view of the girl's dark nipples to anyone who lingered on her body for more a quick, casual glance. Slipping into lingerie hadn't been Ginger's idea, but the tough, Jewish Brooklynite was more adventurous and more of a party girl than anyone Lauren knew.
Amy Melrose, on the other hand, had to be cajoled and threatened out of her work clothes. The brunette, whose own thirtieth birthday had been the week before, had been one of Lauren's closest friends in the Commercial Transactions group since day one. They'd been hired at approximately the same time, Lauren out of Penn and Amy out of Duke, but even though Amy was every bit as smart as the blonde, she lacked self-confidence and a certain amount of boldness that had allowed Lauren to progress more quickly up the corporate ladder. Tantalizingly attractive in her own right, Amy was wearing a white satin slip, trimmed with black lace. Though hidden from view, Lauren knew she was also wearing a pair of white satin and black lace panties, also fished from the box of lingerie beneath Lauren's desk.
Amy wasn't the first of the group to wear that outfit that evening, however. Rachel Wilks, thirty-two years old and perhaps Lauren's best friend in Suite 2600, had shown up in the conference room wearing the slip earlier that night. The redhead taken off her brown pantsuit and donned the lingerie in an effort to empathize and demonstrate solidarity with her naked, blonde friend. Lauren knew there was more to it, though, as Rachel had confessed she'd been getting turned on by the public displays of undress and various embarrassments Lauren had suffered since Tuesday. Not that Lauren could really fault her – she'd have been lying if she said her pussy wasn't the least bit moist at the idea of stalking the halls of her workplace.
Rachel, though, was now seated across the table from Lauren, and appeared every bit as naked as the blonde. Her breasts hung down over the paperwork Rachel was initialing, the table shielding her from the waist down. Lauren knew the girl had on a zebra-print pair of thong panties, black and white stripes recalling the orange and black stripes on the vibrator Lauren's psychiatrist had prescribed for her "condition." Rachel knew about the toy – in fact, she'd fished it out of the pussy of a post-orgasmic Lauren Laframboise earlier that afternoon. Lauren had cum in front of her unexpectedly at lunch, intentionally in the supply closet while Rachel stood guard and listened in, again in the partially-flooded men's bathroom while Rachel distracted Danny Baldwin, and once more on the floor of the kitchen while Rachel watched and talked dirty to Lauren as she did so. It was fair to say that their relationship had evolved over the last twelve hours – Lauren wasn't quite sure how to describe it or even begin to contemplate where it might be heading. But she trusted Rachel, and that led to an intimacy between the two, without every having to actually "be intimate."
As midnight approached, the girls could see light at the end of the tunnel, in terms of the contract itself. Ginger, though, announced that it was time to call it a night. She was met with protests, as Lauren knew she only had a few more hours to go.
"You'll have tomorrow morning," the dark-haired girl assured her boss. "Everyone's already seen you naked, anyways. A few more hours aren't going to hurt." She stood, and took a few steps towards the door. "How many times are you going to turn thirty?"
Lauren groaned.
"I think a celebratory drink is called for," the secretary continued. "I assume my tequila is still in your office?"
Lauren wanted to be done with Cortland Menswear and the acquisition contract as soon as possible, but it no longer consumed her as much as it had earlier in the week. She thought back to the afternoon in the emergency room, when even as she was choking for air, she had been thinking about the contract. Even as her skin burned and she should have been worried for her life, she was still running through liability clauses in her head. Not so, any more. Her mind drifted now and then, thinking about the last time she'd cum, or worried about when she might cum next. Perhaps her body had gotten what it had been looking for in the first place – psychic relief from her work.
"Fine," the blonde conceded. "One drink."
Ginger squealed, and slipped out of the conference room.
"It's too bad we can't sneak out for a drink somewhere else," Jessica said absent-mindedly, staring out the window. "Lauren's been stuck in the office since Tuesday."
"There aren't too many places that we can go in the city dressed like this," Rachel observed.
"Well, we could always get dressed," Jessica answered, and then immediately apologized to Lauren. "We could get a private room or something..."
"We're going out tomorrow night," the blonde replied, "to celebrate the contract being over and done with, my birthday, and my recovery."
"Yeah," the intern agreed. "I just felt bad, you being cooped up here in this suite for the past couple of days."
"Wait!" Rachel yelped. "There is somewhere we could go!"
Lauren didn't care to hear Rachel's suggestion. She had established a certain level of comfort in the cozy confines of Suite 2600, and she didn't want to subject herself to the humiliation of going anywhere else. "No, no, no. We're fine here. Let's just have a drink, and get back to work, or go to bed, or whatever."
"The 39th floor," the redhead announced. "Investor Relations. It's got a view of the park, and I think you can even see the Hudson out the other side."
Amy sprung to Lauren's defense. "Rachel, it's still only midnight. People could still be here."
Rachel smiled wickedly. "Nope. Ginger says the entire floor is being renovated right now. Nobody up there. The construction guys go home at five."
"And how exactly do you know that?" Amy asked.
