The Cubicle

Tuesday morning, my alarm jolted me awake at 6 o'clock sharp, as usual for a Tuesday. Normally a quick riser, it took me a moment or two to orient myself.

Scenes flashed through my mind in random order as I tried to determine my place is the cosmos: a vague recollection of struggling up from the living room floor to my bedroom, setting my alarm clock and collapsing naked into bed; the powerful orgasms that climaxed my reverie from the night before; Mr. Grump Face's scowl as he confronted me at my door to demand that I turn my music down, his eyes flitting to my nipples poking up through the thick material of my nightgown; dancing naked; my stroll through the office at work after hours in my underwear; my subsequent nun-like seclusion in my apartment all weekend, blinds drawn, heavy nightgown hiding my body; the moment of my nakedness and the pleasure it caused in me.

As the jumble of scenes began to fall into place in my mind, I rolled to my back, arms over my head, and stretched, a contented smile on my face. I felt so relaxed, and so alive. Life was now more interesting than it had ever been!

At 8:25, I self-consciously walked from the elevator, through the scene of my Friday night escapade to my cubicle. I could remember every detail -- it seemed as if it had been one of those dreams that seemed vividly real, but was not. As I walked by Kevin Perine's desk, he was was catching up on emails; the last time I'd looked at his screen, I'd seen my own reflection as I'd admired the way my boy-shorts flattered my butt. I grinned to myself and sighed.

I sat down at my desk and tried to go through my normal routine of checking emails, checking in with my boss, Antoine, checking the days calendar and to-do list, but scenes from Friday night kept penetrating my concentration. I was distracted at best. As I talked with Antoine, I found myself hypersensitive to his every gesture, every inflection of his voice, every possible double meaning to his words; I was paranoid that somehow I'd been discovered. My nerves were shot! I examined each word, each gesture for a hint that perhaps I'd been discovered. But as one hour blended into the next, I began to relax and enjoy each memory of my reverie.

Because of the holiday the day before, the day turned very busy as we all caught up with the work to be done. It was good discipline for me to force myself to put my mind on my work. Then almost suddenly, it was time to go home.

As I unwound on the train and bus ride home, it occurred to me how good I felt, both physically and emotionally. Tomorrow morning I would rise an hour early to work out, as I always did Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I felt good about my body. I was in excellent shape, and with my newfound sexual freedom, I felt desirable and truly sexy. On the bus nearing my stop, with a middle-aged man sitting next to me, I resolved to go wherever my sexuality took me. I felt a warm wave of relief settle over me.

I reached for the cord to ring the bell for my stop, smiling at the man next to me as I indicated my need to get up, since I was next to the window. My eyes locked with his for a moment, and I let my gaze linger there far longer than I would have 5 days ago. His tired eyes suddenly looked surprised, and then pleased. I rose and stepped past him, brushing knees with the backs of my thighs, not pressing myself forward into the seat in front of me as I would done have so recently, wishing that I wasn't wearing the long wool, figure-hiding overcoat to ward off the cold.

"No matter," I thought to myself, smiling, "that can be a reverie for another day."

Walking up the cold outside staircase between building sections to my floor, I unbuttoned my coat; halfway up, I tugged off a glove and unzipped my black wool skirt, which fell to my ankles, revealing my black tights. I picked up the skirt and laid it over my arm and continued up the stairs, my pumps clacking on the concrete stairs. I couldn't wait to be naked! I passed Mr. Grump Face's door, one more flight to go. I giggled silently as I thought of him, and how I must've looked. Hurrying up the last flight, I fumbled in my purse for my keys. I flung open the door, kicked off my pumps, and shed my clothes as if they were on fire.

What a joy it was finally to be naked! I laughed out loud at myself. Such a change had come over me! I stood there in my little foyer, my clothes rumpled on the floor around me, and marveled. I don't know how long I stood there. It was almost as if time didn't exist. I was lost in another reverie, my fingers gently caressing my body, lightly brushing my erect nipples, tracing the contours of my breasts, down the firm flatness of my stomach earned by my early morning workouts, grazing my public hair, and feeling the roundness of my butt. As my fingers toured my body, my brain followed, yearning for more adventures, more reveries, more risk, more feelings of vulnerability.

I became aware of the ticking clock on my living room wall in the dark apartment, which brought me back to my senses. I flipped on the light and saw my naked form in the mirror. Looking at myself -- no, admiring myself -- I said quietly, "There's no turning back now, Girl. No turning back." The tone of satisfaction in my voice both surprised and pleased me.

Leaving my clothes in a heap, I turned up the thermostat, breathing a sigh of relief that utilities were included in my rent, and fixed myself some sautéed shrimp and broccoli for dinner. I learned that being naked while sautéing can painful as the oil pops. Not owning an apron, I grabbed my business suit jacket from the pile at the door to protect me from the painful darts shooting from the wok. I looked very slutty standing there that way, my butt and pubic hair plainly visible, and an almost unconstructed view of my breasts. I loved it! So that's what I wore the rest of the evening, as I ate and watched some TV. At 9 I picked out tomorrow's clothes -- this time a wool navy blue tailored pants suit, with a white long sleeve blouse. I also laid out my workout clothes -- a pair of tight black spandex long pants, a turquoise athletic halter top and a black spandex running jacket.

I set my alarm for 5, curling up naked in bed, and drifted off to sleep with contentment all over me. It seemed a moment later that the alarm was ringing, and it was time to work out. I was very rested and eager to go. I brushed my teeth quickly and reached into my underwear drawer for some panties, but stopped short, and devilish grin running across my face. "Commando!" I whispered loudly, laughing. I pulled my spandex on over my naked hips, finished dressing, stretched, tied on my running shoes and headed out the front door.

The dark, cold, early morning air was jarring. I skipped down the three flights and began my run. My routine was to zig zag along the sidewalks of the apartment complex, making my way to the gym in the pool house about a half mile away as the crow flies, but more like a mile the way I went. As I warmed up, the cold air felt good. When I got to the pool house, the covered pool looking forlorn under the streetlights, all of the chairs having been packed away for the winter, the glow of the rising sun was just beginning to appear on the horizon.

I used my access card to enter the building. The warm air hit me and I began almost immediately to sweat, since my body was burning so much energy. I shook my head -- they always have the heat up too much! Entering the gym, I saw that it was the usual small crowd of diehards. Avoiding eye contact (I'd learned long ago that a girl in spandex has a hard time getting her workout in if she makes eye contact with the men, because they suddenly become very chatty), I headed to the rowing machine for my upper body workout.

I took off my jacket and started my routine. Usually at this point I either would close my eyes or watch the TV on the other side of the room. But this morning, I stole glances around the room. Nearby was an overweight older woman on the treadmill. I cheered her on silently, "Go girl! Good for you!" Several men of various ages, shapes and sizes hefted weights. One was doing curls with free weights. I found my eyes returning to his biceps frequently. I noticed that his and others' eyes returned to me frequently too. In the past, I'd have been upset by it, but today it pleased me a great deal.

Done with my rowing, sweat glistening on my skin, I set up the universal weight machine for my own curls. Furtive glances kept coming in my direction. Done with my curls, I decided to stretch before my run back to the apartment. Checking the wall mirror, it was entertaining to watch the men pause in their workouts as I stretched. I noticed in the mirror that my nipples were pooching out the fabric of my top, and with no panties, my sweaty workout pants stuck in my butt crack. I also noticed as I did my butterfly stretches that going commando left little to the imagination between my legs. I was enjoying my new life!

Almost daylight outside, it was time to run back home. The cold air was always a challenge at this point. It was like stepping from a warm shower into a freezer. But my body was warm, and it was invigorating to run as fast as I could through the frigid air. This time, instead of putting my jacket back on, I tied it around my waist. The sensation was like jumping into a pond on a winter's day. I almost yelped as the stepped outside. I broke quickly into a sprint, this time taking a direct route back to my building, skipping steps as I vaulted up to my apartment. Once inside, I peeled away my workout clothes and stretched one more time, naked, on a towel on the carpet of my bedroom floor. I could smell my sweatiness. There was not time to tarry, though, so after a quick shower, I got dressed and headed off to work.

Over the next couple of weeks, this was my routine: Monday, Wednesday Friday, my erotic morning workouts; off to work every day by 7:45; constant preoccupation at work with my secret life, but not so much that I couldn't continue performing at a high level; home a little before 6, usually starting to undress before opening my front door; spend the evening usually naked or close to it. Weekends I spent either naked at home, or out doing things with friends, both male and female, but never revealing to them my true nature, but content for now in being alone in my reveries.

In early March, it was time to go through annual employee reviews just completed by department heads, looking for common threads, both positive and negative, that we HR types like to identify as trends within the company. It never made sense to me to do the whole company all at once -- I always pushed for staggering them by department, so the task of going through them wouldn't be so monumental. Antoine generally agreed, but his hands were tied by the executives over him. So we were stuck with it.

Since we still had our regular duties, this entailed taking reports home with us, but I hated the idea of working at home. Antoine left early one day in early March to study over his, and I opted to stay the office. I had brought my dinner from home, so I microwaved my Marie Callender Sweet & Sour Chicken and settled in for an evening of reading in my cubicle.

Absorbed in my reading and note taking, I was startled when the half the lights shut off for "after-hours" mode at 8 o'clock. "Goodness!" I said, shaking off the sudden and pointless fright. The silence was deafening. The muted darkness in the office made me feel alone.

A flood of emotion enveloped me as I remembered my Friday night in a similar situation a little more than a month ago. I was instantaneously excited, and I felt a twinge between my legs. Underneath my dark green cashmere sweater, nestled in a dark grey bra, my breasts longed to be free.

"God, Lisa!" I whispered. I got up and went to the office kitchen to get a drink from the water cooler. Scenes from my near-naked tour of the office played in my mind as I walked. "God, Lisa!" I whispered again.

My little Dixie cup in hand, I leaned back against the counter in the kitchen. There was no question in my mind that I was going to do this. It was just a matter of collecting my thoughts and doing it smartly. I finished my water, and threw my cup away. "God, Lisa!"

I stood still and listened intently. The cleaning folks had been around an hour and a half earlier. Employees from other floors could not access this floor after hours. I knew of no other projects like mine on this floor that required a late night like mine. As far as my project, I had gotten a good start tonight, and had another week to finish it.

I decided I should take a walk around the floor to make sure I was alone. All I could hear was the heating system, now on a lower setting to save energy, but it was still warm and comfortable. Along one side of the office area were large windows overlooking another office building. In the front corner were the elevators, in a large foyer with glass walls overlooking the street. That's also where the receptionist's desk was -- in fact, I'd just read her review, and was impressed by how much her boss thought of her; women with women bosses sometimes have personality conflicts that get in the way of performance, but Kelby, in her mid-twenties, seemed to get along beautifully with her much older and very strict boss, Dianne. Walking by Kelby's desk, I realized I'd been jealous of her good looks since the first time I saw her. But she was a very nice person all the same.

From Kelby's desk, I continued through the waiting area, around behind the elevators and into the office space. Conference rooms lined the wall to the left, with big windows overlooking the street and hotel across the way, and the long wall 50 feet ahead contained several executive offices, including Antoine's. My cubicle was in the far corner next to his office.

Arriving there, I was confident that I was alone. I sat down again in my chair, looking out toward the office. Below my sweater, I wore a charcoal grey wool wrap skirt with sheer grey stockings. My fingers, as if on their own, found the tie holding my skirt together and pulled. The feeling of my loosening skirt was glorious! I sighed audibly and whispered hoarsely, "Yes!"

I pulled away the ends of the skirt and draped them over the arm rests of my chair. Standing, I walked around the corner of my cubicle into the space in front of my boss' door. His door was closed tonight, and being dark inside his office, the full length glass made a perfect mirror. My reflection looked both silly and sexy -- silly, because there I was in my office in sheer stockings, black pumps and a sweater, and sexy because my sweater covered nothing below my waist. I could see the outline of my grey lace boy shorts through my stockings.

I watched, mesmerized, as I slowly unbuttoned my sweater. As it loosened, it caressed my skin. Glancing around me reflexively, I let the sweater fall off my right shoulder, then my left, gravity pulling it to the floor down off my arms. My abs flexed as I breathed heavily, as if I'd just sprinted from the pool house to my apartment. I slipped my fingers into the waistband of my stockings, watching my reflection as I worked them down over my hips. I looked down, lifting one foot and then the other out of my pumps, and I pulled off the stockings, each foot landing again in my shoes.

Now I felt very naked, very vulnerable, very sexy, very pleased. I turned and looked t my reflection from all angles. I looked good. The moderate heel of my pumps flattered my toned calves and thighs, and my butt looked beautiful; I loved the way boy shorts made me look and feel. These were low rise, minimal, really. I could see clearly my pubic hair through them. Some strands were escaping the confines of the material, too. My matching grey bra was a simple underwire with no padding, lacy and feminine. I could see that my nipples were erect through the material.

Excited as I was, I collected my thoughts for a moment and stood completely still, listening. I looked around. Nothing. It was time!

Trembling, with a shaky right hand, I reached back and released the clasp of my bra. I inhaled sharply as it popped loose, sexual feelings enveloping every part of me. Holding my bra to me breasts with my left hand, I watched myself in the glass.

"Yes!" I whispered once again, both as an encouragement to myself and as an affirmation. So I let gravity to its work again, thrilled as I watched my bra fall away and my yearning breasts come into view. "Yes!" I said this time, aloud.

My breathing was fast and heavy now. I felt incredible -- unlike anything I'd ever felt before. To this day I can't really describe it. I have since felt it many times, as it is addicting drug-like euphoria that motivates me. It's one of those things things that can't be explained, it can only be experienced.

Looking at my reflection was intoxicating, my white skin reflecting brightly in the door's glass: I struck quite an image, standing there in skimpy panties, topless, wearing pumps, in the middle of a law firm's suite of offices. And I was the assistant director of HR to boot, nearly naked right outside my boss' door!

My mind was racing. I wanted badly to touch myself, but even more I wanted to savor the moment. So I turned, glancing over my shoulder at my backside's reflection, and walked toward the window side of the building. Being careful to keep cubicles between me and the windows, I made my way toward Kelby's desk. I paused at the ceiling-high, curved wall between her area and the reception area, peering around the corner out of the windows to see if anyone was working late in the building across the narrow street. Seeing no one, I took a deep breath, stood straight and sauntered across the dimly lit open area to her desk, which was a beautiful wooden console facing the elevators, my heels clacking on the marble floor. Behind her chair was a small, windowless section of the outer wall, shielding her from the view of workers in the other building.

I sat in her chair and imagined the daily stream of people who walked by her each day, myself included, the men who certainly would always try to catch her eye. I leaned back in her chair, my arms over my head, erect nipples pointing at the elevator doors, and said quietly, "Welcome, Sir, how my I help you?" I stifled a laugh at the absurdity of what I was imagining. Placing my feet on Kelby's desk and spreading my legs obscenely, as if at the OBGYN's office, I said, "May I get you something to eat?"

The sudden rise of my imagination shocked me. I'd never spoken like that before, even being silly with my girlfriends. It struck me now how I was enjoying being dirty, inappropriate, slutty. My legs still spread, I finally gave myself permission to caress a nipple. With the middle finger of my right hand, ever so lightly, I touched my right nipple. It took my breath away! "Ooohhhh!" I said involuntarily, louder than I felt was safe. I covered my mouth, but let my finger continue circling my right nipple, struggling to stay quiet. Now I began caressing the other nipple, and before long I was kneading and fondling both breasts. Suddenly, I had to be naked. My panties had to go! The population of the office could arrive, and it wouldn't keep my from my need. Legs still spread, I kicked off my shoes onto Kelby's desk, lifted my hips and pulled my boy-shorts off my hips, down my legs and completely off. I threw them out into the floor in front of the elevator.

I felt the danger of this acutely, but it didn't phase me. In fact, it seemed to encourage me. The thought of my boss Antoine, or anyone, for that matter, finding me like this seemed fantastic, a thrill beyond excitement.

When the fingers of my left hand slid down across my pubic hair, they became drenched before even parting my lips. My moistness was pungent and lustful. I'm not sure how many times I came, but when I was done, I was weary with a deeply contented exhaustion. I lay there sprawled out in her chair with my legs spread on her desk for quite some time, catching my breath, savoring. Finally I managed to return my legs to the floor, and I sat there, naked in Kelby's chair, taking in the scene. My panties were on the floor in front of me, my shoes on the desk before me. I could still smell my lust.