The Office Game

This is a voyeur/nudity story. It's not a quick read about quick sex.

Instead it's about a guy watching beautiful naked people. They have no idea they are being watched. And he has no idea why they are there.

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When he got to the door he realized he recognized it. It was one of dozens of utility closets in the building. He turned the knob and it was locked.

Locked? How had it been unlocked the night before?

He unlocked it and found what he expected. Electrical and internet equipment on the walls. Concrete floor. No more than five by five square.

Why had she run into here in such a hurry? Nothing was amiss in the room. Nothing was unusual.

He went back to his computer screens to see how long she had been inside and where she went next.

Two taps of computer keys and he sees her bolt naked back out the door, back the way she came in, back to the stair well, and back down.

He stopped the tape and rewinded it from when she entered the utility closet. Less the three seconds. That's how long she was in there. He rewinds it again, looking at the expression on her face.

She's focused. She's intent. Like an athlete. Her eyes determined.

He looks at her body. As she comes out of the closet she is facing the camera. She's leaning even before she comes out of the closet. He breasts are both flailing outward by the force of her turn out the door. One breast is touching her arm. The other is forced in the same direction touching the other breast. They are something to see.

He rewinds it again and again. Trying to comprehend a naked woman doing something so athletic, seemingly without any concern for the effect on her breasts.

Her legs are tone, but quite pale. She is bushy. He stares at the screen. She is beautiful. He pulls up her ID picture from the database. He glances back and forth. What is such a pretty woman doing running naked through her work building?

He feels a bit of arousal, but his mind is still focused on the events. He hits a succession of keys as she descends down two floors. Cameras catch her from the front and the back. He has no idea where the man went. That'll be a whole other effort.

He watches her descend the steps. She is awfully agile for being barefoot. Two, sometimes three steps at a time. Again her breast wildly flail. Up and down, not in unison, and thrown out violently as she turns at each landing before heading down again.

She bolts out a door, tucks her head down, and sprints even faster, if that is possible. He watches her little pale butt. Her athletic form is top notch.

Again he catches himself. What in the world is a naked woman doing in this building? And what is this particular naked woman doing? Or more precisely, why is this beautifully fit woman behaving in such seemingly contradictory ways? Offices are not for running. Offices are not for nudity.

He is asking these things as he as staring intently at her breasts. He rewinds and rewinds.

And then he sees it. What he is trained to see. The little things. Her right hand is balled into a fist, but the left is not.

He goes back the beginning, the beginning of the timeline he's created for her. When she sprints from the elevator at the very beginning both hands are open. When she runs up the first flight of stairs her hands are both open. When she run so deftly into the closet both hands are open.

But when she runs out her right hand is balled into a fist. Something took place in that room. She has something in her fist.

He stands and walks briskly back to the closet. And once inside he sees it. An odd hook on the back wall, very near in the corner. A hook that might hold something. Something she might have put into her hand. As he looks at the hook he notices two things.

Smudges. Dirty smudges around the hook. And the little hook is bent. Like someone has not been careful with it. Or someone has been violent pulling something off of it. Like they are in a real hurry.

He stares at it. Trying to connect the dots. Smudges. Bent. He stares and narrows his eyes. He has a hunch. Not a good one. A heavy one.

Just as fast he heads back up to the bank of computer screens. He hits a dozen keys. He pulls up the tape from the week before. The Sunday night before last night. Same time frame.

He sits with a sick feeling. His mouth is open. He knows he is in trouble.

He is watching another couple. Another young couple comes out of the elevator on the fifth floor. They hurriedly undresses. They bolt down the hall. He hits key after key getting to the point where the naked woman, just as deftly, throws herself into the closet. And comes bolting out with her right hand fisted.

She too is young. She too is beautiful. She too has moderately large breasts. She too seems to have no regard for the pain they are causing her. She too has a bush full of hair. She too is athletic and intense and agile.

What is going on? What??? What. Is. Going. On!!

What are all these young, beautiful, athletic, naked people doing in his building!?!? He has no answers. But all these things have happened on his watch. He's in trouble.

End of part 2