It was Friday evening as I sat at my cluttered desk, staring at a spreadsheet and trying to work through a column of numbers, a loud, mechanical humming sound interrupted my thoughts. What was that racket? It was late in the evening, so I doubted many of my co-workers were still around, and my curiosity now aroused I went to investigate. Down the hall the new financial reporter, Veronica Parker, office light was on and glowed under the closed door. Without thinking I knocked and opened the door without waiting for an answer. There sat she sat, her auburn hair pulled up in a severe French twist, her suit jacket over the back of her chair, and her high necked silk blouse unbuttoned. Her exposed breasts were supported by a nursing bra, and connected to her nipples tubing to the noisy machine on the corner of her desk.
She looked up from her paperwork aghast. I quickly turned around, and began to apologize for the intrusion and attempt to explain. Veronica flipped the machine off, and took a minute to cover her exposed breasts. As I continued to stammer excuses, my mind wheeled at the sight I had just witnessed. It was so erotic to see her pumping milk from her full breasts, I began to feel aroused. Quickly I suppressed my emotions, and reprimanded myself for the inappropriate feelings.
"Robert, I can explain," she started to say, before I turned around and began myself to explain again the noise had caused my unexpected entrance and how I embarrassed I was.
"You embarrassed!? I would appreciate it if you did not mention this to anyone," Veronica continued. I questioned why she should be ashamed of her body.
Other than a quick introduction when she joined our firm a couple months prior, I had only encountered Veronica in passing. We worked in different departments, and did not have any reason to interact. She always dressed in the utmost professional, if rather prim, manner. She was tall and slender, but she did not play up any of her features, and her cold and severe manner did not invite second glances. I had no idea of her personal life, but had concluded from the breast pump she was a nursing mother. It must be hard I thought with her demanding job to balance a family and career, and she did not seem to exude a very maternal vibe.
"There is no valid reason for me to have milk," she stated sadly. "Please do not say anything. I have a hormonal disorder that causes me to lactate, and without expressing the milk I become engorged. I thought I was the only one working late, and I needed to relieve the pressure." She began to tear up, and I was surprised to see her formal faΓ§ade crumble. "It is so humiliating, and I would prefer no one knew," Veronica ended.
I felt bad for her, she was new here and it had to be a struggle to deal with milky tits and not even having anyone to produce it for. Sitting down I handed her tissue, and promised not to share her secret. Since she was still a bit weepy, I took a deep breath and said, "We all have our quirks, so don't think you have a monopoly on being a bit different."
Finally Veronica smiled, and with the tension lessened we began to chat. Over the next couple hours we talked about work, ourselves and I began to see a side of her that was not as cold as she projected in the office. We walked out of the building later that night, and I accompanied Veronica to her car. She thanked me, and I suggested we continue our conversation over dinner.
"As much as I would love to Robert, I need to get home and take care of my little problem," she said gesturing in the general direction of her chest. It was now or never. Knowing her lactation issue, and seeing a softer side of her I gambled on sharing a secret of my own.