It was a few days after I'd returned to work from maternity leave. My breasts were swollen and producing a large amount of milk, much more than I actually needed. Every day at lunch, I would retreat to a small storage space just off the break room and use the breast pump while I ate. The employees and temps shared the break room with tenants, and there were often corporate visitors in and out for coffee, so I needed the privacy. Everyone on staff was very gracious about it.
Today, though, the boss lady intercepted me and told me she had arranged a more convenient space for me. We don't call her "The Boss Lady" to her face, of course, but it's an appropriate description. She's a tall, imposing blonde, very no-nonsense. Corporate loves her results, so they give her a free hand when it comes to running the office suites. As intimidating as she can be, we've all learned that she's fair and will stand up for us when we need her. She doesn't let upper management disturb her henhouse.
She has a reputation for professionalism among the tenants, and any visitor can see it in her manner of dress: blouse buttoned to the neck, crisp suit jacket, pencil skirt, low heels. Her hair is kept in a tight bun, never a strand out of place. She wears stylish black-rimmed glasses when she reads. She speaks with clarity and sports a firm handshake. The word "businesswoman" was coined for her.
If she has any personal relationships, we don't know about them.
She led me down the hall to an unrented space that had a desk and chair. I sat down and started unbuttoning my blouse. I was saying something about how considerate everyone was being, when I noticed she hadn't come all the way in. She glanced quickly up and down the hall, then ducked inside and flipped the lock.
Before I could process any of this, she rushed over to me, bent over at the waist, cupped my breasts through my bra and pressed her face into my cleavage. She took a deep breath, in and out, through her nose. I felt the moist heat deep between my breasts.
"Hey... Wha...?" I started to say.
She pressed her left index finger against my lips and whispered, "Shhh. Shhhh."
She quickly jerked my left feeding flap open... AND HER LIPS WERE ON MY LEFT NIPPLE!
OH MY GOD! She was sucking on my left nipple and... and...
AND SHE WAS DRINKING MY MILK!
I was frozen. Every hair was standing up on my neck and arms, and I felt a wave of goose bumps rush over me. My eyes must have been the size of dinner plates. I had NO IDEA what to do!
Her lips were pursed in a light kiss, gently wrapped around only the nipple. But that was enough. She was getting milk! I could feel it!
I breathed in as if to speak, but again her finger pressed to my mouth. "Hmp-mm," she mumbled.
With her left hand still gently warning me silent, her right hand cradled my left breast and lifted slightly. Her puckered lips parted just a bit, bringing the entire areola into her mouth. I felt the nipple move inward.
I gasped.
I was still paralyzed, but my impressions were vivid. She was standing to my right, bending across my body. I could smell her cologne, and I had a close-up view of her left ear and neck. She was making no sound, but I could FEEL every rhythmic suck. My heart was racing so fast and hard I could feel it in my ears. I felt like I would fall over. I hadn't experienced that kind of total body fear since I was a child, and I remember thinking back then, "This is what a frightened rabbit must feel like."
