She tingled furiously, so much it hurt. A fire burned all throughout her loins, from the tip of her clitoris all the way to her rapidly contracting cervix. Her insides were so wet that she could feel them slosh with every step she took, and the only thing keeping her from dripping all over the floor was the emergency tampon inside her purse that she jammed inside herself. But it only added to her pleasure, added to her wetness as her muscles pulsed all around it, stimulating the already flaring nerves. She felt like cumming, like she was going to cum, that she would cum any minute, that no force on Earth would be able to prevent her from cumming.
But Carol's orgasm still did not come. It did not come in the break room. It did not come in the restroom. It did not come during her trek back to her desk, it did not come when she returned to her seat, and it likely would not come for a long time.
Why is this happening to me? It shouldn't be. It's physically impossible. HOW DO I STOP IT?
She tried crossing her legs. A shock of pleasure, a buzzing of electricity in her core. No good. She tried spreading them out. More pleasure, more ripples, emanating from her vaginal walls peeling off one another. She tried closing her legs. Everything mashed wetly together again, wall against wall, fold against fold, nerve against nerve. She nearly fell to the floor.
So hot...so horny...want to masturbate. Want to fuck. Want to CUM! But can't. CAAAANNNNN'T!
She was still tingling. Still throbbing. Still sopping. Still sweating. And her clothes were closing in around her like hands around her neck. It was all Carol could do just to keep herself from bursting, from fainting, from ripping all her clothing off and jumping the first person she saw!
"Um, Miss Connors?"
FUCK ME!
Carol bit back a scream at the familiar voice that spoke to her. Why her? Why did it always have to be HER? Was this girl the only intern in the whole damn office? Why couldn't they just send some bony, nerdy boy with acne to relay a message to her? Anyone would be better than this...this...innocent, bespectacled temptress that kept driving the vestiphobic woman wild.
"Miss Connors?"
"What...do you...want?" Carol seethed, keeping her eyes glued to her monitor. One look...that was all it would take for her to lose control, and that was not something she could afford to do again with people milling about all around her now.
She could hear the poor girl flinch and shiver, frightened that she just made a coworker, and a superior at that, angry. "I...I just came to inform you that you're needed at Writer's Room 3 right now. You were specially requested for a meeting by Elaine Cassidy."
"Elaine...Cassidy?" Oh no. No, no, no, no, no! Not her, not again, not now. It was too much even on her best days, and this was one of her worst. "Son of a Goddess-damn BITCH!"
Fortunately, the intern didn't stick around. By the time Carol was able to look up, she was already long gone. However, that meant Carol now had no choice but to speak to the she-bitch; she couldn't just tell the intern to relay a message to tell Elaine to go fuck herself. Then again, that would likely just get her fired, and Carol knew she was skirting very dangerously close to the line between "employed" and "out on her ass" after her...misadventure in the break room. It was honestly a miracle no one saw what she did in there. At least, she hoped no one saw what she did in there. So with great reluctance, she pushed herself to her feet once again and made her way to the Writer's Room, limping as though she was in pain.
Elaine was waiting for her, dressed more casually than the last time Carol saw her. Casual for her in any case, as her outfit consisted of a sleeveless maroon shirt, matching miniskirt, black tights, and a beret on her head. She couldn't have looked any more like a stereotypical pretentious artist if she tried. Which she very much was.
"Ugh, about time you showed up," Elaine sneered. "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting to see you? Twenty-five hours! And do you know what they told me when I asked why I couldn't see you yesterday? It was because you weren't available! Can you believe that? How could they possibly not find one of their own employees? Is this company really that incompetent?"
"What...do you...want?" Carol grunted between her breaths, in no mood to explain the entire concept of sick days or the definition of absence to the spoiled princess.
Elaine only looked at Carol the same way one would look at a fart. "You're...dressed today," she said, half surprised and half disapprovingly. "Of all days."
"Yes, I am...dressed. Because that's how...people are...supposed to be." The words hurt to say. Carol had to wrestle them out. But they were true. People were...supposed to wear clothes. It was normal. They were not supposed to run around naked. Ever. At all. Even if a higher being wanted a specific half of them to.
"Well...whatever," the younger girl huffed, waving her hand in front of her face like an impromptu fan. Clearly, she was feeling the effects of the heat wave and the lack of air conditioning as well. "I need to talk to you more about my book."
"Just write and the words will come to you," Carol grunted, unable to hide her complete disinterest in the aspiring author. She knew it was the wrong thing to say and that it wouldn't have the desired effect, but she couldn't help it. She was hot, she was horny, she was tingling like a vibrator and dripping like a faucet, struggling to stay on her feet, and just having to look at Elaine's stupid pretty face was the last thing she wanted to deal with right now.
"I tried!" Elaine cried, throwing her arms theatrically up in the air. "Lord knows I tried, but I just couldn't find them sitting all by myself in front of my computer! I need my muse, my inspiration. I need...you!"
"Me?" said Carol, taken aback. "What do you need me for? I'm just an editor. Someone you've only spoken to a handful of times."
"No, there's more! When you showed yourself to me the other day, you told me something." Elaine's trademark irritation was nowhere to be heard in any of her words. She sounded excited now, like a kid at Christmastime who knew she was on the verge of getting something really good. "I realized just what it is my story was missing. The kind of raw...fiery...