Trying to avoid eye contact with the old letch perving on her flip-flopped feet, Jess sat on the tube train with the ghost of her reflection fixed in the dark glass opposite her.
She knew it was a hopelessly narcissistic thing to think, but every day she was reminded just how much of a handicap her looks were. Most people blinked at her as if she was just too bright to stare at, or they peered at her out of the corner of their eye. Her body was healthy and curvaceous and her skin luminously flawless. As was her sleek black hair and huge, liquid eyes. Even her lips were plump and almost absurdly cupid. She hated every bit of it.
Only the delusionally overconfident or downright creepy ever dared talk to her. All the nice people scampered away if she sought them out. It had been over a year since she last had sex. And that was with this - admittedly gorgeous - physicist who was so intimidated he couldn't get hard then immediately came when she touched him. He was so mortified he avoided her after that. Then he even had the nerve to go and win the Nobel prize for some space-time thing, just to rub it in.
She crossed her legs and frowned at the gawper opposite. Then at everyone else on the tube. Then she got off the train.
She was knotted and tense with a horn she had been unable to deal with that morning. Her idiot flatmate had blundered into the bathroom and actually taken a shit just as she'd been trying to get off with the showerhead. So even that meagre release had been denied her. And it was the weekend. And she still had to work.
She let herself into the empty furniture showroom and cursed her bosses requirement to have someone there all the time, even though the place was so relentlessly chichi all their viewings were by private booking only.
"Darlink!" he said, often, knowing no other punctuation beyond exclamation, "but you are my most exquisite piece! When the morons buy my furniture they think they are buying the chance to be you!"
Jess harrumphed at her desk, set up facing the window, and set about her shop-dummy duty of trying to look busy. She turned on her laptop and flicked through her emails. Spam, spam, spam, spam.
"Bloody Vikings," she mumbled, then one message caught her eye. Amongst all the other tawdry toss, one stood out, its subject "Jess finally gets laid." The message was blank, but for a link. She knew she shouldn't click it. She looked about the empty showroom, outside to the empty street. She knew it was bad. She bit her lip. She knew she shouldn't... Her brain flipped down between her legs. She clicked the link.
No website, just a video popping up full screen, a naked girl spread across a black bed. He heart lurched and she reached for the off switch then squirmed in the illicit realisation that absolutely no-one could see. Even if they pressed their nose to the window, they'd see her not the screen.
She crossed her legs, supressed a smirk and watched the naked girl. Not naked. She still had a bra on. Somehow that made her seem even more exposed, just her bits out. The view was from some distance, so Jess couldn't see too much, but the girl clearly had dark hair and kind of looked like her.
Who was this from? Weirdly the email said it was from herself. The girl opened her legs, and proceeded to move a hand between them. Jess stopped caring who sent it.
Jess had never seen another girl do this, though had done herself a few times in front of the mirror in a shameful quest for sexual company. In fact it seemed this "Jess" seemed to be doing the same, watching herself. Or showing someone maybe.
Jess's heart thumped hard and her fingers trembled as she watched the girl fiddle and tease herself. She flicked a foot. Uncrossed her legs. The video girl looked so enticing, or was it just a "monkey see monkey do" thing? But Jess felt a familiar tight tingle between her thighs.
Her desk had a "modesty" panel. No-one could see her below the waist. She opened one knee and let her fingers brush up her thigh. Then as the girl in the video pulled her legs up and back, her hands holding herself open, Jess squeezed at her knickered warm podginess, trembling as it sent wriggles of electricity radiating out.
A figure stepped into the frame. Another woman.
"Oh yes..." Jess whispered as the woman knelt between the girls knees, face inches from her sex. When the woman dipped her head and started kissing and licking the girl, Jess' s head spun. She was too horny for this. She needed to cum. Now.
She reached up her short skirt and wriggled off her underwear as discretely as she could. Sliding down to the edge of her seat, she opened her knees and let her finger at her bits, dipping one into her slippery interior and spreading wetness over her clamouring spot. She gasped. The girl in the video looked close to climax, her body made delicious sinuous waves as the woman licked and her stomach muscles clenched and shuddered. Her eyes screwed shut; she clawed the bed beside her. The woman's head nodded and nuzzled and dipped. Jess tickled at her hard nub and a warm melting sensation gathered around her hips. She slid a finger deep into herself-
"Hello?"
A woman shouted from outside the window, knocking at the glass. Jess all but fell off her chair, sitting bolt upright. The woman beamed a smile and gestured to the shop door. She wanted to come in!
Jess's fingers were wet, her whole body shook - on the very precipice of an orgasm - and here she was faced with an actual customer. She slapped the laptop shut and stuffed her knickers into a drawer. Thank god, she had forgotten to unlock the shop door.
She scampered over to the door and unlocked it; suddenly feeling exposed in bare feet and the intimate breeze of wearing no underwear.
"I'm so sorry dear," the woman said, "I know I should make an appointment, but I understand you have a Michangelo Chaise, here?"
