Pandemonium, the best word to describe the chaos that reigns in the office this morning. With the incessant ringing of the phones, the never-ending low voices in the background your focus shifts to the phone that is shrilly ringing on your desk.
You pick up the phone and put on your best voice.
"Bonjour, Chantal Rose speaking., how may I assist you today? " The pleasantness in your voice belies your frustrations.
"Room 696" is the reply. A male voice, low, husky.
"Pardon monsieur?"
"Room 696." and the phone line disconnects with a click and the familiar hum of dial tone returns.
Stunned you sit there with soft flush starting to colour your cheeks. You know what he wants, needs desires and you know it is you. You can feel your heart start to race and the blood rushes to your nipples, which until now, were soft and pink but now start to redden, to fill out, lengthen and harden.
Your reverie is broken with the sharp ring of your next client on the phone.
Finally lunchtime!
You open your lower desk drawer, take out your purse and rush to the ladies room.
Locking the stall door behind you, reach up under your skirt and brush a finger over the cotton triangle that is warm and tight against your skin. You notice the slight rise of your button under the cotton, a Braille signature of your arousal. Sighing, you slip a finger under the waistband and pull them downwards, finding them clinging slightly between your lips, to the dampness that has been there since you answered that cryptic phone call this morning.
Stuffing your panties into your purse you hurry to the elevator. The ride to the main floor seems to take forever. The elevator doors finally open and you join the crush of everyone else in the building fleeing to enjoy the fresh spring day outside.
Coming out the doors you turn left and stride briskly down the sidewalk. The sun is warm on your face and your stride is brisk. The quickness of your steps makes your breasts bounce and your hips sway seductively side to side, drawing appreciative glances as you travel down the sidewalk.
Reaching the corner you stand on the edge of the curb, waiting for the light to turn green. Your breathing is quick, not from the brisk walk but in anticipation of your rendezvous. Impatiently you glance at your watch. 6 minutes have been lost from your 30-minute lunch. Finally the light turns green and you almost run across the street, jostling the slower pedestrians in your haste.
Finally you reach your destination, the Hotel Metropolis. The Doorman opens the door, tips his hat to you and you enter the lobby. Inside the air is cooler, calmer and is an oasis after the ocean of hustle and bustle outside. Your heels make a loud clicking on the marble floor as you cross the lobby. Standing in the elevator lobby, you stab the elevator call button, tap your foot while you wait and glance at your watch.
8 minutes have passed now.
Finally the elevators doors hiss open and you enter and select the 6 button and push again and hold the button, willing the doors to close faster, wanting the short journey to be over.
The elevator glides to stop at its destination and the doors slide open and your between them before they have fully dilated. Out the doors, you turn left take 30 steps and your there.
