What Happened at the Warehouse Office One Friday Evening (Part I)
I was picking up the weekend shipment of tools, parts and supplies for my company from the Apexco warehouse one Friday. After loading the truck, I went to the office at the front of the property to hand off some papers to the manager. It was about 5:30pm and the sun was giving the commercial district it's last burning hot thrashing for the day. As I walked up to the office I noticed that there were only two vehicles parked nearby. One was another delivery truck from a local company I recognized. The other was a sleek red sports car.
"The manager stayed late to sign out the last few pick-ups this week," I thought to myself. I usually didn't work the Friday shift or this particular run, but the boss needed someone to cover, so I had volunteered.
I walked into the office and found the other driver and the manager looking over some papers on a long table in the middle of the room. The driver was a rangy, scruffy looking middle-aged fellow in a company uniform. I couldn't see his name tag. The manager was a young woman in her late twenties about 5'2" with long brown hair. She was wearing a tight fitting professional outfit, a grey skirt and a black button-down blouse. I could see that her name was Kristina from her nametag.
I waited quietly a few feet behind and to their right while they continued to quietly look over papers. There was something a bit odd about the other driver, though I couldn't put my finger on it. I dismissed it quickly; you run into weirdos all the time in my business. The manager gave a faint impression of having the same feeling about him as well. I noticed that she occasionally glanced at him with a puzzled expression, but said nothing.
They seemed to have quite a bit of business to work through. Apparently there were a lot of insured items that the driver needed to inventory and sign for. A few minutes went by during which I began to notice more details about the manager. In retrospect, I wish I had paid more attention to the driver, but I'm a guy after all. What can I say? The manager was way more interesting.
She was wearing dark professional high-heels and no hosiery. The skin tone of her legs confirmed that she had very pale skin. She had a fit and well-formed figure. I noticed that her skirt was extremely tight on her shapely posterior and I thought that it might have been made for a smaller woman. Every time she moved I got the impression that she was being very careful. She seemed to be pinching her legs together when she walked back and forth beside the table separating and arranging papers for the driver to sign. She was partly turned away from me, but would occasionally turn in my direction. This gave me a view of her blouse which also seemed to be a bit too small for her shape. Her breasts were unnaturally large for her frame and they projected up and out from her chest putting a strain on her blouse. She had to continually adjust it to keep it from rising above her waistline. I suspected that she had implants.
The room was full of a rising tension. My mind groped to comprehend, but was foiled. The driver conspicuously paid no attention at all to the manager. He didn't even look at her, but simply exchanged papers with her when he was finished with them. She on the other hand watched his every movement and appeared captivated with a growing sense of impatience. She seemed to be swelling up like a balloon about to burst. But the driver took no notice and continued working though not very quickly.
The manager let out a small sigh of impatience as he slowly turned a page on the clipboard he was holding. "Where's the item number on this one?" he said, breaking the stiff silence at last. He handed her the clipboard and pointed to an empty space on it.
She took the clipboard and immediately filled in the missing number. "There we go. All finished finally," she said, impatience evident in her voice. But before she could hand the clipboard back to the driver, he made a sudden, swift, and strange motion, snatching the clipboard from her hands.
As he jerked his hand back tearing the clipboard out of her grasp, the top caught on a button at the base of her blouse and pulled hard on it. Every single button on her tight blouse burst and went flying as it flew wide open. A thin pad fell to the floor and I realized that this had been keeping the manager's nipples from showing through her blouse. Her large braless breasts sprang free and remained quivering, firm, rigid out for the world to see. The manager let out a muffled cry as she seized the edges of her blouse and tried vainly to close it back up over her enormous swollen chest.
I could see that her nipples were very long and erect and her flesh was flushed and the color was now deepening. She continued to struggle to close her ruined blouse but this only pushed her firm breasts up further, making the red swollen areolas even more visible.