INSIDE STORY

CHAPTER 3

The door opens and a young brutish girl walks in without knocking, the girl drops lunch on the table at the centre of the room and walks away without even as much as a "Hi" or a "Good afternoon", leaving the door slightly ajar. Janelle just sits still and says nothing as the little brat wanders in and out, at the very least she is grateful that the company takes care of their lunch; they promised lunch not a very good mannered lunch girl. The noise from the hallway isn't pleasant to her ears, the sound of clients who stroll in and out of the office with questions that they already have answers to; most times a simple phone call could resolve their issues but her boss has made it a point to employ only "models" to work at their firm and this ensures the men come around with issues that seemingly has no end. After much hesitation, she gets up and closes the door, checks her watch and figures now would be a good time to sit and eat.

Soon as she sits down on the closest sofa, a thought crosses her mind, she ignores it and makes to reach for her food on the table, but her nerves are already excited from the sensual feeling that now rang through her overtly sensitive body seeking vent.

Not here... not now, this is your office. Control it!!! Why do you spend all your time reading about sex transmutation when you cannot even try to at least fight this, even if it's just for a teeny tiny bit? Are you even listening to me?

Janelle relaxes on the sofa, pulls her skirt up a few inches, spread her legs a tad apart, then reaches for her insides, but her face changes because she feels her tights and it currently is some sort of blockage to the Holy Grail...

That's a sign...really, you have to stop this. Just tell yourself to stop?

Janelle!!! Janelle!!!

Okay, think of good times...

She smiles...

Scratch that...think of happy times...

The smile intensifies... her right-hand slides gently through the top of her skirt, past the tights and further down till she finds her already excited moist flesh. She starts working her fingers furiously while her left-hand clutches the throw pillow on the sofa. There is not a care in the world right now if her moans are loud or not, she just has to get this over with as that is all that matters to her at the moment.

The door isn't locked, what if you are caught? How would you explain to whoever finds you in this deplorable state, that their star staff indulges in such an act even at her place of work? What values are you really teaching both yourself and whoever opens that door in the next few minutes?

Janelle!!! Janelle!!!

"Almost there..."

"Almost THERE!!!" she keeps repeating as her fingers explore all of Rome.