Chapter 14: Wristband Tease & Open-Office Risk

The wrist bandage felt heavier today, a warm, secret weight under the cuff of my long-sleeve shirt that no one else could see. Yesterday’s panties—still carrying the faint, sticky trace of the restroom creampie Sarah had smeared across the lace before licking it clean in front of me—were wrapped tight around my skin, layered over the older ones from the supply closet and the elevator. Every time I flexed my fingers to type a ticket the fabric shifted, releasing a low, intimate bloom of her scent mixed with the sharp salt of my own dried release. I kept my arm close to my body at my desk, pretending to study router logs while the open-plan floor hummed with the usual Tuesday rhythm: keyboards clicking, phones ringing, someone in the next row laughing too loud at a client story. No one noticed. But I felt it like a brand.

My phone vibrated at nine-fifteen. One text from her: Lift your wrist. Sniff. Under the desk where no one can see.

I glanced around once—claims adjuster two cubicles over was on a call, back turned—then lowered my arm beneath the desk edge and pressed my nose to the hidden lace. The smell hit low and immediate, warm and filthy, her pussy after a full morning of meetings blended with the creamy residue I’d left inside her yesterday. My cock thickened against my thigh. I inhaled again, slower, letting the scent fill my lungs while I typed one-handed. Another text: Good boy. Hallway in five minutes. Sniff again where people walk past.

I stood, heart steady but skin prickling, and walked the short aisle toward the printer station. Sarah was already there, leaning over a jammed tray in her charcoal pencil skirt, the fabric stretched smooth across the generous curve of her hips. She didn’t look at me. Two accountants passed behind us, chatting about lunch plans, close enough that their sleeves brushed mine. I paused beside her as if helping with the jam, lifted my wrist casually to “check my watch,” and pressed my nose to the bandage again. Her scent bloomed stronger in the open air—rich, lived-in, unmistakable if anyone had been paying attention. She shifted her weight, letting her thigh brush mine for half a second, then murmured without turning her head, “Again. Deeper this time.”

I did it. Inhaled long and slow while the accountants kept walking, their voices fading down the hall. The risk sent heat crawling up my spine. My cock was fully hard now, trapped uncomfortably in my slacks, and Sarah’s small smirk flickered across her lips as she cleared the jam and walked away without another word.