The Midnight Run

This story follows on chronologically from "The Pest" although you don't need to read that missive first.

The Midnight Run

Confession is good for the soul.

So here's mine.

I am an exhibitionist.

There. I said it.

I'm either an exhibitionist or a pervert, or just plain weird. You decide.

And I dearly wish there were more exhibitionists. I really do. I like to think that there's a deep, spiritual joy in allowing yourself to be seen by someone else, another human being, especially in circumstances where nakedness, where nudity, is perhaps frowned upon. I'm not talking about circumstances where nudity would be inappropriate, undesirable or even downright offensive. That would be wrong. Rather, I'm talking about the innocent, the everyday, the normal. I discovered long ago that if I let a stray boob fall out at an inopportune moment, maybe in the supermarket, the swimming pool or the beach, and someone sees just a little bit more than they ought, then I definitely get a real buzz. Similarly, unless a person is diametrically opposed to such wanton displays of recklessness (and you can usually tell when they're not from just their basic body language) I can be fairly certain that they're enjoying the experience just as much as, if not more than, I am.

I don't flash a lot. Not these days. It's no longer the obsession it used to be. Just the odd time, here and there perhaps. I try to keep the worst of my urges under cover, suppressed even.

However, there are, sadly, those times when the urge to go just that little bit further becomes too much to ignore, and the need to undress and to run free builds and builds inside until it becomes a compulsion. I reach a point when I simply have to act and act now, or face a sleepless night wondering what might have been, or would be, or could be.

And I feel like that right now, at this very moment, as I write this missive. That's because I'm sitting on a crowded train stuck midway between York and Durham. It's hot, very sticky and desperately uncomfortable, and I'd love to just throw my clothes off and sit as nature intended, in my birthday suit. Alas, that just isn't going to happen.

I should also note that the gentleman presently sitting on my right, yes, you, YOU... is reading this missive when he knows he should not be. (Ah, that got your attention...)

As I was saying, I'm on a packed train and whilst a display of wanton nakedness might make the unplanned delay a little more bearable, I have a suspicion that if I were to disrobe then I'd be kicked off the train at Darlington and handed to British Transport Police.

Yes, in this instant, I must exercise caution. You see, not all of my exhibitionist activities turn out for the best.

Some years ago, during the probationary period for my first managerial role, I found myself working late in the office. I'd been handed a suite of programs to test and review before being taken live. I figured that if I put in a few more hours then I could kick the project into the long grass and earn a few extra brownie points from my Boss.

I stuck at the task in hand and, by 1030 pm, I'd reviewed all of the coding changes and handed off my bug reports/recommendations to the testing team.

And that was it. After months and months of effort, I was finished. Job done.

I really felt the need to celebrate.

I don't drink and I don't smoke so what else was there?

Yeah, you're ahead of me.

One of my most intense fantasies, so intense that I found the imagery utterly and completely overwhelming, was to get undressed and then walk the entire length of our offices in full view of my friends and colleagues, my seniors and my juniors, the board of Directors and the Tea Boy. I would parade myself slowly and deliberately, step by step, at a pace determined by the steady tick-tock-tick-tock of the office clock that hangs above the centre isle. I would pause in my meanderings, occasionally to bask in the warm summer glow that burns its way through the tinted windows up here on the sixth floor but mostly to roll around, to disport myself, on the large conference table that sits in the midst of these fawning, cringing heads.

In front of me, rank after rank of identikit workstations, impersonal and sterile, devoid of humanity. And behind each monitor, a single, lonely unaccompanied programmer, wishing their life away. Not one of these poor frightened souls dares to look up, maybe tries to catch a glimpse of the goodies on show, even for an instant, lest they find themselves dismissed on the spot.

Lord above. Do I have an ego problem or what? :)

Pardon me.

I couldn't get the idea out of my head. Worse, the image continued to surface time and time again, usually in meetings when my mind started to wander although mostly in the wee hours when I found sleep utterly elusive.

Obviously, the notion was completely out of the question. Or was it?

Why not just wait behind one night? Why not come in at the weekends? Do the deed and be done with it? Wouldn't that get rid of the problem? Well, no. It wouldn't because I work in the Banking and Insurance Sector and the entire floor was and probably still is under video surveillance 24/7/365 for security purposes.

So... what's a girl to do?

As a member of the Technical Support Team, one of my jobs was to check and maintain the Company's infrastructure, particularly the communications systems. This means I have access to those areas of the building not normally visited by the majority of employees. One of those areas was the very top of the building, which was roughly twenty stories above ground and home to the Company's Microwave array. Those aerials had a direct line of sight all the way down to Durham and beyond, and were critical for the Company's operations in the event of a broken underground line.

It was close to 11 pm when I made my way through a never ending series of locked doors and up to the roof. The building is certainly the tallest in the city so it's not over-looked. More so, there's a shoulder-high barrier to prevent jumpers (a problem in the past), but you can't be seen from ground level.

With my heart pounding, I took my chance and moved to dark space behind the main stairwell. Fearful of the ever present Security cameras, I did a quick inspection of the entire roof space but could find nothing unusual.

Once I was fairly sure that I had my privacy, I took all of my clothes off, pausing only briefly before removing my bra and pants.

The night air slammed into me like a very cold express train and, straight away, I began to tingle all over, goosebumps rising over every exposed surface.

I took a walk. A long slow delicious walk across the roof tops, my toes biting into the hard gravel surface, the wind nipping at my ass, blowing my hair in all directions. I wish more people could enjoy this experience, the sense of freedom, the sense of oneness. I really do. In any normal Universe, walking around naked in the middle of the night would be available on prescription from your Doctor.

And, for a time anyway, was almost certainly the highest naked person in the City of Newcastle upon Tyne. Something to reflect upon, no?

Every now and again I would pause to look over the rail at the people scurrying about below, and I wondered if they even suspected. Probably not.

With the wind blowing hard against my boobs, I peered into the neighbouring blocks and spied on the various residents doing what normal people do, which is watching TV, sleeping, cooking or just sitting, quietly enjoying the moment. I wondered if any one of them could see me. I noticed a gentleman of around sixty years in an adjacent block, standing at his window, staring out into the neon-lit vista before him and, rather strangely, I decided to wave. He didn't see me, of that I am sure but, nevertheless, I continued to wave until he sat down in his armchair and flicked on the TV set.

I found a wonderful place to sit and stare up at the few stars visible from the middle of the city. I began to sense a deep-seated connection to the rest of the Universe, a deep spiritual longing to be out there in the cosmos, exploring the most distant points of this wonderful little corner of Heaven we call Planet Earth. This tremendous feeling lasted right up to the moment a tiny point of light popped into reality somewhere over South Gosforth.

I sat up and stared into the middle distance, struggling to focus. My eyes are badly strained and I need spectacles - too many hours spent staring at too much small print on too many screens. On a good day, I can see (just about) without my glasses. Tonight, nearly everything is a dull blur. That said, I didn't need a telescope or a new prescription from my Ophthalmologist to know that the tiny spec of light rising into the sky was the Police Helicopter.

"Okay, no biggie," I thought. "They can't see me up here.."

But no.

The flying marvel that is "Blue Blunder" immediately turned and began heading south... And right towards me.

"Surely it's not?" I thought. "Why ever so? What have i done that could be so very, very interesting to a Policeman in a flying machine?"

And then the penny dropped.

They think I'm going to jump.

How did they know I was up here?

Another penny drops.

I must have tripped a silent alarm.

Oh.

Shit.

Truth be told, I lost it. Completely. A total panic.

I ran to the stairwell, grabbed my clothes and disappeared inside, pausing to dress just inside the doorway. Had I just calmly moved out of sight to, say, the other side of an air extractor, I would have almost certainly remained unseen, my body heat masked by the warmth spewing forth from the very bowels of the building.

And, of course, as all naturists who have been suddenly interrupted in their naked pursuits will readily testify, I have major troubles when it comes to dressing. I cannot get my tights on over my toes. I've lost a shoe. I get the buttons on my Corporate white blouse hopelessly muddled and my tie has knotted itself into a tightly wound ball inside my jacket pocket.

Above my head, the sound of engines hovering, accompanied by the blazing light that is its searchlight. They must be able to see that the door to the roof top is slightly ajar as the artificial sun set deep into the machine's belly slices through the gap in front of me, and my silhouette instantly fills the wall to my rear.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckety-fuck.

"I am in it now," I whisper.

However, logic and common sense take over.

Slow, slow. Steady, Calm. Breath. Breath deeply.

Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little Death.

Yeah, I'm quoting Dune, as I often do when I've been incredibly stupid.

I made myself decent and returned, as calmly as I could, to the main office.

The clock on the wall read 11:45 pm. Outside, I could still hear the faint rumble of the Helicopter's engines although they did seem to be receding a little. Nevertheless, I hid myself away in the server room and waited.

I waited and I waited until my watch said 12:30 before deciding that it was safe to leave. In the meantime, I half expected either the Security Guard or a burly Police Officer to come bounding into the room, truncheon raised above his head, but, strangely, I was left alone.

Some time later, and with my heart thumping away in my chest and a thin bead of sweat gathering on the top of my lip, I took the Lift down to the Reception area on the ground floor and waved my badge over the security sensor by the main stairwell. The door clicked open with a gentle but confident tick. The Security Guard, his face illuminated by a bank of iridescent monitors, stood up and smiled. He walked me to the main exit, whispered a cheery "Goodnight, M'am" and let me out of the building without a word. I replied with a polite "Goodnight" and a matching wave, and then disappeared into the night.

I made my way to my parking space, got into my car and sat staring at the front of the build and the Security Guard, who was now poised at the windows in the Reception area. I was watching him. He was watching me. Behind him, the feint glow of a bank of TV monitors. Had they born witness to my midnight silliness?

Why didn't he say anything? Anything at all?

I'm still mystified, all these years later.

The drive home was uneventful and mostly silent. I wondered if I'd been seen. I wondered if I'd get fired. I wondered if I'd get pulled over.

"So be it," I thought. "If I get fired then I get fired because... Is this me? Is this life truly what we set out to do?"

No, it isn't, is it? Never in a million years did I imagine I'd settle for this life.

We were a rock Goddess once, weren't we? In a previous life, we performed in front of fourteen thousand souls one night a million years ago when the world was a different place and I didn't have a mortgage and a myriad of Hire Purchase Agreements to service.

Yeah, right. Take what comes. Your action. Your responsibility. Own the moment. Own the day.

Up above, the sky was empty save for a few lonely stars and a solitary jet on a downward spiral heading for the airport. I smile. I escaped.

Sleep was an uneasy bedfellow that night. Too many "what if's" and "What were you thinking?" to find anything resembling peace.

I resolved to return to the scene of my crimes at first light and I was at my desk before the majority of my co-workers were even awake.

It's nine thirty when my Boss deigns to arrive in our presence.

"Did you go home last night?" he asks, smiling.

My legs went to jelly in an instant as the thought runs through my mind. "Does he know something I don't?"

The urge to run, to hide, to remain anonymous was over-powering.

What were you thinking, you idiot?

Periodically, I glance over at the window which separates his Magnificence from us mere mortals. He's on the phone and he's been on the phone for an hour. Someone, somewhere, is bending his ear.

Eventually, he puts the phone down and looks up, stares right at me, and smiles.

"Shit... He knows..." is my first thought. "Who's he gonna call?" is my second. Sure as hell isn't 'Ghostbusters', that's a certainty. Security? Perhaps? Should I clear my desk? Maybe.

He waves, beckoning. I stand and make my way over to his office at a pace that betrays my state of nerves. I turn before I enter the Lion's Den and every eye in the room is on me.

"Is she for the chop?" I hear them wonder in unison, a chorus of dread and fear moving about the office like an uneasy scirocco wind. "If she's for the can then... Who's next? Me?"

"Hey, Sarah?" says my voice. The tone is warm and friendly. "Well done on the job last night. Thanks for putting in the extra effort."

"Just wanted to get the tough stuff out of the way," I reply. "Just a long slog."

"Cool," he says. "I'm sure this will come up in your performance review in a couple of weeks."

"Oh, I see..." I whisper.

"No, no, no..." he says. "Don't worry. It'll all be good."

"Ah, okay..."

"But one last thing," he says.

"Yeah..."

"Stay off the roof, will you, please?"

"The roof?"

"The roof," he says.

"Okay..." I whisper.

"Security," he says, lowering his voice. "They get a little jumpy if they see someone moving around up there, especially after hours. They call the Cops first and..."

"But..." I whisper. Yeah, my heart is pounding.

"But yeah..." he says, smiling. "There are cameras everywhere these days. Everywhere."

His phone rings and our conversation ends.

I return to my desk, slide into my seat and put my head in my hands, occasionally glancing up at the screen. A Security Guard enters the office space and the noise in the room drops to an eerie silence.

"Who's next?" is the collective mumble.

Mercifully, the Guard does not look in my direction and we do not make eye contact. Neither does he smile at me when I leave that evening.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" I whisper to myself over and over again. "Seriously? What the fuck were you thinking?"

My co-workers circle my desk, like Zebras around a water hole following a recent kill. They are curious as to my fate but seemingly too frightened to approach lest I lash out with a sharpened talon. And yet, they are clearly pleased when they discover that I am still at my post at the end of my shift and greatly relieved when I arrive for work the following morning. If I escaped then so might they, so goes their logic.

My performance review comes and goes, and whilst it is neither spectacularly good, neither is it spectacularly bad. At the conclusion, I am welcomed into the Company with a hearty pat on the back and a gentle rise in salary.

My moonlight flit up on the roof is never mentioned again. However, two years elapse before I have the guts to venture onto the roof and only then to assist in the decommissioning of a broken relay box.

Of course, my eyes scan the roof top in search of the tiny camera which captured my nakedness for all to see.

And there it is, midway up the main mast and to the left of the main junction box. Little wonder I'd missed it in the dark.

Thing is, how much did it see, and who saw it? And who has the footage?

One to ponder in the wee hours, I think.