The Soap Shop Ch. 01

Right, here's the thing about me: I love Abby. I mean, LOVE her. Her open smile, her gently curving lips, the way her hair combines soft curls and layers to form an intricate enigma around her face, the way her body... sways. And curves. Her outlines barely visible under her clothes, but hinting at so much more. Every time she comes by, I feel like I'm melting in my seat, starting between my legs. It's melting heavily down there...

Anyway, here's the thing about Abby: She doesn't love me. Well, that's probably not really true, it's more like she doesn't know I love her and I don't know how she feels, because we haven't spoken about that. Also, she's my boss.

Oh, and also, she's about 15 years younger than me which is... fine, I guess. After all, she's not a 40-something ex-baker who had to change careers due to developing a flour allergy.

And that's all really okay with me, because it led me to meet Abby, and Abby makes my heart melt soft, and my pussy melt harder. Which is why I'm sitting uncomfortably, shifting slightly from one butt cheek to another while trying very hard not to stare at Abby's butt, which is barely visible three cubicles over, where she talks to another one in this office farm of customer service hell.

I don't even know if she's lesbian. No, "gay" is what the young people now call it? Or "queer"? I don't know. It doesn't matter, because she probably isn't, probably has a beautiful boyfriend her age who makes her happy and fulfilled and makes love to her every morning before she comes to work, filled with his...

Fuck, I have to get a grip on myself and stop thinking about this, or I'm gonna burst.

Alright, alright, Yasmin, calm down. Here's what I'm going to do: I'll just... head on down to the restrooms and start rubbing my pussy until it calms down. That's how it' supposed to work, right? You get all hot and bothered, you rub it out, and then you've cleared your head and are ready to get back to function like a normal, competent adult and not like a hormonal teenager who just discovered masturbation.

Well, in any case, that's how I found myself in a tight, uncomfortable bathroom stall, trying, for the first time, to masturbate at work. Which is difficult, at least for me, because just using my fingers has never worked good in the best of times, let alone in a less than stimulating environment, such as a bathroom stall. Still, I gave it a valiant effort.

Alright, just rub the clit, Yasmin, rub the clit. Look, it's slippery enough already, you should be fine. Fuck, is that noise coming from me? Could someone else hear that? Shit, I can't be too loud in here, this is... okay, take a deep breath and then hold it, then back to the clit, slow circles, pinch it, just a litt-aaaahhh. Fuck. Don't tense up, you'll hit the wall.

God, this is tedious, and I'm not getting anywhere. How long have I been in here? A minute? Ten? Are they looking for me?

Focus! Think about Abby and her... really damn nice butt. Her face, her lips, kissing, touching, sucking on your dumb little clit, which would be soo much better than whatever it is you're trying to do right now.

I wish I had my vibrator now, but it's tucked in nice and warm in my bedstand at home, probably sleeping soundly, dreaming little wet vibrator dreams of that one trip to my anus a few months ago, or how it nearly overheated when I swapped it back and forth with...

Gotta remember to buy some batteries when I leave here today, I can't go on like this. Is it frowned upon to carry emergency sex toys in your bag?

I really should get myself one of those little vibrators that you can hide in your purse. Aren't they, like, an egg? Or is that something different? Is that the remote controlled one?

Are you even still masturbating, or are you just thinking about masturbating, Yasmin? What the hell is wrong with you? This is pathetic.

I gave up, and leaned back on the toilet seat with a sigh, fingers slightly sticky but with less of an itch between my legs.

"Are you... are you okay in there?" I heard a voice from outside the stall. Shit. It sounded like... What'sHerName? The new girl from across the hall.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and reply as calm as I can: "Woulldchalickmyclit?"

The words - or word that I bubblegumed it into - hung in the hollow air of the restroom and as soon as I said it, I felt it crash and burn as my pussy shriveled up and died.

Nothing makes you drier than awkwardness and I got so dry I think I heard a sandstorm blowing through the cave that was once my grotto of wonders, while my labia withered and tucked inward for shame.

The silence that followed lasted so long that I thought Ms. WhatsHerFace had quietly disappeared, or was a figment of my imagination to begin with. When I finally made the toilet seat creak from moving nervously, I heard a singular reply:

"What?"

"Uh," I answered. "Nothing." I might have mumbled something else that sounded like "blubahugnuditruffahh" but nothing relieved me more than to hear the sweet sound of the restroom door closing behind her.

I waited another minute or two for good measure and then quietly slunk back out of the restroom and to my desk.

Maybe she didn't even recognize you, Yasmin. I mean, she's new! What, do you think she can tell all her new co-workers by voice and smell? Maybe she really didn't understand. It was kinda echo-y in that restroom and you do tend to slur your words a bit when you're nervous.

Also, none of this helped my situation with Abby in the slightest and I spend the rest of my morning working withdrawn and focussed on the wall in front of me, jumpy and embarrassed and overly confused.