Through a Glass Lightly

She turned and walked to the chair and set the implements down, he still couldn't see the arrangement. Then she stepped to the table and used the lube to quickly grease up the butt plug. Then she bent with her ass to him and reached behind and reinserted it.

He moaned. None of the women he'd been with had one or used one so far as he could remember.

She capped the lube and bent and fussed at the chair. Then she hefted the soft, black bag and turned again and bent as the light glinted off of the polished silver base of the butt plug as she stored the bag into her roller case. She stood and turned to the laptop and pushed it closed. She stowed it before she reached for the folded dress and it followed the laptop into the case. As she stood she pulled the handle up.

She turned so she mostly faced him, her breasts perfectly displayed, her nipples huge and deep red now. He saw her mouth the usual 'goodbye' before she reached up and tapped the earbud, dressed in only the shoes, stockings and bustier. Did the butt plug count? She repeated the closed-eyes neck stretch ritual before she reached behind and retrieved her phone and slipped it into the purse. She grabbed that and the handle of the roller case and walked purposefully to the coat rack. Rather than lay it over her arm she pulled it on and repeated her goodnight or goodbye to the room. She left the coat open as she turned and pulled her case to the elevators.

His brain finally came back online as he exhaled slowly and blinked. He looked up at the nearest recessed light bay in the ceiling, all three fluorescent tubes aglow.

How? Who?

Then he looked around. Shit. Well, it could be cleaned. Except.

Cubicle 14's resident had one of those paper pad 'page a day' calendars, each day with one of those inspirational sayings he so hated. It had barely been used so it was still thick.

'Today is the Day You Become Who You Are.'

He sniffed. A thick line of cum ran across the edge of the top then from the upper right corner to the lower left of the front page. It was tomorrow's, Friday's, she'd already flipped it.

He looked back across the street. Empty. Had he dreamed it?

No. The abstract art that still oozed down the window across the street confirmed her existence.

He sighed. She'd known exactly where he was, would be. Did she, somehow, control the lights?

*****

Cubicle 14's resident had gone to HR, someone had messed with her calendar and moved other stuff. And had left a white glob of, something, smeared on a family photo. She'd accused a cube-dweller two rows over. The two women had a... history. The accusations and denials had escalated to screams and attempted fisticuffs. Both women had been sent home and 'put on probation.' Howard's IT coworker had no idea what that meant when he'd related the story as Howard had arrived to take over.

He'd smiled and laughed along, relaxed by degrees.

But the blonde wasn't there that night.

The blonde wasn't there the next week.

The blonde wasn't there the week after that.

He took the offered change to the day shift. Hanging around alone on five dark, empty floors had lost its charm.