Watcher in the Stacks

My mind was spinning, trying to absorb all that I had just seen. A voice inside my brain was screaming:

"Who are you!"

And then the MSN messenger icon began to blink again. I opened it.

"Watcher says: I'm not Natalie or Sarah, do you believe that now?"

"cwork5 says: Yes, WHO ARE YOU?"

"Watcher says: A woman. A watcher. Not Natalie or Sarah, but you do know me."

"cwork5 says: What are you going to do with the pictures?"

"Watcher says: Nothing, nothing at all. Just keep them."

My mind was still spinning, but my heart started to slow a bit. Could I believe "watcher"? Believe she wouldn't use the pictures to hurt me? Suddenly, I felt a little less threatened. But, I was still trying to figure out who she was. What she wanted. Why she was doing this. How she got those pictures. How she knew I'd been in the glass room. What was going on.

"cwork5 says: What do want? What do you want to do?"

"Watcher says: It's what I want you to do."

My heart skipped a beat, then beat a little faster. What she wanted me to do?

"cwork5 says: What do you want me to do?"

"Watcher says: Why don't go back to the glass room?"

My heart now beating even faster, anticipating.

"Watcher says: You know where to stand. Leave you panties on like you did when your wore Natalie's."

My breath coming faster, more shallow as I type.

"cwork5 says: What do you want me to do there? What are you going to do."

"Watcher says: You know what to do, you've done it before. I'm just going to watch again."

"Watcher's" icon suddenly went offline. It didn't appear that I had much of a choice. And I was suddenly very excited. This was MSG. I logged off my machine and stood up. I stepped out of my shoes and lifted my skirt. I pushed my pantyhose down and stepped out of them. They were damp. I put them in a desk drawer. Stepping back into my shoes, I left my office and walked toward the glass room. I could feel moisture seeping out from under the leg band of my panties, running down the insides of my thighs. My nipples were hard, straining against the material of my bra. My breath was coming quickly and I picked up my pace. Unlocking the door and locking it again behind me, I hurried to the back of the room.

Standing in the same spot, I looked up and around, searching for the camera. Where was it? Then I realized it didn't matter, just as long as she was watching. And I lifted my skirt. Leaning back against a book case, my fingers started masturbating my pussy through the cotton. I pushed the cloth up between my swollen lips, stroking myself, my thumb pressing against my hard clit, two fingers grinding the cloth deeper into me. Imagining "watcher" seeing me do what she had told me to do, what she had secretly watched me do before, fueled my lust. I pulled my white blouse out of my skirt with my left hands, while my right continued to stroke the cotton between the lips of my vagina. Rubbing it, pushing it deeper into me.

Unbuttoning my blouse with my left hand was awkward, but I did it and pushed my bra up over my breasts. Wishing for the thousandth time that I could suck on them myself, I pulled and twisted at my nipples. Feeling the heat between my fingers. Feeling it building the heat between my legs. The soft cotton of my panties was wet with my moistness and I wanted to slip a finger under the leg band and into me, but I didn't. "Watcher" wanted me to cum the way I had that night in Natalie's panties. Touching myself through the panties.

Slowly, but steadily the fire grew as I imagined "her" watching me, wondering who it was. Which of the many women I knew was she? And, was she touching herself as I touched myself? The thought that she might be burned itself into my brain. Touching herself as I touched myself. Like Natalie. I felt the heat rising. I wanted to push my fingers deeper, but the cotton wouldn't stretch. I was so close, so close. I twisted my nipples, pulling at them wondering who, who she was. My eyes closed and I had to bite my lip. Shifting my weight from leg to leg, my hips were involuntarily thrusting at my fingers, trying to pull them deeper through the cloth. I was stimulating my clitoris through the cotton with my other hand, the moisture from inside me making my panties wet, almost all the way from my crotch up to my clit. Oozing out of my vagina. Spotting the bright white cotton that had been so fresh and dry just an hour ago.

I was so close, so close but I couldn't quite get over the top. I wondered again who it was. Was it one of the women I truly lusted after? The women who made my pussy wet just thinking of them? I saw several faces swimming into my consciousness and I thought:

"Yes, one of them, maybe her."

And I thought of the woman I most wanted and suddenly I felt myself going over the top. I felt that old familiar sensation rising up from the center of me and, again, I closed my eyes and let myself go. And as I rode the whirlwind I'd created, I called her name out again, again and again. Wanting it to be her, cumming only for her.

I didn't open my eyes again until the room had stopped spinning and I no longer thought that my heart was about to break though the walls of my chest. I don't know how long I had stood there, how long the orgasm had lasted. It didn't really matter, it had been wonderful. And I hoped it had really been her, watching me. But breaking off my pleasant reverie, I willed myself back to earth, knowing that I should leave before someone came in.

Reaching under the back of my skirt, I wiped my fingers as best I could against the dry material in the back panels of my panties. Then, putting my breasts back into my bra, I buttoned up my blouse, adjusted my skirt again and walked out of the glass room, the smell of sex still strong in my nostrils. I dropped the keys at the research desk. No one bothered to look, no one seemed to notice. As I walked back to my office, I looked at all the different women and wondered:

"Who? Which one?"

When I got to my office, I locked the door, slipped my panties off and wiped myself with a little towel I keep for "emergencies." As I was finishing up, the MSN messenger icon on my computer screen began, again, to flash. I opened it up

"Watcher says: That was lovely, dear. Would you like to play a little more?

I wondered how to reply.