“Goddamn,” I breathed, wondering how far this would go, praying that she wasn’t done, my prayer answered a moment later when she wiggled out of ...he dress, answering the question of whether or not she was wearing panties. Cotton, not lace. Plain white cotton. Not boring, though. They clung to her ass perfectly. I wondered if they were damp? I wondered if I asked, would she let me smell them. Not that I would ask. I’d want to, but… again, that was a line I wasn’t sure I wanted to cross. That’s a. The signature sound of a pair of heelson the hard workplace floor. They were distant down the hall, but getting louder.Consciously keeping an eye on the lunchroom doorway I settled in the cornerof the room at an empty table. The heels got louder. I pondered what kind ofheels they were, sandals perhaps. Often my shoe fetish yearnings would be disappointedby a pair of flat, closed toe penny loafers or much worse, cowboy boots onan equally unattractive man. Holding my sandwich to my mouth I was. More

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