All of my muscles were clenching tight, tighter than I would have believed possible; my heart was pounding so hard I thought the fire horses were racing up the street. The touch of his fingers was insistent on my most secret of places, and yet he never tried to reach under my drawers. I am certain I would have stopped that. Doris had my little rosebuds in her fingers, twisting and tugging them in a manner that could be called cruel. But, I had an ache and the pinch filled it somehow. I can’t explain it to you, but, it just felt right. Josh, I was strung tight, just like the high wire that circus brought. Every tendon, every sinew pulled between the two poles, the depthless green eyes on my left and Doris’s presence behind. Both relentless in their demands, until I thought I would snap. It was the most exquisite feeling, Josh. I was balanced on a precipice. And then I crashed down, tumbling head first into your green eyes. I sobbed in fear, in pain, in the most amazing moment of grace. You have just read one of my e-mails and you became extremely wet, and you soaked your panties through with your arousal. Then you fingered yourself and made yourself even more wet. I ask you to throw on some clothes, anything, and to come to my office, because I have something for you. A surprise, I say. But I have only one request of you - bring your wet panties with you. I wait. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. Then I look out the window and see you in the parking lot. Nobody else is here yet, and I go downstairs and let you in the building. I lead you in a hurried fashion upstairs. There is not much time before other staff arrive for work. I shepherd you into my office and lock the door behind us. I ask to see your wet panties. You retrieve them from a plastic grocery bag and hand them to me. I bring them up to my face and inhale your scent. Should I call it a scent? Or an aroma? Or is it a bouquet? It is intoxicating whatever I call it, and then I run my tongue along the dampness.
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