What's next?
A dash into the car park
Maria stayed crouched until her breathing steadied and the heat from her blush no longer felt like it was going to cook her skull. She formulated a plan: Purse, keys, stairs, door, car. She slid her purse off the desk, hooked the strap over one arm without uncovering herself more than she had to, and clutched the purse with both arms against her chest as cover. Standing up only high enough to move, she took a deep breath and then scurried towards the door. She could do this!
The corridor was a short stretch, but felt ten times longer than it had felt a couple minutes ago. Every heel-clack announced her louder than a bullhorn. She kept to the side of the hall, away from any windows, her shoulders hunched and her head on a swivel. The lace panties around her hips and the polyurethane purse smashed into her boobs were the only things between her and the whole school seeing the rest of her.
Professional career woman. Get to the car. Then you can fall apart.
She pushed through the door into the safety of the stairwell. The descent was worse however: Each step sent a helpless jiggle through everything she could not fully pin down, as she raced towards the bottom. Huff, puff She took them two steps at a time anyway, and burst through the side door into the late-summer glare. Oh god, she thought in a panic. She was momentarily blinded by the sun before she could confirm there was nobody in her immediate vicinity. Small blessings.
Oh god oh my god, professional career woman, oh my god!
She doubled over and dove into a sprint. The parking lot was a maze of sun-sizzled hoods and unwashed side-mirrors, from where she could dart from cover to cover. Oh god oh god. She saw people on the far side of the lot but they weren’t paying attention. Ohhhh god. She cut between cars in a low dash, ass flexing in the lace, tits bouncing against her grip, face burning, until her own door handle was under her palm.
Professional! — oh god — Career! — huff — Woman!!
She hurriedly dug her keys from her purse, threw herself into the driver’s seat, slammed the door, thunked the lock downs, and gripped the wheel as if she was afraid it’d fly off without her. She finally exhaled. Time to drive home and hope other drivers didn’t look at her windows too closely.
Class 202’s chatgroup
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