A picture of polly

Polly’s fingers twitched against the countertop, the laminate suddenly slick beneath her palms. Rebecca’s gaze didn’t waver—steady, unblinking—as she reached into her blazer pocket and withdrew her phone. The screen blinked to life, casting a pale glow over the sharp angles of her face.

“A picture,” Rebecca said, thumb hovering over the camera app. “Just one.”

Polly’s throat tightened. “Of what?”

Rebecca’s smile was slow, deliberate.

Her thumb tapped the screen—once, twice—before her gaze flicked up to meet Polly’s. "Of you naked," she said, voice low, the words curling like smoke in the air between them.

Polly’s pulse stuttered. The breakroom air thickened, pressing against her skin like damp fabric. Rebecca’s phone screen glowed between them—bright, insistent—casting jagged shadows under her cheekbones.

Polly’s fingers twitched toward the hem of her blazer before she caught herself. “You’re joking.”

Rebecca’s thumb traced the edge of her phone, slow, deliberate. “Do I look like I’m joking?” The fluorescent light caught the fine down along her jawline, turning it silver for half a breath.

Polly’s breath hitched—sharp, involuntary—as Rebecca’s fingers tightened around the phone. The fluorescent hum of the breakroom seemed to sharpen, the light bleaching Rebecca’s knuckles bone-white.

“An unquestioned favor,” Rebecca repeated, tilting her head just enough for the overhead light to catch the gloss on her lips. “That was the deal.”

Polly’s fingers curled into the hem of her blazer, the wool rough against her fingertips. The breakroom door stood slightly ajar—just enough to let in the distant murmur of keyboards and hushed conversations from the office beyond. Her throat worked around the words before they finally escaped, brittle and uneven.

"Here?" Polly whispered. "In the breakroom? What if someone—"

Rebecca’s laugh was soft, a breath of sound that curled like a knife between Polly’s ribs. "Someone what?" She leaned in, close enough that Polly could count the faint freckles dusting the bridge of her nose. "Walks in? Finds you?" Her thumb stroked the cold edge of her phone, slow, teasing. "Wouldn’t that make it more fun?"

“Fun?” Polly echoed, the word cracking down the middle.

Rebecca’s tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, slow, deliberate. The fluorescent light caught the dampness there, turning it slick as glass.

"Clock’s ticking," she murmured, tapping the face of her watch—once, twice—the sound brittle in the thick air. "If you hurry, maybe only I get to see." Her fingers tightened around the phone, knuckles paling. "Or do you want the whole floor to catch you when you're completely undressed?"

Polly’s breath came sharp and shallow, her fingers trembling where they gripped the hem of her blazer. Something hot and reckless coiled in her chest—irritation, defiance, a spark of something darker—and before she could second-guess it, she wrenched the blazer off her shoulders with a violent shrug. The fabric whispered against her blouse before she flung it aside, the garment landing in a crumpled heap against the breakroom’s mini-fridge.

Rebecca’s eyebrows lifted, her lips parting slightly—not in shock, but in slow, delighted anticipation.

Polly didn’t stop.

She unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. Her breath hitched as she unbuttoned her skirt, letting it pool around her ankles. Polly's fingers trembled as she reached for her panties, her heart racing in her chest. With a quick tug, she slid the last bit of fabric down her legs, stepping out of it.

She stood there, naked, in front of Rebecca, her body on display. The air around them seemed to thicken, charged with an electric tension.

Rebecca's eyes roamed over Polly's body, taking in every inch of her nudity. She licked her lips slowly, deliberately. "Spread your legs wider," she commanded, her voice low and husky. "And put your hand on your head."

Polly's heart hammered against her ribcage as she obeyed. Her legs spread wider, and she placed her hand on the back of her head, feeling the cool tile beneath her fingertips. Rebecca's phone was still in her hand, the camera lens pointed directly at Polly's exposed body.

Polly's breath hitched as she complied, feeling the cool tile against the insides of her thighs. Rebecca's eyes roamed over her body, taking in every inch of her vulnerability. "Look happy," she taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're doing this for me, after all."

With a deep breath, Polly **** a smile onto her lips. "Alright, Rebecca," she said, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. "You win. Take the picture."

Rebecca's eyes gleamed with victory as she brought up the camera app on her phone. She moved closer to Polly, taking in every inch of her naked body. With a slow, deliberate movement, she raised the phone and aimed it at Polly's full figure.

"Smile," she commanded, her voice low and husky.

Polly **** a smile onto her lips, feeling the heat of Rebecca's gaze on her skin. Rebecca snapped the picture, capturing every curve and contour of Polly's body. She stepped back, her eyes never leaving the screen of her phone.

Rebecca’s thumb tapped the screen again—click—the shutter sound sharp in the quiet breakroom. This time, the lens focused ruthlessly on Polly’s breasts, the cold air tightening her nipples into stiff peaks. The phone hovered, adjusting its focus with a mechanical whirr before capturing the image—pale skin flushed pink, the subtle tremble of her chest as she held her breath.

Rebecca’s fingers lingered on the screen, zooming in with deliberate slowness until the lens framed only the soft, bare expanse between Polly’s thighs. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a clinical glow, illuminating every delicate fold, every involuntary twitch of muscle as Polly fought to keep still.

Rebecca’s fingertip tapped the screen once more—click—the shutter capturing Polly’s most intimate exposure in brutal high definition. The phone lingered, angled downward now, the lens cold and unblinking as it documented the faint sheen of sweat glistening between her thighs. Polly’s breath came shallow, her ribs fluttering under the weight of Rebecca’s scrutiny.

Polly’s **** smile faltered as a sudden noise—muffled footsteps?—echoed from the hallway outside the breakroom. Her breath caught, muscles tensing beneath Rebecca’s merciless gaze. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, amplifying the silence between the distant shuffling and Rebecca’s slow, deliberate exhale.

Polly’s eyes darted toward the breakroom door—still shut, thank god—but the footsteps grew louder, accompanied by the murmur of voices. Rebecca didn’t even glance up, her fingers swiping to review the photos with a predator’s patience.

Polly’s fingers twitched toward her discarded blouse, her body craving the meager protection of fabric. Rebecca’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

“No.” A single syllable, weighted with command. Rebecca’s thumb swiped to the next photo—the one between Polly’s thighs—her lips curling. “You can dress. But no underwear.”

Polly’s fingers trembled as she reached for her discarded blouse, the crisp white fabric crumpled on the breakroom floor. The air prickled against her bare skin as she straightened the garment, the sleeves whispering against her arms as she pulled it on. Each button was a struggle—her fingers fumbling, the tiny holes resisting as if conspiring with Rebecca’s cruelty.

The last button slid into place just as the breakroom door handle rattled—someone testing the lock. Polly froze, her pulse hammering against her ribs as Rebecca finally looked up, her smirk widening at the panic in Polly’s eyes.

"Better hurry," Rebecca murmured, tucking her phone into her blazer pocket with a slow, possessive pat.