Down, toward the Lost & Found

The muffled voices in the stairwell grew louder. Isabel didn’t wait to think. She clutched her arms tightly across her chest, her white cotton bra doing little to preserve her modesty, and bolted down the concrete steps.

“Come on,” she hissed, her voice trembling.

Ryan fell in behind her.

Her bare feet slapped against the cold concrete, the echo of her frantic pace filling the stairwell. Every hurried step sent her naked hips jiggling, her bare ass bouncing with a rhythm she could not control. Ryan tried to keep his eyes above her shoulders, tried to focus only on the back of her head, but the sight below drew him in like gravity. Each step, each **** motion of hers, only deepened the impossible spectacle of Isabel Torres running half-naked ahead of him.

Humiliation burned through Isabel’s body. She could feel his eyes on her. Even if he said nothing, she knew. The thought of Ryan watching her exposed bottom shift and bounce as she fled was unbearable, but the alternative, being caught by whoever was in the stairwell, was worse. She gritted her teeth and kept running.

At the third floor landing, she shoved the door open. The heavy metal door banged against the wall as she rushed through, Ryan close on her heels.

They stumbled into the employee break room.

The room was mercifully empty. Rows of mismatched chairs, a vending machine humming in the corner, the faint smell of burnt coffee lingering in the air. Isabel sucked in a breath, leaning against the counter, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Relief hit her for only a moment before the shame crashed back down. She looked down at herself and realized again that she was standing in nothing but her bra, her breasts pressed tightly against the thin cotton, her bare ass fully exposed to the open room. There was no forgetting how **** she was, not for even a second.

Before she could even gather herself, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway outside. Voices again, closer this time.

Ryan’s head snapped toward the sound. “Someone’s coming.”

Panic shot through Isabel’s body like electricity. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hide her bra, her legs pressed together as if that could conceal anything below. “Where do I hide,” she whispered harshly, her eyes darting frantically across the room.

The options looked bleak. The corner by the vending machines, too open. Beneath the table, anyone who walked in would see her immediately. The supply closet, she was not sure it was even unlocked.

Ryan’s gaze swept the room with urgency. “Behind the counter maybe, or—”

“No, that is the first place they will look,” Isabel interrupted, her voice cracking with desperation.

The footsteps were growing louder, the casual murmur of conversation carrying through the door, seconds away from spilling into the room.

Isabel’s pulse hammered in her throat. There was no time left. She stared at Ryan, wide-eyed, waiting for him to say something, anything, that would save her from the unthinkable.