Nora must act fast

The adrenaline slowly drained from Nora’s veins, leaving behind a cold layer of mortification. She was still jammed beneath Kristen’s desk, her knees tucked tightly against her soft chest, entirely bare except for the mud-scuffed sneakers still laced onto her feet. The contrast of the heavy footwear against her completely exposed, pale legs only made her feel more ridiculously, inherently naked.

She took a shaky breath, her full breasts pressing against her shins, her smooth skin glistening with a fresh sheen of nervous sweat. The room was freezing. Without her protective armor of baggy clothing, the office’s air conditioning swept mercilessly over her curves, raising goosebumps along her soft thighs and the vulnerable, exposed slope of her backside.

I can’t stay under here forever, she thought frantically, her mind racing. Kristen is going to walk in, move towards her desk, and find her staff writer looking like a plucked chicken.

Slowly, testing the air like a cornered animal, Nora peeked out from the dark footwell. The office was still empty. Across the room, her clothes were a tragic, mangled disaster. Her hoodie was jammed deep into the shredder's teeth, and her oversized cargo pants were tangled in the wheels of the leather chair like a discarded snake skin. It would take hours and tons of patience to try to untangle them from the plastic wheels. The clothes were completely unusable.

Humiliation flared hot in her cheeks again, a deep crimson flush rushing down her neck to stain her bare chest. Her hands flew down, desperately clamping over her waist and hips as she tentatively slid out from under the desk.

Standing up completely bare in the middle of her boss’s brightly lit office was a surreal horror. Without her baggy clothes to distort her silhouette, the sheer, plush femininity of her hourglass body was undeniable. Her breasts bounced softly with every frantic, tiptoed step, her pale skin flushed pink from panic. Her hips flared out beautifully into a naturally curvy, prominent bottom that felt agonizingly exposed to the wide-open windows and the closed office door.

Every tiny sound made her jump. Clack. She flinched, her heart leaping into her throat, but it was just the building's pipes adjusting.

Nora scampered across the room, her heavy sneakers making pathetic, squeaking sounds against the plush carpet. She kept her body bent forward, instinctively trying to minimize the target area of her nudity. She needed a weapon. She needed a shield. She needed anything to cover her skin.

She rushed to Kristen’s coat rack. Nothing. Just a fancy umbrella and an empty hanger. She darted to the storage cabinet in the corner, her soft, bare backside shifting with the frantic movement. She flung the cabinet doors open, her breath hitching in a desperate prayer. Please, let there be a spare corporate fleece. Please, let there be a t-shirt. Anything.

Instead, she was met with neat stacks of legal pads, extra printer paper, and a single, giant, neon-green foam hand from a studio tour segment that read: #1 SHOW ON LATE NIGHT!

Nora stared at the foam finger in absolute, unadulterated degradation.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Heavy footsteps started marching back down the corridor, accompanied by the distinct, booming laugh of Bobby the floor manager, and—worse—the sharp, unmistakable clack of mean girl Karen's designer stilettos. They were heading straight for the office.

"I'm telling you, Bobby, Nora's drafts are probably a complete mess," Karen's sharp Scottish accent echoed through the thick wood of the door. "I'll just hand Kristen my pages instead."

Panic seized Nora's throat, forcing out a breathless, raspy squeak. She didn't have time to think. Grabbing the giant neon-green foam hand, she clutched it over her chest, trying to smother her full breasts, while using her other arm to clamp down across her exposed lap.

With a frantic, heavy-soled sprint, she dived across the room, her curvy body twisting through the air as she launched herself behind a faux-velvet privacy screen near Kristen's couch. She hit the floor on her knees, tucking her flushed, bare body behind the thin fabric barrier just as the brass doorknob began to turn.

She squeezed her eyes shut, cold sweat tracing down her bare spine, holding her breath as the door clicked open. She was completely naked, wearing nothing but sneakers, clutching a piece of giant television merchandise to her chest, and praying to a universe she swore was actively out to get her.