A 'run-in' with Sarah Jones

Sandra Noce was still looking through the glass at the disbelieving stare of her co-worker and didn't see Sarah Jones, her Director of Budgeting, come around the corner, her omnipresent over-sized coffee mug in hand. At least, not until it was too late.

The raven-haired thirty-two year-old turned her head forward just in time to see the middle-aged woman step out from the main building corridor, where the specialty coffee wagon was located. With the increased tempo of her high heels on the parquet floor, Sandra knew she had no chance to avoid the usually dismissive red-haired woman.

The pretty accounting department worker tried to avoid the stocky woman in the not-very-flattering business suit, but failed. Her feet slipped as she tried to swerve to avoid the woman and the large caffeinated beverage she always carried, but her speed still carried her into the arm of the woman as she slid to the floor before her.

Time seemed to move in slow motion as Sandra watched the coffee mug fly from the woman's hands and begin to release the brown froth of the cappuccino she knew the woman was so addicted to. As Sandra fell to the hallway floor, the bulk of the beverage seemed to land in her lap, splattering her hose as well. As she slid the few feet across the wood-pieced floor, the rest splattered her white sweater tank.

Sandra watched futilely as the heavy ceramic mug the woman favored in place of the shop's huggied paper cups crashed to the floor, breaking into about six big pieces.

She looked up to the Budgeting head and expected to be berated from her as well. She knew the woman over ten years her senior didn't care for her, and this wouldn't help matters. Amazingly, the woman had kept her balance from the slight impact with her co-worker and there didn't seem to be a drop of coffee on her.

Surprisingly, the woman was reaching down to offer her a hand up, offering her condolences.

"Miss Noce! Are you alright!" she asked concernedly, helping her back to her feet. "I didn't burn you, did I? We better get you cleaned up, out of those things before they stain!"

As Sandra once again stood before the woman, on shaky legs, she was surprised she hadn't been scalded by the hot beverage. She assumed Ms. Jones had just come from the nearby beverage center. As the woman stepped over to retrieve the briefcase she had dropped, Sandra looked down at herself. She really was a mess. The brown was apparently obvious on her white sweater tank, the liquid making the wet left side cling to her curves even more so. Her black skirt was so soaked, the front panel was dripping to the floor, as if she had pissed herself. The splattered nylon of her sheer black hose also made odd discolored ovals on her otherwise gorgeous legs.

"Ohmigod! I have to get to the bank and back in less than an hour!" she said out loud. Sandra was just glad most of the staff was already at lunch, and didn't see her like this.

"I can't help but feel responsible for this, Sandra!" Sarah Jones told her, handing the briefcase back into her shaking right hand. "Let me help you get cleaned up and on your way!" She took her by the left shoulder and began to lead her quivering, wet, associate down the hall Jones had come from.

"I understand you are in a hurry, so why don't you let me take your things to my drycleaners downstairs in the lobby. They work wonders, believe me!" she softly reassured her as she directed her to the nearby restrooms.

As they entered the quiet Women's room, Sandra struggled with what she would do then, she still had to hurry to her bank immediately. "But Ms. Jones, what will I wear 'til.."

Sarah Jones answered before she got the sentence out, as if reading her mind. "There's a Housekeeping closet just around the corner. There should be an extra smock suitable enough to wear until I return. Clean up, and I'll be right back!" she smiled reassuringly as Sandra reached for the zip on her skirt. Sandra started to lower the tiny plastic zip, but thought better of it, not wanting Ms. Jones to realize she had no underwear on at all, if she hadn't noticed already.

After Sarah departed for the supply closet, Sandra bunched up a wad of paper towels and wetted them. She thought she'd clean up first, then disrobe, so as not to be caught standing in the restroom naked. Tossing her nylons in the garbage, she wiped clean her long smooth legs, going under her soaked skirt to clean up there. She wiped at her pussy as well, knowing she had soaked herself earlier, coming for the webcam.

She then grabbed another wad of wet towels to wipe her softball-sized titties clean. She rebuked herself for rubbing at her nipples in the middle of such an awful situation. What was happening to her lately?

Going into the larger handicapped cubicle, and closing the door, Sandra undressed, hanging the wet, cappucino-stained top and skirt over the partition. The handicap rails helped in keeping her balance as she teetered on her heels to remove the skirt.

Sandra breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the door opening and Sarah calling. 'This might not work out so bad after all', she thought. She had seen the cleaning staff in the nylon zip-up smock dresses, and while not the professional attire she was used to, it would do in a pinch. And she was most definitely in a pinch.

She thought she heard Sarah snicker as she stepped over to the door and pulled the wet things off. Sandra realized she must seem a walking contradiction, hiding from the woman inside the restroom, but flaunting her braless tits at a staff meeting.

"Here you go, Sandra," Sarah said. Sandra saw the familiar white dress with black trim being handed to her over the top of the door. "I'm afraid there was only one left, but it's clean. It should do. I'll get your clothes sent to your office as soon as possible!"

Before Sandra even had a chance to say thanks, she heard the woman's footsteps disappear and the door open and close. Sandra looked at the delicate, expensive wristwatch she had first bought herself with her 'bonus' pay. Besides reminding her of the time, it also served as a reminder of the situation she had gotten herself into. "Forty-five minutes!" she exclaimed to herself as she slipped her arms into the frock and stepped out into the sink area of the restroom as she zipped herself up.

Sandra Noce looked into the mirrors before her and gasped. This wasn't what the cleaning help looked like. The smockdress looked at least two sizes too small, hugging her curves and hemming out mid-thigh. The black collar outlined a dramatic cleavage, and of course the thin nylon hinted at her aureoles, braless beneath. She turned to see essentially the same effect on her pantiless ass. There was a hint of butt cleavage where the material swaddled her rear as it pushed against the nylon. Her heels didn't help hide that fact as they bunched her bare leg muscles and accentuated her ass.

It wasn't really appropriate, but what could she do? Her blackmailer was awaiting a briefcase full of money. She picked up the case from the vanity and headed for the door.