Just having a quick break

Polly’s breath hitched as the footsteps paused outside the breakroom door. Her fingers clutched the edge of the table, knuckles whitening, as she lowered herself onto one of the plastic chairs. The cold seat bit into her bare thighs, but she barely registered it—her entire body was rigid with the terror of discovery.

Rebecca leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching Polly’s panic with detached amusement.

Polly’s shaking fingers snatched up her discarded skirt from the floor, the fabric pooling in her lap like a flimsy shield. The wool blend scratched against her bare thighs as she clutched it tighter, the bunched material doing nothing to conceal the damp heat between her legs.

The doorknob twisted with a metallic scrape—too late to protest, too late to do anything but freeze. Polly’s thighs pressed together under the table, the rough polyester of her skirt doing nothing to mask the scandalous bareness beneath.

The door swung open, and two figures stepped inside—Carl from Accounting, laughing at some joke, and Linda from HR clutching her ever-present travel mug.

"Oh, hey Polly," Carl said, his voice a mix of surprise and amusement. "Didn't expect to find you here."

Linda cleared her throat, setting her mug down on the counter. "We just came to grab some coffee for the meeting," she said, her tone a bit stiffer than usual. "Is everything okay?"

Polly **** a smile, trying to play it off as if nothing was wrong. "Yeah, everything's fine," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "Just having a quick break."

Carl chuckled, grabbing a cup from the stack on the counter. "Well, don't work too hard," he said, filling the cup with coffee. "I'm just heading to the meeting room to set up for our big presentation this afternoon."

Linda nodded, taking a sip of her own coffee. "I'll be there soon to help," she said, glancing at her watch. "We've got a lot to cover."

As Carl walked out of the breakroom, Linda turned to Polly, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Is everything okay?" she asked, her voice low and conspiratorial.

Linda’s question hung in the air, sharp as a blade, before Rebecca pushed off the counter with a lazy grace. She stepped forward, her heels clicking against the linoleum, stopping just inches from Linda.

"Polly lost a little bet," Rebecca purred, tilting her head toward the trembling woman still gripping her skirt under the table. "And now she owes me." Her fingers brushed against the phone in her pocket, a silent threat.

Linda's eyes widened, her gaze flicking between Polly and Rebecca. "A bet?" she asked, her voice hushed. "What kind of bet?"

Rebecca smirked, stepping closer to Linda. "One where Polly had to do something a little... revealing," she said, her voice low and suggestive.

Linda’s eyes flicked down—first to the bra draped over the chair beside Polly, then to the scrap of lace on the floor near Rebecca’s feet. Her lips parted slightly. "Why is there—"

Rebecca cut her off with a laugh, smooth as polished glass. "Oh, that?" She nudged the bra with her toe, sending it sliding toward Polly. "Part of the game. Polly lost fair and square."

Linda’s fingers tightened around her mug, her knuckles whitening as she inhaled sharply. "Then if it’s all fair," she said, voice steady but edged with something darker, "why not finish the game properly?" Her gaze locked onto Polly, who stiffened under the scrutiny.

Rebecca’s smile widened. "Oh? You want to play too, Linda?"

Linda’s grip on her mug loosened just slightly, her lips curling in a slow, dangerous smirk. "Depends on the rules," she said, stepping closer—close enough that Polly could smell the faint trace of her perfume, sharp and floral.

Rebecca plucked the die from the table, rolling it between her fingers. "Simple. High roll wins. Loser does whatever the winner wants." She tilted her head toward Polly, still half-hidden under the table. "As you can see, Polly was very cooperative."