She gets lucky

Every motion brings me closer to what I want, but every second brings me closer to being caught. I’m too far gone to give a damn about the risks. There is only one thing I want, and that’s to feel ecstasy consume my body in the same way that it’s consumed my mind.

I think of how to reach the finish line faster. I could move faster, but I don’t want to risk toppling the statue over. I could possibly get my hands involved. They might do a better job, but it would mean taking a moment to stop. Same with bringing out my little friend from my handbag. No, fuck all that. All I gotta do is keep going until I finally reach the peak I’m climbing to.

My efforts soon bear fruit, making my legs quiver. Of course, that means I'm completely immobile if someone does decide to call me out. I’ve got no chance of walking away now. Hell, I’ll probably won’t be walking straight for the next few minutes, which will make for an awkward getaway.

The moans that escape my mouth seem to grow louder and louder, speaking of exactly what I’m doing. It doesn't help that this gallery seems dead quiet. Sure, it might mean that I'm alone, but it's not like I would know. Not with my eyes closed and my body overwhelmed. I'm on the brink right now, my knuckles likely white as I grip the statue with a vice like grip.

When it hits, it hits like a tsunami, washing over my body. As my body shakes, I press my lips together, doing my best to mute the climactic cry I want to unleash. When the sensation subsides, I take a deep breath, which felt almost as good as the orgasm I had just experienced.

When I come back down to earth, I swivel my head around. To my surprise (and relief), there’s no one around admiring my performance art. I do my best to fix myself up, but I’ll probably need a mirror before I get back to the office. Probably best I go find one somewhere else, just in case someone spotted me.