She plans to confront her suspect

Sandra Noce's heartbeat began to slow, her breathing now more quiet and steady as she recovered from her wild masturbatory session in front of the window washers of her employer's high-rise. Her thinking was more clear now as well as she still slumped naked below the window sill of her office, the coarse nap of the carpet rubbing against her plush asscheeks.

'How could I have just done that?' Sandra wondered as she looked out the window. The glorious blue sky of a wonderful day outside Sandra's world provided a backdrop for the congealing dual cumblasts that slithered down the otherwise pristine glass that took up nearly one whole wall of her office.

'What if they decide to report me, now that they'd had their fun?' Sandra thought, not able to wipe away the jizz on the other side of the thick glass. She knew, after all she went through today to keep her pilfering from going unnoticed, she couldn't afford to lose her job because of some windowwashers with big mouths. She reached up, twisting the wand to both draw and close the vertical blinds to her window. The raven-haired accounting worker now wished they had cleaned the glass before they left. She wondered how many visitors to her office might recognise the thick white goo for what it was if they saw it. For now, the product of her dirty desktop show was hidden from sight by a few flaps of cream-colored vinyl.

Hidden from any prying eyes now, Sandra lifted herself to her wobbly high-heeled feet and stepped back over to the coat rack. She looked to the clock on the wall, studying the position of the large hands as she absently tore the long, opaque plastic wrap from her newly laundered wardrobe. Sandra still had time to get to the bank in her building's lobby for another withdrawal before it closed. A shiver ran through her still naked curves as she thought about her last visit. How she had practically **** the fey head of tellers to expedite the release of the funds she needed to pay her blackmailer. How everyone stared at her as she left the bank in the ridiculously revealing outfit her blackmailer had manipulated her into wearing. She thought of the feeling of those many eyes over her, squeezing her thighs together as she stood nude in the middle of the small office.

The image of the woman she felt responsible for this kept creeping into her head. Sarah Jones. Sandra had to know for sure, though. Feeling more assured, thanks to her manipulation of the captive audience, the thirty-two year old decided to head to the woman's office before picking up the 'fee' to pay her associates for their time in the elevator with her on her way back from the bank.

Sandra wasn't sure what she would do when she got there, but the accounting department worker was not going to turn back now.

Sandra eyed the garments on the now-revealed hangers before her. They looked somehow different than they did this morning when she picked out her wardrobe. She shrugged the notion off, unclipping the black skirt, pulling the white knit tank from the paper-coated wire holder. Sandra tugged the top over her head, wriggling it into place over her good-sized, and braless, jugs. She wriggled her snug-fitting skirt into place as well, zipping up the tiny plastic zipper at the small of her back.

Sandra Noce was momentarily horrified when confronted with the image on the narrow, but tall, mirror on her closet door. She looked more like a hooker heading out for the night than a professional businesswoman readying to confront a scheming co-worker. The knit sweater hugged her boobs tightly, pressing them close together, forming an eye-popping cleavage in the scoop neck. The bottom hem now revealed inches of tan belly, hard from many hours at the gym. The hem of her skirt now threatened to reveal her taut round assglobes to anyone who would care to look.

She continued to appraise her image, smiling at the seductress who stared back at her, smoothing her hands over her abundant curves. Sandra glanced to the discarded plastic wrap. 'Ho's Drycleaning and Alterations' it read. The brunette smirked. She was sure who was responsible for getting those alterations performed as well.

Unlike hours earlier, when she near-cowered when she first appeared in the miniscule housekeeping frock, Sandra headed down the empty halls with a sense of purpose, her heels clacking loudly as she headed for the office of Sarah Jones.