The stairwell

Isabel stood in the bathroom, staring at the abandoned jumpsuit folded across the counter. Her heart pounded so loudly she swore it echoed in the tiles. Leaving it behind meant walking out nearly naked, but there was ****. She needed to get to the stairwell, and that meant crossing the cubicle floor where her coworkers sat.

Her underwear felt more fragile than ever. The cotton panties were old and thin. Under the bright office lights, Isabel knew they risked looking semi-transparent, the faint shadow of her bush visible if anyone stared too closely. Her stomach knotted in shame at the thought of her ass being exposed through the transparent fabric with every step.

She pushed the bathroom door open and slipped out, her pulse racing. Ahead stretched the open cubicle section, a grid of partitions and desks buzzing with activity. Typing, low voices, the shuffle of papers. At any second, someone could glance up.

Her arms folded tightly across her chest though it was her lower half she feared most. She crept along the edge of the rows, keeping her steps light and her shoulders low. The thin panties hugged her in ways that felt cruel now, leaving her legs completely bare, the cotton cutting across her curves without mercy.

At the first row she heard a chair squeak. Isabel dropped to her knees, then onto her hands, crawling low along the carpet. The movement **** her panties to ride up, the fabric pulling taut and cutting between her cheeks. She could feel the cool office air against more of her skin than she dared admit. If anyone leaned just slightly out of their cubicle, they would see far too much.

Her face burned red as she crawled past, imagining the humiliating sight she must make, a grown woman **** to sneak on all fours in nothing but a pair of thin cotton panties. She kept her head low, her hair falling forward as if it could shield her from notice.

When she reached Ryan’s cubicle, she froze. The chair was pushed in neatly, the desk tidy, but he wasn’t there. The emptiness startled her almost as much as if he had been. Where was he? Had he gone to get coffee, or worse, had he seen her earlier and gone to tell someone? The uncertainty only made her crawl faster, her bra digging into her shoulders as her panties crept higher still.

Finally, the stairwell door came into sight. Isabel scrambled to her feet, her heart hammering as she pushed it open and slipped inside. The door clicked shut behind her, muffling the sounds of the office. She pressed her back against the cool metal and exhaled, trembling. She had made it past the cubicles, unseen for now, but at a cost of crawling humiliation that left her body tingling with fear and shame.