The evening light filtered through the glass doors of the building, casting long shadows that mirrored the swirl of thoughts in my mind.
I paused on the sidewalk, my bag slung over my shoulder, the cool breeze doing little to dispel the lingering warmth in my cheeks. Tomorrow.
The word echoed like a promise, pulling me deeper into the daydreams that had haunted me all day. What if it wasn't just glances? What if one of them—Tricia, with her unwavering kindness—took that step I'd been too shy to make?
In my imagination, the workday hadn't quite ended yet. The office was emptying out, the hum of activity fading into a soft quiet as colleagues gathered their things and waved goodbyes.
I lingered at my desk, pretending to organize a few last files, my heart still racing from the day's stolen moments. That's when Tricia appeared, her confident posture cutting through the dimming lights like a beacon.
She approached with that warm smile of hers, the one that always made me feel seen without judgment, and gently touched my arm.
'Loraine, can I talk to you for a second?' she asked, her soft-spoken tone laced with something inviting, something that made my pulse quicken.
I nodded, words catching in my throat, and she led me aside to a quieter corner of the office, near the windows where the city lights were just beginning to flicker on.
The space felt intimate, shielded from the last few stragglers by a row of filing cabinets. Her smile wrapped around me like a comforting blanket, easing the awkward knot in my stomach.
'You've been doing great today,' she said, her eyes meeting mine with genuine warmth. 'But I can tell you're holding back a little. You don't have to, you know. Not with me.'
My breath hitched as she stepped closer, the faint scent of her perfume—something light and floral—mingling with the office's familiar aroma of coffee and fresh paper. In this imagined moment, the shyness that usually pinned me in place began to loosen, her confidence seeping into me like sunlight.
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down my spine.
'Relax, Loraine. Just breathe.' Her words were coaxing, gentle, urging me to let go of the walls I'd built around my awkwardness.
Before I could overthink it, her hands moved with tender intent, resting lightly on my shoulders first, then sliding down to trace the soft curves of my arms. The touch was electric, yet so careful, promising more than any bold advance ever could.
I trembled under her fingers, my body responding instinctively, the shy futanari warmth within me stirring awake. Her palms were warm, exploratory, gliding over the fabric of my blouse to outline the gentle swell of my hips, as if mapping a path to hidden desires I'd only dared to fantasize about.
'You're beautiful when you let yourself be,' she murmured, her breath brushing my ear, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her.
The office around us faded into a distant blur—the desks, the screens, the echoes of footsteps—all dissolving until there was only her warmth enveloping me, and my eager body leaning into it.
My hands, no longer fumbling with uncertainty, reached out tentatively to touch her waist, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing.
The awkwardness melted away, replaced by a budding boldness, my soft curves pressing closer as her exploration deepened, her fingers dipping just beneath the hem of my shirt to graze the sensitive skin of my lower back.
In this dream, her touch awakened something profound, a hidden desire that bloomed like a secret flower in the quiet space.
I imagined her lips brushing my neck in a feather-light kiss, her voice a soothing murmur against my skin: 'I've noticed you, Loraine. The way you watch, the way you blush. Let me show you it's okay.' My body arched slightly, the ache from earlier in the day returning but transformed—tender, inviting, shared. Her hands ventured higher, cupping the fullness of my breasts through the thin barrier of cloth, thumbs circling with a rhythm that drew soft gasps from my lips.
The futanari sensitivity there pulsed with need, a warm throb that made my knees weaken, but her supportive hold kept me steady, her confidence anchoring us both.
We moved in sync, her leaning me back against the cool window glass, the contrast heightening every sensation. Her mouth found mine in a slow, exploratory kiss, tasting of sweetness and reassurance, while her hands continued their gentle journey, slipping lower to tease the waistband of my skirt.
I whimpered softly, shyness giving way to eager surrender, my own fingers tangling in her hair as I pulled her closer.
The workplace crush that had simmered for weeks ignited here, in this private corner, her tender promises weaving through every caress, every whispered encouragement.
Yet even as the fantasy built, layering intimacy upon intimacy, a part of me knew it was just that—a vivid imagining, born from the sparks of the real day.
Tricia's actual kindness from earlier echoed in my mind, making the dream feel tantalizingly possible. As I walked home through the twilight streets, the imagined touches lingered on my skin like ghosts, leaving me flushed and hopeful.
What if tomorrow brought her close again, not in fantasy, but in truth? The thought sent a fresh wave of anticipation through me, my steps quickening toward the promise of another day at the office.