Candid Camera free porn video

Denise rode the elevator up to the ninth floor. Getting
off and walking up the corridor to the security office,
she swiped her card through the door-side reader.

“Quit feeling sorry for yourself,” she muttered, as the
door opened. “You knew the deal.”

Which wasn’t much help, when everyone else in the LaSalle
building was up in the Starlight Lounge.

This year, held on the sixty-ninth floor, the Christmas
party was “the” event of the year. Or at least the event
of the season.

“You’re working tonight, so live with it, bitch.”

Calling herself bitch always helped.

Blue-eyed and blonde, with shoulder length hair, Denise
was a part-time security guard, and a part-time student.
In the mornings she attended Northwestern University,
then spent six of her seven evenings watching the floors.
Boring, but the money was good. And she had time to
study. Best of all? Tuition reimbursement. This alone,
made the employment worthwhile.

Entering the security station (the fishbowl as everyone
called it), Denise said hello to Ed Simeon, then dumped
her gym bag in the corner.

“And a good evening to you,” Ed replied, not looking up
from his book.

A retired Chicago city cop, Ed was roundly robust, gray
as a battleship, and miserably funny. The father of six,
he had fifteen grandchildren, half a dozen of whom were
older than Denise. He liked his newest employee enough to
let her come in late sometimes, and to leave early.
Denise enjoyed his attention, also knew Ed would never
act upon it. She knew that for sure: he had already had
the chance.

Retrieving her bag from the floor, Denise dumped it on
the counter. “Quiet night?” she asked.

Ed said, “Quiet as a tomb.” He finally looked up.
“Everyone’s up at the party.”

Denise scowled. She muttered, “The least they could have
done was rescheduled us in shifts.”

Ed laughed. “You got a lot to learn, kid.”

Denise gave him the finger. Then she stuck out her
tongue. Then, to show him Ed still loved him, she blew
him a kiss.

“Tart.”

“I am not.”

“You are if I say you are. I’m the boss.”

Denise went, “Oooooooo,” and flipped him off again. She
loved her Ed Simeon. Even if he were a pain.

Unzipping the bag, Denise removed a large textbook and a
binder full of notes. “You going?” she asked.

Looking at her with a neutral expression, Ed said, “Yes.
I wish you could too, but one of us has to be here, and
it ain’t gonna be me.”

Denise tucked hair behind her right ear. “I got plenty to
keep me busy,” she said. “Besides,” and here she grinned
cutely, “Someone has to guard the file cabinets and
chairs.”

Ed laughed. Then he grew serious. “What about that dress
of yours?”

“What dress?” Denise said, looking pointedly at the book.

“The dress you bought for this party,” he said. “That
dress.”

Denise said, “Oh. You knew about that?”

“Nothing escapes me,” Ed said. “You should know that by
now.”

Denise laughed. “I’m beginning to learn that.” She put
the book on the counter–her Comparative Literature text-
-and opened the binder. “It’s okay,” she said.
“Really. I’ll wear it sometime.”

Your wedding day, perhaps?

“You enjoy yourself for us both,” she said.

Ed remained silent and Denise let the silence extend.

Come on, her inner voice nagged. He’s older than your
dad.

So what, she thought. Daddy’s good looking, and so is Ed
Simeon.

Slut.

Cunt.

Don’t call me that.

Then leave me alone, Annie.

Anne was Denise’s middle name, also the name of her inner
voice, with whom she had conversed with since childhood.
Annie was her best–and sometimes only–friend.

Ed rose, and began gathering his things. “Beth said to
thank you for coming in early. She wanted a jump on the
party, and you gave her that.”

Denise said, “Then go and enjoy it, old man, and stop
bugging me.”

Then Ed did something that both shocked Denise and
thrilled her. Coming up behind her, he slapped Denise
smartly on the tail, then kissed her cheek.

“Merry Christmas, stooge.”

Denise grew incredibly red. She blurted, “Ed!” and then
burst out laughing. “Get out of here, you!” she cried.
“Before I call your wife!”

Ed went laughing to the door. “By the way,” he said.
“Don’t ask why, but they installed cameras in four copy
rooms downstairs.” He shrugged. “Guess someone’s been
stealing the toner. Or mooning the machines. Either way,
don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He looked at Denise over
his glasses. “I know what goes on down there, after
hours.”

Denise, already lit up like a Roman candle, violently
shook her head. “Not me!” she denied. “Not on your life.”
Then she broke out laughing and exclaimed: “At least not
here!”

Grinning hugely, Ed stood undecidedly in the door. Then
he gave her a wave and let the door close. Denise
listened to his footfalls receding down the hall.

“Whew!” she said, fanning her face. “That was intense.”

Had Ed actually just whacked her?

Oh, yes, her inner voice said. He most certainly did.
Then Annie warned: That man, despite what you think,
Denise, wants to fuck you, really bad.

Her face hot enough to melt ice at fifty yards, Denise
had to agree.

* * *

The fishbowl to herself, Denise put up her feet and
leaned back in Ed’s high-backed chair. She watched the
monitors flicker. Stretching mightily, she emitted a
loud, “Ummmm!” making joints everywhere pop. She yawned
really wide.

“I need a good fuck,” she declared.

Giggling, she looked quickly around the room. Then she
said it again, more loudly. “I need a really good fuck.”
Then she sighed and leaned back in the chair.

Well, you won’t get it here, Annie said. Not even if Ed
comes back.

“Which is pretty okay,” she replied. “Because he’d
probably kill me.”

You’re not that out of practice, Annie said.

“Out of practice enough.”

It’s only been six months.

“Yes, six long months,” Denise said. “Now leave me alone.
I gotta work.”

Scanning the bank of monitors, Denise got out the log,
and started making notes. This was the dreariest part of
her night, the constant writing of notes. Management
thought (correctly, too) that if you didn’t make notes,
then you weren’t watching the monitors, and if you
weren’t watching the monitors, then security was shot.

Security, Denise thought. What security?

The reality of it was–there was no security.

The week before Denise got her job, a twenty-six-year old
woman on the tenth floor was raped. Caught by two men in
the stairwell after hours, they bound her wrists with her
own pantyhose, then spent the next hour raping her mouth.
Then they took turns raping her ass. Then they raped her
mouth again, right out of her ass.

Deciding she was too much fun for only the two, one of
the rapists called two of his buddies on his cell phone
and invited them in. They hurried on over. This woman had
three daughters and a husband at home. Denise understood
she was very pretty, but very demur.

They left her spread-eagled on the eleventh floor
landing, her ankles and wrists bound to the stair posts.
Her panties were stuffed in her mouth and her pantyhose
yanked down over her head. They left alligator clips on
both of her nipples and one on her clitoris.

Evidently, leaving the garage that day for lunch, the
woman had inadvertently cut off one of the men. He vented
his rage that evening.

Now, there were cameras in all the stairwells.

Sighing, Denise picked up her book and began to read. She
kept away thoughts of the party. She kept away thoughts
of her girlfriend–ex-girlfriend, excuse me–Meredith
Wentz. Since they’d broken up (was it really six months?)
Denise found herself more, and less interested in sex.
More with the men that she met, and less with the women.
Truth was, for the first time in her life, Denise’s
interests seemed pretty well split. She’d kiss a penis or
a pussy, whichever came first.

Yeah, right, she thought. Stop with the fucking jokes.

Truth was, Denise felt practically sexless.

“But I still need a fuck,” she said.

Well you’re not gonna get it here, Annie retorted. You
need to date.

“I don’t want to date.”

You just want to fuck.

“That’s right.”

Then go and fuck Ed Simeon.

“Maybe I will,” she said. “So there.”

* * *

Two hours had elapsed. Per the ever-watchful eyes of the
cameras, everything was fine. The party up in the lounge
was in full swing–she’d turned that monitor off an hour
ago–and aside from the desk guard downstairs, Denise
doubted another soul was loose in the building. She
sighed. Then she sat up.

Was that Jane Marsh? Walking down the east corridor on
level ten?

“Hello there, Jane Marsh,” Denise whispered. “What are we
doing tonight?”

For two months now, Denise had suffered a crush on Jane
Marsh.

Ten years older than Denise, Jane had short, coal black
hair, a finely featured face, a trimly kept body, and
great big black eyes. Denise loved her black eyes. A
senior account executive with Bear Stearns, Jane was
invariably well dressed. For the party tonight, she wore
a sequined black gown, full length to the floor, with a
low back and a modestly cut bodice. She wore black heels.

Working out in the gym every night, often at the time
Denise took break, Jane and Denise had struck up a
friendship. Getting a forty-five-minute workout daily
helped Denise stay in shape, but she was fooling herself
about Jane Marsh. The woman politely but firmly rebuffed
even her half-hearted advance, which Denise had not even
deliberately made.

“I couldn’t even buy you a drink,” the twenty-year old
sighed.

She sharpened the image on the display, only to loose
Jane beneath the camera. She did not reappear on the next
monitor in line. “Where did you go?” she said, switching
between views. There! Just entering the tenth floor copy
room.

The tenth floor copy room? What was she doing in there?

Looking at the status reports, Denise discovered that
Jane’s destination was one of the newly monitored
locations. And the camera was concealed. Switching on the
feed, Denise leaned forward to watch. She found Jane,
unexpectedly were glasses, standing at the big
photocopier, punching numbers into the keypad.

What, Denise wondered, was she doing? A senior account
executive, making her own copies?

“And since when do you wear glasses?” Denise asked. Then
she grinned. Most women looked cute in glasses and Jane
was no exception. Denise hated herself in glasses.

Meredith wore glasses, she thought.

Oh, shut up, she told herself.

Denise tried to go back to her studies, but her eyes kept
lifting to the display. Finally, she turned off the feed.
“If she wants to make copies,” she said. “Let her.”

Five minutes later, Denise turned back on the feed. She
watched as Jane fed one sheet at a time to the copier,
then returned it to the folder. She appeared in no hurry
at all.

“Will you go back to the party,” Denise groaned.
“Please?”

Then Annie cleared her throat. Maybe, she said, that’s
something she’s not supposed to be copying.

“What?” Denise said, aloud. Then she grimaced. “Man,
don’t be telling me that. I don’t want her in trouble.”
But, even as she leaned forward again, her hand went to
the security phone. Suddenly, she didn’t want to be
there.

Why me? she thought. Why now? Don’t you know someone is
watching?

No, she answered herself. She doesn’t.

Picking up the telephone, Denise speed-dialed Ed Simeon’s
beeper, then hung up before it could ring.

“Come, on,” she admonished. “Stop fucking around and
call.”

She dialed again, and then hung up again. “Now,” she
said. “You’re really pissing me off!”

Rising, Denise was about to go downstairs, when a second
woman entered the room.

“What is this?” she mused.

She watched the second woman shut and lock the door, and
suddenly she bit her nail.

“Don’t you tell me,” she said, slowly. “Don’t you fucking
dare.”

The new arrival was someone Denise recognized, but didn’t
really know. She had curly brown hair, cut very short,
and moved with a tomboyish grace. It was Christine, or
Krystal or something like that. No, Denise thought; her
name was Kristen. Kristen Fishlaw. A year or two older
than Denise, Kristen was decidedly cute, but obviously a
dyke. Denise liked a woman to look like a woman, not an
imitation man.

Making sure the camera was recording, Denise sat back
down. She felt decidedly on edge.

Come, on, she thought. You can’t really be jealous.

And why not? Annie asked.

Because I hardly know her, that’s why. And besides–she
laughed, aloud–this isn’t what it looks.

Oh, really? Then tell me what it is, then.

Denise grumbled, “Just wait and see.”

The women immediately became engaged in a spirited
discussion, having nothing to do with the machine. The
copier ran on, ignored. Standing before Jane in a way
that confirmed Denise’s fears, Kristen raised both her
hand and her voice, and that’s when Denise saw it. At the
bottom of the screen was a small icon, in the shape of a
speaker; the camera had audio.

Leaping forward, Denise banged on the keyboard, and the
sound turned on. Right away she knew Kristen was drunk.
Or very close to it.

“Bullshit!” shouted Kristen. “You left because of me!”

Jane’s face was very tight. “I left because of this,” she
shot back. “Not because of you. I told you to stay at the
party.”

“I didn’t want to stay,” Kristen complained. “Not without
you!”

Jane angrily shook her head. “You’re drinking way too
much. You can hardly stand up.”

“Then lie down with me!” Kristen whined. “On the floor!”
She hiccupped, loudly. “We could do that!”

Denise seriously doubted this, not with them both in
gowns.

Dressed in a very low-backed red dress (Denise could see
the dimple in the small of Kristen’s back), with a
matching low bodice, this was the most feminine Kristen
had ever appeared. She looked very alluring. And she wore
no brassiere.

Jane laughed. “We’ve been through this how often,
Kristen? A hundred times?” She tapped the younger girl’s
forehead, lightly. “Discretion, Kristen. D-i-s-c-r–”
Kristen interrupted: “I know how to spell, Jane, goddamn
it.” She pushed Jane’s hand away.

“You just don’t know how to use it,” Jane scolded.

Like a junior high school girl, Kristen pushed out her
lower lip. Jane fought off a smile, then said: “Look,
we’ll go back in a minute, okay? Hand in hand, if you’d
like. Now, please be a good girl, and let me finish?”

Kristen stuck a finger between her teeth. “You promise?”

“I promise!” Jane exploded. Then she laughed. “I don’t
know what I see in you, you brainless little twit.”

This made Kristen giggle–and Denise groan.

Suddenly, Kristen bent forward and planted a kiss on
Jane’s mouth. Jane hadn’t the time to move. Her eyes
opened comically wide, and she hissed, “Don’t do that!”
looking all around. “Something weird’s been going on.”
But she looked directly at the ceiling, at the location
of the hidden lens, giving Denise a nasty start.

Kristen only grinned and leaned forward again, hands
behind her back.
Denise knew they would kiss.

“God damn it,” she said, slapping the top of the desk.
“You fucking bitch!”

She sat back in a huff, arms clamped over her chest,
fuming mad and grinning madly. She laughed, bitterly,
saying, “You fucking bitch,” again, but she didn’t stop
watching.

* * *

You should have bought her that drink, Annie remarked.

Denise mumbled. “Somebody obviously did.”

It was five minutes later and there was no denying her
arousal. Denise gulped loudly. She resisted turning off
the feed. She watched the two women kiss.

The two had started off slowly enough, Jane returning
Kristen’s kiss almost with restraint. But, as the kiss
endured, hands began to move and positions began to
change. Presently, Kristen’s left hand was now cupped
over Jane’s right breast, and Jane’s hand was behind
Kristen’s neck. There was no doubt about it; the women
enjoyed their kiss.

“Smile, ladies,” Denise whispered. “You’re on Candid
Camera.”

Then she sat back, feeling sudden guilt over her
voyeurism, and both guilt and embarrassment over her
arousal. She felt zeroed in on herself.

Looking carefully about the room, Denise got up and
inspected the air conditioner vents and the various
pieces of equipment. She looked for any telltale dark
spot or circular shape. She knew the search was hopeless,
as any search of the copy room downstairs would be. Some
cameras were not meant to be found. They could watch you
through an opening no larger than a nail head. Denise
gave up.

Returning to the desk, Denise found the two women even
more aroused. Kristen had Jane backed against the copier
and was kissing her neck. Her left hand was between
Jane’s legs, caressing her inner thigh. Jane’s legs were
widespread. Sitting down in Ed Simeon’s chair, Denise let
her own legs spread wide. Her breathing had deepened, and
her heart rate increased. Her hands wanted to touch her
own body. She forbade them.

I am so horny, she thought.

So am I, agreed Annie. Our nipples are hard.

Looking down at her chest, Denise saw this was true. Twin
points stood out on her shirt.

“That is so embarrassing,” she said.

But, she did not rub them down. And no way could Denise
ignore the heat between her legs. She spread her legs
farther.

I can’t do this, she thought.

And why is that?

You know why! she shot back. Cameras!

Hmmm, Annie went. Then she said: Maybe Jane thinks the
same thing.

“What?” Denise asked, aloud.

Annie said: She’s definitely checking the ceiling.

Denise sat forward and saw this also was true. Jane was
not as deeply into lovemaking as Kristen believed. As
Kristen kissed every part of her neck, Jane’s eyes
scanned. She scanned every inch. For a second time, her
eyes trained directly on the lens and Denise thought: She
feels me. She feels me watching.

She reached for the controls.

Don’t you dare touch that!

Annie! she protested. It isn’t right! I can’t spy on them
like this. It’s…it’s…

Exciting?

“Disgraceful!” she said, killing the feed.

Annie harrumphed. I don’t believe this.

“I don’t believe it either,” Denise said, sitting back.
“I am such a wuss.”

She sat there five minutes, lower lip stuck out, staring
at the empty screen. Then she thought: If she suspected a
camera, why didn’t she stop?

Duh! Annie said. I tried to tell you!

Denise sat up, ramrod straight. “Are you saying–” she
said, aloud.

That she was looking for you? Well, finally!

Denise shook her head. “I can’t believe that! After she
blew me off?”

Patiently, Annie explained: D-i-s-c-r…

“-estion!” Denise finished. “Of course!” Then she became
indignant. “But why with her! That stupid little twit!
I’m not a stupid little twit!”

Brainless little twit, Annie corrected.

“Whatever!” Denise exclaimed. She switched back on the
feed.

Downstairs, Jane was sitting in a swivel chair, and
Kristen was between her legs. This gave Denise an even
nastier start, until she realized Jane dress was still
down and Kristen’s head was in her lap.

“Whew,” Denise said. “I thought they were…”

They will, Annie said. Just give them time.

Denise shook her head. “I’m not sure I can watch. I’m too
jealous.” Her whole body underwent a strong shiver. “I
have to turn it off.”

You won’t.

Don’t tell me I won’t! I will if I want.

Annie laughed. I’ve lived with you twenty years, Denise.
I think I know you.

“Fucking bitch,” Denise murmured.

On screen, Kristen raised her head and placed both hands
on Jane’s thighs. They talked too softly for Denise to
hear. She picked up only a murmur. Then Kristen reached
up and slid the straps off Jane’s shoulders, and lowered
the gown. This exposed Jane’s strapless brassiere. Like
her gown, it was black. Then Kristen took the tops of the
cups in her hands and pulled them down also, exposing
Jane’s breasts. Denise almost shut down the feed. She did
shut her eyes.
Denise…

I can’t do this!

Just wait a minute, okay?

Annie! I’m watching someone I like (God! I didn’t know I
liked her this much!) making love to another woman!

They’re not making love. They’re having sex.

Big fucking distinction! It still hurts!

Just watch, okay?

Petulantly, Denise crossed her arms. She stuck out her
lower lip. “I’ll watch,” she said. “But you know I don’t
like it.”

By now, Kristen’s mouth was attached to Jane’s left
nipple, while cupping Jane’s right breast in her hand.
Denise had seen Jane naked before, just as Jane had seen
her. She liked the other woman’s small, taut breasts,
because Denise had small breasts herself. The thing first
tipping Jane to Denise’s interest, in fact, was catching
Denise’s eyes on her breasts.

Denise closed her eyes.

What are you doing?

Just wait, Denise said.

Concentrating, Denise envisioned their last time
together.

It was a week ago, in the upstairs gym. Jane had just
whipped Denise badly at hand ball, and they were on their
way to the shower. Jane suddenly stopped, saying she had
to go back her locker. Denise went on ahead. Starting a
shower and removing her robe, she then stood beneath the
hot spray, fully expecting Jane to shower across the
room, if she showed up at all. Since finding her out,
Jane had maintained her distance. It therefore caught
Denise by surprise when Jane turned on the shower beside
her.

Lathering up her hair, Jane had asked: “Are you going to
the dance?”

Feeling one-step behind, Denise said: “Dance? Oh, you
mean the Christmas Party?”

“Uh, huh,” Jane said, rinsing her face.

Given this opportunity, Denise stared long and hard at
Jane’s breasts. Smaller even that her own Jane’s breasts
were tipped with nutmeg colored aureole and nipples, the
nipples large and puffy. Denise wondered what they would
feel like in her mouth.

“I have to work,” Denise said.

“They’re not letting you off?” Jane protested.

Denise watched lather flow down Jane’s stomach and
between her legs. Like herself, Jane was shaved
completely bare.

“Low woman on the totem pole,” she said.

“Well that just sucks,” Jane said. “With whom do I talk?”

You mean whose cock do you suck? Denise thought. Because
that’s the only why I’m getting off for that party.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Truth is–” she leaned in
confidentially “–I’m not old enough to drink. And I hate
getting carded, and I know they will there.”

Jane shrugged. “A building full of personal injury
lawyers? I imagine you’re right.” She cleared mascara
from her eyes. She blinked water away. “You’re not
twenty-one?”

Denise nodded. “Not for another three months.”

“You poor child,” Jane said, laughing and placing her
hand on Denise’s shoulder. “I never would have imagined.”

Hopefully, Denise asked, “How old do I look?”

“About fifteen,” Jane said.

They both laughed at that.

A week later, that conversation made sense. Jane knew
very well Denise worked tonight, and that she was alone,
having asked pointedly about that. And as a member of the
security liaison committee–they reviewed building
security and advised the staff–this was something Jane
could easily confirm.

Denise began to grow convinced. “But why like this?” she
asked, again feeling jealous. “With that bimbo, instead
of with me?”

Annie answered for her: Maybe the bimbo was first.

“The airhead? You must be kidding!”

Annie said: Remember Meredith?

Slowly, Denise nodded.

If someone had told her days, hours, even minutes in
advance, that she and Meredith would remove each other’s
clothing and make love in Meredith’s broken down Toyota,
Denise would have laughed. Or slapped that person’s face.
But that’s exactly what happened. To this day, a pair of
Denise’s Victoria’s Secret panties were lost in that car.

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Denise said, watching the
screen.

Annie patiently said: She knows you’re watching, Denise,
and she wants you to see. Ergo, she wants you as much as
you want her. It’s her way of letting you know.

Denise muttered, “A simple, ‘Hi there, let’s fuck’, would
have sufficed.”

Downstairs, Kristen had switched breasts and was now
attached to Jane’s right nipple. Jane’s left nipple stuck
out like an accusatory finger. And though Jane stroked
Kristen’s hair in a very tender way, her eyes were locked
on the ceiling. They were trained on Denise’s own.

“Does she know?” Denise wondered, aloud. “Where it is?”

Her most obvious guess, Annie suggested.

As she breathed in long and deep breaths, her chest going
visibly up and down, Jane’s eyes remained glued to the
spot. Suddenly, Denise slid back in her chair, undoing
the buckle on her belt.

About damned time, Annie said.

Shut up.

I thought I’d never get relief.

Will you shut up? Please?

Casting one last look around, Denise sighed and ran her
hand down her pants. Her fingers went beneath her
panties, sliding gently over her skin. They found the
hood covering her clitoris. Maneuvering herself apart,
Denise’s middle finger began a slow and gentle dance.
Immediately, she shuddered.

Annie, sighed. Now, that’s what I’m talking about, girl.

Denise did not tell her to shut up.

Downstairs in copy room ten, Kristen disengaged from
Jane’s right nipple and, after momentarily laying her
head in Jane’s lap, began raising Jane’s dress. Jane
stopped her. They talked for a long while, voices too low
to hear. Denise strained to hear, regardless. “Please
don’t let her,” Denise whispered. “Please?”

Finally acquiescing, Jane sat back and Kristen raised her
dress around Jane’s waist. Then Kristen slid Jane’s
panties down her thighs and Denise closed her eyes. Her
lips moved silently, in protest, before she looked again.
If Jane wanted her to watch, Denise would oblige her.

Her panties off and her genitals completely exposed, Jane
silently watched the lens, her mouth open and her chest
going up and down. Her nipples were very, very hard. Then
Kristen kissed the tops of her thighs, then their
insides, then spread her legs apart. With Jane’s
assistance, she brought Jane forward and draped her legs
over the arms. Widespread, Jane now offered herself for
consumption. Kristen buried her face into Jane’s crotch.

“I can’t watch this,” Denise said. But her eyes never
left the screen.

While Kristen’s head worked in circular fervor, Denise
duplicated the motion on her clitoris. She slid farther
out on the chair, letting her legs spread apart, and let
her other hand steal inside shirt. She freed her breasts
from the brassiere–they were already in full bloom–and
began to caress them. She began to moan, softly. On
screen, Jane was again locked on the camera.

“I want to eat you,” Denise whispered. “Oh, God, I do.”
She bit her lower lip. “Please, Jane? Will you let me,
please?”

Jane’s breathing was now more pronounced, her chest
starting to heave, her eyes were big and round. She
looked desperate for release. She squirmed beneath
Kristen’s tongue and lips, and Denise squirmed as well.

“I want you,” Denise moaned. Her eyes half shut, she
missed Jane’s answering message.

“I want you, Denise,” Jane silently mouthed.

Displaying a sudden, mischievous, don’t-you-dare-do-this
grin, Denise unbuttoned her shirt and pulled out the
tails. She pulled her bra cups aside, baring her chest.
Both of them were now bare-chested. Then Denise slipped
the shirt back over her shoulders and yanked out her
arms, and slipped off the bra. She let it fall to the
floor.

“You,” she said. “Are absolutely, completely nuts!”

Certifiable, Annie said.

Downstairs, Jane was becoming orgasmic. Her head twisted
back and forth, and she bit down on her lower lip. Her
eyes were half-closed–or half-opened–but still trained
on the camera’s eye. Her chest heaved up and down and her
hands alternately gripped the arms of the chair, and the
back of Kristen’s head. She mouthed her words again. And
again Denise missed them.

Up in the fishbowl, Denise exclaimed, “Oh, what the
fuck!” and unzipped her uniform pants. Shoving them down,
she put her hand inside her panties, and speared her
vagina. She gasped.

Crying, “What the fuck!” even more loudly, she took off
both her panties and pants. Then, wrapping her shirt
haphazardly about her middle in imitation of Jane’s
collapsed dress, Denise threw open her legs. She
straddled the arms.

“Eat me!” she yelled, filling her vagina with fingers.

Then, both she and her Jane began to climax.

* * *

Denise was immensely grateful for soundproofing. Laying
back in the chair, collapsed, panting and red in the
face, she looked fearfully at the fishbowl door.

“You know,” she panted to her other self, “Ed could
decide to check in.”

Annie said: And he could bring his wife.

“And he could bring his wife,” Denise laughed. “And
pretty much everyone else.”

Imagine his shock, Annie said.

“Imagine mine.”

Just for that reason, Denise swiveled herself toward the
door. Spreading her legs wide, smiling a very naughty
smile, she put her middle inside herself and pleasured
her g-spot. Then, putting the juice-covered finger in her
mouth, she sucked it clean. Then she laughed again.

“I am certifiably nuts!” she cried.

Downstairs, Jane was getting dressed. Denise caught a
final look at her adorable breasts, then Jane bent down
and put on her panties. Denise scowled when Jane allowed
Kristen to kiss her. Then Jane laughed.

“Whatever am I ever going to do with you?” she said.

“Take me home to bed.” Kristen replied. She straightened
her own dress, then helped Jane adjust hers. “Would you
please?” Kristen asked, again.

“Fuck you,” Denise muttered, in sudden anger. “Right up
the ass.”

Putting her arm around Kristen’s waist, and casting one
last look at the ceiling, Jane replied. “We’ll talk about
it, later.”

Then they left, leaving Jane’s folder behind.

* * *

“Quiet night?” Mike Horner asked. He was Denise’s
replacement. It was four o’clock in the morning.

“Same as always,” Denise said, zipping her gym bag. “Did
you go to the party?”

Mike yawned. Then he stretched his arms. Joints went pop
in his back.

“Yeah,” he said. “Until twelve o’clock. Then I went
home.” He looked at the control board. “Anything I should
know?”

Denise said, “The feed for copy room ten doesn’t seem to
be recording. Other than that…” She shrugged. “Not a
whole lot of anything.”

Around two a.m., Denise had gone through the tapes,
locating the cassette for copy room ten. She had removed
it and put in a blank. The tape was safely stashed in her
bag.

“Good night, Mike,” she said.

“Night.”

Walking slowly to the bank of elevators, Denise sighed
and deeply yawned. She was really tired. And morose. And
jealous. She thought she hated Kristen Fishlaw.

“I bet you smell like a fish,” she muttered.

On the way down, Denise stopped at the tenth floor and
went to copy room ten. She retrieved Jane’s errant folder
from the machine’s cover and looked it through. To her
untrained eye, the contents seemed innocent enough.
Something to do with Enron Corp. Maybe she’d let Jane
confirm that, later on tonight, when she knocked on
Jane’s door. Then she laughed at herself, knowing she’d
do no such thing.

Dropping both the folder and the Sony cassette tape in an
interoffice envelope, Denise wrote out a short note,
adding her telephone number at the end. This she placed
in the envelope as well. Then she went to Jane Marsh’s
office and left the envelope in her mailbox. Then she
went home.

On Monday morning, at eight o’clock sharp, still asleep
in her bed, Denise got a phone call.