Whether the pressure was inadvertent, subconscious or whatever, I found that the tip of my index finger had parted my labia and I was now rubbing soft...y against the exposed, moist redness underneath. I flinched, smiling, as I allowed my finger to make contact with my clit momentarily. It felt good and I wanted to do it again, and again, and keep doing it until I came there and then with Ben’s eyes all over me. Instead I waited, because I knew that he would want me to do it his way. He left me. And she enjoyed it immensely to reply with a stinging put-down. However, that guy had never given her the pleasure. He never even seemed to notice her. Even today, when she was wearing her short denim skirt and sheer white blouse that you cold almost make out her nipples through, he always looked right past her whenever they passed in the corridor. She had begun to think he was gay or something, but she had seen him plenty of times in the company cafeteria having lunch with different women--. More

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