So, a colleague at our office quit, and HQ sent an HR rep to wrap things up. She’s this young woman, probably new to the job, rocking a sharp silver-gray suit with a skirt ending three to five inches above the knee. When she was talking to the colleague, she was standing by the desk, bending over. I caught a glimpse of the backs of her smooth, tender thighs under her skirt, and I was already swallowing hard. But, you know, you don’t mess with HR.
Later, I was hauling some boxes of files up from downstairs when I ran into her at the corner. We chatted a bit, and she asked if I needed help. I told her it was fine—the boxes were heavy as hell, so I just asked her to hold the door upstairs for me.
Man, young people have some energy. She practically bounced up the stairs. Pure instinct kicked in, and as she turned the corner, I looked up. There, under her suit skirt, was a nice look of a gray panties (I think, stairwell lighting is pretty dim). I wished she could just walk slower a bit, so the gap between her steps could be longer for me to enjoy the view.
When I was looking back in the office from a distance, her calves looked so smooth and fair that I thought she was wearing stockings. But nope, up close, I saw she wasn’t. Gotta say, sometimes I just can't help myself but jealous of that youthful skin.
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