Cakes At Work

It was quite distracting at work with no panties on, more so than a usual BP day, since it was my birthday, and lots more people than usual found reason to talk to me. It seemed the whole office knew it was my 21st, and everywhere I went people wished me Happy Birthday, then came over to give me a kiss, which was really nice as I’m quite a tactile person. What I began to notice was the number of people who placed their hand on my waist for support when they leaned in to kiss my cheek, and I could feel their fingers along the edge of my garter belt, through my thin dress. Several of them slid their hands round a little further during the kiss, almost following the line of lace down my bottom a little way, then just the faintest hint of a squeeze as they stood up afterward. A few others placed their hand on my waist, or a little higher if I reached up to place my hand on their shoulder in response. It was almost, but not quite, an embrace, but still remained quite formal for an office of our standing. However, my fertile young imagination was making much more of each tiny contact, and soon the tingle grew between my thighs, and my pussy lips grew slick with moisture.


After the lunchbreak, one of the partners brought in cream cakes, which is a birthday custom at our office, and they were stacked on one of my side tables, whereas the usual research files had all been relegated to the floor. As my colleagues came along for pastries, they often stood next to my desk, where my purse was sitting on the corner, displaying my new panties that Mom had removed this morning before we left. This wasn’t the first time I’d carried my underwear in my purse, and it had always made me nervous in case one of the senior staff passed comment on it, but this time Mom arranged them with the embroidered butterfly on top, surrounded by lace trim. They looked a bit like a ladies handkerchief at first glance, but if you examined more closely there was an obvious line of gathered elastic edging, that looked unmistakably like a pantie band. Of course, I couldn’t re-arrange them to be more discreet, as this would be strictly against the rules that Mom and I play by in this situation. I’d made a mistake this morning, forgetting the BP day, and this was part of my punishment, to be on display to anyone who was observant enough, and I would have to report back what happened, to Mom this evening. While it was very unsettling waiting for someone to ask what my panties were doing on top of my purse, I really did like to observe people’s reactions to this type of situation. Part of these games that Mom has taught me to play, is to be casually observant, so that no-one suspects they are being watched, which allows them to react naturally. To be honest, the vast majority of people are oblivious to what happens around them, but I love to notice their unconcious habits, such as tracing outlines, doodling, or setting things in order, all without their knowledge. Usually this happens while they are distracted by conversation, and several people would just be chatting while they ate their cake, but their hands had a mind of their own. One lady had placed her napkin down on top of my purse, and she kept picking it up with her hand underneath it, the backs of her fingers rubbing against my panties. One of the young finance guys, a bit later on, was stood talking to me when I noticed him turning my purse round with his index finger, quite absently, not a thought about what he was doing, and as I kept the conversation going he traced the lines of stitches up the sides. Eventually he reached the top, and now his finger followed the shape of the butterfly, tracing each line, until he followed the tail that would have been pointing down the centre of bottom had I been wearing them. The thought of him doing this while I laid half naked across my desk, him not seeing me as he discussed some complex costing problem with a senior partner, had my cunny twitching deep inside, until I had to distract him, just to break my concentration. I excused myself to visit the restroom, walking down the corridor with him till I reached the ladies room, then having to hang my dress on the back of the door while I stroked my pussy to a satisfying orgasm. That, in itself was another gift, and from two people who never even knew how much they turned me on.