The Office

Angela sat in the passenger seat on the way to Mark’s office, feeling almost normal. Her feet were bare, which was a little weird, and obviously she wasn’t wearing any underwear—that seemed especially hard to come by today—but she was covered now, and that was the main thing. Mark had to make a stop to enter the code written across her body into a computer, and then he said he’d drive her home.

“Do you wanna, maybe, uh, hang out some time?” Mark asked her, trying to sound cool and aloof. “I’ll make sure my mother’s not home.”

Angela scowled internally, but kept her face neutral. So he wanted her to come back to his place. To “hang out”. And he didn’t say it, but she got the insinuation that the dress code, for her, would be the same as this first visit. Even now, Mark was probably thinking about how she felt under his pen hand and hoping to jab her with a different long instrument.

No wining and dining for the little naked whore. Straight to business.

She glanced at his crotch. Difficult to tell from this angle, but she didn’t doubt her intuition. “I’ll let you know,” she said, cognizant of her need for him to drive her home later.

“Cool,” Mark said. He probably thought she meant it.

Mark pulled into the lot of his empty office building, swiping a key card at the entrance boom gate. He parked right in front of the building, and once again got out to open the door for Angela.

“This’ll be quick, in and out.”

Marked swiped his key card to enter the main building, and led Angela up some stairs and then down a long, winding hallway. To both sides, she saw big open-plan office rooms with rows and rows of cheap desks, swivel chairs and computer screens. Her bare feet tread noiselessly on the gray carpet.

They came to an office at the end of the hall, which Mark had to use a fingerprint scanner to get into. The room contained a single computer with a large screen against one of the walls. Beneath a screen was a small, cheap keyboard on a rickety desk.

Mark walked up to the computer and tapped the space bar a few times to wake the screen up. Then he entered a password, and some commands. A minute or two later, the screen filled with a giant prompt, which read, “ENTER CODE”.

“Okay, we need the code,” Mark said, looking back at Angela.

Angela checked around the room. She didn’t see any cameras, and Mark had assured her that his office didn’t have CCTV when she’d asked. They were on the fourth floor, so it was unlikely that anyone would be peeking through the windows either. And in any case, the blinds were all drawn.

None of that made what she was about to do all that much easier. Slowly, with shaking hands, Angela undid the top button of the dress shirt. This was the longest she’d been fully covered since the start of this ordeal, and now she was taking her clothes off again. It was even worse than if she’d just been naked the whole time.

“This thing has a timer, Angela,” Mark said, when she was halfway down the shirt. “We don’t have all day.”

Angela sniffed, suppressing a tear, and quickly undid the rest of the buttons. Then she shrugged the shirt off her shoulders, and let it fall with her wrists still in the sleeves, like a glamour model posing for a pin-up shot. She turned around so that Mark could see the writing on her back.

Mark thanked her, and started typing. She’d seen him type quite fast earlier, but now he was slowly pecking the keys between long looks at her.

“I thought there was a timer,” she said.

“Gotta make sure I get this right. Take a step back.”

She did so, and felt a finger on her back. Mark was tracing the lines. The pace of his keyboard tapping increased.

Mark’s finger traveled lower and lower down her back, till he was poking her butt. Then the typing seemed to slow down again.

“Hey!” Angela cried. “Don’t enjoy this so much! And hover that finger!”

Mark, chastened, did as he was told. He typed a few more characters, and then paused.

“Why did you stop?” Angela asked.

“The last few letters are covered up.”

She knew what that meant. With a sigh, Angela pulled up her arms and let the shirt fall from her wrists. The typing resumed.

“Turn around,” Mark said.

Angela did as she was told. Now she was facing Mark, from mere inches away, with her arms at her sides. His eyes were glued to her, and it took a minute for him to start typing again. He reached out a guiding hand.

“None of that!” Angela snapped, slapping away a finger that was coming perilously close to her chest. “That real estate is off-limits.” Of course, Mark had already written across her boobs, but she couldn’t just let him touch them again.

Mark’s typing was slower, but he obeyed her wishes. Having something go her own way for once today made Angela feel a little better about presenting herself so openly to a casual acquaintance she was coming to dislike.

At last, the code was completed. Mark pressed Enter on the keyboard, and the computer churned for a few minutes, before flashing a bright green check mark. A mechanical female voice said, “Authorization code accepted. Please destroy this code at once.”

Mark smiled at Angela. “Thanks for your help. I forgot to mention, you’re going to have to clean that off.”

“Well duh.” Angela made a face. “Of course I’m going to clean this mess off!”

Mark’s face was hard and serious. “I mean now. There’s a shower in downstairs, three doors to your right.”

That was a bit weird, but Angela supposed it would be okay. A shower sounded kind of nice, honestly. She bent down to pick up her shirt, but Mark was standing on it.

“Some of the letters rubbed off on it a bit,” he said, pointing at a few black marks on the shirt. “I’ll have to destroy it. Which is what my mom would have made me do anyway.”

Angela’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Can’t that at least wait until I get home?”

“Nope, we take security very seriously.” Mark was already gathering up the shirt in his arms as he said this. “Now go wash yourself off, thoroughly. There should be a few bars of industrial soap in that bathroom you can use.”

“Like this?” Angela cried, gesturing to her naked body.

“Most people shower in the nude, yeah.”

“But can’t you at least give me the shirt to wear into the bathroom?”

“What for? There’s no-one here. Just go shower, I’ll figure out a plan for something you can wear.” Mark was curt, dismissive, and there was a threatening undercurrent in his voice. Angela suddenly felt afraid, remembered the force with which he’d flopped her over on the grass. The feeling of being trapped as he loomed over, scrawling with his marker.

Looking down at her bare feet, Angela trudged out of the room as Mark held the door open for her. He was hanging back to do a few more things on the computer, so she’d have to find the shower on her own. Though that was preferable to spending any more time with Mark than absolutely necessary.

She walked past the same boring open-plan offices, but it felt a bit different now that she was naked. She imagined herself sitting on one of the swivel chairs, working hard at a laptop. Her hair was done up nicely, she had on a necklace, was wearing a fashionable pair of glasses and shiny black pumps. But nothing else. No clothes. The leather felt cool against her backside. She looked up from her laptop. Everyone else in the office was normal, clothed, except for naked Angela.

She shook the vision out of her mind. No, she was Angela, just Angela. Nice, normal Angela. She didn’t even own any tops that showed cleavage. She’d had clothes before, and she’d have them again. One weird, unlucky day did not define her. Would not define her.

The bathroom was where Mark said it would be. It was a male bathroom, but there didn’t seem to be female one anywhere near by, so that would have to do. Angela slipped inside.

It was really no different from a female bathroom, aside from the urinals on the walls. The shower was in a corner of the room, and didn’t look like it was used often. A stack of large soap bars was piled on top of one of the sinks. There were no towels, naturally.

Angela grabbed a bar of soap and stepped into the shower. She turned the hot and cold taps on, and let the water come down and warm up for few seconds before stepping underneath it. It felt good, rejuvenating. And for the first time today, Angela’s nudity was not out of place in her surroundings. That also felt good. Felt normal.

The marks on her skin came off with just a little bit of scrubbing. Angela smiled at this; she felt as though she was rubbing Mark’s unwanted touches off her body as well. A funny thought occurred to her: although she was glad to be rubbing off the ink, she was making herself more naked by doing so. It didn’t really matter, it mattered even less than losing her shoes and socks did, but it was still sort of true. Ink was a kind of covering. And maybe with enough… She’d seen pictures where a model would have an entire outfit painted on her body, and it wouldn’t be obvious that she was naked until you looked really close. Maybe that was Mark’s idea for her next outfit: a black marker leotard. Although if that was the case he probably wouldn’t have made her shower.

Sharon. Mark. Tammy. The blonde lady. The big cashier. Angela was getting pretty sick of others getting to decide on her outfits. Especially because they all seemed to pick “no outfit” most of the time.

Angela closed both shower taps and stepped out of the shower, dripping on the tiled floor. She inspected herself in the mirror, lifting each breast, and then turning and rising on tip-toes to get a full view of her butt. All the ink was gone, as though it had never been there. Satisfied, she turned her attention to drying off.

The bathroom had a hand blow dryer, which she wiggled and shook in front of to dry off her skin. She worked at doing the same with her hair, running her fingers through it in lieu of a comb, but gave up while it was still mildly damp. At least it was freshly trimmed.

She took another look at herself in the mirror, arranged her hair so it fell over her breasts, and walked out of the bathroom. Through a gap in the blinds over a window in the hallway, she could see Mark’s car. It was pulling away. Angela rushed to the window in a panic, but stopped short of opening the blinds or waving her arms in the air. She was still naked, after all. Instead, she watched Mark’s car turn out of the parking lot and into the road, swearing at him under her breath.

There was a sticky note on the wall next to the window. It hadn’t been there when she’d entered the bathroom. Angela tore it down and started reading.

“Hey Ang, had to run, emergency at home. Back soon, hang tight.”

And of course, there was no sign of the shirt.

But what was even worse was the sound Angela heard next. The tell-tale beeping of an alarm system about to engage. Something Mark had neglected to mention.