Everyjanitor, every intern, every secretary would see the light blue cups ofmy little bra. I would be an advert; a testimony to the freak show of mylife. Preventing myself instinctively holding the cups, I lightlyhobbled to the restrooms. Escaping from the sweltering, the heat and thepressure. I needed escape.Pacing wildly. Nothing was right, now. And my secret was up. No more wasmy perversion hidden. My eyes welled up as I haphazardly blunderedthrough corridor to corridor; till I entered the room of light. A waveof cold air greeted me and I passed out.I awoke to a glass of water, which was drunk almost immediately."You passed out," a voice rang out. It was my colleague Eva. "We had totake you to the server room." She grinned. "Powerful fans you see.Coolant." Well cheers!" I exclaimed. And then a single shard of horror. My blazerwas missing. All that stood between me and my humiliation was this thin,sweaty white shirt. I stood up, choking back panic; but was shushed backdown. I could almost feel myself falling deeper in love with him.Once we’d finished breakfast, James looked into my eyes. “Let’s hit the beach,” he said casually. “You can go upstairs to change and I’ll wait here for you.”Previously, when we’d gotten out of the shower, James had put on swim trunks and a Hawaiian shirt. Because I wasn’t sure what he would want to do after breakfast, I’d put on a little sundress.“That sounds like an excellent idea. Just give me a few minutes to change and I’ll be back down.”As I stood up from the table, he spoke again. “Make sure you wear one of the suits I mailed to you,” he said sternly.Two weeks prior, James had sent me a package containing five Wicked Weasel micro-bikinis. I hadn’t looked at them after opening the package; I’d just stuffed them into my drawer with the rest of my more-standard bikinis.I could feel my stomach start to get queasy. The Wicked Weasel suits he’d purchased were only half-bikinis at best, and I wasn’t particularly anxious to try.
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