Samantha Uncontrolled (Ch.25 - 5/5)

[Devens60]

Icy water still dripped down my skin as the girls walked towards the car. My legs trembled as if they were about to give way at any moment, but I followed as best I could, my body drenched sticking to each gust of wind that grew stronger as the afternoon set in. Drops fell from my hair in small streams, soaking my feet while leaving marks on the cement floor of the park.

When we reached the car, I thought the torment would finally end. But I couldn't have been more wrong.

"Samy, you can't get in like that," Megan said firmly as she unlocked the car. "You'll soak my mother's upholstery, and that's non-negotiable."

"But Megan!" I exclaimed, my voice trembling with both the cold and desperation.

"Calm down," Julia intervened, laughing as she opened the passenger door. "Just stay outside for a while. With this wind, you'll dry off quickly."

Before I could reply, Megan had already closed the door and was settling into the driver's seat. Julia did the same in the passenger seat, laughing loudly as she looked at me from the closed window. This can't be happening... not again...

"Come on, move a little. That way you'll dry off faster," Megan said from inside the car as if she were giving me a helpful tip.

The wind hit me full on, its coldness feeling like blades running over my drenched skin. I tried to hug myself to keep some warmth, but it was useless. My wet hair stuck to my body, making things worse, sending shivers through my entire body. I want this to end...

Julia rolled down the window a bit, just a few centimeters. "Do you feel like a wet puppy, Samy? Because that's what you look like," she said amid laughter.

My cheeks burned, though the rest of my body felt frozen. Every second standing out there, trembling and completely exposed, felt like an eternity. I tried to ignore them, looking towards the horizon, praying that somehow this ordeal would end. But the empty parking lot made me feel vulnerable. What if someone else shows up now? What would I do?

"Isn't she dry enough yet?" Julia asked, still laughing.

"Not even close," Megan replied with a smug smile as she started the engine, causing the car's rear lights to flicker. "Let's give it a few more minutes."

My teeth chattered forcefully, and my legs could barely stand firm. The wind kept battering my body, and I could only close my eyes and hope that somehow this torture would end.

The wind had finally done its job. Although I wasn't completely dry, I no longer felt the icy water running down my skin. However, I was still shivering, more from the humiliation and the constant fear of the cold. I hugged myself, praying that Megan and Julia would finally let me get into the car and put an end to this torture. But then I saw them.

Suddenly, something caught my attention. In the distance, in the direction of the trail, I saw moving figures. I blinked to make sure it wasn't an illusion caused by fatigue, but no. They were the five students we had seen entering the trail hours earlier. Their different uniforms made them unmistakable.

From afar, I could see how one of them was pointing in the direction of the car. It seemed that they wanted to approach. My chest tightened with force, and a shiver ran up my spine.

"Girls, they're coming... the boys are coming," I said in a thread of voice, trying not to panic.

Megan and Julia, comfortably seated inside the car, didn't take long to notice my reaction. "Look, Samy! I think you have visitors," said Megan with a mocking smile as she observed through the rearview mirror.

Megan and Julia burst into laughter from inside the car. Megan even pretended to look at the boys before turning her attention back to me. "Well, don't just stand there, Samy. Do something! Hide if you want!"

My entire body went into panic. I knew I couldn't let them see me, but where could I hide in such an exposed place? There were no nearby columns or trees to serve as my refuge. If I ran, they would surely see me. If I stayed still, they wouldn't take long to discover me. I decided to circle the car, keeping the vehicle between them and me.

The boys' footsteps resonated closer and closer. I observed them from behind one of the car's wheels. They were talking among themselves, laughing, and some were looking at their cell phones. They have phones... they can take pictures of me and upload them to the internet! Fear stabbed me like a physical blow.

Megan, seeing my anguish, rolled down the window and stuck her head out to observe the scene. "Oh, Samy! They're coming straight toward us. What are you going to do if they see you?"

"Stop saying that!" I whispered furiously, my heart beating so fast I felt it would jump out of my chest.

"Let me into the car, please!" I said, desperately, as I took small jumps from side to side to try to stay hidden.

"Like that, all wet? I don't believe it, Samy," Megan replied with a coldness that pierced me.

I slowly moved around the car, making sure to always keep it between the boys and me. I could now hear their voices, increasingly clear, and it seemed they were discussing something about the car.

"Look, that car looks expensive!" said one of them.

"What's it doing here? No one else is parked in this area," added another.

I clenched my teeth, praying they wouldn't get any closer. As they approached, one of them raised his cell phone, apparently recording something of the landscape. My breathing became erratic. If any of them saw me and took a picture... no, I couldn't even allow myself to think about that. This isn't happening... it can't be happening...

From inside the car, Megan and Julia were practically laughing to tears. Megan gently knocked on the window, getting my attention. "Come on, Samy, run! Or better yet, say hi. Maybe they want to meet you."

I ignored them, focusing on my slow but strategic movement. Finally, the boys stopped a few meters from the car, examining it carefully. One of them even leaned down to get a better look at the wheels. My body froze in place. Please, don't let them see me, please...

"It's a nice car," commented one of them. "Do you think there's someone inside?"

I clenched my teeth and hunched down behind the car, sticking to the bodywork as if I could merge with it. I was sure they could hear my heartbeats if they got close enough.

"Samy, they're going to spot you," Julia said in a low voice from inside the car, mocking my desperation.

"I don't know, but let's go. It's getting late," replied another, putting away his cell phone.

The relief was so intense that I almost fell to the ground. I stayed in my place, immobile, watching as the boys finally walked away. Megan and Julia, noticing my state, laughed harder than ever.

When the boys disappeared into the distance, Megan unlocked the car doors and, with a mocking smile, said: "Well, Samy, it seems you survived... for now. You can get in."

I didn't think twice. I ran to the driver's door, opened it, and threw myself into the seat.

Julia slid into the back seat, still laughing, and Megan took her place in the passenger seat. "What did you think of our adventure in the park, Samy?" asked Megan with a mocking tone as she played with the car keys.

I didn't respond. My heart was still beating strongly, and my hands trembled on the steering wheel. I had survived, but barely.

I fixed my gaze on the car screen, and my stomach turned. It was almost five in the afternoon. I did a quick calculation in my head, and a chill ran up my spine. Six hours? Have I been like this for six hours? My mind tried to process the absurdity of the situation. No matter how much I tried to rationalize it, I couldn't believe I was living this. Never in my life had I been so long without clothes on, and even less outside my home or a safe place with a bathroom.

I shuddered, feeling how every particle of air conditioning seemed to pierce my naked skin. There wasn't a second in which I didn't feel every surface, every gust, every mocking look from Megan and Julia. How can they be so cruel? But even that thought seemed futile. They weren't going to stop, and I couldn't do anything to stop them.

My hands, tense on the steering wheel, noticed every texture of the material while my heart rate remained accelerated, as if I were in constant alert. I couldn't get used to any of what I was feeling. Every touch of the seatbelt reminded me of my state. Every slight vibration of the car beneath me seemed to amplify my vulnerability. The leather of the seat remained cold against my skin, and the jolts of the engine as it started made me jump slightly. It was as if my body were in hypersensitivity mode, unable to ignore any stimulus.

I don't want to be like this... I don't want to feel like this. But I couldn't do anything. All I could do was follow Megan and Julia's orders, turned into their toy, an inexhaustible source of fun at the expense of my dignity. My chest rose and fell with short breaths, trying to calm down, but every time I thought about all the time I'd been in this state, my heart raced faster.

"Sami, have you been sleeping there with your eyes open?" Megan suddenly asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. I turned my head towards her, but her expression was more mocking than concerned.

"It's time to take Julia home. So get moving," she added while shaking the keys in her hand as if they were a toy.

I nodded automatically. My thoughts remained scattered as I started the car and began driving. Take Julia home... then maybe it will all end, I told myself, though I knew it wasn't true.

Julia, from the back seat, leaned forward to talk to Megan. "You know? It's been a pretty productive day. I think we have enough videos to laugh at for the whole week."

"The whole week? I'd say even the whole month," Megan replied amid laughter.

Her words were like little daggers piercing my chest. I tried to ignore them, but I couldn't stop my cheeks from blushing and my hands from trembling a little on the steering wheel. Julia noticed my discomfort and added: "Sami, don't get nervous. After all, you're making history."

I didn't respond. There were no words that could improve the situation. My only hope was to quickly reach Julia's house and get rid of at least one of them.

As I drove, I felt my muscles tensing with every curve. My entire body remained on high alert, unable to relax. Even the air conditioning, which was previously just a nuisance, now seemed to amplify the cold that seeped into my skin. Every little movement was a struggle to maintain composure.

Megan glanced at me from the passenger seat. "You know? I think you should be grateful. We're giving you a unique experience, Sami. How many people can say they've lived something like this, well apart from Amy and you, of course?"

Her words made me clench my teeth. I had nothing to be grateful for. I just wanted it to end, but I knew that moment was far off. I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I've allowed this to go so far, how can I be so naked for so long? But I couldn't stop it now.

The girls' laughter filled the car as I drove towards the next destination, my stomach churning with shame and powerlessness.

Upon arriving at Julia's house, I observed through the rearview mirror how Julia grabbed her backpack, smiling with that expression of triumph that seemed eternal. I said goodbye with a shy head movement, unable to find words. But my attention was fixed on the phone that Julia held with such ease. In that small device... it's all there. My stomach twisted. The mere thought of all those images and videos of my naked body stored digitally made me shudder. I knew Julia wouldn't keep it for herself. This wouldn't end here.

I started the car, heading towards Megan's house, but my mind was elsewhere. My heart pounded, and I felt a lump in my throat. Beatriz's words, her expectations, everything seemed ironic and cruel when I thought about how I had spent the day. What kind of "reliable professional" can end up in this situation?

The ringtone of my cell phone broke the silence in the car, resonating like another reminder of my inability to answer a call. I looked towards the glove compartment, with the naive hope that Megan would answer it, but, as expected, she did nothing. She let the phone ring and ring until it finally stopped.

"Aren't you going to answer, Samy?" Megan asked with a mocking tone while drumming her fingers on the window.

I didn't respond. How could I even touch the phone when it was completely out of my reach? My frustration grew, but there was nothing I could do. And as if that wasn't enough, Megan's phone rang immediately after. My body tensed, and I instantly knew who it was.

Megan, with a smile of satisfaction, slid her finger to answer. "Hello, Mom!" she said with false enthusiasm.

"Hello, Megan," Beatriz's firm and determined voice resonated through the speaker when Megan activated the hands-free mode. "I called Samantha, but it seems she's making it a habit not to answer me. I hope it's not a regular thing."

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It's not my fault. I don't have my phone with me. I wanted to shout it, but my throat closed up at the idea of trying to justify myself while Megan looked at me mockingly.

Megan laughed, as if it were a joke. "She's driving, Mom. Don't worry, she's here with me."

"I hope so," Beatriz continued. "I'm already at the airport, ready to travel. Everything is in your hands, Samantha. I hope you do a great job taking care of Megan and making sure she keeps up with her schoolwork. I also want you to make sure everything at work is under control. I trust you as a professional, Samantha. Don't let me down."

Every word from Beatriz was like a blow to my chest. I didn't know if I should feel honored by her trust or completely crushed by the irony of the situation. If only you knew... if only you knew how I've spent the day... But I couldn't say anything. I could only weakly nod while Megan contained a laugh in the passenger seat.

"I left enough money at home for whatever you need," Beatriz continued. "Samantha, remember you're in charge of everything. I don't want Megan to get out of control. You're the responsible adult here."

"Sure, Mom, don't worry," Megan replied with a tone that barely contained her amusement. She glanced at me, and her smile was a mix of mischief and mockery.

"I trust you," Beatriz finally said before hanging up.

Silence returned to the car, but it was filled with tension. Megan finally burst into laughter. "Well, Samy, you heard. You're the responsible adult. What a big responsibility!"

I bit my lip, feeling a mix of humiliation and desperation. No matter what I tried to do, it seemed that every step I took only made the situation worse.

Finally, we arrived, and I parked in front of Megan's house, watching as she got out of the car with her backpack slung over her shoulder and a calm smile on her face. Without a word, she headed towards the front door, took out the keys, and went inside, also taking my cell phone that she had retrieved from the glove compartment. Then, she closed the door behind her without even looking back.

I frowned, waiting for any sign of movement in the garage. Maybe she went to open the door from inside, I thought. Minutes passed, but the garage remained closed. Without the remote, which was probably inside the house, and without Megan to manually operate it from the inside switch, I had no way of driving the car in.

The engine was still running, and my hands trembled slightly on the steering wheel. Why isn't she opening the garage? My heart started beating faster as the realization hit me: Megan wanted me to get out of the car.

I took a deep breath, looking around. The neighborhood was quiet, a typical middle-class area with neat and well-maintained houses. The gardens were tended, with flowers decorating the entrances and cars parked in the small driveways of each home. There were a couple of people walking back from work, chatting with each other or simply enjoying the end of the day. Nothing unusual... until they see me.

A couple of kids ran past on the sidewalk, probably returning from playing in the park. The afternoon was slowly fading, and although the sun still shone weakly, the shadows were lengthening. I felt the shame rising from my stomach to my throat. This wasn't an anonymous place like the trail or the park. They know me here. I've visited Megan at this house before. If any of the neighbors saw me in this state, it would be the end. I wouldn't be able to face them again.

I waited a bit longer, trying to convince myself that Megan would appear at any moment to open the garage. But I knew, I knew, that wasn't going to happen. This was her game. She was playing with me again, enjoying my desperation.

Sweat began to form on my forehead, and it wasn't because of the heat. My skin was cold, but panic was enveloping me. I had to make a decision. I could stay in the car and wait until it was completely dark, risking Megan never returning, or I could face whatever awaited me outside.

I took a deep breath, but my hands shook even more. I looked around again, making sure no one was paying too much attention. The kids had already disappeared around the corner, and the few adults I saw were too busy with their own affairs. Still, just a glance, just a quick look from someone, and I'd be done.

I turned off the engine, but I couldn't move. My feet were stuck to the car floor. I can't do it. I can't get out. But I knew I had no other choice. Megan wouldn't open that door without making sure I went through this humiliation. A new wave of shame hit me as I realized how much power she held over me at that moment.

What do I do now? My hands clung to the steering wheel as if it were an anchor in the midst of a storm. I looked towards the house again, but there were no signs of movement. Megan was comfortably inside, probably laughing at what was happening.

The neighborhood's silence was deafening, broken only by the distant bark of a dog and the occasional sound of a passing car. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to calm my breathing. I can do this quickly; I just run to the garage door, open it, and get back in the car. No one needs to see me. But that lie didn't comfort me. I knew that any move I made, no matter how small, would be a spectacle in my current state.

My eyes snapped open at the sound of a slamming door in the distance, someone entering a nearby house. My heart was beating so fast I could hear it in my ears. What if they see me? What would they think of me? It was a level of exposure I couldn't bear.

But Megan had the key. She had control. And I had no other way.

The air inside the car felt heavy, mixed with my nerves and the desperation to find a way out of this predicament. I looked towards the back seat, trying to calculate how I could move without looking like a complete mess. I knew getting out through the driver's door was too risky; it would be like a live presentation for anyone looking towards the car. The back… maybe it's less visible from there.

With a shaky sigh, I carefully turned backwards, feeling each movement as if I was being watched. The leather of the seat was firm under my knees as I tried to maneuver stealthily. My hands sought support on the edges of the seat, but everything felt clumsy and slow. My bare feet brushed against the texture of the car's floor mat, cold and slightly rough. A sensation that would normally be insignificant now felt amplified a thousand times.

I crouched as much as I could, leaning as if trying to disappear into the reduced space of the car. I opened the back door with the least noise possible, praying that the click of the lock wouldn't sound. The door opened a few centimeters, and I poked my head out to look at the neighborhood. Everything seemed calm, but every shadow and movement put me on high alert. What if someone walks by here right now? I felt the knot in my throat tighten even more.

Putting one foot outside the car, the cold of the pavement greeted me with a shiver that ran through my entire body. My legs were trembling, both from the temperature and fear. Just a few steps to the porch. Just a few steps. I tried to convince myself as I slid along the side of the car, crouching so low that I was almost crawling. My hands were sweating, slightly slipping on the car's surface as I used it for support.

The porch was just a few meters away, but it felt like a sea of kilometers. Each second seemed to stretch, every sound made me stop, frozen in place. Upon reaching the door, I raised my hand to knock, but something stopped me. I desperately looked around, making sure there were no curious eyes watching me from the windows of the neighboring houses.

"Megan," I whispered, my voice almost inaudible due to panic. "Please, let me in." I knocked gently on the door, but there was no answer. "Megan!" This time my voice was a little louder, but still trying to keep it low. I felt the moisture of my palm as I knocked again, now more insistently.

I looked to the left and then to the right, the sweat mixing with the cold and frozen air, making me feel even more vulnerable. The wind caressed my skin, and every touch seemed to mock my situation. Finally, I heard a faint noise, and my heart leaped. But it wasn't the door.

A window slowly opened on the upper floor, and Megan appeared, leaning out with a smile that radiated pure fun. "What's up, Samy? Are you comfortable down there?"

"Megan, please let me in. This isn't funny," I pleaded, feeling how my dignity was reduced to ashes with each word.

"Not funny? I'd say this is the best comedy I've seen in a long time," she replied, laughing. "What makes you think I'll open the door for you right now?"

"Megan, please! Someone might see me." My voice trembled, both from embarrassment and fear.

"Someone like... the neighbors? Or maybe someone walking their dog," she said, putting her hand to her chin, pretending to think. "Hmmm, I don't know, Samy. Maybe you should be more convincing."

My body tensed, and I felt the blood rush to my face. This can't be happening. I looked towards the street, every shadow seemed like a potential witness, an observer of my misery. Megan just watched me from the window, enjoying the show.

"Megan, I'm serious. Open the door," I said, my tone rising slightly in desperation.

"Okay, okay," she finally said, as if doing me a favor. "I'll let you in, but you have to admit something first. Come on, say it: 'Megan, you're the best cousin in the world.'"

"Megan..." I whispered, frustrated.

"Come on, Samy. What's the harm? Say it, or maybe I'll keep watching you for a while longer."

I closed my eyes, feeling my pride completely shatter. "Megan... you're the best cousin in the world."

"What? I didn't hear you, Samy," she replied, laughing.

"Megan, you're the best cousin in the world," I repeated, louder this time, my eyes fixed on the ground.

"Ahhh, how adorable. Okay, I'm coming." She closed the window with a light tap, and my breath quickened as I waited.

Time seemed to freeze again as I waited on the porch, praying that Megan would keep her word. When I finally heard the sound of the lock turning, I felt a mix of relief and humiliation. The door slowly opened, revealing Megan with a smile that reflected how much she had enjoyed this moment.

"Welcome, Samy," she said with a mocking gesture, stepping aside to let me in. My trembling legs could barely hold me as I crossed the threshold, and I felt the warmth of the house contrasting with the cold that still embraced me.

The warm feeling of the house was short-lived. Megan stopped me with a hand gesture before I could take another step.

"Hold on, Samy. You can't go any further," she said, crossing her arms with a smile that I already knew didn't mean anything good. "The car is still outside, and we can't leave it there with the keys inside. Someone might steal it, you need to park it in the garage."

I felt my heart sink. Outside again? I looked towards the darkness of the garage, wondering if I could change her mind, but I knew Megan too well to think that was possible.

"Can't I do it later? When there's no one on the street," I tried to protest, though my voice sounded more pleading than defiant.

Megan shook her head, amused. "No, no, Samy. It would be a problem if someone steals the car. Besides, you already know how to open the garage door. The lever is right next to the door frame. Go, open it, get back to the car and park it inside. Easy, right?"

I didn't respond, my words caught in my throat. I felt like any argument would be useless. With a resigned sigh, I turned around and went back out to the porch. The cold evening air hit me, reminding me of how vulnerable I was. I leaned against the wall, carefully observing the neighborhood. The street seemed empty, but the feeling of being exposed never left me.

I quickly walked towards the side of the garage where Megan had mentioned the lever. I found it without trouble, a simple metal switch next to the wall. Come on, Sam, just do it quickly. I grabbed the lever with shaky hands and pulled it forcefully. A mechanical creak filled the air as the garage door started to slowly lift, revealing the dim interior. Perfect. One step less.

However, now came the scariest part. I have to go back to the car. I paused for a moment, listening for any sounds around me. Everything was silent, but my heart kept pounding in my chest. I instinctively crouched down, as if that could make me less visible, and started moving back towards the car.

The pavement beneath my bare feet was cold and rough, and each step felt like an eternity. My eyes constantly scanned the street, looking for any signs of movement. I saw lights turning on in some distant houses and felt my stomach tighten. Please, let no one come out. Please.

Finally, I reached the car. My reflection in the window stared back at me with an expression that mixed desperation and panic. I slid into the driver's door, opened it quickly, and dropped into the seat. The familiarity of the car's interior gave me a small relief, but I couldn't afford to relax. I started the engine and carefully maneuvered the car towards the garage.

The sound of the engine seemed louder than usual, bouncing off the walls of the house and echoing through the neighborhood. Almost there, almost there. As I reached the garage, I stopped just before entering. The entrance seemed much narrower than I remembered. What if I hit something? What if I make noise and someone comes to check?

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. My hands trembled on the steering wheel as I moved slowly. The car slid inside smoothly, and I exhaled the breath I didn't realize I was holding. I turned off the engine and closed my eyes for a moment. I did it.

When I lifted my head, I saw Megan leaning in the doorway leading inside the house, slowly clapping with a mocking smile on her face.

"Bravo, Samy. You did it. Was it that hard?" she asked sarcastically.

I didn't respond, I just got out of the car with shaky legs. I knew it wasn't over, but for now, at least I was inside.

Megan's mother's house was a place I knew all too well. I had visited this space countless times since I was a child. It had always been a welcoming place, almost a second home where I felt welcomed. But now, completely naked, every corner of the house felt different, as if I were seeing the place for the first time through a completely new lens.

The house design was elegant yet cozy, a mix of modernity and homely warmth. The main entrance led directly to a spacious living room, where an L-shaped sofa upholstered in a light gray tone extended in front of a huge TV mounted on the wall. The curtains were light, allowing the warm afternoon light to filter through, giving the room a relaxed feel. There was a thick beige-toned rug under the glass coffee table, and potted plants decorated the corners, adding a touch of life to the place. The walls, kept simple and refined, reminded me of minimal wallpaper designs that perfectly balance elegance with subtlety, making the space feel modern without losing its warmth.

The open kitchen connected to the living room, featuring a spotless marble island surrounded by high stools. The white cabinets shone under the light of the hanging lamps. It was a kitchen that looked like it was taken from a magazine, a place where one could imagine cooking calmly, not facing the overwhelming feeling of absolute vulnerability that invaded me now.

Each step I took through the house made me feel uncomfortable, as if I were breaking some invisible rule. This place was always my refuge. How is it possible that it now feels like a maze of shame? My bare feet caressed the polished floor, which was cold and smooth under my skin. Under different circumstances, it would have been a pleasant sensation, but now it only intensified my hypersensitivity. The familiarity of the space was not enough to counteract the overwhelming feeling of being completely naked.

The staircase leading to the second floor was right next to the dining area, with dark wooden railings that matched the decor. I had climbed those stairs many times, running as a child behind Megan, laughing and playing. Now, each step seemed like a psychological barrier that I couldn't cross. I felt that even in the privacy of this house, invisible eyes were watching me.

I slowly moved towards the sofa, choosing to sit on the edge, barely touching the fabric. My skin was still damp from the fountain water, and I couldn't stop thinking about how out of place I felt. I looked around, searching for something I could use to cover myself, but I knew there was nothing. My aunt had always kept the house impeccable and tidy, with no random blankets or anything I could improvise with.

The air conditioning from one of the rooms hummed softly in the background, and despite the heat of the day filtering through the windows, I felt a chill run down my spine. I tried to convince myself that I was safe, but that sense of security was illusory. Although I was surrounded by familiar walls, I couldn't ignore the reality of my situation. The familiarity of the environment only made my situation feel more surreal.

How is it possible to feel so vulnerable in such a well-known place? I shrunk a little, wrapping my arms around my torso, as if that could protect me. The touch of my own skin against mine was a constant reminder of my exposure, something I had never experienced before, at least not outside the privacy of my shower or bedroom.

I looked towards the window; the leaves of the trees swayed gently, contrasting with the internal whirlwind I felt. This was a place where I would normally have felt relaxed, but now it was the opposite. I was in a constant state of alert, as if at any moment someone could walk in and see me naked.

Megan went upstairs as soon as we entered the house, leaving me in the living room with the vague promise that she would be back in a moment. Through the whispers from the upper floor, I could hear her opening and closing drawers, probably changing her clothes. Not much time passed before she came down again, wearing a loose t-shirt and sports shorts, looking comfortable and ready to relax. It was such an overwhelming contrast to my state that I felt a knot forming in my throat.

Megan walked into the kitchen and took out a container of food that her mother had left prepared in the refrigerator. She heated it in the microwave, the familiar aroma filling the house. She set it on the dining table without ceremony.

"Eat, Samy. I don't want you to faint in my house. But first, I need you to do something for me," she said, smiling with that mix of mischief and superiority that I had learned to detest throughout the day.

Before I could respond, she pointed to a pile of books and notebooks that she had left on the table.

"There you go. My homework. You're the professional and the smart one, so you can surely handle this. I have something more important to do," she continued as she headed to the sofa, turned on the TV, and selected a movie to watch.

I felt my stomach growl with hunger, but the idea of sitting at the table to eat and do chores in my state was overwhelming. The dining chair was wooden, cold to the touch, and I knew that any movement would make me feel even more exposed. How did I end up like this? How is it possible that I'm here, doing high school homework instead of sorting out my own life?

Reluctantly, I approached the table and carefully sat on the edge of the chair, trying not to lean my entire body to minimize the uncomfortable sensation. The food in front of me was simple but nutritious: rice, chicken, and salad. I took a small bite, my appetite diminished by the constant humiliation of the day.

Meanwhile, Megan was laughing with her phone in hand, typing quickly on WhatsApp. Her laughter was enough to make me nervous, especially since I had no idea what it was about. From time to time, she would sneak glances at me, as if she was planning something.

I sighed and opened the notebooks, focusing on Megan's chores. Math, history, biology... none of them were particularly difficult, but in my state, it was complicated to concentrate. Every now and then, my thoughts would stray to what I had to sort out for the next day.

I need my clothes. I can't just show up at the office as God brought me into the world. But without the keys to my apartment, I can't even enter the building. How am I going to fix this? My mind raced, trying to find a logical solution. Asking a locksmith for help was out of the question; it would be too humiliating to explain why I had nothing with me, not even my ID. The building management wouldn't be a viable option either without my key.

The only hope I had was to convince Megan to take me to my apartment before going to school. Maybe she could open the door for me and let me get dressed properly. It wasn't an ideal solution, but it was the only thing I could imagine at that moment.

Megan let out a louder-than-usual laugh, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"What are you laughing so much about?" I asked, trying to sound casual while my hands turned the pages of a history book.

"Ah, nothing important, Samy. I'm just chatting with Julia, Carla, and some other friends. Planning fun things, you know. You focus on the chores," Megan replied, her tone laden with indifference as her fingers danced across her phone screen.

Carla's name resonated in my head like a bell. Why is she talking to Carla? What are they planning together? A shiver ran down my back, not from the air conditioning, but from the feeling that something else was brewing, something in which I was sure to be the center of attention, for the worse. I tried to concentrate on finishing the chores Megan had assigned me, but Carla's name kept bouncing back into my mind. Megan didn't give any hints about what they were discussing, and although I wanted to ask, I knew it would only expose me to more ridicule.

I finished writing the answers in one of the notebooks, my mind split between the present and the immediate future. Tomorrow has to be different. It has to be. But as I looked at Megan relaxing on the sofa, her face illuminated by the TV and phone screens, I couldn't help but feel that there was still so much more to endure before this disaster ended.

Finally, after what seemed like endless hours, I managed to finish all the tasks. I leaned back in the chair, massaging my numb fingers, and gazed out the window. Darkness had already enveloped everything, and the outdoor lights of the neighborhood shone with a warm tranquility. The house was in complete silence, except for the faint murmurs of the television in the background.

Megan looked at the clock on the wall and stood up with an exaggerated yawn. "Well, Samy, it looks like it's bedtime. Good job with the tasks. Maybe tomorrow I'll hire you as my personal assistant," she joked as she walked towards the hallway.

With a casual gesture, she handed me back my cell phone. I took it as if it were a valuable object that I had recovered after a long time. When I turned it on, I saw that it didn't have much battery left, which wasn't surprising considering everything that had happened that day.

"I'll take you to the guest room. Come on, I'm sleepy," Megan said, walking towards the stairs. I followed her silently, climbing cautiously, feeling a bit more relaxed knowing that at least this part of the day was ending.

The guest room was familiar to me. I had slept there on other occasions, always dressed, always comfortable. Now, entering the room with its soft pastel-colored walls and the bed perfectly made with white sheets, I felt a strange relief. Although I was still vulnerable, at least I could be alone for a moment.

"You know the bathroom is at the end of the hallway. If you want to shower again, use whatever you need," Megan said before disappearing into her room, closing the door behind her.

I took that opportunity instantly. I entered the bathroom, locked the door securely, and stood for a moment in front of the mirror. My reflection was a mess. My hair was tangled, my skin was still damp from the whole day, and small patches of dirt were still stuck to my legs. Finally, I can take a shower. Finally, I can get clean.

I turned on the hot water, letting the steam fill the bathroom before stepping under the shower. The water ran over my body, washing away the dirt, sweat, and part of the accumulated tension. I closed my eyes, allowing myself a few minutes of calm, even though I couldn't fully relax. The idea of Megan and Carla planning something still lingered in my mind.

I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a large, soft towel that I found on a shelf. Although I still felt exposed, the warmth of the towel was comforting. I headed to the guest room and quickly snuggled under the sheets, enjoying the sensation of being covered for the first time all day.

As I settled into bed, I noticed how my body was finally starting to relax. The muscles in my legs were no longer tense, and my breathing stabilized little by little. Tomorrow will be another day. I just have to get through this. I just have to get to my apartment and retrieve my clothes.

With that thought, I closed my eyes and let sleep envelop me, hoping the night would offer a respite after an endless day.

Very vivid description! This cozy and stylish picture appears right before your eyes - I especially liked how you combined modern details (marble island, hanging lamps) with cozy elements like a soft carpet and plants. This combination really creates an atmosphere of home, where you can both relax and enjoy everyday activities.

It's interesting how you suddenly switch the mood - from a calm description of the interior to a feeling of anxiety and vulnerability. The contrast works very strongly and makes you think about what exactly is happening to the hero and why such a beautiful setting does not bring a feeling of safety.

Do you want to further develop this plot more in a psychological vein or make it closer to a thriller/detective?

[Debbifan]

I've just been re-reading the earlier chapters and reminding myself how great this story is and how much I love it. Megan's initial manipulations, the gradual introduction of other characters as party to the fun, the escalating humiliation.

Looking at where we currently left off, it did occur to me that technically we are still in the state where, according to Megan's instructions in the car, Sam has to do everything that Amy says. Amy seemed to be developing a tiny degree of empathy but I would love it if her desire for revenge was not yet fully satisfied !

[Hooked6]

I for one would LOVE just to read more - full stop. This is such a great story, and the characters are so vivid that they become part of you in a way. That takes talent to write like that.

I hope mcenf is still working on this story. Stories set in a professional work environment having ENF, blackmail and manipulation combined with such high tension are not that common at all so when one comes along that features all these elements, I am beyond thrilled.

Here's hoping there will be more!

Hooked6

..

[computerphoto]

I really hope you do continue this, can't wait to see what happens, and if they get her boss on board with it all.

[darklord66]

I also hope this will continue soon, and as said in another comment, I also can't wait to see if they get her boss involve in her being kept being Naked.

[computerphoto]

I also hope this will continue soon, and as said in another comment, I also can't wait to see if they get her boss involve in her being kept being Naked.

Yeah, she will end up getting caught, there's no to ways around it, and then everyone will have to explain to the boss what's going on, and they probably hope they can get the boss to go along with them.

[Rawr112]

It’s been several months and the time has come for you to write a new installment @mcenf.

[computerphoto]

It’s been several months and the time has come for you to write a new installment @mcenf.

you not the only one that waiting to see what happens to sam

[mcenf]

I sat in front of the monitor with a slowness that bordered on the unbearable, as if every vertebra in my back protested against the contact of the metal seat against my naked skin. The coldness of the backrest was another reminder of what I already knew: there was no escape. My fingers rested on the keyboard, but they remained motionless for several seconds, suspended in the air, trembling.

I took a deep breath. The server fan hummed with its metallic insistence, a constant echo that made the floor vibrate under my bare feet.

To my left, Carla played with her pen, twirling it between her fingers while she observed me out of the corner of her eye, with that smile between mocking and curious. Sometimes she let out a contained giggle, especially when I involuntarily squirmed in the chair seeking a less humiliating position. But there was no safe posture. There was no way to hide the obvious.

Julia, seated at the back, said nothing. But the lack of expression on her face was more unsettling than direct mockery. What does she think of me? Does she feel pity? Amused complicity? I couldn't even guess the intentions of those around me anymore.

The only relief was that Valeria wasn't saying anything else. Her presence, however, felt like a heavy shadow over my shoulders, even without looking at me directly. I knew she was watching, I felt it in the way the atmosphere changed every time she walked nearby, as if even the air became denser.

But I couldn't. Not entirely. Because even when my eyes focused on the screen, every inch of my body reminded me that I was completely vulnerable. The brush of the chair against my thighs, the coldness of the keys, the slight tremor in my knees, the sound of a contained laugh in some corner…

The humiliation had become a second skin. Invisible, but heavier than any garment I had worn before.

And there were still hours ahead.

Amy's voice interrupted the monotonous hum of the room with an innocence that fooled no one.

"Sam… can you explain to me how those servers work?"

My fingers froze on the keyboard. I slowly raised my gaze. Amy was standing next to one of the racks, her hands behind her back and an expression that pretended to be curious, although her smile betrayed her real intention. Behind her, Megan leaned against the wall, Julia accompanied her with a raised eyebrow and Carla, who was already turned in her chair, let out a small laugh.
Now they want to play like this is a class?

I felt the blood rise to my cheeks, not only because of the shame of being as I was, but because I understood perfectly what they were looking for: it wasn't a genuine doubt. It was a new way to exhibit me. A new opportunity to put me on display. As if it weren't enough that my skin was in the air. Now they also wanted me to speak, to move, to explain myself in front of them. As if it were a show.
I swallowed.

"Sure," I responded, my voice barely louder than a whisper. "What… what do you want to know?"

Amy took a couple of steps closer and pointed to one of the metallic servers, with its blinking lights. "That one, for example. What does it do exactly? How do you know if it's working well?"

Everyone's eyes fixed on me. I took a deep breath and tried to look natural. You can do this. Just answer. Pretend you're dressed. Pretend this is a technical presentation like any other.

I stood up slowly from the chair, feeling how the surface of my already cold skin tensed even more with the movement. I crossed my arms immediately, but as soon as I did, I noticed how Valeria, from her corner, watched me with severity.

No covering. I remembered her order. I forced myself to lower my arms slowly to my sides, fighting against every fiber of my body that begged for the opposite.

"This is a backup server," I began, my voice somewhat shaky. "It is configured to… to duplicate the data from the main server, so that if there is a critical failure, nothing is lost."

Amy nodded, as if she was really taking notes, and squatted in front of the machine. "And where do you check that?"

Her squatting posture made her look like an attentive student, but her playful tone betrayed her. Megan let out a giggle, amused by the spectacle. Julia murmured something under her breath and Carla simply let out a "this is getting good".

What am I supposed to do? Lean over? Walk? Show more?

The air seemed denser now. The hum of the fans mixed with the accelerated beats of my heart. I forced myself to walk toward the rack, feeling every step like a sentence. The floor lights illuminated from below, projecting absurd shadows on my body. I squatted slightly, only just enough.

"It is monitored from this interface here," I said, pointing to a small panel with indicators. "The LEDs show the status of the disks, the temperature, the CPU load… things like that."

Amy turned toward the other girls, with a smile that mixed amusement and something more: power. "See? It's very interesting. Sam knows so much… and without needing clothes."

The laughter was general.

I closed my eyes for a second. Swallow me, earth. But the earth didn't open. Only the icy air of the servers caressing every corner of my body, reminding me that this was my world now.

And that they were the spectators.

I still felt the echo of the girls' laughter in my ears, my skin cold from the exposure and my heart pounding in my chest, when Megan separated from the group and approached with unmistakable determination. Her steps echoed among the servers, interrupting the moment of mockery as if she were about to announce something important.

I turned to look at her, fearful of her next idea. Megan had that special sparkle in her eyes, the same one I had seen when she subjected me to impossible challenges. A wave of nervousness invaded me even before she spoke.

"Samy," she began with a sweet voice that was nothing more than a facade, "do you remember the last time we went up to the rooftop?" Her smile was sharp, as if she already knew the answer.

I nodded, my pulse accelerating in my temples. Of course I remembered it. How could I forget. The shame of that day, the unexpected presence of Marcela… Just thinking about it, I felt my skin prickle even more.

"Well," Megan continued, glancing sideways at the other girls, "I need you to do me a favor. Mom asked me to deliver an urgent report. But it turns out the file is with Marcela, the developer on the eighth floor. Do you remember? Technical Development Area."

For an instant, silence fell over the room. Julia and Amy exchanged a look of surprise and then smiled, understanding what Megan was really proposing. Carla leaned forward, her eyes shining with anticipation.

"You want me to… go up to the eighth floor and… ask Marcela for the report?" I asked, feeling my throat closing up.

"Exactly," said Megan, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Go and tell her you're coming on my behalf, that you need the file urgently for my mom. She's sure to give it to you in a second."

Amy pressed her lips together to contain her laughter. Julia covered her mouth, and Carla let out an amused snort. No one asked if they would give me clothes to do it. No one even mentioned it. They knew exactly how I was, and they knew that was the true nature of the errand.

My stomach sank. The idea of crossing the building, of passing through common areas, of taking the elevator or the stairs, of encountering employees, technicians, Marcela, and having to talk to them… like this… filled me with a panic that almost hurt.

Are they really going to force me to do this? Now, after everything I've been through?

I saw in their eyes that yes. That they wanted it, that they anxiously awaited the spectacle, that they were going to enjoy every second of my suffering. Megan looked at me with satisfaction, knowing she had control.

"Can you do it, Samy?" she insisted with venomous sweetness.

I opened my mouth, but the words didn't come out. I just nodded, swallowing, feeling my heart beating so hard it was a miracle it wasn't heard throughout the entire room.

The girls burst into murmurs of amusement, the expectation floating like electricity in the air. Megan crossed her arms, as if she was already organizing the next scene.

I knew I had no choice.

And the worst part was that they knew it better than I did.

The hum of the servers drilled into my ears like a drill while Megan's words still floated in the air, heavy, definitive. My naked body tensed suddenly. I felt how the artificial cold of the room licked my exposed skin, raising every hair on my arms and making my nipples harden into two treacherous little points that burned with shame.

No. She can't be serious. Not after everything they've already done to me. The panic rose through my throat like hot bile.

"Valeria… Megan… please," I whispered, and my voice came out more broken than I intended, a trembling thread that was barely heard above the fans. "This is crazy. The entire building is full of people at this hour. There are cameras in every hallway, in the elevators, on the stairs… if someone sees me like this, naked, completely naked, crossing from the sixth to the eighth floor… my career will go down the drain in a second. Everything I've built. My reputation. Everything."

My hands trembled violently at my sides. I wanted to cross my arms over my breasts, cover my smooth, hairless mound between my thighs, but I remembered Valeria's order and lowered them again, feeling the blush burning from my neck to the tips of my breasts. The icy air caressed my exposed sex, and a wave of involuntary moisture made me grit my teeth in disgust at myself.

"I'll do anything," I begged, taking a step toward them, my bare feet cold against the tiled floor. "Anything. I'll stay here all afternoon, I'll crawl between the racks if you want, I'll clean your shoes with my tongue… but don't make me go out like this. Please. Please. I can't. I won't survive that."

Carla let out a low and cruel giggle, leaning forward in her chair as if enjoying a private show. Julia covered her mouth, but her eyes shone with pure amusement. Amy watched me with that new expression of power that had grown in her since the theater, and Valeria simply raised an eyebrow, impassive.

"That's exactly the thing I want you to do, Samy," said Megan with that venomous sweetness that froze my blood. "Go up to the eighth floor. Like that. Without anything. And bring that report. It's perfect."

The world shrank around me. I felt my knees weakening. No. No. They can't do this to me. Not after the theater, not after the street, not after everything. A hot tear slid down my cheek and fell onto my left breast, leaving a cold trail that made me shudder. My breathing became quick and shallow, making my breasts rise and fall visibly, exposed, vulnerable.

"Please…," I whispered once more, but I already knew it was useless. Their faces didn't change. Only expectation. Only hunger.

It was then that Amy took a step forward, biting her lower lip as if she were savoring a delicious idea.

"I could accompany you," she said, her voice soft but loaded with something dark and exciting. "To make sure the coast is clear. What do you think, Samy? You won't be completely alone."

The relief I felt lasted less than a second. Because I knew Amy wasn't going to protect me. She was going to enjoy every second of my humiliation. My hands closed into useless fists at the sides of my naked body, and my heart was beating so hard that I could feel it throbbing between my legs, treacherous, humiliating. The cold of the room was no longer just cold. It was a cruel caress that reminded me exactly how exposed I was… and what I was about to lose.

I had no choice. The weight of all their gazes crushed me against the cold floor of the server room, and I knew that any further plea would only prolong the torment. My chest rose and fell with short, choppy breaths, my exposed breasts trembling slightly with each accelerated heartbeat. This can't really be happening. Not again. Not outside these four walls. The blush burned my face and spread like liquid fire down my neck to the upper curve of my breasts, where a drop of cold sweat was already sliding slowly toward the valley between them.

"Okay," I murmured at last, my voice barely audible over the constant hum of the fans. "I'll do it."

Amy stood up immediately, with a smile that lit up her face in a way that turned my stomach. She wore her impeccable school uniform: the white shirt fitted to her torso, the gray pleated skirt that barely reached mid-thigh and the shiny black school shoes. Her eyes shone with that mix of excitement and revenge that she had discovered in the theater. She stretched slowly, as if savoring the moment, and looked toward Valeria with complicity.

Valeria put her hand in the pocket of her jacket and took out my access card, that small piece of plastic that carried my name, my photo and my authorization level. She held it for a second between her fingers, turning it under the cold light of the fluorescents as if it were a trophy. Then, with deliberate slowness, she handed it to Amy.

"Here," said Valeria in a neutral tone. "Make sure she doesn't lose it. And open only when it's safe."

Seeing my own card pass from Valeria's hand to Amy's made me feel insignificant, reduced to nothing more than an object in their games. That card is mine. It's my key to everything here, my professional identity… and now they have it. As if I no longer existed, as if I were no longer even the owner of my own access. A knot formed in my throat and my hands clenched tightly at my sides, my nails digging into my palms until it hurt.

Amy took the card with eager fingers and put it in the side pocket of her gray pleated skirt, where it remained hidden under the folds of the fabric.

"Let's go, Samy," she said excitedly, almost singing. "I'll go out first and hold the door open for you. You don't want it to close and leave you here, right?"

She walked toward the door of the server room, inserted the card into the reader with a soft beep and pushed the heavy panel. The outer hallway opened before us, illuminated by warmer lights and with that relative silence that always preceded danger. Amy went first, holding the door with one hand and looking at me over her shoulder, her skirt moving slightly with the gesture.

I remained paralyzed for one more second. The air in the hallway seemed denser, loaded with possible gazes. I tried to cover myself by instinct: one arm crossed over my breasts —pressing the soft, warm flesh against my ribcage—, and the other hand lowering toward my sex, my fingers brushing the dark triangle and the treacherous moisture that was already accumulating there despite the terror.

But then I looked back toward the girls. Carla was smiling openly, Julia was holding back a giggle and Megan crossed her arms with that expression of absolute command.

"For this time you can cover yourself a little while you leave," said Megan with an indulgent smile. "But only until Amy tells you. And have fun, girls."

"Have fun," repeated Carla, laughing softly.

The relief was minimal and fragile, like a thread about to break. I stepped out into the hallway with my legs trembling, keeping my arm crossed over my breasts and the other hand barely covering my intimacy. The air in the corridor was less cold than in the room, but it still raised the naked skin of my back, my buttocks and the inner part of my thighs. Each barefoot step on the polished floor felt exposed, vulnerable, as if the floor itself was judging me. Amy walked ahead, looking both ways with that false caution, her school uniform contrasting cruelly with my complete nudity.

My heart was beating in my throat. Anyone could appear at any moment… My nipples brushed against my forearm with each movement, sending small shocks of shame and something darker that I refused to name. We advanced only a few meters, moving away from the safety of the server room, and I already felt the entire building watching me. Amy turned her head toward me, with bright eyes.

"Over here," she whispered, pointing to the end of the hallway toward the elevators. "Stay close and don't make any noise."

My feet kept advancing, but my mind screamed to turn back. The hallway seemed endless, and every shadow, every closed door, promised a new humiliation. The blush burned in my chest and descended down my belly, and a drop of cold sweat slid down my back to the curve of my buttocks, making me shudder. Amy walked with a light step, her pleated skirt swinging, while I followed behind, naked and trembling, knowing that every second took me further away from any possibility of hiding what was left of me.

My eyes widened like saucers when I saw Amy walk straight toward the elevator with confident steps. Her gray pleated skirt swung slightly with each movement, and her hand rose quite naturally to press the call button. The small luminous circle lit up instantly, and my heart gave such a violent lurch that I felt my breath stop. No. The elevator. In there anyone could…

"Amy," I whispered in a choked voice, stopping dead in the middle of the hallway. My arm remained crossed tightly over my breasts, pressing the soft, warm flesh against my ribcage, while the other hand barely covered my sex, my fingers trembling against the damp, sensitive skin. "Taking the elevator we'll probably run into someone. There are people going up and down all the time at this hour…"

Amy turned toward me with an expression of genuine surprise that lasted only a second. Then she let out a light giggle, almost childlike, covering her mouth with her hand as if she had just remembered an unimportant detail.

"Oops," she said, and her laugh became more open, amused by her own carelessness. "You're right, I had completely forgotten about your condition." She made a theatrical pause and added with false apology that did not hide her amusement: "Sorry, Samy. I thought you wanted to go up faster."

The blush burned stronger in my chest and belly. I felt how my nipples hardened against my forearm, treacherous, and a new wave of involuntary moisture made me press my thighs together with burning shame. She forgot. Because she is dressed and I am here, naked, trying to cover myself with my hands as if that did any good.

Amy looked toward the end of the hallway, where the door to the emergency stairs was visible.

"By the stairs it would take us longer," she explained in a casual tone, as if we were deciding which movie to watch. "But this time I'll let you choose. Elevator or stairs. You decide which way we go."

My mind spun at full speed. The elevator was fast, but closed, metallic, with mirrors that would show my own naked body from every angle and the real possibility that the doors would open on any floor with someone waiting. The stairs… more time exposed in open hallways, more chances that someone would come down or up, but at least I could hear footsteps before they saw me, I could hide on a landing if necessary. Control. I need at least a little control. The panic closed my throat, but I swallowed and made the decision that seemed less suicidal.

"The stairs," I said in a low voice, almost defeated. "Let's go by the stairs."

Amy smiled widely, as if she had expected that answer.

"Good choice," she replied, and began walking toward the emergency stairs door, her pleated skirt moving lightly.

I followed her, barefoot and trembling, keeping my hands in their protective position. The hallway seemed longer now, each step making my buttocks tense and the air brush my exposed sex with a cold and humiliating caress. We had barely advanced a few meters when a distant sound reached us: muffled voices, laughter, footsteps approaching from some side hallway. They were not close yet, but they were real. They were people.

Panic hit me like a wave. I stopped dead, my heart pounding in my ears, and pressed myself against the nearest wall, trying to make myself small. My hands pressed harder against my body: one arm crossed over my breasts, the other hand covering my intimacy, my fingers trembling against the hot, damp skin. No. Not now. Please, don't let them come this way. The blush burned across my entire chest and down to my belly. Amy stopped too, turning toward me with a raised eyebrow and a smile that did not hide her delight. The distant sounds kept approaching, slow but inevitable, and I could only stay there, naked and terrified, waiting for Amy to decide what to do next.

The distant voices suddenly became clearer and I understood, with a shiver that ran down my naked back, that they were not coming from any side hallway. They were from the elevator Amy had called. My heart gave such a violent lurch that I felt nauseous. I pressed myself harder against the cold wall, my left arm squeezing my breasts tightly against my chest, my right hand covering my sex with trembling fingers, feeling the treacherous moisture accumulating despite the pure terror that invaded me.

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding and the voices became sharper.

"Did you see? It stopped on this floor but no one got on," said a male voice, clearly amused.

"Sure the person who called it was in a big hurry and regretted it at the last second," replied another, accompanied by low laughter. "These elevators are capricious sometimes."

I heard the sound of footsteps entering the elevator again, the doors closing and the mechanical hum moving away upward. Silence returned, but I remained pressed against the wall, breathing in short, shallow gasps, the blush burning from my cheeks to the upper curve of my breasts.

Amy let out a low and genuine giggle, covering her mouth with her hand while looking at me.

"Did you see that?" she said, and her laugh became more open, almost childlike. "They left without knowing you were here, naked and hiding like a criminal. What cute fear, Samy."

My face burned with humiliation. She's laughing at me. As if this were a game. Amy shrugged and pointed to the emergency stairs door.

"Let's go by the stairs then," she announced with decision. "I'll go up first."

She started climbing with a quick and light step, her gray pleated skirt swinging with each step, her school shoes making a soft sound against the concrete. In a few seconds she disappeared from my view as she turned on the landing of the seventh floor. I was left alone in the hallway, naked and trembling, my heart pounding in my throat. The cold air brushed my exposed buttocks and the inner part of my thighs, and a drop of cold sweat slid down my back to the lower curve of my spine.

Only a few seconds passed, but they felt eternal. Finally I heard her footsteps coming down again. Amy reappeared on the landing, breathing a little agitated and with an expression of curiosity mixed with excitement.

"There are people moving around on the seventh floor," she whispered, coming down the last steps toward me. "Like they're getting ready to go somewhere. I don't know exactly where, but it looks like they're gathering things. You work here… do you have any idea what they might be doing?"

I swallowed. My mind tried to process the information, but panic clouded it. People. On the seventh. Preparing. Amy came closer, her impeccable school uniform contrasting with my complete nudity, and looked at me with that expectant smile.

"Come up with me," she said naturally. "Just a little, to take a look. That way you can tell me what you think it is. No one will see you if you stay crouched down."

The suggestion was suicidal. Climb up naked. Crouched. With people up there. Against all my nerves, against every fiber of my body that screamed no, I forced myself to move. I let out a trembling sigh and started up the first step. My bare feet felt the cold, rough concrete. My left arm remained crossed over my breasts, squeezing them tightly; my right hand covered my sex, my fingers brushing the hot, damp skin. Each step was a slow agony: the second step made my buttocks visibly tense, the third caused a drop of sweat to slide between them. My breathing became choppy, the blush burned in my chest and descended down my flat belly.

When I reached the fourth step I crouched down a little more, trying to make myself small. The fifth step: my nipples brushed against my forearm with each movement, sending small electric shocks of shame. On the sixth I lost sight of the sixth-floor hallway completely. I climbed the seventh with my knees trembling, the eighth almost in a squat. When I reached the ninth step, I barely poked my head above the edge of the seventh-floor landing.

I stayed crouched on the ninth step, with my head barely poking above the edge of the seventh-floor landing, my heart beating so hard I feared the sound would bounce off the walls. From my position I could see part of the open floor: the internal reception with its modern furniture in navy blue and beige tones, the receptionist sitting behind a low counter reviewing something on her screen. Beyond, the team's cubicles extended into a wide, collaborative space, divided only by low walls that allowed heads and shoulders to be seen moving hurriedly. Each cubicle had its high-end computer turned on, adjustable lamps and corporate phones. Some employees were gathering folders and cables with quick, focused movements, as if preparing for an important meeting or external presentation.

In the back, visible through the transparent glass of her private office, was Valeria's desk: minimalist, in grays and blues, with her laptop connected to a curved monitor and her agenda perfectly organized. The framed performance certificate on the wall shone under the light. The creativity room, with its soundproof walls and whiteboards, had its door ajar, and inside mobile furniture could be seen being arranged. The common task room also showed activity: more employees carrying documents from one side to the other.

Oh God… it's Valeria's department. Business Strategy. They're preparing something big. Panic closed my throat. There were at least five or six people moving with purpose, none looking toward the stairs yet, but it would only take one turning their head or the receptionist looking up.

My knees trembled against the cold concrete of the step. My left arm continued squeezing my breasts tightly, crushing the soft, warm flesh against my ribcage; my right hand pressed with more desperation against my sex, my fingers brushing the damp, sensitive skin that throbbed treacherously despite the terror. A drop of sweat slid from my nape, down my naked back and between my buttocks, making me shudder. The blush burned in my chest and descended down my flat belly, spreading to the inner part of my thighs. I am naked. Completely naked. And they are there, working like any normal day.

Amy was crouched beside me, her gray pleated skirt brushing my naked leg. Her breathing was calm, almost amused, as she observed the scene.

"Do you see anything you recognize?" she whispered, leaning closer. "They seem to be gathering everything for a presentation or an alliance. You work here… tell me what you think they're doing."

I swallowed. My voice came out in a barely audible thread.

"It looks… it looks like they're preparing materials for a strategic meeting," I murmured. "Valeria always organizes these things in the creativity room when there are corporate alliances. But I don't know exactly…"

Amy smiled, clearly satisfied with my answer.

"Then go up a little more," she said naturally. "Just a couple of steps. That way you can see better and confirm if that's it. They won't see you if you stay crouched down."

The suggestion hit me like a slap. Go up more. Expose myself more. Against all my nerves, against the internal scream that begged me to run down, I forced myself to move. I climbed the tenth step with my knees trembling, feeling how my buttocks tensed and the cold air caressed my exposed sex. The eleventh step: my nipples brushed more forcefully against my forearm, sending small shocks of shame that mixed with the treacherous heat between my legs. When I reached the twelfth, I crouched down even more, almost in a squat, and only poked my eyes above the edge.

From there the view was clearer: the receptionist was typing something, two employees crossed toward the task room with folders in their hands, and in Valeria's office there was movement behind the glass. No one was looking toward us yet. But the risk was real, palpable. My breathing quickened, short and shallow, making my breasts rise and fall visibly against my arm. The blush burned my entire torso and a new wave of involuntary moisture made me press my thighs together with self-loathing. Amy watched me out of the corner of her eye, waiting, enjoying every second of my internal struggle while I remained there, naked and exposed, with only a few centimeters of wall separating me from total humiliation.

I stayed crouched on the step, with my head barely poking out, watching as the seventh-floor employees continued moving between the cubicles. My heart beat hard against my ribs. I took a deep breath and whispered to Amy, without taking my eyes off the floor.

"Even though Valeria isn't in her office right now, the workers use it for whatever they need," I murmured, my voice trembling. "Like on this occasion. That means that in a little while the majority will go in there to meet. They always do when they're preparing something important."

Amy moved a little closer, crouched beside me, and looked toward the office with transparent glass. A slow smile formed on her lips.

"Then that would be the ideal opportunity," she said in a low voice, almost conspiratorial. "We'll wait for the majority to enter Valeria's office and then we'll move quickly toward the eighth floor. Perfect."

I wasn't sure at all. Fear squeezed my chest and made me doubt every decision. I huddled more against the cold step, shrinking as much as possible while listening to the distant movements: the sound of a chair being dragged, a muffled conversation, the click of a door. Each noise made me tense up, my shoulders hunched, the muscles in my legs trembling from the uncomfortable position. What if someone comes out? What if someone comes up from the sixth floor right now? We watched both directions: the landing upward and the stairs downward, waiting for the moment when the employees would start entering Valeria's office.

Minutes passed that felt eternal. I saw two more people cross the open cubicle space, carrying folders, and enter Valeria's office. The receptionist remained at her post, but she seemed focused on her screen. Another employee closed the task room door and headed there. Little by little, the floor was emptying. Amy stayed still beside me, breathing calmly, while I felt every second like an eternity. My hands trembled slightly against my body, the blush continued burning on my exposed skin and a wave of treacherous heat rose through my belly every time a new sound came from below.

"Almost there," Amy whispered, watching as the last pair of employees entered Valeria's office and closed the door behind them. The floor was left in relative silence, broken only by the distant hum of the air conditioners.

I didn't respond. I just huddled more, feeling the cold concrete against the naked skin of my knees and the back of my thighs. Panic kept me alert, my ears attentive to any noise that might come from the sixth floor. Amy looked down for a second, making sure no one was coming up, and then turned her gaze back to me with that expression of expectation I already knew too well.

"Now," she said in a low voice. "Let's move forward."

The moment had arrived. My breathing quickened, my heart pounding in my throat, and I knew there was no turning back. The seventh floor was temporarily clearer, but the risk was still there, latent, waiting for any mistake. I prepared to move, my entire body trembling with anticipation and terror, while Amy straightened up slightly, ready to guide me toward the next stretch of stairs.

However, the obstacle was still there. The receptionist had not followed the others into Valeria's office. I saw her crouch behind the counter to pick something up from the floor, and when she straightened up again, with a folder in her hand, I jerked back, almost losing my balance on the step. My back hit the cold wall and a choked gasp escaped my throat. No. She's still there. She's going to see us.

Amy noticed my reaction instantly. She turned toward me and a smile of pure satisfaction spread across her face, slow and deliberate.

"I remember the day you gave me the tour while I was completely naked," she said in a low voice, but with a tone loaded with memory. "You all were having fun at my expense and now you must know how it feels."

The heat of shame rose up my neck to my cheeks. I tried to swallow, but my throat had closed. My hands trembled against my body as I huddled more against the wall.

"That day everyone was on the rooftop," I answered in a choppy, almost pleading voice. "There was almost no one like now. Everyone is working and if they see me I'll be really screwed. They could fire me and even arrest me because of you."

Amy shrugged with an indifference that froze my blood.

"Not my problem," she replied casually, as if we were talking about the weather. "I only decided to accompany you to help you find Marcela. If you don't want my help, I'll go back with Megan and leave you here alone."

Panic hit me harder. The idea of being left completely alone, naked on the stairs, with the entire building active around me, was unbearable.

"Please," I begged in a desperate whisper, my voice breaking. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to be rude. I'm just really scared of getting caught naked and getting into a lot of trouble. Please, Amy… don't leave me alone."

She looked at me for one more second, clearly enjoying the moment, and then sighed as if she were doing me a big favor.

"Fine," she said at last. "I'll help you distract the receptionist. But only this time. Stay here crouched and don't make any noise."

Amy straightened up slightly, adjusting the white shirt of her uniform, and began climbing the steps with confident steps, as if nothing was happening. I stayed behind, huddled against the wall, my heart pounding in my ears and my entire body trembling with anticipation. The receptionist remained at her post, unaware of us for now, but any wrong move could end everything. Amy approached the end of the stairs, ready to distract her, and I could only wait, naked and vulnerable, praying that her plan would work without anyone else appearing from below. The silence of the landing felt heavy, loaded with danger, and every second that passed reminded me how exposed I was and how little control I had left over my own life.

Amy straightened up completely and climbed the last steps with a determined stride, as if the risk did not exist for her. I stayed behind, huddled against the wall, my body trembling and my breathing choppy. I can't. I can't do this. But before I could retreat, Amy was already on the seventh floor, walking straight toward the reception with her impeccable school uniform. The receptionist looked up, surprised by the presence of a teenager dressed in a school uniform right in the work area.

"Hi," said Amy with a polite and natural smile that left me frozen. "Sorry for showing up like this, but I'm a close friend of Megan López, Beatriz López's daughter. Beatriz asked me to come get some quick data for an event she's organizing. You know how she is with last-minute things."

The receptionist blinked, clearly confused but recognizing Beatriz's name. No one in the company ignored who Megan's mother was: one of the most respected managers, the one who handled important events like the Apple representative's visit. The woman leaned forward slightly, interested in the explanation, and began asking for details about the supposed errand.

I took advantage of that second of distraction. My heart was beating so hard I felt every thump in my throat. I hesitated, paralyzed, with my hands pressed against my body and my back glued to the wall. It's now or never. But if she sees me… A sudden sound from the floor below—firm footsteps climbing the stairs from the sixth floor—snapped me out of the trance. I didn't wait any longer. I propelled myself forward, barefoot and silent, sticking to the edge of the wall to stay out of the receptionist's line of sight. Each step was agony: the cold floor under my soles, the air brushing my naked skin, the fear that a single wrong movement would make the woman turn her head.

I advanced hunched over, almost crawling the last meters to the door of the stairs leading up to the eighth floor. Sweat ran down my back and between my breasts. I felt every muscle tense, every breath a risk. The receptionist kept talking to Amy, asking her something about the event and laughing softly at the girl's naturalness. Amy kept the conversation going easily, inventing details about "Beatriz's agenda" without showing a hint of nervousness.

I reached the stair door. I pushed the bar with trembling hands and slipped inside just as the sound of the footsteps from below grew closer. Amy, seeing me safe on the other side, quickly said goodbye to the receptionist with a smile.

"Thank you, really. I'll tell Beatriz everything is fine," she said, and turned around calmly.

Instead of going down, Amy climbed the steps toward me with quick but silent steps, her pleated skirt barely moving. When she reached my side on the landing between the seventh and eighth floors, she looked at me with that mix of amusement and authority I already knew too well.

"See? It wasn't that hard," she whispered, though her tone made it clear she knew exactly how much it had cost me. "Now let's continue. Marcela is waiting for us on the eighth."

I could only nod, still panting, my entire body covered in a cold sweat that made me feel more exposed than ever. We had passed the obstacle, but the eighth floor was just a few steps higher, and the building was still full of life. Amy started climbing again, expecting me to follow, and I, with weak legs and panic still pounding in every vein, had no choice but to obey. Each step toward the eighth floor felt like a sentence, and the distant sound of the footsteps I had heard below kept echoing in my head like a warning I could not ignore.

My heart was beating so hard it seemed to want to burst out of my chest as I started up the remaining steps toward the eighth floor. I tried to move faster, almost stumbling, but the sound of my bare feet against the concrete—that soft, damp slap, too audible in the silence of the stairwell—set my nerves on edge. Each footfall echoed in my ears like a betrayal, reminding me that I was completely naked, that there was not a single garment to muffle the noise or cover my skin. Faster, Sam. Faster. But don't make so much noise, for God's sake. The blush burned my chest and belly, and a thin layer of cold sweat covered my back, making the air on the landing feel even crueler against my exposed body.

Amy climbed ahead, light and confident, but I could barely keep up without my knees trembling. We reached the last step and I stopped for a second, panting silently, my hands still pressed against my body in that useless protective position. The access door to the eighth floor was right there, ajar by a few centimeters. I pushed it carefully, feeling the cold metal under my fingers, and the floor opened before us.

It was the eighth floor. The Technical Development Area. A place I had gone up to very few times in my life, almost always for quick meetings or to deliver reports. Now it felt completely new, as if I were seeing it for the first time. And the worst part was seeing it with a hyper-aware consciousness of my own body: every inch of naked skin, every curve, every place that should never be exposed in a building full of people. The blush burned from my cheeks to the tips of my breasts, and a wave of shame made me press my thighs together without realizing it.

The first thing I saw when I stepped out of the stairwell was the Relax Area, just a few meters away. Comfortable gray fabric sofas, a ping-pong table with the paddles still on it, and a small coffee station where an automatic machine hummed softly. The space seemed empty at that moment, but there were clear signs that someone had been there recently: a half-drunk cup of coffee on a low table, a pair of headphones hanging from a sofa, and the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee floating in the air. Beyond the relax area stretched the individual cubicles with their double and triple monitors, the ergonomic chairs turned as if their owners had just stood up. The software testing room had its door closed, but a faint hum of fans came from it. The collaborative project zone, with its shared tables and interactive screens, seemed quiet… for now.

I pressed myself against the wall next to the stair door, breathing in short, shallow gasps. The air on the floor was warmer than in the server room, almost pleasant against my naked skin, but that only made everything worse. I felt exposed in a new way, as if this technical and unknown floor were hostile territory where my nudity stood out even more.

Here work programmers I barely know. People who could recognize me at any moment. And here I am, with nothing, with Amy as my only “protection”.

Amy stopped beside me and looked around with curiosity, as if she were assessing the terrain.

"Well, here we are," she murmured, lowering her voice. "The Relax Area is right next to us. It looks empty for now. Do you see Marcela anywhere or do we keep moving toward the cubicles?"

I shook my head, unable to speak for a second. Panic kept me pinned to the floor, my toes curled against the carpeted surface, my heart still pounding in my ears. Any noise, any movement in the farther cubicles could mean the end. And I could only stay there, naked and trembling, hyper-aware of how my breasts rose and fell with each agitated breath, of how the air brushed my exposed sex, of how this unknown floor made everything feel a thousand times worse. Amy looked at me out of the corner of her eye, waiting for my answer, and I knew the next decision would be mine… or hers. The entire building seemed to hold its breath around me.

A nervous impulse completely took over me. Without thinking twice, I pulled away from the wall and ran barefoot toward the Relax Area, my heart slamming against my ribs like a runaway drum. My feet slid over the soft carpet and the muffled sound of each step only increased my panic. I threw myself behind one of the largest gray sofas, the one farthest from the entrance, and huddled there with my knees against my chest and my back pressed to the backrest. The soft fabric brushed the naked skin of my back and buttocks, but instead of comfort it provoked a shiver of humiliation. This is not relax. This is a trap. I am hidden like an animal, completely exposed if someone walks around the sofa. The aroma of coffee floated nearby, and the ping-pong table was only a few meters away, with its paddles abandoned like silent witnesses to my shame.

I breathed agitatedly, feeling how the blush burned my chest and belly. I knew I could not move from there to look for Marcela. Any step outside this hiding place would be my end. I raised my eyes toward Amy, who had stayed standing by the stair door, watching me with that expression between curious and amused.

"Amy," I whispered in a broken voice, "please, you go look for her. Find Marcela and ask her for the report Megan needs. I… I can't leave here. They'll see me."

Amy crossed her arms over the white shirt of her uniform and tilted her head, without moving.

"You want me to do what you are supposed to do?" she asked in an innocent tone that did not hide the cruelty. "I don't know who Marcela is. You will have to tell me exactly who she is and where she might be. And no, Samantha. You are the one who has to ask her personally. That was what Megan ordered."

I could not believe it. The cruelty in her voice hit me like a slap. How can she be so cold after everything? She knows I am terrified and still… I swallowed with difficulty, the knot in my throat tightening more.

"Please," I begged in a desperate whisper. "Don't be like that. Marcela is the developer in the Technical Development Area. Her cubicle must be in the collaborative projects zone, farther back, near the big monitors. I think it's the third or fourth in the left row… I'm not sure, I almost never come to this floor. But if you go, you can say you come on behalf of Megan and Beatriz, and she will give it to you without problem. I'll stay here hidden. Please."

Amy looked at me for a long second, clearly enjoying my plea. Then she sighed as if she were doing me an immense favor.

"Fine," she said at last, although her smile said otherwise. "I'll go look for her. But you stay exactly here. Don't move. If they catch you, it's your problem."

Without another word, she turned around and started walking toward the cubicles with a calm step, her gray pleated skirt swinging slightly. I watched her move away, disappearing among the open spaces of the floor, and silence fell over me like a slab. I was alone. Completely alone. Huddled behind the sofa, naked, with the warm air of the floor brushing every inch of my exposed skin and the distant hum of the computers reminding me that the place was still alive. Any noise—a step, a voice, a door—could be the end. My hands trembled against my body and panic grew with every second that passed. What if she doesn't come back? What if someone comes to the Relax Area now? The sofa no longer felt like a refuge. It felt like a cage. And Amy had left, leaving me there, vulnerable and at the mercy of the eighth floor.

I stayed huddled behind the sofa, my body pressed to the gray backrest, my knees against my chest and my arms wrapped around my legs as if that could make me invisible. My heart was beating so hard that each thump echoed in my ears, almost completely drowning out the distant hum of the computers. Stay still. Don't breathe so loud. If someone walks around the sofa… The warm air of the floor brushed my naked skin, caressing the curve of my buttocks and the inner part of my thighs, and a drop of cold sweat slid from my nape to the base of my spine. I waited, listening.

At first there were only distant sounds: the click of keys, a door closing in some cubicle, the indistinct murmur of voices in the project zone. Then, footsteps. Two pairs of shoes approaching from the main hallway. Female voices, clear, conversing with the naturalness of someone who expects no surprise.

"And the bug in the authentication module? I tested it three times and it still fails in the staging environment," said one of them, in a tired but professional tone.

The other let out a brief laugh.

"Me too. I think it's a cache problem. Tomorrow I'll send a ticket to Marcela so she can review it, she always finds those weird errors."

Marcela. The name hit me like a whip. They were from the floor, developers like her. I made myself even smaller, shrinking against the sofa until my cheek touched the cold fabric. I closed my eyes tightly, but I could not avoid opening them just a second to confirm the danger: I saw them out of the corner of my eye. One wore a fitted light blue blouse and black dress pants; the other, a short-sleeved white shirt and gray pencil skirt. Both with access cards hanging from their necks, their hair pulled back in practical ponytails. They are here. So close. I closed my eyes again, panic squeezing my stomach.

I heard them dragging two chairs near the coffee table, just a couple of meters from the sofa. They sat down. The leather creaked under their weight. One of them dropped a folder onto the table with a soft thud.

"Want a quick coffee before going back?" asked the one in the blue blouse.

"Yes, please. This sprint is killing me," replied the other.

I heard the sound of the coffee machine activating, the gurgle of hot water. Their voices kept flowing, relaxed, oblivious to everything. They talked about deadlines, a pending pull request, a meeting with Valeria's team next week. Every normal word, every light laugh, pinned me harder to the floor. If one of them gets up to stretch… if she drops something and has to bend down… if she simply turns her head back… My fingers dug into my legs, my nails marking the skin. I felt the burning blush spreading across my naked chest, down my belly, and that treacherous moisture between my thighs that filled me with disgust toward myself.

One of them leaned back in her chair. The backrest creaked. She was so close I could almost feel the heat of her body through the sofa. Don't move. Don't breathe. Sweat now ran down my temple, down the valley between my breasts. My heart pounded in my throat. Any movement from me, any accidental noise, and they would be in front of me. Naked. Exposed. And I could only stay there, curled up, listening to their everyday chatter while terror consumed me inside, knowing that Amy could take minutes or hours to return… and that I had no way to escape without them seeing me.

I stayed huddled behind the sofa in the Relax Area, curled up so small that my knees brushed my chin and my arms wrapped tightly around my legs. My heart beat against my ribs as if it wanted to betray me. I heard everything with painful clarity: the distant hum of the monitors, the air conditioning, and now the voices of the two developers sitting just a couple of meters away, on the other side of the backrest. I closed my eyes tighter, but I could not avoid hearing every word.

"I swear this sprint is killing me," said the one in the blue blouse with a long, tired sigh. "The authentication module never finishes closing. I tested the code until eleven last night and it still fails in staging. Do you think anyone else in this company is going through so much stress?"

The other let out a dry, almost resigned laugh.

"Not even close. Everyone talks about 'work-life balance' in team meetings, but here we are, reviewing pull requests at midnight and with coffee running through our veins. No one in this company is as stressed as we are. Not even the ones on the sixth floor with their servers crashing every other day."

Stressed. The word hit me like a cruel irony that twisted my stomach. They talk about deadlines and bugs while I am here, completely naked, hidden like a criminal, with the terror that a single movement will leave me exposed in front of the entire floor. I felt the blush burning in my chest and down my belly, the cold sweat sticking my back to the sofa's backrest. I did not want to listen to them. I was not interested in their work talk. But I had no choice: every word stabbed me, reminding me of the absurd and humiliating nature of my situation. If I could talk to them on a normal day, I would follow the conversation without problem—a comment about the code, a shared complaint about deadlines—but now I could only stay silent, trembling, hyper-aware of my naked skin against the sofa's fabric.

One of them stood up to go to the coffee machine. I heard her steps approaching, the soft click of heels on the carpet. She passed right beside the sofa, so close that the edge of her gray pencil skirt brushed the backrest and a whiff of her perfume reached me. I held my breath until the pain burned my lungs. If she turns her head a little… if she drops something and bends down… Panic closed my throat. I felt how my nipples hardened against my crossed arms, treacherous, and a wave of wet heat between my thighs filled me with self-loathing.

"Want one?" asked the one who had stood up, already by the machine.

"Yes, double. I need something to keep me awake until I finish this ticket," replied the other from her chair. "Seriously, who else in the company is this burned out? Even the fifth floor seems more relaxed with their high-level events."

The first one let out a low laugh as she returned with two coffee cups. She sat down again, the chair creaking dangerously close. One of them stretched her legs and her foot almost brushed the corner of the sofa. My heart jumped so hard I feared they would hear it. Don't move. Don't breathe. Please, don't let them think of walking around the sofa to look for something on the shelf behind. Their voices kept flowing, normal, everyday, now talking about a colleague who had just taken vacation while they stayed "buried in code." I could only stay there, naked and paralyzed, with the terror growing with every second, knowing that Amy could take forever to return and that any slip—a sneeze, an accidental movement—would end everything. The risk pulsed in the air, as real as the coffee aroma now floating over me, and I could only wait, wishing the earth would swallow me once and for all.

Then I heard new footsteps. Light shoes approaching from the hallway. My heart gave such a violent leap that I almost let out a gasp. It was Amy. I recognized her instantly by the quick and confident rhythm of her steps. She stopped right beside the girls, and her voice sounded cheerful, as if everything were normal.

"Hi," said Amy naturally. "Excuse me, I'm looking for someone."

The two developers turned toward her. One of them let out a surprised giggle upon seeing the school uniform.

"What are you doing here, girl?" asked the one in the blue blouse, curious but kind. "We don't usually see uniforms on this floor. Are you lost or something?"

Amy let out a light laugh, and I, from my hiding place, caught the movement of her head. She barely turned her face toward the sofa and her eyes locked on me for a second, full of pure and satisfied mockery. She is enjoying this. She knows exactly where I am and she is savoring it.

"I'm looking for Marcela," explained Amy without missing a beat. "Samantha from the fifth floor needs to ask her for some urgent information, but she doesn't know where her cubicle is. They sent me to help her."

The girls exchanged a quick glance.

"Of course, we know Marcela," said the one in the pencil skirt. "Her cubicle is in the collaborative projects zone, at the back. If you want, we'll take you. It's not far."

Amy smiled widely.

"That would be great, thanks," she replied, accepting immediately. "I don't want to waste time."

Before they moved, the one in the blue blouse frowned with curiosity.

"And where is Samantha now?" she asked. "I thought she was the one who needed the report. Isn't she coming with you?"

Panic pierced me like a knife. I pressed myself harder against the sofa, holding my breath until my lungs burned. No. Don't ask that. Amy, please…

Amy didn't even hesitate. Her voice remained light, as if it were nothing.

"Ah, Samantha stayed downstairs on the sixth floor," she invented smoothly. "She had to finish something urgent with the servers and asked me to come first. You know how she is with her work. She didn't want to leave it half done."
The girls nodded, apparently satisfied with the explanation.

"Understood," said the other. "Let's go then. Marcela must be at her cubicle."

I heard them standing up, the creak of the chairs, their footsteps moving away toward the cubicle area. Amy followed them, but before disappearing completely she turned her head one last time toward the sofa. That mocking look burned my skin. She's leaving me alone. Again. The Relax Area fell silent once more, broken only by the hum of the coffee machine and my own choppy breathing. I was alone, naked, trembling behind the sofa, with terror pulsing in every vein. Anyone could appear now. And Amy had left with the girls, taking away the only protection I had. The risk was still there, more alive than ever, and I could only stay still, praying that no one else decided to use the Relax Area.

After several minutes that felt like hours I heard footsteps. Two pairs. One light and familiar —Amy's school shoes— and another firmer, with low heels. They were approaching from the cubicle area, straight toward the Relax Area. My heart stopped for a second and then raced wildly. I made myself smaller, pressing my forehead against my knees, holding my breath until my lungs burned. Please, let them pass by. Let it not be anyone who knows me.

The voices arrived first, muffled but clear. It was Amy, speaking in a casual tone, and another woman responding with that professional familiarity I recognized instantly. I raised my gaze just a millimeter, enough to see them over the edge of the sofa. Amy walked beside her, uniform impeccable, and next to her… Marcela. I recognized her immediately: brown hair tied in a practical ponytail, fitted black blouse, gray dress pants and that easy smile she always had when talking to Megan or my aunt Beatriz during those quick lunches we had shared for work matters. Marcela, the developer who got along so well with my family, the one who had greeted me with confidence on the rooftop that time. What is Amy doing bringing her here? Why didn't she just ask her for the report? I don't understand…

Amy and Marcela stopped right in front of the sofa, less than two meters from where I was hidden. I couldn't hear well what they were saying; their voices came as a low murmur, Amy gesturing with her hands while Marcela nodded, curious. Marcela tilted her head, responding something I couldn't quite make out, but her tone was kind, professional. My heart was beating so hard I feared they would hear it. My nipples hardened against my crossed arms, treacherous, and the warm air of the floor caressed my exposed sex with each choppy breath. This doesn't make sense. Amy knows I know her. What is she planning?

Suddenly Amy stopped talking. There was a second of absolute silence. Then, with deliberate slowness, she turned her head toward me. Her eyes locked directly on the edge of the sofa, exactly where I was curled up. A small, cruel smile formed on her lips. She calmly raised her hand and pointed with her index finger straight at my hiding place, pointing without hesitation, as if marking a spot on a map.

Marcela followed the direction of her finger.

[Debbifan]

Hey, best day of the year so far ! I had an intimation that the story still had a chance of being resumed and am delighted to see that fulfilled and with the quality undiminished. Without being too greedy, I do hope the wait is not quite so long for Chapter 26