Miss Oak Ch.4
“Don’t do that,” she said, pulling Lester’s hand away with a sharp movement.
“What? Hug you?” Lester asked, confused.
They were lying down. It was time to sleep. The time when they always reached for each other.
“Yes, I don’t like it,” Mandy said, and her voice came out colder than she’d intended.
“Since when?” Lester asked, pulling his hand back slowly.
“Since your skin feels like rock,” she answered, without looking at him.
Lester was quiet for a moment. Mandy could feel his gaze on the back of her neck. She could feel him processing what he’d just heard.
“Honey... we should go to the doctor,” he finally said.
“We already went, Lester.”
“Another one. A specialist.”
“No,” Mandy answered. “I’m tired of them looking at me like I’m crazy.”
“Love,” Lester said, and he moved closer again. His hand reached for her shoulder. A small gesture. An attempt to reconnect.
“I told you to stop,” Mandy said, pulling away.
“Maybe you just need me to touch the right place,” he said, laughing, moving his hand toward her chest.
That’s when Mandy exploded.
“For what?” she said, her voice sharp. “So you can come in two minutes and leave me like this?”
Lester pulled his hand away. Mandy regretted it the instant she said it.
“Lester... I didn’t mean...”
But he was already out of bed.
“Don’t worry, I won’t touch you,” Lester said.
“Love, please,” Mandy said, sitting up. “I didn’t mean that.”
But Lester was already at the door. He stopped for a second. He didn’t look at her.
“Goodnight, Mandy,” he said.
And he closed the door.
Mandy got up. She was going to go after him. She was going to go down the stairs, find him on the couch, ask him to come back. Beg him. But before she could take the first step, she saw herself in the mirror in front of her.
She stopped.
“Couldn’t she go down looking messy?” she asked herself quietly.
The answer came on its own: No. She couldn’t. Miss Oak didn’t go down looking messy. Miss Oak didn’t show herself like that to anyone.
She walked up to the mirror. She fixed her hair with her hands. She ran her fingers through the ends, smoothing what wasn’t even messy. She bit her lips to give them color. She straightened her shoulders. And then, without quite knowing how, one of her straps fell down.
The right strap slid off her shoulder and hung there. Mandy looked at her bare chest, her huge chest, and smiled.
“Stop,” a voice said inside her head. A small, weak voice, barely audible. “Stop.”
But it was too late. Her fingers were already on the other strap. She pulled it down slowly. She felt the fabric slide over her skin. She didn’t cover herself. It should be a crime to cover them. These melons should be out all day to be worshipped.
Mandy stood there, in front of the mirror, her breasts bare, the necklace gleaming between them. Her hands didn’t stay still. One of them went to her right breast. She grabbed it hard, feeling the weight, squeezing it between her fingers.
Mandy smiled. She looked so good. She was so beautiful.
Her other hand—the one with the ring—began to slide her fingers down her stomach, moving slowly, reaching the waistband of her nightgown.
She lifted it. Mandy looked at herself in the mirror. She looked perfect. Her breasts hung heavy, moving slightly with each breath.
Her ring brushed her clit. A quick brush.
She moaned.
The ring traced small circles. Her legs began to tremble. In the mirror, her chest kept moving, shaking, bouncing, dancing.
“Look how your girls dance, Miss Oak,” Mandy whispered. “Aren’t they lovely?”
She heard someone trying to open her door. She was on the floor. At some point in the night she’d fallen asleep.
She threw herself onto the bed and pulled the sheets over herself.
“Honey, I’m leaving,” Lester said. He looked at her, all red, and then looked at the floor where all her clothes were scattered.
“I was going to come down to you like this... but I got embarrassed,” Mandy whispered.
“You could try it at night,” Lester said, smiling. “I have to go. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Mandy said.
Mandy was late. Again.
The bell announced her arrival with a jingle that seemed too loud for her head at that moment.
“The boss wants to see you,” Ross said in that monstrous tone he had.
Mandy nodded and walked toward Frank’s office.
The door was ajar. Frank was sitting behind his desk, reading something on a piece of paper. When he looked up, he smiled.
“Miss Oak,” he said, and his voice came clear, sharp, as if he were speaking right next to her ear. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Mandy replied. Her voice came out weaker than she wanted.
“Have a seat, please,” Frank said.
“Thank you.”
“You look tired,” Frank said. It wasn’t a question.
“I didn’t sleep well,” Mandy itted.
“A massage might help,” Frank commented, handing her a cup of coffee.
“Oh no, sir, I couldn’t take advantage of your kindness,” Mandy said.
Frank, ignoring her, touched her shoulders just a little. His hand was heavy and light at the same time. It was soft and gave off an intense warmth.
Frank squeezed both shoulders.
“Oh god,” Mandy let out, having to lean on Frank’s desk.
“You’re very tense,” Frank said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “You should let me help you more often.”
Frank squeezed a little harder.
Her legs opened slightly without her deciding it. Her fingers gripped the edge of the desk.
Frank kept squeezing. Slowly.
Mandy began to breathe raggedly.
“Relax,” Frank said, and his voice came like a whisper directly into her ear. “Just let yourself go.”
She felt a pulse in her clit, in her nipples, in her throat.
Frank pressed a little more. His fingers moved down barely a centimeter, just to the top edge of her shoulder blades. Nothing inappropriate. All technically correct.
Mandy inhaled. The air hit her cut off. Her fingers gripped the edge of Frank’s desk so hard she felt the wood digging into her palms.
“Breathe,” Frank said.
She obeyed. One breath. And another. And then the orgasm came.
It wasn’t an explosion. It was a slow pressure that started in her belly and rose to her chest. Mandy clenched her teeth so hard she felt her jaw crack. Her body tensed, arched for just a few seconds, and then released.
When she opened her eyes, Frank had already sat back down, drinking his coffee as if nothing had happened.
She stood up with difficulty, her legs shaky.
“Thank you,” Mandy said, leaving his office.
When she sat down at her desk, she noticed the dampness on her thighs.
She felt ashamed, humiliated. Had Frank noticed?
She tried to concentrate on the day’s paperwork, but as she did, she started to touch her ring.
It was so beautiful. She gave the sapphire a little kiss. It tasted a bit strange. After all, it had been inside her. But she didn’t mind. It was the taste of Miss Oak. The best taste in the world. What would it taste like right now?
Ross was a few feet away, arranging display cases. She could hear the jingle of the glass being put in place.
Mandy lowered her hand under the desk. She started to stroke her crotch, just a little.
Her thighs were still damp. She could feel it. The fabric of her underwear was stuck to her skin. Every time she moved her legs, she noticed the dampness.
Ross kept arranging things. He wasn’t looking at her.
Mandy unbuttoned her pants, just enough for her hand to get in. She felt the heat. A small moan escaped her. She bit her lip to quiet it.
Ross kept doing his things.
Mandy pressed a little more. Her fingers brushed her vaginal lips.
Mandy closed her eyes. Her fingers moved on their own. They traced the line of her opening, slowly, feeling every fold, every curve. Her thumb brushed her clit. A spasm ran down her spine. She bit her lip.
She opened her eyes. Ross was still facing away. He hadn’t moved.
Mandy pushed two fingers inside herself. The ring went in with them. She moved her fingers slowly, feeling how she opened, how she adjusted to the ring. Her breathing became short, choppy.
“Mrs. Prescott,” Ross said, without turning around.
Mandy pulled her hand out fast. She put it on the desk.
“Yes?”
“Do you want me to bring you more coffee?”
“No, thank you,” she replied.
Ross wasn’t even looking at her.
She put her fingers back in, this time more roughly. Three fingers. If she could have, she would have put her fist in right then.
Mandy moved her fingers faster. The ring went in and out, brushing her walls, pressing her clit with every movement. Her breathing was short, cut off. The edge of the desk dug into her ribs.
But she wasn’t getting there.
She felt the pressure. She felt the heat. She felt like she was right there, about to burst. But something wasn’t closing. Something refused to let go.
She moved her fingers deeper. Faster. Three fingers. The ring. Nothing.
She opened her eyes. She looked at Ross. He was still facing away, humming a song. He wasn’t looking at her. He didn’t know anything.
Mandy pulled her hand out. The dampness covered her fingers up to her wrist. She wiped it on the edge of her blouse. She stood up. Her legs were trembling.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” she said, and her voice sounded strange, like it wasn’t her.
Ross nodded without turning around. Mandy walked to the bathroom. Every step was an effort. Every step reminded her of the dampness on her thighs. Every step confirmed that something was wrong.
She went in. Locked the door. She leaned on the sink. She looked at herself in the mirror. She was red. Sweaty.
She pulled her pants down. Her underwear was soaked. She let it fall to the floor. She sat on the edge of the toilet. She opened her legs.
She looked at herself. She was wet and shiny.
She pushed two fingers in. Nothing. Three. Nothing.
She closed her eyes. She moved her hand furiously. The fingers went in and out, fast, desperate. She felt the pressure. She felt the heat. She felt like she was about to.
But she wasn’t getting there.
She opened her eyes. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was a grimace of effort, almost pain. The necklace gleamed.
“Come on,” she whispered. Her voice came out hoarse, desperate. “Come on.”
She pushed her thumb in. Her whole hand went in. Her fist. She felt the stretch, the pain, the fullness. A moan escaped her lips. Her body tensed. She felt the pain and pleasure mixed.
She moved her hand. Her fist turned inside her. Pushed. Squeezed. The ring brushed her walls. The pressure was unbearable.
But she wasn’t getting there.
Mandy moaned. A low, hoarse sound, barely audible. She moved her fist faster. Harder. She felt the pain. She felt the pleasure. She felt like she was about to.
But she wasn’t getting there. She wanted to cry. She was actually crying. She felt like her legs were being opened and if she didn’t manage to come she would be destroyed.
She stood up, splashed water on her face, and walked out sore toward Frank’s office.
She stood there a moment looking at his door. What was she doing?
Her hand knocked on its own.
“Come in,” Frank said in that calm voice of his.
“Are you busy?” she asked, trembling.
“Not for you, Miss Oak. How can I help you?”
“It’s about my... stress. I think part of my back is still stressed,” she said. It sounded so stupid.
“Oh, of course. Have a seat,” Frank told her.
Frank stood up without rushing. He positioned himself behind her. His hands found her shoulders with the same gentleness as always. But this time Mandy didn’t hold her breath. She let it out. All of it.
“Relax,” Frank said.
Mandy nodded. She opened her legs. Just a little.
Frank’s hands moved down to the edge of her shoulder blades. They pressed harder. Mandy moaned.
“Like that,” Frank said. “Let yourself go.”
And Mandy let herself go.
The orgasm was an explosion. A dry blow that ran through her belly. She let out a moan, long and wet, that filled Frank’s office.
Mandy couldn’t stop it. She didn’t want to stop it. She felt her body release the pressure. She felt her vagina contract.