I force myself to walk in a straight line.
Back tall. Shoulders squared. Like I’m not being held hostage by a vibrator currently pulsing in-between my legs.
It's only after reaching the foot of the stairs that I realize how stupid I’m being. There's literally an elevator leading to the top floor.
I stare at it for a second, then turn, walk to it, and press the button.
The doors slide open, and I can't say how grateful I am that no one’s inside.
Once I’m in the elevator, I suck in air through my nose and hold it while the numbers climb. Each ding vibrates against my spine. I adjust the collar of my coat and try not to squirm, but the heat crawling between my thighs makes that a losing battle.
The doors open.
I don’t wait—I dart out, make a sharp right, and head toward the rooftop ac
