Your long legs look magical covered in sheer black nylon. Almost as if their creator made them with you as the model. I struggle not to stare, wondering how far up they wrap your body. You stay busy wandering around your department visiting with people, which takes you conveniently near me often. As everyone sits in a meeting late in the day, I keep stealing glances as you talk. When you sit down, I try to see if my question can be answered. I use every trick in the book to minimize my arousal. Your legs stay on my mind the rest of the day and on into the night. When I arrive back to my desk the next day, I find the baggie. Inside is a pair of black pantyhose and a note.
"You seemed distracted during the meeting. Next time, take care of business before you arrive. Maybe this will help."
They smell uniquely...pleasurable. I stuff the baggie into my desk and try to focus on my work. It takes twenty minutes to calm my body down. That all comes to an end when I see you later. You are in jeans due to worksite visits. In a brief meeting following several visits, you slip your shoes off, your nylon-wrapped feet coming out from the cuff of your jeans.
The next day, a picture of your feet coming out of the jeans is at my desk. On the back of the photo is written, "Am I still distracting you?"
I barely see you on the third day. You get stuck in meetings all day and I only get partial glimpses of you as I pass the conference room door. But on the fourth day, a photo of your outfit from the previous day is at my desk. Your legs were bare. On the back is written, "Missed you today. Bare legs are okay, but less fun." Today's outfit includes white nylons sticking out from a tight pencil skirt. I spend the day trying to avoid you so I can get some work done but you somehow find something that needs to be discussed and pull everyone together for an announcement. I stand in the back but cannot avoid glimpses of you. Nothing that you announce is even heard as my mind wanders. From what I hear others saying later, it was nothing important.
Monday comes and another photo is on my desk. This time, it looks like you were sitting in my office chair. I recognize the decorations on the wall. Your leg is twisted up as you appear to be massaging your calves. The picture looks like it was taken Friday based on your outfit. On the back is written, "Walking in heels makes me feel pretty, but they are sore on the legs." When I see you today, you are in a casual dress. Tan nylons end in heel-less shoes. You seem rather happy and greet me like nothing is being left at my desk each night. How long will this continue?
On Tuesday, another baggie is at my desk. The note says "Something different yesterday. Did you like?" The baggie contains a pair of tan stockings. The tip of one feels a bit damp. I never see you the entire day.
This continues for several weeks as I amass multiple photos, none ever showing your face but always clearly taken while wearing the previous day's outfit. I now have four baggies of used nylons: black pantyhose, tan stockings, white pantyhose, and black fishnets. Today brings something different. When I arrive at my desk, I find a larger bag. Examining what is inside, nerves take over as I hide the baggie to better examine at home. It becomes one of the top three worst days to stay focused on my work. I swear I see you playing with yourself in your office during one of the countless times I walk by your door. I almost go to the bathroom to release my own pent up feelings right then.
Once I get home, I rip open the bag. Instead of a pair of pantyhose, I pull out a full bodystocking, black with sleeves. It appears to come up to the neck. Fabric is missing from the crotch by design. I feel something hard inside one of the feet. It is a flash drive. I grab it and go to my computer. Plugging it in reveals a copy of every photo you have left me and one video. The clip starts with you in yesterday's outfit. Backing up from the camera, you begin removing your clothes until you are standing in just the bodystocking. You approach the camera, lean down to look into the lens, and say, "Do you like what I wore under my clothes today?" The video stops. My hand is already between my legs.
