The washroom door opened on an large office. Grey carpets, white walls, what you would expect. A large bay of windows occupied one wall and a cubical farm inhabited the centre of the room. Jon hiked his purse up on his shoulder as he considered the room; there was something very familiar about it. Not as if he had been there before, but something more than that. It was as if he knew it, felt comfortable in it, belonged in it.
He began to walk away from the washroom door (wouldn't want to run into those crossdressers again), and followed the wall to the left. In each cubical he passed was a man working away. About half of the men were dressed in usual office garb, ties, dress shirts, slacks, the other half were dressed like the men in the washroom. Skirts, blouses, dresses, all women's clothing. Crossdressers.
Jon couldn't believe it. He hiked up his purse and hurried along as quickly as his heels would carry him. What was wrong with Girl World? He had yet to meet a woman, and half the dudes were dressed like chicks!
Jon came to the end of the wall and turned right. He worried that his luck was turning against him; so far every experience he'd had in Girl World had been awesome. The club where he'd danced, the fight he'd won, that darling boy he'd briefly mothered, all had been great! Each time he'd lost or soiled some clothing, something happened to turn things right. Each time he'd been without direction, some helpful person pointed him in the right direction. Now, as he wandered through the busy office, no matter how familiar it felt, he worried that he had lost his step.
Then he stopped. Not because there was nowhere else to go, but because he felt like he had arrived. On his left was an open door that lead to a board room. Every chair around the large oaken table was full except for one. The large man in the expensive Italian suit paused in his presentation and looked at Jon.
"Oh, Jon my boy! You made it! I was hoping you would!" he said in a gruff voice, indicating with his right hand the empty chair.
All the men wearing suits (about half) stood as he entered, and the one next to Jon's chair pulled it out and held it for him. How sweet! thought Jon, as he took a seat and was tucked into the table.
The large man at the front continued his presentation, not missing a step in the interruption. He droned on and on about projections, stats, trends, all stuff that Jon knew was important, but he couldn't quite hold onto the details. Instead, Jon's mind kept focusing on the itch he had in his left foot.
It started as a small itch. Not wanting to draw attention to it, Jon wiggled his stockinged foot in his pump. That had worked for a few minutes. But after a while the itch got worse. Soon Jon had subtly kicked his right shoe off and was scratching it with the tip of his other shoe. When that stopped working, he tried rubbing it on the carpet, but that didn't work at all. It was driving him crazy!
He stretched his foot out under the table, hoping that a change in circulation would help. What he found, however, was another person's leg! Across from Jon sat a short, balding man, slightly overweight, wearing a blue suit. In Jon's stretch, his toes had run up the shin of the man. Worried that he had upset the man, distracted him from the meeting, Jon pulled his foot back and looked apologetically at him.
Instead of frustration, however, Jon saw a look of approval on the man's face. He was smiling at Jon, a friendly, hungry, predatory smile, the kind that would make a heart melt with warmth. Then the man winked at Jon. That was it, it was obvious that the man understood Jon's plight, that he knew the itch would slowly drive Jon mad if nothing was don.
Scooting himself down a couple inches, not so much that the people around him would notice, Jon slowly rubbed his foot up and down the man's shin, the feeling of the stocking rubbing against the man's cotton pants easing the itch. The man, wanting to help, cinched his chair closer to the table, giving Jon better access. No longer did Jon have to be satisfied with his toes rubbing shins, he was able to rub his full foot, top, bottom, up and down the man's leg, from his ankle all they up his thigh.
The itch, however, wouldn't relent. It moved fully onto the bottom of Jon's foot. Jon stretched his leg and pressed it gently toward the man, hoping for relief. He found it! There was a bump forming in the man's groin, sticking out just aggressively enough to give Jon something to rub against. The problem, however, was that the itch had moved from his right foot to his left!
Wasting no time, Jon kicked off his shoes and, noticing the greedy look of pleasure on the man's face, winked at the man and brought his left foot up to the balding man's crotch, joining his right. Up and down he rubbed his stockinged feet on the bump in the man's crotch, careful not to alert the men in the room, nor the crossdressers, Jon relished the relief the man's groin was giving his feet. The pleasure of the friction was heavenly. Jon was so happy that the man was willing to put himself through all this annoying rubbing to give Jon a little bit of joy, and in the middle of a meeting, no less!
The balding man's face turned red and a vein appeared on his forehead. His eyes closed and, leaning back, he let out a sigh. Jon looked around the room, worried that someone would notice, but everyone was intently listening to the presentation. Beneath his stockings, Jon could feel a warm damp substance in the man's groin. Jon wiggled his toes, feeling it seep through his hose, wondering what it was. Maybe the man had spilled something.
Jon stopped his rubbing and noticed that the itch had vanished. He was so happy! Now he could finally listen to the presentation! He sat up in his chair and worked his damp toes back into their pumps. The man across from him excused himself to take a call, walking around the table facing away from everyone (probably embarrassed about the spill), leaving the chair empty. Jon smiled. He was glad that his luck had held out. Girl World was still just as awesome as it had been before.
