Giving a presentation in just a dress

"I'm not going to wear any underwear today," Linda whispered to her reflection in the bathroom mirror, her hands gripping the edges of the sink. She took a deep breath, feeling the cool porcelain against her palms. Her eyes searched the room for any signs of doubt, but all she saw was the neatly pressed mid-thigh business dress hanging on the back of the door.

"It's just a dress, just a piece of clothing," she murmured to herself, trying to calm the butterflies doing somersaults in her stomach. "A dress that says 'I'm professional, I'm in charge, and I'm not wearing panties.'"

With a wry smile, she slipped into the sleek garment, feeling the fabric hug her body just right. The dress was a power play, a declaration of her confidence, and a thrilling secret she'd be sharing with an audience of five hundred.

The conference room was a sea of expectant faces, all waiting for the keynote speaker. Linda took the podium, her heart racing like a cheetah in a Formula 1 race. The spotlights warmed her skin as she began her presentation, the words "Statistical Analysis of Sterile Services Processes" flashing onto the giant screen behind her. She knew that her legs looked fantastic in this light, and she couldn't help but wonder how many people were imagining what was—or rather, what wasn't—beneath the dress.

Her voice was steady, a testament to the hours she'd spent rehearsing in front of her neighbours dog, Aida. She clicked through slides with a smooth confidence that belied the fact that she was as bare as the day she was born from the waist down.

The audience leaned in, seemingly captivated by her words, but Linda was well aware that the room was thick with a silent question: "What if she moves just right and we see something we weren't meant to?" She felt a rush of excitement with each step she took closer to the edge of the stage, the thrill of potential exposure sending a shiver down her spine.

As she delved into the complexities of data analysis and process optimization, she felt the fabric of the dress caressing her inner thighs with every gesture. The sensation was maddeningly distracting, yet it fuelled her performance, giving it an electric edge.

"Remember, folks," she said with a coy smile, pausing dramatically for effect. "Data doesn't lie, but the way we interpret it can reveal more than just cold, hard facts."

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop—or the sound of fabric brushing against skin. Linda took a sip of water, her eyes scanning the audience, daring anyone to look away. She knew she had them all hooked—not just on her presentation, but on the tantalizing mystery of what lay beneath her professional facade.

Her mind raced with the thoughts of what they were thinking: "Can she feel it? Is she doing this on purpose?" But she didn't care. The thrill of the game was all she needed to keep her going.

The slides continued, and so did the dance of the unspoken. Each word she spoke seemed to resonate in the space between her legs, a silent symphony of arousal. And with each step she took, she felt more powerful, more in control.

"The key," she announced, her voice steady despite the tremor in her core, "is to identify patterns, to strip away the unnecessary and focus on what truly matters."

As she moved, she caught glimpses of furtive glances, eyes darting away when they met hers. It was a silent conversation, one that she was winning.

Linda's presentation was going smoother than she could have ever imagined. Her slides were sharp, her data was solid, and she was delivering it all with the poise of a seasoned CEO. Yet, she couldn't ignore the growing dampness between her legs, a betrayal of the excitement her little secret brought. She had to fight the urge to press her thighs together, to alleviate the ache that was building with every word she spoke.

Midway through her talk, she paused for a moment to ask for questions. The room was tense, a coil ready to snap. Hands shot up, eager for the chance to interact with her, to see if she'd flinch, if she'd give away her secret. But she didn't. She called on a young man in the third row, his tie slightly askew, his eyes hungry for more than just answers.

"Yes, what can I help you with?" she said, her voice a velvet purr.

He stumbled over his words, his eyes darting down to her legs and back up again, trying to play it cool. "I...uh...was wondering about the outliers in your data set?"

Linda stepped closer to him, her legs parting slightly as she leaned in to better hear his question. She knew the effect she was having, and she revealed in it. "Ah, the outliers," she said, her voice low and intimate. "They're like the unexpected twists in life, aren't they? Sometimes you find that what you thought was an anomaly is actually the most crucial part of the pattern."

The audience was rapt, and she could feel the tension in the room spike as she took a step closer to the edge of the stage, the hem of her dress playing peekaboo with her bare skin. "And sometimes," she continued, her eyes locked on his, "you find that the most surprising things are the ones that lead to the most profound discoveries."

The final slide of her presentation flashed onto the screen, and she took a moment to collect herself. "In conclusion," she said, her voice firm, "the efficiency of our sterile services processes can be significantly improved by focusing on these key metrics."

Her eyes swept the room, taking in the rapt attention of her audience. The applause was thunderous, a cacophony of palms coming together in a symphony of appreciation. And as she stepped away from the podium, she allowed herself a moment of victory.

The thrill of the unknown was a powerful drug, and she'd just delivered a masterclass in its use. She walked off stage, the fabric of her dress whispering sweet nothings to her exposed skin with every step. The rush of adrenaline was like a hit of pure oxygen, leaving her dizzy and exhilarated.

Backstage, Linda took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the excitement of the moment. She knew that her little secret had added an extra layer of allure to her presentation.

The conference was a success, her colleagues congratulated her, and she basked in the glow of their praise, her nakedness underneath the dress a delicious secret shared only with the air conditioning and the echo of her own heartbeat.

As the room cleared and the applause faded, Linda found the organizer, a stern woman with a no-nonsense attitude, waiting for her. She couldn't help but feel a little nervous—what if she could somehow tell? But she pushed the thought away and focused on the task at hand.

"You were absolutely brilliant up there," the organizer said, her eyes gleaming with admiration. "I've never seen the audience so engaged during a statistical presentation."

Linda felt a warm flush spread across her cheeks. "Thank you," she said, her voice a little shaky. "I was pretty nervous."

The woman's gaze softened. "Nonsense. You looked like you owned the stage. And your insights on the data? Incredible."

As they talked, Linda felt a warm, slick sensation between her legs. Her juices were flowing, a testament to the erotic thrill of the situation. She casually crossed her ankles, hoping to stem the tide, and focused on the conversation.

"I've been working on this for months," she said, her voice steady despite the growing dampness.

The organizer nodded, her eyes never leaving Linda's. "It showed. And your confidence? It was inspiring."

Linda felt a rush of gratitude—and something else. Something more primal. The thrill of the secret, the raw power of being so exposed yet so in control, had turned her on more than she could have ever anticipated.

The woman leaned in, her eyes sparkling with genuine admiration, and kissed her on the cheek. It was a brief, innocent gesture, one that sent a bolt of electricity through Linda's body. The woman's lips brushed against her skin, and for a split second, she thought she'd been found out. But no, she was still the keeper of her delicious little secret.

With a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, she excused herself and made her way to the elevator, her legs feeling like jelly. The cool air of the hotel corridor was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from her core. Her hand slid along the railing, the smooth metal a comforting presence as she walked. She was on a high, floating on a cloud of excitement and naughtiness.

As the elevator doors slid open, she stepped inside, immediately engulfed by the scent of her own arousal. It was a sweet, musky aroma that filled the small space, mingling with the faint scent of hotel cleaner and stale cologne. She glanced around the packed lift, her eyes widening as she realized the implications.

The other occupants were a mix of conference attendees, some of whom had been in her presentation. They were chatting away, oblivious to the scent that was surely wafting around them. Linda felt a thrill of panic, her heart racing as she tried to remain calm.

Her hand slid down to her thigh, the fabric of her dress sticking to her skin. She could feel the wetness, a testament to how much she'd enjoyed the thrill of her little secret. The elevator ascended, floor after floor, and with each floor, she could feel the pressure building inside her.

The doors opened, and some people got out there body rubbing against hers as they exited, each touch a silent reminder of her vulnerable state. Linda's eyes darted around the elevator, checking if anyone had noticed the scent that was now so potent it was practically a neon sign. Yet, they all remained blissfully unaware, continuing their small talk and scrolling through their phones. She took a deep breath and composed herself, pressing the button for her floor with trembling fingers.

As the elevator climbed, she could feel the wetness spreading, making the fabric of her dress cling to her skin. Her clit throbbed with the anticipation of the moment when she would be alone again, free to indulge in the pleasure that had been building all afternoon. Her thoughts wandered to the young man in the third row, his tie askew and his eyes hungry. What would he do if he knew?

The doors opened again, and this time she stepped out, her legs wobbly as she made her way to her hotel room. She could feel the eyes of the others in the elevator on her, their gazes lingering just a little too long, the whispers of their thoughts trailing her like a seductive scent.

Once inside her room, she kicked off her shoes and let out a sigh of relief. The coolness of the carpet against her bare feet was a stark contrast to the heat between her legs. She walked over to the window, the curtains open to the cityscape below. The lights twinkled like stars, and she felt a strange kinship with them, as if they knew her secret and were winking in approval.

Linda's hand slid under her dress, her fingertips brushing against the slickness of her arousal. She closed her eyes and leaned against the cool glass, her breath fogging it up as she touched herself. The memory of the audience's gazes fuelled her desire, and she found herself picturing their faces as she stroked her clit, imagining their shock and awe if they knew what she was doing right now.

Her orgasm built slowly, a crescendo of pleasure that matched the rhythm of her heart. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, the sound of her wetness echoing in the quiet room. As she came, she felt a sense of power and liberation, her body shuddering with the intensity of her climax. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered bliss.

The aftermath was a mix of satisfaction and a hint of something else—a craving for more. She knew that she had tapped into a new side of herself today, one that thrived on the thrill of the forbidden. And as she slid the dress off her body and stepped into the shower to wash away the day's excitement, she couldn't help but wonder what other secrets she would dare to share with her unsuspecting audience in the future.