Bare skin

I'm the girl who always shows up in those company-mandated nylons. Everyone else does it, so I did it too. Except today I kicked off the heels in the bathroom, peeled them down my legs, and walked out bare. Nothing between my skin and the skirt but daylight. I felt it. I knew he would too. He’s at the doorway pretending to check something on his phone while his eyes keep dropping lower. One quick, guilty peek at my legs and then back up like he almost got caught. He likes it. The way his jaw tightens, the quick swallow, he’s trying hard not to stare longer. I pass him with a small smile, knees brushing the air, and I feel his attention sliding over the back of my calves like hands. My bare feet in the heels make a different sound on the tile, lighter, more skin. I catch his reflection in the glass door and see it again, the exact second his gaze snaps to where the skirt sits just above my knees. If he keeps pretending not to notice, the day’s going to drag. If he says something, the fun begins right now.