Liz is obviously having a hell of a trip, but she’ll be fine. The way things were going with Ms. Winkle you pretty concerned, so you decide it’s best to keep your attention there. You were too nervous to intervene just yet, and you knew that if you went get help from some authority figure, Ms. Winkle would certainly be fired, and you didn’t want that. Besides, she’d planned this, so she had to know what she was getting in to. Still…
You looked back at Ms. Winkle, and she had apparently given in, and her t-shirt had been taken off, and she had been spun around to face away from her desk, so her back was turned to you. This gave the guys freer access to her and they were now lightly holding her in place so that they could lick The butter from her torso.
Francis was standing right in front of Ms. Winkle, and showing cleverness you wouldn’t have credited him with, had taken off his shirt and started smearing melted chocolate on to his shaved (convenient, no?) chest and stomach.
Immediately, Ms. Winkle stood up, and started licking chocolate off of Francis chest, gradually working down to his gut. Francis took the opportunity while she was leaning over, to unclasp her bra and pull it off.
You’re pretty sure that you should be finding this display gross, but, maybe because everyone was so unselfconscious and enthusiastic, you couldn’t help but find it a little hot. Quickly looking around, and realizing that similar, though not quite so dramatic, stuff was happening all around, you decided it would be harmless to just reach up under your tank top and bra and start rubbing one of your nipples.
Having nearly run out of butter, one of the four other guys went and grabbed another bowl of melted butter out of a microwave and slowly drizzled it over the top of Ms. Winkle’s back. She was bending over slightly, licking chocolate from just above the top of Francis’ jeans, so the butter quickly ran down her back and into her jeans. A little bit ran over her shoulders and on to her hanging breasts. Just as some of the butter was going to drip from her nipples, one of the guys bent over and wrapped his mouth around a nipple and started licking. The three other guys were working on free Ms. Winkle’s legs from her pants, to get at whatever butter had fallen down.
This apparently crossed some line in Ms. Winkle’s mind (though it seemed to you like all lines had been blown right through in the first 30 seconds). She started slapping away the hands that were grasping at her pants, and hooking her fingers in her pants loops.
You wondered whether you should try to intervene at this point.
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