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Passion on the line.

Sixteen was younger than Twenty by a few years, but had already been a mailgirl for two and a half. She had a delicately featured face and dark chestnut brown hair done up in a braid which hung between her shoulder blades. Her body was lithe and toned, a dancer's figure, if Twenty had to venture a guess. Her breasts were smaller than Twenty's, but were ample B-cups capped with small dark nipples. A sheen of sweat glistened on those breasts as Sixteen took her place on the mat.

They had spent most the morning on various runs around the building, wherein Twenty had quickly learned that being a mailgirl was every bit as degrading as it sounded on paper. The same lustful, perverted stares from the mostly male employees greeted them at every department they visited, along with disdainful looks from the scant few female workers. Twenty could count on one hand the number of clothed women she'd seen, whereas they had encountered at least five or six other mailgirls darting through the hallways and stairwells, each moving as quickly as their bare feet would allow.
"It's like this," Sixteen said, demonstrating the proper position for "Knees". Dropping to her knees, she lowered herself, her ass coming to rest on her ankles while her thighs spread wide, exposing her shaved pussy to anyone who happened to be looking. She pushed her chest outward, thrusting her breasts forward. Her hands were clasped behind her back, nestled right above her buttocks. She looked up at Twenty and tilted her head, her green eyes twinkling. "Now you try."

Twenty froze for a split second, enraptured as she was by Sixteen's brazenly open posture. She had seen mailgirls around the building adopt the same position during their morning runs, but now that she was expected to do it, her mind locked up.

Sixteen's eyes darted to a spot behind Twenty before looking back up at the blonde. "Hurry," she urged quietly. "There are people coming and mailgirls must be in the proper positions when not on assignment."

This is ludicrous, Twenty thought to herself as she stepped onto the mat. Bending her knees and spreading her legs, she mimicked Sixteen's stance as best she could. She felt a cool breeze drift across her freshly shaven pussy as a glass door on the other side of the room opened, admitting a trio of well-dressed men. They started walked towards the two naked girls, headed for the low chairs surrounding a coffee table near the mat where Sixteen and Twenty knelt.

"Don't stare," Sixteen whispered under her breath. "Eye contact is not allowed unless authorized by a superior. Look down." Her voice did not belie any anger, but it did carry a sense of urgency, which snapped Twenty out of her daze.

Twenty fixed her gaze on a spot in front of her, still tracking the men with her peripheral vision. They were talking to each other animatedly, but all three were looking at her and Sixteen even as they approached the table nearby. Another involuntary shiver went up her spine and she had to resist the urge to cover herself up and bolt from the room. Instead, she pushed her breasts out further and spread her legs wider. You're only another mailgirl, she told herself. They don't know your real name and will never find out who you really are. You can get through this. Just play the part.

The men took their seats and continued their discussion, all while still blatantly looking at the naked girls kneeling mere feet away. Twenty could feel their eyes scanning her sweat-covered body, from her heaving breasts down to her warm and, as much as she was loathe to admit it, decidedly wet pussy. The entire situation was so ridiculous, she found herself being strangely turned on by the whole thing.

Twenty, like most attractive women, didn't mind flaunting her body whenever she was in the right situation to.

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