Slip of the Lips

Anabel had suffered through one endless day at the law office. As a paralegal, even her best days were pretty damn exhausting, but as she got into her car that night, she thought she might snap the neck of the next person to talk to her. She needed to relax, and in a big way.

On the way home, Anabel grabbed Chinese takeout and a large bottle of white wine to soothe her screaming nerves. After plowing through spicy eggplant, and about half the wine, Anabel tore off her business suit and sank into her bathtub. As her bath bombs filled the water with pleasant scents and sensations, she poured herself yet another glass of wine. Anabel sighed dreamily. She felt at peace for the first time that day.

Like a lot of millennials, Anabel liked to share (and sometimes overshare) the pleasant little moments life gave her. As the bubbles in her bath started to pop, she reached for her phone and brought up the Facebook app. She took a quick photo of her smooth, soft legs in the bath, and posted it with the caption, “Feels nice to end a long day with me time!”

Anabel's eyelids felt heavy- the wine and the bubbles had finished the job her exhaustion started. Pulling the stopper in the tub, the young woman stumbled to her bedroom and her phone slipped from her hand. Anabel laid down in bed, and with a single hiccup, she fell asleep.

She awoke around 6 hours later, with a headache and a fuzzy feeling in her throat. She reached for her nightstand, but her phone wasn't there. Looking around, Anabel spotted it on the carpet. “Oh yeah, that's right,” Anabel mumbled. She plugged it in while searching for a fresh pair of panties. As she stepped into a simple white pair of hipsters, her cell practically exploded with texts and Facebook messages. Anabel frowned. “Oh god, what the fuck happened?”

It took only a couple texts for Anabel to understand. Filled with panic, she navigated to the picture she had posted last night. There were her feet, her legs, her bath... but right at the very bottom, in the tiniest percentage of the frame, was her pink, naked pussy. Anabel was totally waxed, her bare labia unobscured by hair or bubbles or any other miracle. Screaming in embarrassment, Anabel fumbled to delete the picture.

She managed it after a couple seconds, but not before some of the comments were burned into her brain. “Is it weird that I knew you wouldn't have any pubes?”, from old college friend Lana. “I feel bad and all, Anabel, but loose lips do sink ships,” from that jealous bitch from the office, Polly. 'Oh god, work!' Anabel thought. At least one coworker had seen the picture overnight. Who else might have?

Trying desperately to not curl up in a ball under her bed, Anabel pulled on the rest of her work outfit and drove to the office. She had barely walked in the door before she got her first weird look, from the receptionist. In fact, everywhere she went, the young paralegal felt curious, lascivious eyes on her. Giggles and whispers filled the air between every phone call. Anabel eventually pulled her blonde hair around her face like a curtain. She was too humiliated to even glance at anyone.

Unfortunately, she wouldn't have a choice. Polly knocked on Anabel's cubicle wall mere minutes after she sat down. “Lance wants to see you,” Polly grinned, loudly chewing her gum. Anabel almost had a heart attack. Lance was one of the firm's partners, and he'd spoken to her a grand total of 4 times in the 2 years she'd worked for him. This couldn't be coincidence.

Anabel sat at her desk, trying to work up the nerve, eventually balling her hands into fists and dragging herself over to Lance's office. Before she stepped in, she tried to suppress her embarrassment as much as possible, and put on the most fragile fake smile of all time. Anabel then knocked on the door, casually asking, “You wanted to see me?”

Lance nodded, and said “Yes, come sit, Anabel, and shut the door, please.” As she stepped in, she noticed HR rep Greg sitting in the corner and her heart sank. Noticing Anabel's reaction, Lance gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Oh, you're not fired. But we do have to talk about your, um, social media presence.” Anabel almost wished she was fired at this point- at least it would be over! She reluctantly took a seat across from Lance.

“Now, your personal life is personal, and that's all well and good,” Lance stammered, glancing frequently at Greg to make sure he wasn't crossing any lines. “But we can't have anything out there that might reflect poorly on the firm. We have an image to uphold. We're supposed to be a community pillar of decency, after all.” Anabel felt her heart beating faster and faster. They thought she did it on purpose! She wasn't some exhibitionist or slut, she had to defend herself!

“But I am a decent woman!” Anabel blurted out, while leaping out of her chair. Unfortunately, fate had other ideas, and her skirt caught on the screws of her chair. With a violent “RIIIIPPP”, Anabel's dark gray skirt plummeted to the floor, leaving her dressed in only panties and heels below the waist. She gasped and covered her white undies as best she could. Nervously running his fingers through his gray hair, Lance spluttered for words.

Meanwhile, Greg blinked twice, opened a checkbook, and scribbled out two checks. He stood up and offered one to Anabel and one to Lance. “The company will pay you $5,000 each to never talk about any of this again.”

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This one is about a very particular kind of 21st century ENF that I've read about actually happening once or twice. Originally posted on DeviantArt in 2018.