I set the crate down, bending just a little longer than necessary, knowing the way my shorts hugged my ass would draw more stares. When I straightened, I caught Mick, the foreman, giving me a quick nod of approval, his eyes flicking to my chest before he looked away.

"Good job, Sally," he said, his voice gruff. "Can you grab another load from the back? We're short on time today."

"Of course," I replied, my voice sweet, eager to please. I loved how they relied on me, how they trusted me with the delicate stuff no one else wanted to handle. Every task they gave me made my heart race, not just from the work but from the way they watched me do it.

I walked to the storage room, my hips swaying just a touch more than usual, feeling the weight of their eyes like a caress. My boyfriend, Bernard, would be proud of how hard I was working to keep this job, but he didn't know how much I craved this attention, how it made my body hum with need.

In the storage room, I leaned against a shelf for a moment, catching my breath. The thin fabric of my tank top was damp with sweat, sticking to my skin, outlining every curve. I adjusted it, tugging it down a little to show just a hint more cleavage, knowing they'd notice when I walked back out.