Broken Locks
My social life is pretty seldom, my love life is nonexistent, and working in a crowded office for over eleven hours a day is tiresome. Most would agree. The pacing is slow, nothing extraordinary happens aside from the usual office gossip. Quite frankly, who gives a shit? We're all just here to make a living out of the decent salary we get. The "higher-ups" get the big bucks and the rest are left with chump change.
I push paper and type a bunch of corporate bullshit on my computer, but ironically? I'm an earnest worker. I get the job done, you know? But when I'm not sorting files and forwarding emails? Let's just say I indulge in a bit of a mental escape from the typical ups and downs of the office…
When my workload is low and office morale is depleted, I pull out my little diary and write until I'm fully satisfied. This sacred manuscript of impure details is all wrapped up in a small red leather book. It used to have a lock attached, but it broke off months ago. I wouldn't dare type these lewd thoughts on the office computer. It's too easy for someone to snoop during the days I'm off work or to see while passing my screen.
My familiar topic and sizzling fixation: Mr. Scott. Ashton Scott, president of this very company. His office is located in front of my cubicle with a slight shift to the left. This gives me an easy view during work hours to feast my eyes upon his handsome face. Luckily, we have dividers placed between cubicles for a sense of privacy while working. I can see him, but he can't see me when I slack off due to my fantasies. His office has clear glass windows, but for every blessing, there's a curse.
Mr. Scott's windows possess a special feature. They have a remote controllable tint setting. He normally uses this function when clients arrive to discuss contracts and partnerships in privacy. It's the only time I can't sneak a glance or two into his office. I suppose that's probably for the best. I wouldn't get anything done if he was always in view, which makes it all worthwhile when he finally is.
Today's workload slowly dwindles as closing time approaches. I usually leave around 7:30 P.M. which means I have roughly an hour left. This is clearly the perfect time to pull out my little diary and unwind after a long day's work. I glance up to see Mr. Scott intensely focusing on his computer, probably ranting in an email he'll later send to us tonight about stats and performance. His white button-down shirt fit snugly around his biceps. His broad shoulders looked perfect for locking legs around. I sigh and begin to fantasize, letting my pen do the work:
~~~~~ "Mr. Scott pulled up my skirt and lifted me onto my desk. I gasp as he pushes my legs further apart while shoving his tongue into my mouth. Mr. Scott's fingers gently slide from my knee to my inner thigh. I shiver when his fingertip reaches the edge of my panties. His other hand was wrapped around my back, aggressively pushing me into his kiss. He painstakingly pulls my panties to the side before stopping all movement. He pulls his head back away from my lips and we intensely lock eyes. Mr. Scott slowly moves his hand up the sides of my waist before placing his hands underneath the top opening of my light blue blouse. In one motion he yanks the fabric, ripping off each button in a single, hard pull. I bite my lower lip and my face feels so hot that my cheeks sting. He pulls down the straps of my black lacy bra and unhooks it to dangle from my elbows. My chest is now completely bare--"
Shit. My fantasy got interrupted by the commotion of fellow colleagues packing up and leaving. I look around and most cubicles are already empty. I check the time on my watch.
7:23 P.M. It's definitely time for me to go. Nobody wants to stay at work longer than what they'll get paid for. My mind trails off as I finish packing up. I wonder what I'll eat tonight… should I cook? Maybe I'll just pick up some food on the way home.
I make my way out of the office and take a left down the hallway. I get the feeling that I'm missing something, but I brush it off. Just before I reach the exit, I hear footsteps quickly approaching.
"Nicole! Hey, wait!" I turn around to see who's calling me. The voice sounds husky, yet familiar. Much to my surprise, I see Mr. Scott jogging towards me with something in his hand. I couldn't make it out from this far away but I could've sworn it looks red… kind of like my--
Oh fuck. I left my damn diary on the desk. Shit, I hope he didn't read it.
As Mr. Scott finally got close enough to me, I nervously smiled. "Here," he gestured the diary in my direction, "I believe this belongs to you?"
While awkwardly chuckling I extended my hand and received the book. "Ah! Yes, this is mine. Thank you so much for coming to give this to me," I blushed, trying hard to hide my nervousness.
"No, no. Don't mention it!" Mr. Scott grinned. I continued to walk ahead as he trailed behind me. I let out a quiet sigh. Thank goodness, I don't think he read anything. Just before I turn the corner to exit the building, Mr. Scott grabs my wrist and pulls me to the wall. He slammed both hands against the wall and placed his knee between my thighs. My entire body feels like it has been set on fire. I gasp and look up and his smug face. My mind goes blank as Mr. Scott brings lips closer to my face, brushing my cheek, before finally bringing them closer to my ear…
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Nicole, you should really get that lock fixed on your diary, you know? Wouldn't want any ole' body reading that filth now, would you?" Mr. Scott teased as I felt his breath run down my neck. I can't even begin to form words, so I cautiously shake my head in agreement.
"No… I want to hear you say: Yes sir, Mr. Scott," he casually demanded. I'm beyond embarrassed. How many pages did he read? My face is burning and it's not the only thing that's hot right now. Mr. Scott lets out a deep breath and pins both of my arms to the wall.
"I'm getting impatient, Nicole," he states under his breath and nibbles at my ear. I inhale sharply and try to fully grasp the situation at hand. I gather myself before pleading,
"Yes- Yes sir, Mr. Scott…"