by Jamie Knight
Ideas danced mockingly in my head like demented sugarplum fairies, taunting me with their very existence. I was a classic, or indeed cliché, example of a writer who couldn’t write because of writer’s block.
The ideas were there; there was no mistake about that. It was just that when it came to actually putting them down, none of the words I thought of were right. At least according to my own perception.
The greatest obstinate on my way to finishing something was my own kneecapping perfectionism and self-doubt. Abandoning my labors like the anti-Hercules, I decided to instead get ready for work.
The semi-suit I’d worn the first day had hardly turned a head. Not that that was a bad thing. In some ways it was a positive, as logic dictated it would be difficult to fit in while standing out.
I didn’t want to be celebrated, just noticed, though it was more than possible that being apparently invisible had more to do with my novelty than any instant dislike on the part of my co-workers. At least some of them.
I knew at least two other people were there on the same terms that I was, which was basically that we were to be gum to clog up the leak in the dam until things settled down. It only stood to reason that they would also be angling for a permanent position when the magical elf dust cleared.
It was a situation which couldn’t help but lead to a sense of competition and misplaced animosity in some people. I was quite sure Del Ray had noticed me, but I wanted him to notice me even more. And I wanted to make friends with my co-workers.
I wondered about dressing sexy. Something to really grab attention and make me get noticed. Sure, some attention would be negative, but it probably already was in some corners. I couldn’t be too obvious about it or there would likely be rumors that I fucked my way into a permanent position outside the editor’s bedroom.
To no great surprise, I chickened out and went with the shin-length, plain black dress that I used to wear to church. I considered adding the hat that went along with it to my ensemble but decided against it, the resulting look turning out to be far too absurd. Not quite as absurd as the pathetic old custom that men absolutely had to take off their hats before going into church and women wouldn’t be allowed in without one, but it was a close second.
The toaster clicked, ejecting the sugary goodness of slightly off-brand toaster pastries, going me a taste of the college life without the crushing student debt to our government overlords. My mouth full of strawberry and icing, I headed out to the bus stop.
Jack Frost took a good-sized chomp at me as I waited by the sign, my nipples getting to be more like diamonds with each passing second. There had been a bench here at one point. I had overheard the legends about it by some veteran bus riders who were talking about it the day before. I wished it was still here.
As I passed under the bridge for the second time, no less wowed then the first, I wondered how many trips it would take before the architecture of New York would stop even being noticeable. I hoped never.
An impression I would have very much liked to shake was the nagging if quiet sense of doom when approaching my place of work. I was given to understand that a lot of people weren’t exactly thrilled about going into work, though it seemed unlikely that many would see the office as a potential harbinger of doom.
I’d seen other towers before. Most of the ones in Uptown didn’t really bother me. It was clear that there was an element of ‘yikes’ to the Pigeon building in particular that could only be the result of special effort. Or my Tolkien-addled imagination.
Sign-in went in smoothly today, Sam’s quick and courteous service making it less of an obligation than a pleasure. I was pretty sure I caught him eyeing my chest as I bent over to actually put pen to page, but I couldn’t blame him really. They really were right there, and I didn’t think he could see much through the layers of black cotton.
The first day had been pretty easy, mostly consisting of the staff meeting at which the assignments were given out. Being the nerd that I was, I didn’t get a bit of actual work done on the manuscript that I was meant to be reading, by an author named Scott Butcher, deciding instead to do prep work first. Prep work which mostly involved looking the author up on Wikipedia and reading a spoiler-heavy synopsis of the previous books on his list.
A bit of an oddball, Scott Butcher didn’t seem to have any series, only stand-alone books and relatively short ones at that. The longest tome bearing his name was a relatively scant 500 pages, despite it being listed under High Fantasy, a true enough moniker and probably the best in terms of marketing.
If it were to be called what it was, a grimdark slash fest with blood and carnage nearing the dizzy heights of splatterpunk horror, the potential audience would have been limited. From what I understood, 14-year-old boys didn’t tend to be the biggest readers of fiction.
The book seemed like a weird counterpoint to the holiday cheer, with the office decked out in seasonal jollification. Then again, the book, if accepted, wouldn’t be published for months and Christmas releases were a trend for a while. It mostly applied to movies, but it was there. Ultra-violent movies like Gangs of New York were even released on Christmas Day to cash in on the novelty.
Getting down to work and planning to read at least a quarter of the manuscript that day, I was up to my proverbial knees in gruesome gore and defiled maidens when there came a muffled knock on the exterior wall of my cubicle. I nearly jumped, not having seen it coming at all.
“Skye, right?” asked the person who poked their head in.
“Yes.”
“The boss wants to see you.”
I couldn’t imagine what Mr. Del Rey would want with me but judging by the crocodile grin on my co-worker’s face, I had a feeling that it probably wasn’t good. Hauling myself up from the desk, my legs no longer cooperating with the commands of my brain, I set out in search of Del Rey’s office.
The floor wasn’t that big and if I got desperate, I knew I could ask the receptionist. Outside help turned out not to be needed, though. Del Rey had the only official office in the department. Everyone else was either at the reception desk or packed into the cubicle farm.
Going by pure Vulcan-style logic, I started where I already knew there were doors. Sure enough, Del Rey’s corner office wasn’t far away from the boardroom, arcade or ping-pong court. Taking my fist into a ball and suddenly feeling very little, I rapped lightly upon his office door.
“Come in,” came the call.
Taking a deep breath of courage, doing my best to ignore the tight feeling in my belly, I entered the master’s den.
“Take a seat,” he offered, with a sexy smile.
I crossed my legs as I sat, despite there being zero chance of him seeing up my skirt. It was a trained reflex I still did even when wearing pants. The heat of my pussy neared the level of a furnace as I did so. I tried to stifle my moan.
“I just wanted to officially welcome you to the team. I didn’t get the chance yesterday,” Del Ray said.
“Thank you, sir,” I answered, feeling six years old again.
“Please, call me Simon.”
I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a bit more relaxed. There wasn’t a problem, and I wasn’t getting fired. Though I really had no reason to think I would be. My imagination was working overtime trying to come up with troubles before they happened.
“Did you bring donuts yesterday?”
“Yes. Should I not have?”
I suddenly wondered, too late, if there was some sort of office policy against bringing food for people to share.
“Oh, no, I encourage it. I was just wondering. Don’t worry too much if you don’t make friends immediately. It’s early on and it’s not you. The folks around here are just pretty tight-knit and mostly keep to themselves. It was like pulling teeth to get everyone into the same room for the Christmas Party.”
An unintentional giggle escaped me. The image was just too funny. I covered my mouth in embarrassment, but it
was too late.
“You have a really nice smile,” Simon commented.
“So do you,” I blurted, before I could stop the words from escaping.
The tingling sensation went from my pussy up to my cheeks as I blushed furiously, wishing for a rock to crawl under.
“Thanks,” he said, flashing said smile again and nearly knocking me over.
I was in awe of him. His looks, his charm, his easy manner. An army of butterflies fluttered all at once in my stomach, making me feel sick and giddy at the same time.
I’d thought I’d known what having a crash was all about. There were certainly enough descriptions of it around, and I was fairly sure I’d even felt it once or twice. None of it was close to what I felt at that moment, though.
I didn’t really believe in love at first sight, at least not in the fairy tale, insta-love version. And that really wasn’t what was happening. But there were stirrings of things that I felt would make both our lives pretty interesting. And I was excited to find out where it would lead us.
Chapter Six - Simon
My heart really went out to Skye, as the newbie on the block. I had some idea how she felt coming into a new office, where most of her co-workers had known each other for years.
Adding to her stress, no doubt, was the small element of competition. As it stood, I wasn’t sure I could keep anyone in a permanent position after the holidays, no matter how great they were. That was down to the money men in their shadowy masses, divining the future from the past by casting chicken bones.
At least that was how I saw the accounting and financial department it in my head. I always did have a vivid imagination. It was probably why I had gone into this line of work.
I did my best not to ogle Skye. It was difficult though, especially with that tight little dress she was wearing.
It was long, sure, covering her down to her shins at the hem and her wrists on the sleeves, the neck anything but plunging. Yet the dark material hugged close to her voluptuous body, accentuating every aspect. Especially the fullness of her breasts and the sweet curve of her ass. It was a big and nicely round.
I’d only caught a glimpse at first. Just a little peek as she sat down. It wasn’t until she got up to leave that I saw its full glory. And then there were her luscious thighs, just begging me to touch them.
She was just my type. And the more I saw of Skye, the more she seemed like a perfect candidate for my bed. Provided she felt the same, of course.
I knew I shouldn’t get with an underling, but I couldn’t help. I was used to taking what I wanted in life and right now I wanted Skye.
But I told myself to calm down and see where fate took us, because it would be inappropriate to rush things with her being so brand new, even though, from the way she looked up at me from under her eyelashes, I had the feeling that she wanted the same thing, too.
Plus, I didn’t even know how old she was. I wanted to make sure she was of legal age, even though I assumed she was.
It was a regular day at the office, other than there being a hot new employee. With the assignments handed out and the Secret Santas chosen, there wasn’t much for me to do. I tried my best not to fall into the idle executive stereotype, being paid obscene amounts of money for doing basically nothing.
Booting up the desktop computer that came with the office I checked my emails, doing my best to look busy. The computer had come with the usual tracking software to make sure it wasn’t used for any non-business-like activities.
Fortunately, the board members were all in their 60s and most of them wouldn’t know a web server from a serving tray and all of their cunning machinations were easily thwarted with a mid-range VPN. I was far from a ‘hacker,’ but I had been employing the assistance of ‘information technology’ since the late-90s and tried to keep up as much as I could.
In the technical sense it made me an ‘early adopter’ without having had any real intention of being one. It made me both sad and relieved that the modern youth seemed to have no idea who Steve Jobs was and mostly saw Bill Gates as the guy behind the charity foundation.
The spark was bright and clear. Searching out the message, buried under piles of promotions and other spam that somehow needed up in my inbox, I found it. Skye’s original application. It took some scouring but there it was.
Her date of birth. October 10th, 2003. She’d just turned 19 two months prior. At first I felt too old for her but it was only 11 years, I reminded myself. I’d just had my birthday as well and even more recently.
I was 30 but only recently and the age gap wasn’t really that big. Not if we had things in common. Despite my reservations, mostly imposed by society, Skye was an adult, after all, so I decided to give it a try.
I would go slow and see how things went. If she was interested, wonderful. If not, I’d live, though I had no intention of pressuring her into anything.
I tried to put Skye out of my head. If there was one thing I’d learned in my time on earth, it was that obsession rarely helped anyone involved. I wouldn’t even look her way until I knew with 100% certainty that she felt the same feelings I did. At least, that was the plan.
And now it was time for the cameras. No one was supposed to know about those.
I could just imagine the sales pitch. A slick seller in a company uniform assuring the owners that the cameras were the smallest on the market. The most effective mode of unseen surveillance.
Every floor had them. Sticking to the open areas that were public anyway, to avoid any legal issues in case they were ever found, the cameras gave a bird’s eye view of the cubicle farm and reception desk from various angles.
Another feature of the system was that they were digital, beaming the footage right onto the senior editor’s computer via a closed network.
The broadcast was easy to pull up, the full color feeds streaming in real time. There were six in all. Four on the farm and two on the desk.
I saw that Inga was reading as usual. A new looking copy of History magazine. There were times I wondered about her and what depths may lay beneath her efficient demeanor.
Why would she choose to be a receptionist when she clearly knew a lot about everything from her reading adventures?
And yet, she was not the one I wanted to see, so I moved on.
There Skye was. Working her way through a manuscript, taking notes as needed. Highlighting areas of note, either good or bad. Green hi-lighter for good, red for bad, yellow for questionable.
It had to have been her own system, the company dictating no such thing. I would be interested to see the manuscript when she was finished with it.
I was somewhat aware of the author she was reading and was impressed at how well she was working her way through it, assuming his current novel was anything like his previous work.
Then it happened. The curvy beauty leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms up over her head. It was a recognizable position when one had been sitting for a while, but it presented her breasts in a way that triggered an uprising in my pants.
The theater of my mind played the footage of me sliding my hands up her dress and squeezing those juicy breasts, first through her bra and then skin to skin after gently tucking the cups up under her. I would love the feeling of her warm, tender flesh under my gentle hands.
It might have been avoidable. There were several aspects that could have been different. I could not have seen the stretch of semi-seduction. My pants could have been of a different cut that didn’t get quite so uncomfortable when I was hard.
As it was, however, there was little else to be done. Easing down the fly of my fancy suit pants, I hauled up the mass of my rock-hard cock, the head coming up almost to my chest. It was an instant relief, though the open air only increased the feeling first kindled by the sight of sweet Skye.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was holding my cock, the shaft throbbing softly in my hand, and feeling grateful that my office door
was locked. I started out slow, trying not to overload, my mind still blank.
I was intent on doing what needed to be done. I would just take care of the problem and get to work. Yeah, and the Pope was about to become Protestant.
In my fantasy, I was in my room, sitting on the edge of the bed, my hard-on raging away in front of me. Skye looked almost shy. Keeping her eyes on the floor, only looking up at me occasionally, her gaze pulled directly to my cock, before blushing with a smile and looking back down.
It was almost like the sight of my raging member was too much for her to handle all at once. Getting within inches of me, Skye got down on her knees, her head bowed in reverence before me.
Tucking a hand under her chin, I lifted her head, so that I could see her face. Her eyes were closed but her mouth opened, her sweet tongue lying flat on her bottom lip. It was obvious what she wanted. And just as obvious that I wanted to give it to her.
Angling my cock just right, I spilled the head over and into her warm, wet mouth. She sucked cautiously at first. Wrapping her soft lips around the head around the head in a warm embrace, she focused her attention there, sucking on the head of my cock though it was a delicious lollipop, spiraling her tongue around it on occasion, just to mix things up.
I put my head back and moaned. Both on the bed in my head and on the office chair back in real life. My hand moved smoothly up and down along the length of my shaft. The pleasure was starting to build as the Skye in my head sucked me gently.
In my mind, she looked up at me, her beautiful eyes full of focus as well as affection. I stroked her cheek, and she nuzzled against my palm, starting to smile around my cock as she continued to suck me off enthusiastically.
I gently took hold of her ponytail to make sure she didn’t hurt herself, marveling at how long her hair was.
Stopping before I unloaded down her pretty little throat, clearly wanting the fun to last, she took my cock from her mouth, running long, loving licks from base to tip, keeping up the pleasure but not so much that I might cum. Her eyes burned into mine the entire time.