by Mac Flynn
"Have you finished?" her supervisor sharply asked.
"Not yet. Are you sure you want me to stay longer?" She nodded at the small pile which remained. "I can finish that up tomorrow morning and have it on your desk by then."
"If you don't have the folders done by now, merely leave them on your desk when you're finished." She ruthlessly put on a pair of gloves. Sam was almost afraid she wanted to choke her with her bare hands. She leaned in and Sam leaned back. "And you'd better finish quickly."
"Or else?" She felt there was some foreboding consequence waiting for her.
Winkle's scowl deepened, but she left without another word. It left a bad feeling on Sam as the office became quieter with each farewell of her coworkers. Lights were shut off and the cubicles were darkened for the night. She hurriedly got back to work, but any sort of noise startled her from the task. She couldn't get away for a good half hour after her shift was supposed to end, and by that time she was the last one left.
Sam was ecstatic when she was able to put the last of the folders in the done pile. She stood up and her eyes darted over the floor. All was quiet while she quickly put on her coat and slung her purse over her shoulder. Every shadow seemed to her a threat as she made her escape to the elevators. She frantically pushed the button to call the machine to her, all the while looking over her shoulder. Nothing moved, all was still and silent. It was eerie, and she breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator came to her floor. The doors opened and her breathe caught in her throat.
Mr. Davies stood in the elevator. He had that strange smile on her face. He nodded at her and swept his hand inside the space.
"Care to ride down together?" Sam would have refused but she couldn't think of an excuse fast enough. Besides, she thought it worse to wait for the next one and be on that creepy, silent floor.
"Sure." Her voice was shaky and she was careful to move to the far side of the elevator once inside.
His hand hovered over the buttons as the doors closed. "Which floor?"
"Basement, please." The doors shut and she was trapped inside with him until the bottom floor.
He pressed the button, but he didn't step back from the panel as they started the trip down. She was startled when he turned to her with that half smile and spoke to her. "Have a good day?"
"Um, yeah, it was okay." She didn't know what to say to him, not after what they'd done last night. Her face blushed and she squished into the corner. She frowned when he sighed and shook his head.
"I see Mr. Smith didn't do a very thorough job throwing off your suspicions," Mr. Davies commented, and Sam jerked back in surprise. "I must give him credit, though, he did a wonderful job considering the short notice and his inexperience in sowing buttons. Don't you think he did a fine job with your buttons?"
"I, um, I don't know what you're talking about," Sam replied. She nervously glanced up and noticed the camera above the numbers. There hadn't been any horrible consequences yet, but another tryst could finish off her job. Her nostrils flared as his musky smell began to permeate every inch of the elevator. There was no escaping it. Her breathing quickened and she nervously shifted her weight from one leg to another.
His eyes moved down her body. "No need to worry, we won't be interrupted." She was hoping for the exact opposite. "He also tells me you were following him earlier today. Is the kitty getting curious?"
That was the final straw. She wouldn't be trapped again. "I think I need to get off."
Sam went for the buttons, but Davies blocked her path. "Mr. Smith is taking care of the camera and guards, I need only stop the elevator." To prove his point he removed a set of keys from his pocket and inserted one of them into the lock on the button panel. When he turned the key the elevator stopped immediately. Now Sam was almost panicked, and he noticed. "No need to be so frightened," he soothed as he pocketed the key chain. "You enjoyed it last night."
"We can't do it again." It was the same excuse she'd given last night, but her job was still important to her.
When he turned to her she couldn't have been more squished against the elevator wall. "But you won't mind, will you?" His musky scent was all around her now. Her blouse was starting to tighten and her hips rounded out her skirt.
"We just can't." She sounded like a broken record, but it was the only argument she could manage. Her mind was a swirling mess trapped in a fog. She couldn't even do anything when he moved over and wrapped his arm around her waist.
"Hush," he softly commanded as he nuzzled her neck. His whisper scorched her skin while the heat in the elevator rushed up. She hissed when her breasts pushed against her shirt and her nipples brushed against her bra. His laughter echoed off her neck. "Doesn't that feel wonderful?"
Her shortness of breath meant she couldn't reply. His free hand slid up her leg. He teased the band of her skirt before reaching up and plucking at her straining buttons. One. Two. Three. They were gone and her breasts were released from one confinement. She was breathing hard now, and her breasts heaved up and down. He smirked when her hands grasped the rail at her back as he leaned down. He slowly ran his tongue along her luscious mounds and she let out a slow, aching gasp. She couldn't help arching her back to push her breasts closer to his mouth.
Davies moved back and chuckled at her disappointed whine. He pulled at her coat and purse, and she let him strip them off her. They fell at her feet and she flipped off her uncomfortable shoes. She shifted uneasily against the rail and her skirt slid up her wet, glistening thighs. She was aching for him to hold her, to touch her, and he was teasing her by just standing there watching her. She could see the need in his own eyes and in the front of his pants. He was torturing them both with his hesitation.
"Say it," he hoarsely commanded. She was confused. She didn't understand. He crept up to her and nibbled on her ear. "Say you need me." Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn't do as he asked, she wouldn't. She needed him, desperately so, but she wouldn't say it.
His resolve was breaking as his hands slid up the inside of her thighs. He rubbed himself against her and she groaned. Her hips matched his as he pushed her skirt up past her wet panties. They were moving faster, and their grunts and groans grew louder. She could feel herself climbing closer as he cupped her in his hand and began rubbing at her sensitive clit. She clutched on to his back as her soft groans carried into quick, heated breaths.
He couldn't take it any more, so he pulled his hand away and tore her panties down. His pants dropped to the ground with them and his hands grasped her butt cheeks. He pulled her up onto the railing and pushed into her heated, wet core. She threw her head back and screamed her joy as he began smoothly pumping himself into her. She grasped his head in her hands as her legs wrapped behind his back. They were joined in the dance as their heated bodies entwined. Each was pushing against the other as they neared their climax.
"Yes! Yes!" she chanted as she felt herself going over. Her walls clenched him tight as she tightly clutched onto him.
He pumped a few more times before she felt him come inside of her body. He leaned against her for a minute or two while they both panted away their exhaustion. Then, unwillingly, he pulled out and set her back down onto the floor. He fixed her skirt and buttoned her blouse as she tried to shake loose from the intoxication of his male scent. He took hold of her coat and purse, and stepped over to the elevator control panel. Before she knew what was happening the machine was on the move again, and was steadily taking them down to the basement.
"Perhaps this time I won't have Mr. Smith put up that charade for your benefit," Davies suggested. He politely handed her back her coat and purse, which she mechanically took into her arms. "But you should control your curiosity, at least for now."
That sounded like a threat, but she couldn't be sure. Sam was still in the daze of the aphrodisiac when the elevator reached its destination. The doors opened to the subterranean parking lot and Davies gently guided her out onto the pavement. He himself stepped back into the elevator and gave
her a low, elegant bow as the doors began to close.
"Until next time."
The doors closed, leaving her alone and confused. Sam stumbled to her car and managed to get it started. She swerved a little through the parking lot but didn't come close to anything else on the rest of the ride back. She safely arrived home, stumbled up to her second story apartment, and threw her coat and purse onto the couch. She felt physically and emotionally exhausted, and she stumbled into the bathroom for a much needed shower.
A short while later, standing in the hot, running water, Sam gently rested her forehead against the wall. She couldn't believe it'd happened again.
"I can't keep doing this."
He was getting more reckless. She didn't have the faith in Mr. Smith like Davies did to hide what they were doing, especially after noticing his last cover up job. She really didn't like the fact that they had tried to cover it up even from her. She had to get out of these turn of events which were turning into a vicious cycle. Maybe she should alert someone, one of the higher ups.
"Yeah, that'll solve everything," she muttered to herself as she stepped out of the shower. She was clean, but she still felt dirty. "Probably what that last girl did-"
Sam paused, then thought about what Slinky had briefly told her about her predecessor. She'd gotten into some trouble, too, with one of the management. Maybe she could find out more info on what happened to that mess. Probably Winkle had gotten wind of it and told her to get out.
Sam stopped in mid dressing when she thought of her supervisor's hostile behavior toward herself the passed two evenings. If Sam didn't know any better she would have assumed Winkle was jealous of her relationship with Davies. Two images popped up in her mind. One was of Winkle and the other of Davies, and she tried her hardest to imagine the pair together. Her imagination kept breaking down, especially when she tried to compute the age difference.
Finally Sam shook the images from her head. "An, she's probably just mad I got the job without her help."
Part 3 - Supplies Needed
Sam retired soon after her shower. Her sleep was restless and she woke up in the morning feeling groggy and tired. She shuffled her way through her nice apartment without thought and began to dress herself for the coming work day. She paused when she tried to clip on her bra. It wouldn't quite fit.
"What the hell?" she muttered as she struggled with the rear clasp.
The straps would barely meet at the back and she had a hard time catching them together. Even when she did, the cloth felt incredibly tight against her breasts. She weighed them in her hands and frowned. There was definitely something different about them. They were too heavy and too large. She rolled her eyes as a thought came to her mind.
"What am I? Horny all the time?"
She wrestled no more with her bra but now it was the shirts and skirts that caused her problems. Neither fit her very comfortably. She found herself jamming her hips down into a simple brown skirt and the sides barely reached together to button the top. The shirts were too tight around the center of her chest and she had half a mind to discard the bra and merely wear the shirt. It was so close to her skin she bet her breasts would be supported by her shirt alone. Her panties were also a problem she thought twice about whether to discard or not.
Sam was running late, though, so it remained only a suggestion for tomorrow. She hopped out of her apartment with one shoe in hand and another barely on her foot. She sped along in her car and reached her desk just as the clock on the wall ready nine. This was the second day in a row she'd almost been late. She had to stop doing this or it would become a habit. Then Winkle would definitely have an excuse to fire her.
Sam plopped down into her chair with a sigh of relief, and Slinky popped her head up over the wall. Her eyes were bright with excitement, while Sam's were tired and listless.
"I asked around about that strange guy yesterday. You know, the one you recognized out on the street."
"Wait a sec." Sam had to catch her breath first. She'd missed the elevator and ran up the stairs. She also hadn't had a chance for breakfast or her elixir of life, coffee. "Now what about him?"
"Turns out a few other people have seen him around, but they thought he was a client."
"So?" That wasn't entirely helpful, and she didn't feel entirely herself that morning. She really needed that cup of coffee.
"I guess that means you're right about that guy being around here." Slinky paused for a moment and leaned far over the wall. "You're looking different every single morning I see you. You do something to your hair this morning?"
"No, just had some trouble with my clothes this morning." Sam shifted in her uncomfortably tight apparel. "And thanks for believing me," she sarcastically added. This morning was just getting better and better. She felt like she was about to pop out of her clothes and the closest person she had to a friend needed positive proof to believe her story.
"Look busy! She's coming!" Slinky suddenly hissed. She quickly ducked down.
Sam didn't need to ask who was coming as she hurriedly grabbed the folder on the top and pretended to look through it. Mrs. Winkle came to the entrance of her cubicle with her perpetual frown on her face. Her beady eyes looked through those glasses as she did a close scrutiny of Sam's attire.
"Miss Olsen, you hardly look prepared for work," Winkle commented as she turned her nose up at Sam's appearance.
Sam blushed and shrank down in her chair. "Sorry, I think they might have shrunk in the wash." It sounded like a plausible reason, even to her ears.
"That sounds like an excuse," Winkle snapped. This lady's bluntness knew no bounds when it came to subordinates. "And don't you have chores to do rather than gossip with your coworkers?"
"Oh, um, yes, ma'am." Sam plopped the folder down and stood. "Where did you want these folders?" Her supervisor had instructed her to leave them on the desk, but not what to do with them the following morning.
"Not those, your other chores," Mrs. Winkle hissed as she waved away the pile.
"Other chores?" Sam's mind was working overtime trying to figure out what she was talking about, but she was drawing a blank.
"I believe Mr. Slink gave you a list to handle each morning." Her tone told Sam that. Winkle believed she was talking to a child. She kind of felt as helpless as a kid right now.
"Oh, right!" Sam scrambled around her desk until she found the list Mr. Slink had given her yesterday. "I didn't know when I should start them. I'll get to them right away."
"One of them is to supply the floor with coffee," her supervisor snapped. Sam wondered if she herself desperately needed some, too. "So for your own sake, I think you'd better."
Mrs. Winkle stormed off and Sam was left with a headache.
"Doesn't she ever lay off?" Slinky mumbled when their personal demon was out of sight and earshot. She peeked over the wall and Sam could see the hints of a wide smile on the end of her lips. "You know, I told my dad about us getting her off our tails in the supply closet and he had a big laugh over it." Slinky herself laughed, but more quietly than he'd probably done.
"If he doesn't like her so much, why hasn't your dad gotten rid of her?" It would certainly be a thorn out of her side.
"Apparently she's got a lot of inside information about how the company's run. You know, schedules and rules and stuff." She frowned and rolled her eyes. "Frankly I think she's got something on the bosses. There's no way anybody'd want to keep her around unless she was blackmailing them."
"Maybe." Sam looked at her to-do list and sighed. It wasn't very long but the items were a little necessary. The coffee making and fetching of donuts were at the top of the list. She waved the list in the air. "Did I take everyone's chores?" she asked her friend.
"Pretty much," Slinky replied with a shrug of her eyebrows. "I haven't heard anyone complaining yet, though. Everyone's pretty much too lazy to want to do all the simple stuff like making coffee and going for the mail." She took the list and made a cursory inspection. Her eyes widened
at the numerous lines. "Jesus, dad really did give you everything to do."
"Everything?" Sam couldn't really believe that was true. It was a lot of stuff, but maybe not everything.
"Well, I can't think of anything that's missing," Slinky informed as she handed back the chore list. Sam glanced over it and forlornly shook her head. "Want some help with it?" Slinky could see how tired she was and how little she cared to do the chores. "I could go get the donuts. I get some for myself, anyway."
"That'd be great." Sam managed a smile at her kind friend. She really appreciated Slinky putting up with her crankiness.
"Good, I'll be back in a few." She hastily pulled out a sign that read "Be Back In 10 Minutes" and put it outside her cubicle. "Oh, the list say any kind?"
"Nope, but you might want to get ones everyone likes."
"I'll try, but I'm not getting the butterscotch Jones likes." She was referring to the guy who sat close to the elevators. He was generally considered the first line of defense, or first one out, should anything go wrong.
"Yeah, that is pretty bad."
"All right, here I go." Slinky slunk down and maneuvered her way to the elevators. That left Sam with one less item on her list.
"Well, guess I'd better get that coffee and mail before someone important yells at me."
Sam supplied the zombies on the floor with their fresh, black juice, herself included, and went down to the lobby to pick up their mail. The man at the mail repository in the back of the first floor was a little surprised to see her.
"What can I do for you, young lady?" he inquired. The gentleman must have passed retirement several decades ago because he looked to be about eighty. He wore a gray outfit with matching cap and his thin strands of hair poked out from beneath the brim. He usually had a gentle smile, but right now it was puzzled.
"I'm here to pick up the mail for the nineteenth floor," she informed him. His surprise at seeing her and his question made her a little nervous.
"Where's Tanya? She's usually the one to pick this stuff up." Sam couldn't tell if he was disappointed or interested in the substitution. He was looking at her tight clothes with a raised eyebrow.