Coffee room at lunchtime is always too busy to be comfortable. Too many people, making too much noise and mess. And none worse than Jennifer. The tall thin brunette reminds me of a wiry scarecrow. All bone and lipstick. She spreads her salad across the small coffee table, talking loudly over the TV. I don't watch a lot of TV, but anything is better than her screechy voice complaining about how the drivers are rude. What does she expect? Sammy is there too. The owner's daughter. Short, big and always in control. Dressed elegantly as always. I've avoided confrontation with her. When I first started here, I watched her take down a driver who had been moonshining. She ripped him a new one in front of the entire staff, then fired him. She may seem small, but she can put the mechanics in their place quicker than a football coach after a fumble. Last time I saw her, she was with her father, an old man refusing to retire. He had been at one of Annie, my wife's business events. I remember sneaking little tacit looks of cheek flirtation with her as Annie was droning on about cost analysis and margins.
Jennifer is droning on about a driver she had problems with today, while adverts run on the TV. My eyes are drawn to its bright colors and vibrant footage, the husband is getting harangued by his wife, complaining about housework or something. Exasperated, he leans back and says, "I would if I were relaxed and well rested!", I say the words out loud at the same time. An absent reflex from familiarity. Jennifer stops mid-whine to stare at my impudence, like I'm a naughty nephew interrupting my prissy aunt.
I look down for a second, embarrassed and annoyed, before grabbing my coffee. As I walk out the door, I see Sammy looking at me with a covert chuckle across her face. Cute. I walk back to my desk where John is waiting for me. John is my boss. An incompetent man, who doesn't handle confrontations well. He's just dumped another stack of work on my increasingly full desk. It doesn't have to be done until next week, but just looking at it all makes me feel sick. I try to hide my feelings, big smile, good attitude, remember to listen. John is talking about all the things he will be doing this weekend. All I have to look forward to is another dreadful meet and greet and lots of discussions about business. At the house this time, so I'll be on cleaning duty and food prep all day Saturday as Annie "prepares" for her clients. John tells him to have a good weekend, a merciful ending, before finishing with "don't stay too late". Really? Talk about salt in the wounds.
Later... I stare at my screen blankly. Today was always going to be a long day, but as the sun starts to drop and the sky turns grey, I stare at the screen and the pile of work in front of me with unmerciful desperation.
Annie is used to it by now, this job may pay well, and give it gives me some real authority for the first time in my life, but I know she won't wait for me to make something of myself forever. I sigh. Recently Annie had been more of a chore than the exciting woman I first met, but she is part of my plan. No bank is going to give me the money to start my own business, and I backed her every career move. Even moved to Kansas for her job. She is so pretty, organized, orientated, the perfect wife. She works in a high-powered job, always taking me to work events in the most exclusive restaurants. And what do I do at these events? My job is to look good and say nothing. I hate going to them. We used to joke about her clients, making stories about their sad lives, but now, that was the only role I perform for her. The dutiful fiancée, the exciting side show that makes her look more interesting to her clients, and her wealthy clientele are the perfect investors for my idea. Plenty of money, plenty of trust, not very much interest in the details.
I can't stop aimlessly looking out the window, feeling trapped and exhausted, desperately wanting something to take me away from the humdrum office, and dull work. That's when Sammy walked in. I instantly imagine smacking her big ass, pulling at her long brown hair as my hips thump into her with a reassuring slap. She meanders around the desks as she greets me. I watch her slowly, almost demurely, creep across the office, her hand touching the tops of the monitors as she strolls. The cardigan, always kept so tightly around her torso when she deals with the drivers, now open, revealing a tight tee-shirt and lacey bra poking over the top. Her breasts wobble satisfyingly with every step.
I can't help but look. My cock can't help but look. I wonder what it must be like to have so much power over men that only good boobs can give. Annie's flat chest that barely moves when she rides me. My cock agrees, growing in my pants like an awoken dragon, tiredly wiping its one eye before rising for a stretch. She sits on my desk, leaning over to place a release on my keyboard. A little close, but it's okay. She has a gentle calming way about her. I wonder what she would do with a few tequilas in her, maybe a little more in her too.
"Is there anything I can do to bump this truck to the top if the list?", she seductively says. I get another eyeful of her curvy sexuality. Her hips, large and angled, her butt tightly covered in a skirt too tight for her. Blushing I tell her there's a lot to do and we have a full schedule, but I can't resist the opportunity to throw in a little counter flirtation.
