Flashing at an All-Hands Conference

Everything happened so fast. First, there was a woman's scream, followed by another. Then gasps. The horrifying realization of what I'd accidentally done hadn't started sinking in before a man yelled angrily, and then our boss Carolyn took charge and muted everyone on the videoconference. She was quick to act - there were over fifty people on that call.

Immediately, I pushed the laptop away so the camera didn't face me and straightened out on a reflex, tucking my rapidly deflating dick back into my sweatpants. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Jesus, I was so fucked. It was a freak accident, I didn't realize my camera was on! It wasn't supposed to be on, it wasn't my fault!

"Everyone, we'll reschedule this meeting," our boss said impatiently. She sounded angrier by the second. "Steve, YOU STAY on the line," she said threateningly and everyone heard, so I left the camera on. The panic was setting in.

Those who hadn't left by now started getting kicked off the video call one by one, Carolyn barking orders at people before she dismissed them. Someone was told to reschedule, another person was told to brief HR, get them on standby. Her personal assistant was to reschedule a medical appointment. My ears were burning and I felt flushed. There was no escape out of this, I was going down in flames.

In moments I'd receive a blast furnace of anger directed at me, and the dread multiplied. For now I just felt my career's dying breath leaving its miserable body. I was about to be fired, my career literally ending in a cratering flash. Please, not now, I wasn't ready for it, I thought to myself. Thoughts of having to scrub the last few years off my work history and trying to explain the gap were crushing as I watched people's names wink out of the call, counting down to my end. That inevitability felt so sickening.

It wasn't my fault, I thought miserably. It was this fucking plague! We were thrust into this working-from-home thing so suddenly without any preparation or training, and then rooms disappeared. The meaning of rooms, that is.

We did everything from the same exact fucking chair, day after day. There was no separation between moments any more, between events, between working and not working. Habits and boredom just bled through that barrier on their own. Work in this chair, watch movie in the same chair, get bored and jerk off in the chair, order delivery and eat in the same fucking chair day after day. Fuck!

Deep inside I knew I was through, but I marshalled a few thoughts trying to explain myself, how I didn't do it on purpose and was so so so very sorry. Rehearsing my points over and over, I was going to try to explain all of this and beg for mercy. Fucking camera was supposed to be off, I didn't mean to do that, I'd never, I pleaded inwardly. Finally, it was just me and Carolyn left on the call.

"Young man," she turned to me with an intensity of a thousand burning suns, "your work from home privileges have just been revoked."

Despite the crippling shame of what I'd just done, the way she said it made it seem like there was a seed of hope. Maybe this dark situation was salvageable, I hoped. Maybe I'm not going to get fired. Maybe I'm just going to get disciplined, I silently hoped and begged no one in particular. Yet even as I did that, I cringed because the office meant hours of commute a day and that'd be a hardship I wasn't prepared for. The lockdown did have its positives, I thought bitterly, mad at myself for squandering it. Remaining absolutely still, I waited patiently and hoped I came off sincerely deferential.

"You WILL do exactly as I say," she enunciated.

"Yes ma'am," I replied, still feeling like a freight truck hit me. I'd do anything to get out of my situation. Notification popped up that Carolyn turned off the meeting recording.

Then the weirdest fucking thing happened.

Carolyn wore a classy green top with a muted undershirt and a pearl necklace for the all-hands on deck meeting. Her classic professional look, the one that conveyed how she always meant business. Impeccable presentation with her signature black-rimmed glasses.

But that's all she wore.

She was entirely naked from the waist down and my jaw dropped in shock when she pushed her laptop away for a wider camera angle and squatted on her office desk, her pussy right in the lens. She was shaved down there and her clit looked slightly blushed from the furious rubbing she was giving herself and the videoconference framerate couldn't keep up with her hand.

"You WILL pull your dick out RIGHT now," she commanded me and adjusted the laptop lid so I could see both her pussy and her face. I was still so disoriented from... from everything. From finding out she wore nothing down there, from her intensity, from my slow realization that I am not in trouble anymore, from watching the lady who was my boss masturbate.

"Say yes ma'am," she barked at me angrily, "that's all I want to hear you say."

"Yes ma'am," I said slowly.

"Louder," she admonished me for not doing it right.

"YES MA'AM," I said and nearly tripped over myself pulling my sweatpants down, my dick inexplicably already hard. It had gotten the message faster than I did.

"Now stroke it for me," she instructed and switched hands, rubbing herself right in front of me. This was so fucking crazy; I could not peel my eyes off the screen for nothing, she was so striking. Yes, I always knew she was beautiful but I never explored what that meant because she was at the top of the pyramid and unapproachable. She was our boss, the person who ran the entire company. I was always intimidated by her and never once did I think that she had a warm side, or that she might be a pervert.

"You are in so much trouble," she threatened and stuck a few fingers in her pussy, "oh, you fucked up so bad young man," she strung the sentence out.

"STROKE IT HARDER," Carolyn barked at me and I picked up the pace.

"Now here are four things that are going to happen," she started directing me and switched hands again, rubbing her clit furiously, "first, you will cum for me." She started counting off on fingers with her free hand. It felt so hot seeing and hearing her say this, my dick felt like it got painfully harder. With certainty, I knew I would obey; my body felt like it was buzzing all over. So fucking surreal.

"Then," she continued counting with another finger, "you will go get red vinyl tape and tape over your camera." I cringed, because that safety precaution was so low-tech and could've saved me so much pain. Fuck, she knew her business, I realized. This is something I should've been doing all along because I saw my coworkers accidentally turn or leave their cameras on all the time. Her insight into this impressed me because even after the fuck-up I wouldn't have thought of it. "Red," she explained, "because black will blend in the bezel and you won't see it and then you might forget to put it back on after you need it." This bizarre mix of inappropriate and professional was fucking with my brain.

"Third thing," she added a finger and told me ominously, "is you will get your suit ready for tomorrow morning, neat and ironed. Polished shoes, tie in a full Windsor knot," she kept going.

Fuck, I couldn't stop staring at her pussy. She was so hot. And it was so hot that she was so imposing and took charge as inexplicably as this. "You will also find your security badge," she said and that's when I cringed and got distracted, "because you're going to need it." Am I going to be asked to turn it in, I wondered? Fuck, fuck, I thought I was out of the woods. Why was this happening? I was so confused, so disoriented. That feeling of threat halted my slipping into relaxation.

"KEEP STROKING," she yelled at me and I picked up the pace.

"LASTLY," she put emphasis on the word and counted off with the fourth finger, "is you will come to the office first thing in the morning and FUCK. THIS. PUSSY." She stuck those counting fingers inside and fucked herself with them between word pauses, and oh my god being commanded like that was so indescribably hot. This was so inappropriate but in the moment all I felt was a continuation of my earlier horniness before the incident and my brain couldn't engage.

Jesus, fuck. I moaned without meaning to. The confidence she exuded was so dangerously exciting and I was surprised at how receptive I was to it. At no point in time was she unsure whether I would do any of this. She just knew what power she held over me in this moment and it's as if she knew how desperate I was to comply. Because I was.

"That's right. That's what happens to misbehaving boys," she said and kept rubbing herself.

Fuck, this was so hot. She was definitely beautiful and definitely unapproachable, I realized. I was attracted to her all these years, but too intimidated to even think it out loud. And now this was happening. My heart was racing.

"For punishment, you WILL come to the office for a whole calendar week and fuck this pussy every day," she switched hands again. Her fingers were a blur on the terrible camera. Oh my god. My heart was going to give out. To go from a fuckup to a fuck in a blink of the eye was on another level. In moments I would explode. I stood up and brought my cock closer to the camera and she paused playing with herself and watched and the moment the first spurt of cum shot out, she started breathing out loud and continued touching herself but firmer. She moved the camera in for a closeup, and within seconds she too was clearly orgasming. She came to a rest, spreading her lips wide with two fingers.

Then, as abruptly as the whole thing started she closed her laptop and ended the call.

Fuck. What just happened? Was Carolyn for real? No, I didn't just imagine this but I felt so disoriented, blindsided really. Did she do this for a spontaneous power trip just because no one would believe me?

After cleaning up I checked my work email and cringed. There were vague memos being sent out about abuse of work from home privileges and the updated code of conduct and disciplining and terminations. That response was sent way too fast, as if they were just waiting for it to happen. Goddammit, I was so screwed. Few people sent their condolences, few tried to calm me down. "It happens," a woman wrote and offered to be my reference. One just wrote a question mark, which I didn't even want to interpret. God, I felt so bad for what happened. I wasn't a creep, and this made me look like one. How could I look these people in the eye again? My power trip theory was sounding more realistic by the minute.

Career-ender meets bigfoot. Carolyn's mindfuck landed me on the moon and I stood up and tried to walk it off but it didn't help. The swirling conflicting ideas and the post-orgasmic calm just didn't mesh and for the first time in my life I felt genuinely lost. Completely disoriented, with no one to give me advice but ghosts.

On a whim, I decided to clear my head and went for a drive.

Two hours later I made it to the swamps of the Eastern Shore and slowly made my way through the windy lowland roads. As I nervously watched for deer in the curves, I stared at the distant copses and reflected how ten years ago those were trees and today they were ghost forests. Nearer trees were all clearly dead and rotting but all the trees in the far distance were just as dead, just faded evergreens with pale white trunks sticking out of the rising brackish water. Just like me, I wallowed.

Two forgotten bridges later in literally middle of nowhere I arrived at my spawning grounds island. As I drove through the old roads, I remarked to myself how there were eight crabmeat packing houses around when I grew up, and now it was down to just two. Combination of overfishing and population loss and kids like me running off and not wanting to be watermen. Was this my alternative? Just walk away from a college degree and career and my apartment? Trap and sell jimmies week after week instead?

Pulling into my pop-pop's overgrown and long-abandoned yard at the south point, I parked and just stared at the expansive horizon. Seawater on all three sides of the property as far as the eye could see. Sun was high up and with thick humidity in the air and a distant squall casting shadow off to the northwest it made the entire scene look surreal as if it was a 19th century landscape painting placed behind bulletproof glass. The kind of painting very familiar to me.

City people just wouldn't understand this incongruity, the decrepit shacks and this amazing shimmering view. If this place wasn't so far out of the way, it'd be covered in concrete and condos. Was this my future, I wondered? It offered endless hardship with a perpetual suntan, but no fucking videoconferences or rooms here out on the water. Close the estate, pay dad's back taxes and then it's just a bed, boat, shoals, unmarked channels and a blue sky.

The sunset came after a time and I watched masses of herons fly toward the safety of their colony island up west, settling down for the night. No, there was no future here, I realized. No, I'd already made my own way and I'll just have to eat shit to keep it. This island can sink slowly without my help.

The next morning I showed up at the office punctually, nervously clutching my security badge but determined to see it all through. The commute was shorter than usual, and I was surprised that I was surprised at that because- duh, the tech sector largely started telecommuting and roads weren't as jammed as usual. So stupid, I felt about myself.

Amazingly enough, my suits still fit. I was sure that despite that weird... conference finish, I was going to be asked to turn in my badge and be escorted out into the lobby in some bizarre sharply-dressed ceremonial sendoff. The badge expired and the armed guard stuck a visitor sticker on my jacket after checking my ID, and that made me feel even less permanent. Shit, I felt far more nervous than yesterday waiting for an ass chewing. This was still a precarious situation and still I couldn't fully comprehend what was going on aside from that I royally fucked up and that wasn't debatable.

After a few minutes of waiting during which I wondered about that question mark email, the masked secretary knocked on the door and led me into Carolyn's office. Carolyn immediately sent her out with several instructions, pick up copy from the print shop, go turn in something and then pick up her dry cleaning. She kept going for awhile and the assistant filled a page in notes. Carolyn even knew what she wanted for lunch, that early.

When the secretary closed the door behind her, Carolyn just stared at me and was apparently composing her thoughts so I thought it best if I stood there and waited quietly. She really... I sighed quietly... liked to boss around. After we heard keys jingling on her secretary's way out, Carolyn bit her lip for a few seconds and then started chewing me out.

"Sit down," she pointed at a chair in front of her. I did.

"Explain yourself. What was going through your head?"

Fuck. That bizarre cam session didn't mean I was off the hook, I cringed inwardly. "Carolyn... I am so, so sorry," I began. In a few broken sentences I tried to explain the whole lockdown blur and me losing context and boundaries disappearing and my unintended disrespect...

"NO," she stopped me harshly and I froze, "what were you jacking it to? What were you stroking that hard cock for, hm? Were you looking at porn? Hmm? Has no one been taking care of it for you? You were thinking about pussy, weren't you?" she accused me, "couldn't focus on anything but sticking it in?"

That was not how I expected this conversation to go. Even after the weird... what the fuck happened yesterday anyhow? After that weird, "moment" I still wasn't sure where I stood. And now she was apparently encouraging my behavior and prying, prying so much. It gave me goosebumps.

"Uh, no,..." I tried to explain, "... I mean, yes..." as I watched her get up and walk over to me slowly. She stepped between my legs, spreading them apart with her right foot and knee.

Some kind of a weird electrical pulse shot upward through my spine. God, it felt so erotic to feel touched. The proximity was... unbearable. Had it really been that long since physical contact, I wondered? Was I just rotting at home all this time and didn't notice it? Awareness of her body being so close overwhelmed all my senses.

She put her hand on my chest and ran it inside my jacket, and I realized that regardless of the circumstances I would have let her do it in any timeline. Or do anything to me. This was civilization making its unstoppable way to the untamed through force and allure, I thought. Her legs intentionally squeezed mine between her knees and she breathed out loudly, clearly excited.

"Did you get the red vinyl tape?" She asked me very casually and all I could do was nod.

"Good," she said, and just as casually reached down to fondle me through my pants. "You'll look like an asshole for a few months until everyone forgets, but they WILL forget," she told me while staring into my eyes. Her rich perfume convinced me of what she was saying.

She kept stroking my chest and my crotch and the effect was that I became erect in seconds. This was all still so uncertain but her body language and touching was so welcoming, it forced me into anticipation mode. Mostly, I felt the excitement of the unknown even despite the obvious physical hints and her verbal directness, because this sort of thing never happened.

She gazed into my eyes while she did this and asked for details, "What kind of pussy were you thinking about yesterday?" When I hesitated, she goaded me. "Was it older pussy? Younger pussy? Asian pussy? SPEAK UP," she commanded.

"Um... just pussy," I confessed and it felt so weird to share that with someone. It wasn't as if I was after anything specific yesterday, I just wanted anything to break me out of the boredom.

"DETAILS, young man. Am I being clear?" she asked loudly.

"Yes ma'am," I said and realized that it felt hot being talked down to like this. It was a scary realization and I was completely unprepared for it. This felt novel.

"R...redhead pussy," I stammered and when she gave me a sharp stare, I expanded lamely, "...outdoors."

"Redhead, huh? Too bad I'm a blonde then and we're indoors," she said and then stabbed me with a reminder of yesterday's fuckup, "The young woman who screamed was a redhead though," she mused and kept rubbing it in, "you blew your chance with her."

Carolyn knelt in front of me, with my leg still firmly trapped between her legs. She straddled it firmly, forcing me into a reclined manspread. Her two hands unzipped me and pulled my cock out and freed it of underwear expertly, I realized. Nothing snagged. "Fucking prudes," she commented. Just as casually as she unzipped me, she leaned forward and started blowing me without a preamble. "Like they've never seen a cock before," she added after a few seconds and continued sucking my dick. Her mouth felt warm and soft, the one-in-ten kind of good.

Her legs were wrapped so tightly around mine and her skirt rode up by itself; I felt her grinding against my leg, sliding just a little bit up and down, rubbing her crotch off it. Her mouth felt so amazing, warm and wet and loving, and the fact that she just took it without an invitation excited me. Yes, she was obviously deviant, but it wasn't just that. She decisively spared my budding career history in that split second it took for her to register what'd happened yesterday and she had my gratitude. I would've given her anything she wanted for her understanding. Her level of empathy was astounding, I realized because all she'd said and done made it seem like she didn't want me to feel bad. Was it empathy? Had to have been. Right?