by Sasha Kale
"Thanks,” said Jen, as she started cleaning her desk. Putting her crap away. “That's just what I was hoping would happen right before my meeting with Devon Albright. Here I was I was praying to my fairy godmother that Bristol would barge into my office and throw paper in my face. And like a bolt of ugly lightning, ipso presto here you are.”
"Take it back."
Exasperated steam coming out of Jennifer’s ears." Take what back?"
The blue paper. obviously. "Your 'provisional authorization' for Deborah Ann Walcott."
"It's a done deal, sparky." Not really, but it would be soon.
"Well then undo it. And don’t call me ‘sparky.’" Sparky was what Johan used to call her. Bristol missed the days when Johan ran things because she was his favourite and thus had more power. Jennifer would never get away with this shit if Johan was still around. Goddamn coma shit.
Jennifer said, "Why do you care so much if she gets in without paying?" Then her cell phone rang. "Can I answer this or will you explode?"
Bristol motioned at the phone, knock yourself out, bitch. Pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a long flame from her white metal Zippo lighter. Mesmerized for a moment by the size of the flame. There is something biologically appealing about fire, she thought. Too bad Jennifer’s ancestors didn’t end up in a fire pit. I’d dance naked to that party.
Jennifer jabbered into her cell in a placating submissive voice. "Yes, sir. It's almost done, sir. Soon as I get back from a meeting Mr. Albright. (listening) Yes, the son, the father is still in a coma. Say hi to Dora for me, bye!" Slammed the receiver down and said to Bristol, "Stop smoking in my office."
"Cancel this Deborah Ann charity thing and I'm outta here."
"You just don't want another client that isn't rich." The implication being Bristol would receive no tips or extravagant gifts for acting as Deborah's fantasy concierge.
"So what?"
"So you're greedy and that makes you a bit of a jerk."
"I'm an effective employee!"
"You're a drama queen and you're afraid of bears even though you live in downtown Toronto where the only bears are locked in the zoo. Now if you'll excuse me I have a meeting. And that’s English for ‘get the fuck out of my office.’"
Jennifer grabbed her laptop and locked her desk. Went for the grey door. "Get out before I throw you out."
Snorting, Bristol got to her feet and blew cigarette smoke in Jennifer's face. Sized her up. Smirked. B had at least 10 pounds on J. "You couldn't throw a boxing match."
Jennifer resented her for how quick she came up with shit like that. Jen spent hours writing and rewriting emails only to end up deleting them. Words never read by anybody. Messages in a bottle cast out into the internet. It took her forever to figure out the perfect thing to say. It wasn’t fair, she thought. I work harder at my job than she does at hers and life just hands her witty comebacks like that. Jennifer felt like an unappreciated sous chef and Bristol was a server making massive tips coming back into the kitchen to complain about something stupid. Servers are just like concierge workers, Jennifer thought. Goddamn drama queens. Oh, we forgot a side of sour cream? Oh my god, what a travesty, it must be the end of the world. How difficult it must be to get it yourself. Fuck my life. Thank God I have a boyfriend who still enjoys fucking me. If it wasn’t getting any dick I’d probably blow my fucking brains out. //thoughts collected
"You need to get laid," said Jennifer. "That's what your problem is. You spend all day running errands and watching other people fuck that you forget to pencil in any Bristol time."
"I'm sorry, I was under the impression we were here to do our jobs." Bristol put on her serious face. "What you're doing is outside the scope of accounting, and you know it, bitch."
B moved out of the way as J locked her office door. Time for the last word. J suddenly coming up short. Wondering if maybe this thing with Deborah was a bad idea. What if Devon goes nuts and fires me? I can't lose my condo I just repainted that fucker. Who’s gonna fuck me if I’m living in my car?
Bristol poked her finger in Jennifer's face. "That's what I thought."
Bristol admitted Jennifer had a point
It had been months since Bristol had fucked anything except the streams of water coming out of her shower head. Couldn't even remember where her vibrator was. Didn’t I use it Sunday? No, Sunday I was trying to rent a horse for that cowboy thing and that bitch who owns the chip wagons railroaded me into getting a donkey. Saturday? No Saturday was the reception for the investor’s group. Friday? Shit. I can’t remember anything these days. If my brain is floating in a vat I hope somebody taps on the glass. Wake up, bitch!
Bristol said, “Fuck!” and viciously kicked a water cooler. The plastic base shattered and big jug hit the floor and filtered water glug-glug-glugged into the carpet. “Shit!” She straightened the jug just as this kid, Joey, from IT stuck his head into the hallway and looked around. Saw Bristol and yelped. Vanished back into an office he wasn’t supposed to be in. On the door it said: REGINALD VAN HOIT. He ran the accounting department.
"Hey, wait a minute."
Joey closed the door and twisted the lock.
Bristol was already ticked and Joey just kicked her into raging bull-mode. "Open the door, you little computer rat." //bang bang bang
"Pretty busy in here!"
More banging coming from Bristol's side of the door. Joey knows he's caught. Scrawny Joey with not an ounce of muscle on him. The IT department is forbidden from working on someone’s computer while they're on vacation. This was a total breach of protocol. Maybe if Reginald didn't break his computer every two weeks, Joey thought, they wouldn't be in this mess. Backlog repair orders and installations coming out my ass. Boss says get it done, Joey, like I'm some kind of—"
"I hear you muttering in there!"
"Dang it."
"Open the door, circuit-boy, before I call in a channel three."
She meant security detail. Shit. Okay we make it look like an accident. Joey placed the computer on its side. Not thinking straight, he grabbed a potted plant and dumped it into the motherboard. He clamped his hand on his mouth and said, "Oh my God, I'm so dead."
"Last chance!"
He opened the door and Bristol brushed past him. Closed the door behind her and locked it again.
Gulp.
She had 10 years on him. Fifteen company years. Bristol was basically a legend in the concierge circle and Joey was nobody. "How's it going, uhh, miss Bristol?" he stammered. I’m so dead.
"What are you doing in here?"
Roots of the plant stuck out of the computer like a tree monster burst out of a robot stomach. Total disaster. Dirt in the keyboard. Dirt on the carpet. Dirt fuckin’ everywhere. Remember your training, Joey. Be professional. "There was an incident with Mr. Von Hoit's workstation and he reported a—"
"Shut up."
"Okay then."
Finger in his face. Lawyer versus moron. "You're not supposed to be in here."
"Yes I am. I'm fixing this computer."
Bullshit. "You're saying Reginald von Hoit, who is right this minute surfing in Hawaii, flew in this morning, opened his computer, and dumped a plant into it."
Panic. Face frozen like a snowman left to melt in the middle of the road. "Uhh..Dang it?"
"Dang it, indeed." Bristol pointed at the leather office chair. "Take off your utility belt and take a seat."
"Okay then."
Bristol pulled the guest chair around the desk and sat down beside him. She spun his chair to face her. Closed the blinds. Pulled out her good-cop-bad-cop cancer-inducing tool kit. Cigarettes are good for a moment like this. Everybody relax and take a breather, so to speak.
"Thanks," said Joey, puffing on the cigarette. Calmed down a tad, but smoking like he was on death row. Sunken eyes of the walking dead. Two hours to midnight and the electric chair. Whole company stands around watching him get zapped for breaking the rules. Nice angles on his chin though. Like a construction worker fro
m a 50s Camel cigarette poster with a surreal slogan like: More doctors smoke camels than any other cigarette.
Bristol the Legendary Office Bitch said, "Lucky for you, little rabbit, it was me that caught you. See, I can relate to the plight of an overworked department. Only so many hours in a day, am I right?"
He nodded as nicotine into the angst of losing his job. Noticed that up close Bristol wasn't so scary. She was actually pretty hot for a cougar. Nice tits, for sure. You can see the color of her bra under that navy blouse. Red is a great color. Joey felt his cock stir. Hoped his cigarette wasn’t laced with Viagra or some shit. You never know with this place.
Then fingers snapped at him. "Pay attention."
"Sorry."
"I want to play Let's Make a Deal." Bristol unfolded her legs. Her black skirt was short, but hers and Joey’s chairs were shoved so close together he couldn't see if she wasn’t wearing panties. He hoped not. Loved the look of pussy. Had a huge collection of pictures on his computer at home. Liked the shots from the rear the best. Girls on their hands and knees with their butts just floating there.
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not if you want to keep your job."
"Okay then."
"In exchange for me not ratting you out I want two things. First, you never say 'okay then' in my presence ever again. Second, and this might sound a bit strange, but it’s been a long week and without explaining why in too much detail, I would like you to fuck me over this desk until I cum. And you fuck me good, you get me, rabbit? If I don't cum, then you better pack your shit because tomorrow you're in line at down public services begging for unemployment with the rest of the shitbirds."
Joey was pretty sure this was against some sort of labour law, but he'd never been with an older woman before. All the crazy sex shit that went down around here had given perpetual wet dreams, so Joey said, "Okay then." Bristol tried to slap him but he caught her wrist and gave a good squeeze. He was stronger than he looked.
"First off though, I want you to get on the ground," she said. "On your knees."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Eat my pussy until it's dripping down your face." She hiked up her skirt and spread her legs. Black-lace panties but very see-through. He could see her bush. Great bush. An 80s bush but trimmed into a nice landing strip. He fucking loved that.
Joey obeyed. Put out his cigarette in the ashtray on Reginald’s desk. Rolled his chair out of the way and kneeled down on the hard plastic cover sitting over the carpet so the stupid office chair would roll easier. It hurt his knees to kneel but he didn’t care.
Bristol kicked off her heels and let Joey take her panties off. Slipped them down her legs and pulled them off her feet with this teeth. Sucked on her big toe for a minute because he thought that was what she wanted.
Nope. Bristol wanted head.
Joey dove in there and went to work. Had to hike her skirt up even more to get his face in there properly. It was like cave diving. Her skirt blocked out all the light. It was dark and warm. The heat coming from between her legs made his dick hard. He had to adjust it in his pants before it raked against his zipper. His hands went behind her and grabbed her ass. Then his face merged with her pussy. He explored her insides with his tongue. Tickled the flaps of her labia. Her pubic hair grating against his forehead. Spread her pussy wide open with his fingers. Licked her clit.
"Yeah just like that." She played with his curly hair. Clenched it hard and ground his head into her pussy. Made it hard to breath for him. All he could taste and smell was her Bristol. "Stick your fingers in. Eat my pussy, you, naughty computer rat. Fuck that feels good."
She was just so fucking wet. He started making slurping sounds and Bristol knew it was time to get fucked. She pushed his head back and saw how wet his face was. Like she’d thrown a cum balloon at him and it exploded on his nose. Woman cum everywhere. So hot.
“You want to fuck on the floor?”
“The desk.”
“There’s a computer on it.”
Bristol shoved it onto the floor. Clang. “Not anymore.”
“Okay just a second.” Joey had to take his pants and boxers off. While he did that Bristol got up on the desk and shoved the computer monitor aside. And the speakers. And that stupid coffee mug Reggy kept his pens and highlighters in. They were gonna get cum all over his desk but she didn’t’ care. Fuck Reginald. Nobody liked that guy anyway.
Bristol lay on her back and pulled her skirt up to her tits. Joey pawed at her breast but she wouldn’t let him touch. “No tits for you. Get to work on that pussy.”
“You’re gonna have to get closer to the edge.” He was right. This was harder than in the porno films. She had to scoot her butt close to the edge of the desk. Saw his cock but wasn’t too impressed. Bristol watched people fuck in fantasy suites seven days a week for years. She had seen some impressive dick and while Joey’s was bigger than average but he was no bull. Not like Devon whose cock she admired on security footage she wasn’t supposed to have. Devon’s cock was bigger than God’s cock. She was sure of it. It had to be. It was huge. And so thick.
As Joey pushed inside her she imagined it was Devon fucking her. “Hold my legs up so you can go deeper.” The legs went up, and she pushed them together so she couldn’t see Joey’s face. Much better.
He fucked her with the skill and ferocity of a 19-year-old computer nerd. That is to say, it wasn’t great. More clumsy than anything. But he’d given her head and that was good enough. Bristol hadn’t fucked in a while. She’d already cum while Joey was eating her out but she hadn’t told him. Wanted to get fucked a bit before she went back to work.
Jennifer was right. This was exactly what she needed.
Joey came inside her and she messed with him by pretending she was pissed about it. Told him she’d be checking in on him from time to time to make sure he was following protocol. Then she kicked him out of the office and fingered herself until she came again.
Jennifer gave her presentation to Devon
And it totally bombed. If the look on his face was made of ice-cream it was droopy, warm, and topped with chocolate shoot-me-in-the-head sprinkles. It was almost a career fatality. Medics to conference room two, please. We got a junior accountant about to commit seppuku with the sharp edge of her laptop.
Jen was crushed. A dollhouse flattened by the foot of a brontosaurus. It was a blow to her self-esteem because she worked hard all morning on it and she was totally sure it was good idea.
Sliced-bread. The smartphone. Jennifer’s idea.
But Devon’s steely eyes just stared at her eyebrows the entire time making her nervous. Fingers drumming a beat only he could hear. Head turning when anything pretty walked down the hall. Slave-girls didn't usually walk naked through the first floor of the office complex, but the front office staff wasn’t by any means, ugly.
Conference room two looked exactly like conference rooms one and three. A big cherry table surrounded by tall black office chairs. 60 inch TV hanging on metal studs. Whiteboards and dry-erase markers. One of those Keurig coffee makers with disposable pods that’s allegedly killing the environment one cup at a time — which some people will tell you is a small price to pay for Jamaican Me Crazy. An island treat with coconut flavour that will have you or your guests pleasantly surprised.
Jennifer was cute in a pouty kind of way, thought Devon. Some guys are into that but not me. I don't know what Heather was talking about, "Don't fuck her in the conference room, Devon. Don't forget to sign the bank deposit, Devon." Jennifer is way too mousy for my taste. And like I would fuck somebody in the conference room. Glass walls where everybody can watch. It'd be like fucking in a fish bowl. Jesus this presentation is long. Like the Energizer bunny this one. Let's wrap it up. "Alright, alright, alright, shut up a minute," said Devon.
Jennifer squeaked. Panicked thoughts of being homeless rushed through her brain. He hates it. He hates me. I'm fired. I'm gonna be living in a paper bag. Worst of all Bristol is going to w
in. Win what? I don’t know what! Life!
Devon leaned back in his chair and flexed his chest. Listen: "We've never met before, in a professional setting, or whatever, but I remember you from the volleyball outing. This is different. If you worked on the third floor with the important people you would know this. Everybody knows this about me. I just can't stand this fuckin' business blabber shit. Long-term cost-savings projections shove it up your ass. Don't care about product synergy. Don't care about jargon. Just shoot me straight and tell me -- what the fuck are you talking about? The only thing I understood out that spiel was you want to do a pilot project." Jennifer wanted to start with something small and if it worked they’d go big. Right? Right. He noticed her breathing funny and told her to take a second. Rewind and start over.
Okay, she thought. We just need to talk to him like he's an idiot. No, he's the boss. Not the big boss. A boss. Calm down Jennifer, you stupid bitch. You've dealt with people in authority your entire life. It just so happens that this one looks like an actor who got lost on the Baywatch set. We explain it simple. Short words. PowerPoint can eat my butt. //thoughts collected
She threw her manila folder with all presentation printouts into the air and watched them float to the carpet. Not really sure why she did that.
"That was a bit dramatic."
"Sorry, I don't know came over me."
"It's like 28 degrees in here and you're clearly exhausted, it's not voodoo."
"Why is it so hot in here?"
"I told Heather to crank up the heat."
“What’d do you do that for?”
Devon shrugged. "Why does anybody do anything?" Truth is he wanted to watch her squirm a little. Traits of the father and all that jazz. But this was taking longer than he thought and now even Devon was getting uncomfortable. It was a hot and sunny 32 degrees outside. He should be in the pool working on his tan, not locked up this office babysitting a bunch of sluts and degenerate corporate whores. "Tell me what you want from me."
