Her plea sounded empty even to her own ears. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her, but she was fighting it. She knew it was wrong, it could get her fired. She couldn't risk it.
"Let me show you."
With her pinned to the door by his body, his wandering hands slowly slid down her thin, tight shirt. They reached her hips and his fingertips hooked the bottom of her skirt. He slowly brought up the material to reveal her wet panties. His hands began to massage her quivering, naked skin along her inner thighs. Her breath caught in her throat when one of his probing hands reached up to cup her womanhood.
"Please." She didn't know what she was pleading for anymore.
She groaned when he rubbed his finger slowly, achingly slowly, against her folds. Against her commands her hips moved in rhythm with his hand. Her breasts pushed up against the door and her sensitive nipples scraped against her tight bra. She was in pure ecstasy as he moved faster and faster. He settled his chin on her shoulder and she could hear him panting. The sound only made her want him more as they moved and groaned together.
"Oh god," she moaned. She was getting closer to the cliff. She could feel herself almost there.
Then he stopped. Her eyes shot open when he lifted his head and pulled his hand away. She whimpered and looked over her shoulder. Her boss laughed as he moved back, leaving her without his warm body. She was covered in sweat and her skin was on fire. Her whole body was tense and hot. She couldn't think of anything else but him.
Her boss stood off close to the desk with a smirk on his face. Sam scowled, but then a grin slowly spread across her own lips. Two could play at this game.
Slowly Sam turned around. She arched her back to thrust out her large, swollen breasts and her skirt raised above her waist. She licked her lips as she slowly slid her hand down her breasts. She cupped one in her fingers and began to massage it, tweaking the hard nipple. Her groans caused his amused visage to crack. Now it was Sam's turn to smirk. Her hand moved to play with the top button on her shirt.
That broke his restraint. Sam didn't even seem him move before he was wrapped around her. His shirt was tossed to the ground and his hands were all over her. His frenzy fiercely turned her on as she moaned into his ear. He grunted in reply and she felt his hands slip into her skirt and grab hold of her panties. Both articles of clothing dropped to the floor. He pushed himself up against her and rubbing her soaked folds.
"Please!" she yelled. Now she knew she wasn't meaning to be let go, not out of the room, at least. She wanted release, needed it, but not that kind.
He growled, and his pants soon joined her panties. With a great show of strength he put his hands on her butt cheeks and lifted her up off the floor. She felt him now teasing her at entrance and she wrapped her legs around his waist to bring them closer together.
With a great thrust he pushed into her and buried himself deep. His manhood stretched her walls. He was almost too big for her. All sensations of pain fled, however, when he began the dance. He started out slow, sensual. His thrusts were long and aimed to rub against her clit. Her fingernails dug into his back and she moaned. That was the signal for him to go faster, and he obeyed her command with enthusiasm. She could hardly keep up as he began pounding faster and faster into her. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she moaned into his ear for encouragement. She could feel herself getting close to the edge again. She gasped for breath as she clawed at his back.
Sam lilted her head up when she felt the end coming. Millions of wonderful sensations tingled through her body. Her walls clamped down on him when she reached her climax. Brilliant lights blinded her as she yelled out her triumph. He pumped a few more times until he came inside her. Once, twice, then he was finished. He fell exhausted against her breasts. For a long moment the only sounds were their panted breathing, but then he chuckled. It was a low sound, so low Sam wasn't sure she really caught it. He pulled out and away from her, and gently she was lowered to the ground. Her skirt fell past her waist and he pulled back on his pants. His mischievous grin was back. Sam herself was a little dazed from the ordeal. She was still covered in sweat and the top of her shirt buttons were ruined. They were done with their fun and she felt exhausted for it. She wasn't sure where to go from here.
"That was far more enjoyable than I expected," he complimented as he swooped down and picked up his shirt. She didn't know how to reply. What she'd just done was reprehensible, but it had felt so good. He saw her doubts cross her face. "Don't feel any remorse, Miss Olsen. There will be other times like these where I'll need your assistance."
At his suggestive words Sam straightened herself and shook her head. "Sir, I...I don't think I should come back." It was the only right thing to do. "I think I need to leave."
"Certainly." He pulled a key out of his pocket and moved past her to unlock the door. He stepped aside for her to pass, and she tried to cover herself as decently as possible. She put her hand on the knob, but before she could leave he stopped her. "There's one last favor I need to ask."
"What's that?" she asked as she turned to him. His dark eyes stared at her with a strange light in them.
"Sleep."
Sam couldn't stop her eyes from growing heavy. Her legs buckled, but she was caught before she hit the ground. Then she lost consciousness.
Part 2 - Mechanical Troubles
Sam slipped away into a sleep with a long, sensual dream. The dream had him in them, with them together in a secluded park. There was a large house in the background, but they didn't care. They made love to each other anyway, and to hell with the house occupants. The emotions from their love-making were strong, even if Sam couldn't feel anything through the dream world. Sam could have stayed in there forever, but all good dreams come to an end.
The scene was marred by the arrival of a pink slip deliver by none other than Mrs. Winkle. The older woman's face was twisted back in a malicious grin, and she thrust the pink slip into Sam's face. Though she couldn't read it, Sam knew she was fired. You can't have fun with the vice-president and keep your job. She glanced over to Davies who had sat by her side, and he was gone. She alone was left to take the fall. Winkle stood lording over her and her grin became impossibly large. It twisted her face back and her eyes lit up with a dark, demonic light. She opened her mouth and cackled. The noise split the air with a shrill buzz and Sam clamped her hands over her ears. The noise didn't quiet, but just kept pounding into her eardrums.
Sam shot up in bed with a cold sweat across her forehead as her alarm rang its shrill tune. She smacked the off button and wiped away the moisture as she looked around in confusion.
She was at her apartment and in her own bed, not messing around with her boss in his office. The familiar curtains were in front of her and her own covers were wrapped around her. She leaned over and cradled her head in her hands as she tried to recall how she'd ended up here. There were no memories, only questions. She couldn't recall ever leaving the office building or even driving herself home. There were no goodbyes to coworkers or farewells to the office building in her rearview mirror. There was nothing.
Maybe a shower would help wake her up. Sam swung her legs out and stumbled to the bathroom. She splashed some cold water on her face and looked up into the mirror. Her face was pale but otherwise just fine. She cupped her breasts in her hand. They were the right size. She patted down her butt and hips. Those were the same ones she'd always known.
"What the hell happened?" she muttered as she sat down on the edge of the bathroom. The young woman wondered if this was what amnesia felt like. She glanced at herself again, and brushed aside a loose hair from her face. "Man, maybe I do need to get a boyfriend."
However, wanting and needing a boyfriend didn't explain the amnesia. Sam shuffled back to bed and noted the time was seven in the morning. She prepared herself for a long day's work at the job she was overqualified for with a coworker who was insane and a supervisor who loathed her. She'd stumbled into an interesting life.
"I just hope I start remembering most of it
."
The lost memories weren't frustrating as much as they were terrifying. She found her car keys on the counter, but she couldn't remember throwing them there. She usually didn't throw them there. They usually stayed in her purse between uses. Sam decided some investigating was in order, and looked for the clothes she'd worn the previous day. She found her clothes had been dropped into her hamper, though when she picked them up she realized both the skirt and the shirt were clean. The shirt even had all its buttons
Sam got a sudden inspiration and she checked the buttons. The ones she remembered popping had a slightly different color thread than the others. She clutched the shirt as she fell back onto the bed. Someone was trying to do a good job of hiding what had happened, but they didn't know enough about her habits.
"What the hell happened last night?" She leaned over and cradled her head in her hands. She could remember everything up to after she'd done it with her boss, and yet she couldn't believe it. Even with all this proof literally in her hands she still couldn't believe she'd been stupid enough to do that. "I am so fired," she mumbled as she lifted her head to look around the room. It was her new apartment, the one she bought when she heard she got the job. She couldn't afford it on her copy room paycheck. "Damn it."
Sam sat there as the clock ticked on. She was going to be late for work if she didn't get moving soon.
"Well, the worst they can do is fire me in front of all those people I hardly know." She shrugged and tossed aside the clothes. "Besides, if Mr. Davies wants to tell everyone he had sex with me in his office, he'll only be hurting himself." She was working off his ability for self-preservation. He hadn't gotten to the top of the company by making stupid mistakes. "So just get to that job and do the best you can, Samantha Olsen!"
The prep talk worked until she got out of her car in the underground parking garage beneath the office building. Then her heart plummeted and she dragged herself into the elevator. She almost wanted to stop the ride at her usual copy room job, but the number clicked past that floor and went uninterrupted to the last stop on the machine, the nineteenth.
Slinky was waiting for her when Sam slunk into her cubicle. She slung her arm over the wall as she peered down at her nervous friend. "Where the hell did you go yesterday? I waited for you for, like, thirty whole minutes, and you still didn't come back to grab your purse." Slinky made it sound like those minutes were each an eternity, but Sam appreciated the concern.
"I had to go up to write down some stuff for Mr. Davies-"
"Wait!" Slinky interrupted as she held up a finger. "Wait just a second. You said you went up and actually saw Mr. Davies?"
"Yeah, why?" This whole conversation was making her more uneasy. "You said we worked for him and the President, too."
"Yeah, but no one gets to actually see them. Oh sure, we sometimes hear from them on the intercom or in a newsletter or a written report asking for stuff, but we never get to see them."
"What about all those people up there? Don't they see him every day? Slinky seemed to know everyone in the building, why not them, too.
Slinky was genuinely confused as she gave her friend a worried glance. "What people? I've never seen anyone go up there."
"Don't they take the elevator or go through that door?" Sam asked.
"Our elevators don't go up that high, remember? It's only to the nineteenth story. I heard they have their own private elevator and some hidden emergency stairs to keep with code." Slinky looked over her shoulder in the direction where Sam glanced when mentioning the door. "And what door are you talking about? Through one of the offices?"
"No, that one at the end of the hall. The one that doesn't have a nameplate."
Slinky waved her hand dismissively toward the entrance. "That's just a janitor's closet."
"It's not a closet, it's a staircase." Sam realized she was getting a little frantic, and she gave herself a moment to breath. Then she stared directly into her friend's eyes and her lips were tightly pursed together. "Mrs. Winkle took me through that door yesterday and up a flight of stairs to the next floor. She showed me a long hall with a couple of people at some desks and I went to the end and spoke with Mr. Smith."
"Mr. Smith? Didn't he have a first name?"
"I think he did, but I can't remember it." She didn't really think it was important, anyway. She knew what she saw. Her clothes and keys told her it was true. "Anyway, I go in to Mr. Davies office, write down what he wants and leave." The last bit was a lie, but a white lie.
Slinky raised an eyebrow. "So he had you staying late just to listen to him talk?" This was frustrating because neither one could convince the other they were telling the truth. "Well, how about this. We open the door and see what's inside, and whatever we find decides who's crazy and who isn't."
Sam took the suggestion as an insult. "I'm not crazy."
"No more arguing, young lady," Slinky playfully scolded. She took her friend's hand and led her to the door.
"But we can't, Mrs. Winkle has the key," Sam pointed out. She remembered watching her take it out of her blouse pocket.
"How about we just pretend I have a key and not tell my dad about this cute little skill I have." Slinky pulled out a credit card and began toying with the knob. "You just watch out and make sure Mrs. Stick-Up-Her-Butt doesn't catch us doing this."
"Do you really know how to do this?" Sam asked while she played lookout. The coast was clear for now, but their supervisor had a habit of showing up at the wrong time.
"Well, it looks easy on tv." Slinky scowled when the knob jam refused to budge. "I think we're going to have to chock this one up to a mystery unsolved."
"And get out of here," Sam hissed. "Mrs. Winkle is coming!"
The two friends were too late to scramble away this time, and instead they leaned up against the door as Mrs. Winkle came up to them. Their supervisor had her usual scowl of the day on her face as she glanced between the two guilty-looking women. Slinky looked defiant but Sam's face was pale and her eyes shifted from Winkle's face to down the hall.
"What are you two doing away from your work?"
"Just taking our break, Mrs. Winkle," Slinky slickly replied. "And Sam here was wanting to know where the janitor's supply closet was, just in case she spilled her coffee or something."
"If she doesn't need the supplies than you'd both better get back to work."
"Yes, ma'am." Slinky saluted and hauled Sam back to their boxes. Mrs. Winkle watched them leave with narrowed eyes and her mouth set in a firm, thin line.
They made it safely back to their cubicles. "Man, that was too close for comfort. What say we try that again later?" Slinky commented as she collapsed into her chair. Sam slunk over to her own area. She wasn't so sure about her friend's crazy ideas anymore. They always ended up with them skittering back to their safe squares.
"I'd really rather not." Sam turned on her computer and began looking over the calendar of events. "I just need to get some work done right now."
Slinky peeked over their wall with one of her eyebrows raised.
"You're joking, right?" Sam tried to ignore her, but Slinky was persistent. "You know this job is easy, right? A kid could do it if most of these old guys wanted to deal with them."
"I'm still going to try to do the best I can at it." There was nothing exciting going on in scheduling, so she looked to the spreadsheet program for some work. She needed to learn more of the basic formulas, anyway. Slinky watched her for a minute or two until she couldn't take it anymore and glanced up at her coworker. "Did you want something?"
"No, but you seem different than yesterday." She leaned closer and her eyes narrowed. "You change your hairstyle or something?"
"I just didn't sleep well. Bad dreams." They weren't so bad if her job wasn't on the line, or if her boss hadn't tried to hide that it ever happened.
"Nah, it's not something like that, though your eyes do look a little puffy."
Sam hung her head and grit her teeth together. "Thanks, I really needed that."
She was turning out to be a not-so-great friend.
"Hey, I mean it. There's something really different about you." Slinky looked down at her chest. "You get a bigger bra or something?"
That made Sam drop her hands to the side and glare at her. "Did the last girl in this cubicle quit or go postal because of you?"
"Neither, actually. She was fired by the higher ups for fiddling around with someone." As if Sam couldn't feel any worse, Slinky proved her wrong. Slinky noticed her friend in the chair paled. "You feeling well? You look like you're about to throw up."
"I'm...I'm fine. Just tired, like I said."
"You want to go home? I can cover for you if Mrs. Bitch asks where you are." It was a kind offer, but not really a good idea.
"Even if I was feeling bad I'd probably better not. It's only my second day," Sam pointed out. "Bugging out wouldn't be a smart career move."
"Well, if you need anything just ask me or your garbage can." This made Sam smile.
"Thanks...I think."
"Always glad to be of service." Slinky saluted and disappeared behind the wall.
Sam was finally left alone for some piece and quiet, other than the occasional strange noises coming from the cubicle next door. By the soft sounds of swearing, Slinky played a lot of games on her phone that she wasn't very good at. However, Sam's mind wandered a lot to the locked door and her friend's insistence on it being a janitor's closet. She wondered who spread that rumor, because she already knew who benefited from it. Their boss, Mr. Davies. He certainly had a nice, hidden pad up there that nobody could easily get out because they didn't even know that entrance existed.
Such speculation, however, only made her head hurt and Sam focused on her few tasks. When noon came Sam was going to bring out her lunch bag, but then she remembered where it was. On the counter in her kitchen. She'd been in such a hurry to make it to work on time that she'd forgotten it. Her stomach grumbled and she patted it with a sigh.
"Looks like we're gonna have to go find something to eat, stomach," Sam replied to its gurgling.
"Yours complaining, too?" Slinky asked as her head popped up over the wall. "How about I take you to a nice cafe I know close by? It's where all the uppities go when they wanna mingle with the lower people."