“I need someone to stay an hour late with me after close, so I can hop on that conference call,” Glenn announced to the floor at large Friday morning before open. I saw everyone avoid looking in his direction – technically, it wasn’t any hardship. This happened pretty frequently – no one was allowed to be in the building alone, so about once a month we had to buddy up one hour late, or open an hour early. You got paid for the extra time and whoever wasn’t actually on the call could do as they pleased.
“Come on, guys. It’ll be OT, and we’re heading down into the weekend anyway”. I sketched two fingers in the air in a salute; I didn’t trust my voice not to squeak or my arm not to tremble if I raised it. Pointy teeth flashed from across the floor, and a double thumbs up. “Thank you, someone wants to get paid.” My skin felt chilled like I had stepped into a freezer. Once again that not-knowing of what I wanted made my heart feel as if it leapt back and forth from one side to the other of my ribcage. Did I just want to watch him from yards away on his phone, while I read my book under my desk, or my romance novels on my phone? Did I want him to pounce as soon as we locked the door on everyone else? The problem was the fear sat side by side with the desire and I did not enjoy that uncertainty. I didn’t like that he could have that affect on me.
It was as if he knew how fearful I was. As I locked the front door on everyone he was dialing in. I realized, as I turned from the foyer to head to my own desk he was not using the landline on his, but was screwing his bluetooth earbuds into his ear. His teeth flashed; not a smile, a predator’s show. He stood from his chair, and so I picked up my speed towards my own desk. I heard him announcing his attendance over the phone and he certainly sounded closer than simply behind his desk.
“I put the call on mute,” he said, having definitely rounded the corner of his desk and cubicle wall. Once again I felt like a prey animal, unable to stop moving or turn around, defend myself or make a noise. “Uh, huh”, I squeaked, almost against my own will, nearly speed walking across the carpet. I don’t know what made me believe I’d be safe if I reached my own desk, it had the logic of a kids game, like hide and seek or capture the flag, but my legs just carried me. Over my own pulse and rapid breathing I couldn’t hear his footfalls, to gauge his closeness or pace. He chuckled and I guessed he was only a few yards away, “Run,” he said with a crowing sort of tone. I couldn’t help myself, my heart seeming to hammer out of my torso, breath unable to be drawn normally. I took off, heading towards the breakroom, the one space in the building that had plenty of windows. All he needed to do was pick up his pace to a trot, he had just been taking wide strides previously. He slammed the door of the break room behind him in two quick moves, kicking the doorstop impatiently and elbowing the door closed as he moved forward into the room. I was panting, unable to catch my breath – not because of the short run but an anticipation of pain and the unknown. I turned back towards the break room door, gasping and thoughtless. Long before my hand could even begin to reach for the door handle I was caught. He caught my neck in the crook of his right elbow and as I reached up to grab his forearm, my arm was caught up in his left. “I bet you’ve been wondering about me, I wrestled in high school,” said with a laughing tone. I felt my breath bobbing against his arm as he pressed with his body weight against my back, crushing my esophagus against the flat of his inner arm. He slid a knee between my legs and with a series of short, brusque jerks pushed it up my hips, bunched across the widest part. This was probably the gentlest hold so far, except I could feel a cough building in my throat. No sense of pinching or ache in my back or shoulders though. I felt his body bend to surround me better, sidling against the side of my head. “I’m glad you stayed tonight, I’ve wanted you and I’m going to show you.” I coughed a dry little cough against the door and some pressure was taken off. I wriggled upwards on his thigh, struggling to pull my own skirt up higher. He laughed again, that deep, growling chuckle, pulling me up against his torso and bit suddenly, hard into my scalp. Gasping, I pulled away, banging my forehead into the door. “Stop, behave,” biting again, but this time I stayed still. He pulled his knee out from between my legs and I slid down to my knees against the door. “Turn around,” I felt frozen, as if every time I wasn’t in direct contact with his body the fear came back, turning me into an animal in the road.
He knocked my face lightly off the door by bouncing his hip against the back of my head. Nothing close to a belt, just a little ‘get moving’ kind of direction. I felt awkward and graceless sliding around on the shabby linoleum. Stiffness turned to panic and something near disgust when I realized he was unzipping his jeans. He grasped my face in his hands, covering my ears and pressing with enough strength for me to again feel calluses against my ears, the posts of my earrings digging in behind the lobes. My mouth was pulled onto his erection in such a quick lunge there was no time for resistance. Unlike the rather amateurish men I had been with previously he didn’t start thrusting away, making me gag and be frustrated. He said, “relax” and I did. For the first time ever, I began sucking dick in my own rhythm, noting sensation. Barely through his hands I heard him answer some question on his conference call. Talking tactics. I looked up, listening but not hearing. When he tapped his bud back to mute his hands crushed my head and he started fucking my face forcefully and uncomfortably, banging my head against the door. He slid his fingers around the back, cushioning it somewhat but it was still disorienting. When I started panicking, feeling like my jaw was locking open he came straight down my throat, feeling like bile rising up into my sinuses. He slid his thumbs under my chin, locking them underneath my jaw and lifted me. Like a newborn I gathered my legs under me as he got me inelegantly to stand. One shoe was nearly off, and I barely noticed in my clumsy slipping around that his hands were still around my throat. Once again his right knee came up between my legs. I coughed again, releasing some of that heat from my throat.
Then I was looking him full in the face, really for the first time, close, only inches away, while I let my weight fall fully onto his thigh. His hands compressed my neck all the way around. I reached up, grasping with both hands around his wrists and forearms. Not fighting, holding on as if he was the anchor, not the storm. When had he rolled up his sleeves? I was unworried by the tension in my chest from the mere dribble of breath I was getting, more interested in the heat of his skin and body hair. Unable to help myself I ground myself down on his thigh. His face shifted from focused to afire. “More?” His fingers made it impossible for me to nod, and the only noise I could make was a dry sort of wheeze, so in answer I slid my hands gently around his and pressed them in harder while trying to achieve the tempo I needed against his thigh between my legs. “You are the perfectly built fuckdoll I didn’t know I’d get,” he said, or almost moaned, sounding for the first time, genuinely involved in, and aroused by, what he was doing to me. As my vision started tunneling I came desperately and without embarrassment on his jeans.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ycjyao/workplace_harassment_pt_5_mf_impact_play