#the dividers to separate the cubicles are so high up

[gatheryepens]

Things I’ve learnt whilst being in nyc

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Happy follower milestone! Maybe an Ettore onesbot where reader is assistant to the doctor Dibs and maybe some kind of nurse kink???

Afflictions Of A Dark Nature

Thank you for the request! I hope this lives up to your expectations! This is my first time writing for Ettore so apologies if it seems OOC, I did try my best (I even re-watched High Life and will be sending the bill for emotional damages). Also get well soon @ewanmitchellcrumbs 😚

Warnings under the cut! Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Ettore Taglist

Warnings: *deep breath* lots of swearing, mentions of past sexual encounters that may have not been consensual, fingering, dub-con, p in v sex, ass slapping, degradation, mentions of a blood test, male masturbation, oral (f receiving), creampie, cum eating, dacryphyilia, choking, kinda face slapping?, ass play, spitting, overstimulation | Word Count: 6.4k~ | dividers by @firefly-graphics

If he had to see that wrinkly, smug face of Dr Dibs again, Ettore would lose it.

He knew who he was. He wasn’t beyond acting out against women if he wanted to. It’s part of what put him here in the first place. Drifting through space, on some suicide mission that the oh-so-wise earthlings had decided it would be better to doom prisoners to death rather than qualified astronauts. Not like it mattered. He was on death-row anyway, so what loss really was it?

Only the loss of his complete sanity.

He knew that if he lashed out at anyone, even Dr Dibs, there’d be a punishment of sorts. In a way that was wholly unethical for someone who is supposed to provide care, but hey, who’s keeping track. Nobody gives a shit on earth. She could put arsenic in the water supply if she wanted to, and nobody could say a thing about it.

For the sake of at least living longer, though it made him dry-heave inside, he sweetened up, got more sleeping pills out of it as a result, which in this place was gold dust. A long, good-night’s sleep did little to take a person away from a situation like this, but it was at least something. A small mercy in a way.

Deep down, there was a need-no, an impulse that Ettore couldn’t shake. 

But before he could indulge in the memories of those needs, someone called his name.

“Ettore, is it?” 

Her voice was sweet, far too compassionate for someone stuck aboard working on this fucked up prison. And when she raised her eyebrows at him to elicit a response, she gave a polite smile. When was the last time someone smiled at him, truly?

She had a clipboard in front of her, disguising the lanyard around her neck and she wore blue scrubs, which looked the same design as the prisoners, but instead theirs were red.

Perhaps to show how dangerous they were. Hers was clinical and clean. Pure.

He wore suspicion on his face, marked with the furrow of his brows and without saying a word he stood and followed her into the infirmary. She was a head shorter than him which made him smirk when he was sure she wasn’t looking. 

All he knew was that he was grateful it wasn’t that wrinkly, smug bitch. He was sure she was doing something fucking weird to them. Just couldn’t put his finger on what.

When she drew the curtain, she let him in first, “Have a seat”

This cubicle was at least separate. And even though they’d not been on the ship for long, it looked crusty and old, with those wax linoleum floors, vile padded walls. It looked like it was going to fall apart. 

Ettore slumped into a chair next to a computer with a huff, taking in his surroundings, still trying to figure out what to make of this new person. Why hadn’t he seen her before? And she looked a lot younger than Dibs, was she even a real doctor or nurse at all?

Her hair was in a loose bun, fractionally more formal than Dibs who wore her braid like armour over her shoulder at all times. It made her look older, despite what Dibs would like to have believed. 

She sat down in front of the computer, typing in a few things, and he admired her face for a moment in silence. The way the light of the monitor reflected off the colour of her eyes, how her tongue darted out to lick her lips when she was trying to read something and how fast her fingers typed on the old, beige keyboard that was far too loud for his liking. Sounded like a clock was ticking in his brain.

He didn’t say a word. As was Ettore’s way. He was usually never one to speak first. He was an observer, seeking out the weaknesses of people as if he could simply by looking, like he could extract a little piece of them the longer he did. For her though, he couldn’t make her out.

When Ettore craned his head slowly to look, he could see she was reading his medical history and it made him feel special to know that she was finding out everything she could about him. He wished he could do the same to her. Find out all her little secrets.

“Just some general things and blood work today, nothing fancy” she says, meeting his eyes for a moment with another polite smile, the kind of smile where she’s clearly just trying to be nice, but Ettore can’t help the deep ache in his core to have a woman in front of him now, after years of not touching one. The Box was fine, sure, but there was no other feeling like a woman. Their warm, fleshy insides, each ridge within different from woman to woman.

Something knocked on the door in his mind. A sinful thought had arrived and asked how would she feel? Did she use the Box as well? Who did she think of when she touched herself?

“Roll up your sleeve for me” she instructs, holding the blood pressure monitor in her hands and tearing the velcro away. 

She meets his eyes again briefly to find him already looking at her when she leans forward to wrap it around his bicep, right over where his tattoo is. She has small, soft hands, indicative of her work. How would they feel on him, wrapped around his cock? Would her hands even surround him? That was all he could think about as she patted the cuff in place, brushing against his shoulder.

The machine whirred to life and it squeezed his arm, at the end bordering on pain which made him wince. She busied herself with typing on her computer in the meantime, the lanyard around her neck now visible, showing her name.

Got you.

When the machine beeped, she looked at the screen and put the results into his record, wheeling her chair to him again to take it off. He felt his cock get hard beneath his scrubs not just at the feel of her hands on him again, but now because of her proximity. He assumed everyone used the same soap here, she was no exception. But it smelled different on her and he inhaled a deep, long breath to commit as much of it to memory as he could.

She looked surprised when he spoke, as if she hadn’t expected him to.

“Why haven’t I seen you around”

It was hardly a questioning tone, more like an accusation. But she didn’t flinch away at it, rather, she was used to it.

She gave another polite smile, “Oh well, I’m usually in here, running all the tests Dibs gives me” she explains, getting her additional tools ready for the blood test, “But she wanted more help with ‘menial’ tasks like this, is how she put it” she says with a short, quiet huff of a laugh, like she thinks the reasoning was poor.

“So now you’re doing poor sod’s blood tests?” 

She nodded, “Something like that” 

Her tools were lined up, a tourniquet, a syringe and some cotton swabs. She pulled a pair of blue gloves on and moved her chair closer to him. 

“So you’re gonna poke at me?” he asks, half-amused, like he’s testing her.

She cleans the area around his arm with alcohol, a puff of air coming out her nose in a quiet laugh, tightening the tourniquet on him “Just seeing if you have good veins” she says, running her thumb over the pale skin of his arm, clearly finding a vein she was happy with.

Dr Dibs always missed his vein at least once, and he’d clench his fist as the needle went in. He wasn’t into drugs, like a lot of other prisoners here, so he wasn’t used to the prickly feeling. He found pleasure in other ways he deemed fit.

“Just a scratch” she mutters, inserting the needle beneath his skin, smiling to herself when blood goes into the bottle. First time. 

Ettore watched the vial fill with rich, thick blood, and then watched her, “You seem a bit young to be a doctor”

"Technically I'm a Junior Doctor" she replies, concentrating on his blood flow before meeting his eyes again. She seems to look at him deeply, her pupils flirting across his face now that they're so close to each other. He hears every little breath, every movement of her throat as she swallows thick, like she's nervous. And everytime her tongue darts out to wet her lips, he stares at the pinkness of it, thinking of how it would feel.

"Should I be trusting you to give me a blood test?" He teases with a wolfish grin, trying to see just how far he can push his luck.

"Hm, I don't suppose you have much choice" her smile turns a bit devilish at his quip, which quite honestly, the turn of her lips makes him want to bend her over the desk and fuck her right then and there. Wants to see what kind of sweet sounds she might make. Even the thought of it makes his cock ache.

“Suppose not”

"I'm allowed to give you blood tests" she says with a teasing smile, pulling the needle from his arm and replacing it with a cotton swab, "Hold that there for me" 

He obeys, holding it with his thumb firmly, smirking at the banter he didn't expect to have. The fact that she doesn't visibly seem afraid of him only spurs him on more. Thinking how far can he really go to make her feel uncomfortable. To make her realise just how dangerous he is, what he could do to her.

If anything he's shocked at his own restraint that he's managed this long without touching her. Such a small little thing. She wouldn’t stand a chance against him if he put his mind to it. And in those cute little scrubs as well, she doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing to him. How easy would it be to just rip right through them, to see if she was wearing anything underneath. He imagined she wasn’t, and that he’d rip them open to be greeted with her bare, soft skin, how plush and feminine her tits would be, filling his palm. He wants to squeeze them painfully, make her whine out like a slut.

His body is getting hot, blood thrumming with want.

Once the cotton swab is secured to his arm with adhesive, he can’t take his eyes off her, challenging her to meet his gaze to see what she would do.

“Why are you here?” he asks, intrigued. She doesn’t look a bit like a criminal. But he could be surprised by her and he has a feeling he will.

“That’s a personal question” she states, not losing the lazy smirk on her face at the fact he’s clearly so interested in her, “why are you here?”

“Alright, point taken”

She doesn’t prod for more information.

Holding out a clear tub to him, “You know what to do right?” she asks, clearly holding back a wider smile.

Cheeky bitch.

He snatches it from her grasp with a grin, “Now?”

Her eyebrow twitches in amusement.

“However long it takes”

A jolt goes through his body, as if a light had just come on inside. Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be.

Fucking cock tease.

He gave her a look before drawing the curtain in the cubicle, barely a few feet from where she sat. So close that he could hear her typing on her computer, hear her quiet sighs. What sweet noises would she make with his cock prodding her soft, tight insides.

Usually when he did sperm samples for Dibs, he took no enjoyment from the idea that she was essentially in the same room as him, not that it took him any less time to cum, she was still a woman and that meant something. As repulsive as she seemed. 

But when he took himself in his fist and stroked himself to hardness, teased himself with eyes softly falling shut, he imagined they were her hands. Everytime he squeezed from base to tip, reaching down with the other hand to cup his balls, wondering what her tongue would feel like dragging over every inch of him. Would she tease him? Lick his angry red tip only slightly, and that sensitive spot underneath, flattening her wet muscle over it slowly, allowing him to feel every warm and minute movement.

Without even really realising, his hand was guiding himself faster, desperate to feel the friction of her pussy choking him. Would she buck her hips to meet his desperate thrusts, or squirm away as he bullied the end of her, pushing against her cervix recklessly. He wanted her to be a good girl, and just take what he gave her. If he started, would he really truly be able to stop?

He struggled to hold in the shuddered breaths and he very nearly forgot to put the tub in front of him before finishing. A pleasant roll of warmth ran through his body, one that quickly turned into a dark, deep desire. His hand wasn't enough. He hadn’t touched a woman in so long. He wanted the real thing and she was right there. Dirty bitch was probably already wet thinking about what he was doing.

Slipping through the curtain he handed it out to her and she took it with an amused raise of her eyebrows.

“That was quick” she quipped, putting a lid on it and writing his name for the label.

Oh she’s going to get it, dirty fucking mouth.

He couldn’t hold off the sort of accomplished grin on his face, she was more fun than he thought. For a moment, he allowed himself to just simply observe her, wondering what other fun they could have.

He was growing impatient at not being able to act on those thoughts. 

“Is that it?” he asks, making her look up again.

“Unless you have any other…ailments?” Ettore doesn’t miss the way she suppresses a grin by biting the inside of her cheek. He doesn’t suppress his and feels impossibly hard once again seeing her dainty lips curl up just slightly. She must be able to see beneath the thin fabric of his scrubs, how much he wants her. Let her see, he thinks, make her squirm a bit.

He watches the way her eyes briefly run over him. It was so quick, that had he not been looking right at her, he would have missed it. She swallows, feeling like he caught her and turns away a bit, trying to hide the warm feeling that settles between her legs at the way he’s looking at her, exciting and yet dangerous at the same time.

She only hopes he doesn’t notice the way she’s squeezed her thighs together. 

“Smashing then, cheers doc” he smirks, sauntering off with a certain swagger about him, knowing that his sweet, innocent looking little doctor is all worked up. He looks over his shoulder before leaving.

The ache of the blood test is completely forgotten. Instead, all his blood is below his waist, with none left for his brain to function. It’s been a while since a woman last did this to him. Yeah he’d fucked plenty of women, some had even wanted it. But he wanted her to want it. Wanted the little slut to beg for it. To beg him to stuff her full of his cock.

That was new, he thought. But it didn’t deter him from trying to get near her when she was alone, for any chance he could get at having her all to himself. 

Annoyingly, he didn’t find the opportunity for quite some time.

Anytime he stalked past her office, there was always some other prisoner inside, having their own tests. A flash of something akin to a dark jealousy courses through his veins, his hands forming fists whenever he hears her talking in a hushed voice to another male prisoner, speaking in that way that only a doctor does.

It’s short lived, when he realises she doesn’t speak as sweetly to them as she does to him.

It feels like he’s had a hard-on for days, just merely thinking about being alone with her. It’s beginning to become painful just how much he wants it, to make her squirm for him, to make her cry. His use of the Box has increased dramatically, but the more he does it, the less the effect. His hand doesn’t do it for him anymore. He can’t replicate that tightness only a woman's cunt could give, the feeling of being sucked so desperately inside someone, being milked for all he’s worth. He dreams of it. She would take it all, he thinks, she’d be a good little slut and take it.

He thinks that if he goes there often enough, he might just run into her, drag her inside, or to a nearby hallway, or even tackle her to the floor if need be and shove himself so deep in her she won’t be able to hold back her wanton moans. He imagines holding her arms behind her back so she can’t move, brutally fucking her so hard that her hips will be bruised. 

He’s always liked walking around in the dark, even though he knows he’s not really allowed.

Tonight though, it rewards him.

A soft light emanates from her office and when he leans against the doorway to peek inside, he emits a quiet laugh through his nose, hands in pockets, just watching her.

Her hair is free of the loose bun she wore before and it trails down her back as she’s sat in her chair, leaning over a microscope. She’s so engrossed in what she’s doing and recording notes that his presence doesn’t even disturb her.

He didn’t even think about announcing his presence. He wanted her genuine reaction.

So he didn’t think twice about stalking up behind her and grabbing a fistful of her hair, yanking her back. Only a quiet gasp escaped before he slammed his palm over her mouth, muffling a surprised cry.

“Shut the fuck up” he warned with a low voice.

She froze at his words, eyes wide and breathing heavily, not even having to wonder who it was. His fingers curled painfully against her scalp, tugging her up so her back is to him. Ettore can feel her hurried breaths out her nose hitting his hand.

“Be quiet and I’ll play nice” he says against the shell of her ear, making her body shudder, drawing his hand away from her mouth.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whispers accusingly behind her as he pushes the front of her body close to the desk, the edge biting into the front of her legs. His hands run down the sides of her, sucking in the fabric to the shape of her body, growling low at finally being able to see her form underneath.

“I came to see you” he grins,

“Fucking liar”

There was something exciting about being called out like that, and about her saying such vulgar words. As sweet as she looked, he knew there was something deep inside, somewhere he wanted to prod and poke at.

“It’s your own fucking fault” he snarls, pushing his hardness against the softness of her ass. He feels her freeze up for a moment, as if she’s just putting the pieces together, “prancing about in your slutty fucking doctor’s outfit”

One hand dips beneath the hem of her scrubs, a warm sigh expelled from his chest at the softness of her stomach beneath it, trailing higher over her ribs. He can almost feel her pounding heart from here, and it does nothing to deter him, the smirk on his face evidence of that. His large palm tugs at one of her clothed breasts, slightly annoyed to see that she’s wearing a bra underneath, but he squeezes it all the same, relishing in the pained whine she lets out in response to it.

His other hand tugs her forearm almost painfully behind her, twisting it in his grip harshly. He fully knew how strong he was compared to her and couldn’t have her doing anything rash. Best to keep her hands where he can see them.

“I was just trying to be nice” she counters with a harshness to her voice, not being able to take the breathiness out of it,  “Damn sight better than what most of you deserve” she briefly struggles in his hold, that is until he tightens the clamp on her wrist. A warning.

“Careful” he warns low in her ear, “I don’t think you understand the situation right now”

“You need to get off me. Now” she tries to push her hips away from him, but at her blatant refusal, he only pushes himself closer to her, moaning softly at the friction against him and the warmth of her even with her scrubs separating them.

He resists the urge to outright laugh, and scoffs instead, “You are in no position to make demands to me. I see right through you…you want me”

She only grunts painfully in response, half-trying to tear her hand away. Not trusting herself to say anything. Ettore almost wants to laugh at how pathetically she’s trying to avoid showing how she really feels.

“How long has it been, hm?” he says, more like a growl than anything, as his hand dips beneath the waistband of her scrubs, “Since someone touched you here”

She doesn’t reply, half fighting and half giving in. But then his hand cups her clothed sex, only covered by her thin underwear and she feels his large palm rub against her, her clit throbbing with desire at not having been touched in so long. God it had been so long. His fingers tease her entrance, rubbing in circles, coaxing some slick from her.

“A while, huh?” he smirks.

“Stop it, we’ll get in trouble” she says, but it comes out a whisper, not able to hide the way his hand against her most intimate area is having such an effect on her. The heel of his palm rubs against her bundle of nerves, making her blood feel like fire in her veins, arousal pooling in her belly.

“You think I give a fuck?” he retorts, grinning, “I would have a thousand punishments if I meant I could shove my cock in your tight little hole”

“You wouldn’t”

He does laugh at that, “You wanna bet?”

Her body briefly goes rigid, trying to hold back a genuine moan when his hand dips past her underwear, and Ettore groans at the feeling of her warm, wet pussy, coating his fingers with her slick. Her eyes break closed, mouth taut into a thin line to hold in her whine, body slightly trembling at how hard she is trying to hold back.

“You talk all this shit and you’re fucking soaked for me” he grins against her ear, “is this what was under that uniform…while you were prodding and poking me?”

She gasps, her lips opening in a hurried breath as his digit sinks into her, teasing her soft, spongy walls with the calloused pads of his fingertips. She doesn’t answer him. Can’t. She can just feel herself getting warmer. It’s undeniable, the effect he has on her. And she’s not sure if she’d be wise to submit to it. 

But it’s getting harder and harder by the second not to.

“Oh, you’re filthy” he says, inserting another finger, stretching her pussy with them, softly but harshly pushing inside “getting off on taking my blood, fucking slut”

At both his words and motions, she lets out a soft and quiet moan, a pressure inside her building the more she feels his fingers caressing her warm, wet walls.

Ettore tugs down his sweatpants, freeing his cock which sits hot and heavy against the curve of her ass, the tip flushed and stood to attention against his stomach. He gives himself a few pumps, pushing forward to let her feel him. He doesn’t even bother to begin the tryst with kissing. He’s not like that.

It’s much too soft and intimate a gesture, compared to what he plans to do with her.

She turns her head, now just quietly moaning at the pleasure his fingers give her, eyes half open and a hedonistic expression on her face. She sees him pull his shirt up his chest, and then looks down, to see what exactly is pushing hard against her backside.

Before she has any time to react, his hand is curled around her nape, pushing her head flush against the table in front of her, sending the samples scattering to the floor. 

"Stop it!" She protests, trying to wiggle helplessly out his grasp, "I'll scream"

She sees him smirk, looking down at her with a half lidded lust filled gaze.

"Do it then, makes it more interesting" he shows his teeth, tugging down her scrubs song with her underwear. Now with her body flush against the table and stuck, both his hands knead the globes of her ass, his fingers leaving pink marks in their wake. He takes fistfuls, spreading them to have a proper look at her glistening pussy, just waiting for him. She whimpers at the pleasured pain it emits when his fingers hold her apart, only to turn into a surprised gasp as he kicks her ankles apart.

“Someone could walk in!” she whisper-shouts, holding her hand to her mouth to muffle any sounds when he runs the tip of his cock over her soaked folds, slapping it against her clit and smiling at her reaction.

“Let them watch then, they can see how much of a mess I’ll make of you” he purrs leaning down to press his chest against her back, “None of that either” he pulls her hand from her mouth, “I want to hear how desperate you are for me”

With her cheek flush against the table, she had to only move her eyes to look at him. Glazed over with the pupil blown wide, it betrays just how much she may or may not want it, she still doesn’t want to show him. She’s almost annoyed at his cockiness, until she feels just how big he is, teasing her ever so slightly at her entrance.

“Now let’s see what pretty noises you can make for me, hm?”

He pushes against her, parting her folds, pulling her hips towards him to sink as much inside her as he can. His heart beats faster as he feels her pussy choke him tightly, every single ridge feels like fucking magic against his cock, he feels like just finishing inside her right there. She chokes a moan, his curved member rubbing up inside her at all the right angles the further inside he goes, until he kisses the end of her with the tip, reaching places she could never with her own fingers in the Box. Her back arches slightly as he bottoms out inside her, his fingers so tight on her hips they will definitely be bruised tomorrow.

He doesn’t give her time to adjust, not even a second, as he pulls all the way out, his length covered in her slick and slams back inside with a wet smack, watching how the flesh of her ass ripples when his hips meet it.

“Oh you’re bad…” he purrs, setting a brutally quick pace. Her eyes softly shut, her front rubbing almost painfully against the stainless steel table with each hard thrust.

“Gonna have you on every fucking flat surface in this ship” he breathes, his voice hurried from the effort and how she tightens around him at his words, “you’d like that wouldn’t you….everyone watching how much of a slut you are”

She yelps out in a pained moan when he slaps her ass, gripping it after to emphasise the burn, “Answer me”

“Yes-yes…” she manages through hurried breaths, trying to control her volume but rapidly failing.

Every time he fucks into, the sheer thickness of him pushes the air out of her lungs every time, her walls stretching against him to accommodate. Ettore smirks down at the view. She lets out between a sob and a moan when she feels his spit on her puckered hole, his thumb rubbing circles against it and spreading his saliva over her sensitive skin.

It feels so right and wrong at the same time. And when he pushes a thumb inside, only making her feel more full than she already does, she can't help but buck her ass against him, wanting more friction, pleasured tears falling down her cheeks. It really had been a while since she last had sex, obviously. But nobody had been this forward and rough with her before.

“See? I know you like this…knew you wanted to fuck me the second you saw me” he mocks, giving one hard, deep thrust inside which has her squirming against him with a desperate whine, his thumb sank all the way inside her ass, the movement of their fucking aiding in stimulating that as well.

He thinks, one day he'll claim that hole of hers as well.

But not today.

He pulls out quickly and instantly tugs at her hair, turning her over so that he can see her face. She’s sat weakly up on the counter, thighs held apart for him by one of his hands. Poor thing looks tired out, he thinks, looking at her watery eyes and flushed cheeks, her head lolling back against the counters with a thud.

“Are you fucking crying?” he grins, softly slapping her cheek and grabbing her face so she looks at him, “really has been a while, huh? That’s a bit pathetic”

He practically rips the shirt off her, not even bothering to take the bra underneath off and just tugs it to the side, freeing her breasts. He groans at the sight, perky, rosy and stood to attention in the now hot office, smelling of pure, unadulterated sex. They fill his palms perfectly, and he tugs at them with his fingers, revelling in the low, chesty mewl she lets out.

It’s no effort at all the way his cock just slides into her again, slowly. Too slowly.

She feels the curve of his cock, different in this new position, every vein and ridge. His thickness splits her open until he hits the end of her, pounding mercilessly into her, making the cupboards jolt in place with each snap of his hips against her thighs, which he is keeping in his palms wide apart. Ettore grins down, watching at the way his cock disappears into her over and over, at the ripple of her soft, soft skin each time.

She arches her back against him, warm, pleasured tears pricking at her eyes the closer she gets to that tight, hot pressure in her tummy bursting. He laughs as she clenches noticeably around him,

“What is it, hm?” he sneers, “or have I fucked you stupid?”

Her moans are so desperate she really does look pathetic, “fuck…I’m gonna-”

“You gonna cum for me?” he taunts with a wide smirk, all of this just doing wonders for his ego, “now, why would I let you do that?”

“...ne-need it…”

He never lets up his pace as once hand curls into her neck, tugging her forward so that her eyes are solely on him. She moans softly at the rough action.

Pathetic.

“You gonna be a good girl and be quiet?”

She nods as best she can, his hand tightening only slightly around her neck, trying to will her voice to come out between the deafening smacks of their fucking.

“Yes..”

“Say please, then”

“Please-I need it” she begs in a horse voice.

He shoves her back roughly, smacking her head against the cupboards, watching her tits as they bounce. Truthfully, he can feel himself getting close as well, but more than anything he wants to watch her come undone on his cock. Show her just how much fun she could have with him if she just let herself.

Her cheeks are pink and her chest is dotted with warmth as the air in the office is hot and thick, even more so at the pleasurable lack of oxygen his hand around her neck gives. It makes it harder for those strained moans to pass her lips.

Every drag through her hot, ridged core sends sparks of pleasure through him, crawling up his spine. 

You first.

She sucks in a breath when he lets go of her neck, allowing his thumb into her mouth. She sucks on the digit greedily, using her tongue to coat it with saliva. Ettore almost moans at just the sight of her.

He'll have that mouth too, he thinks.

A string breaks between her mouth and her thumb as he presses it suddenly against her clit, hard. She gasps at the painful pleasure of his rough actions, swirling his thumb over her bud to bring her to that precipice first.

Her hands grip his shoulders, but he quickly tears them off him, "I didn't say you could touch me" he snarls in between devastating thrusts, drawing figures of eight on her clit and watching as she squirms.

Her hands brace the counter either side of her legs, needing something to hold onto, "...m sorry…"

"You will be fucking sorry. Stupid bitch" 

If it's possible, he moves himself into her faster, bullying that rough patch inside her with such severity that her eyebrows furrow together, her mouth open in a silent scream. She contracts around him at the combined pleasure of his cock and his stimulation to her bud, knuckles going white at her grip on the counter.

"Such a perfect pussy…never fucking using that Box again…not when I have this…" he breathes pressing his body against hers so they are flush, his nose running up the side of her neck.

"Ettore, please…"

It's not really a request, just something that passes her lips. And he knows the second he feels her clench so tightly that she's done for, when her back arches towards him and her body goes rigid for a split second.

Her teeth sink into his skin at his shoulder, muffling the scream of pleasure that threatens to escape. He knows that will be there for days and it will most definitely hurt in the morning.

A gush of arousal soaks his cock and he continues to pound into her through it, pressing his thumb into her clit, extending her little death into a devastating abyss of warmth and rapture. Her walls quiver with overstimulation around him, and he can feel the wetness of her tears on his shoulder, her desperate whines.

"Fuck-shit" Ettore pushes inside once more, hard, with a barely stifled groan, huffing a pleasured laugh at the feeling of stuffing her with his cum and the warmth that surrounds him.

He wants to stay like that forever, keeping his cum inside her with his cock. Her thighs shake slightly, and he delights in the fact that she might not be able to walk afterwards. To remind her who she belongs to, now that he's claimed her.

He calms his hurried breathing just enough to pull his rapidly softening cock from her, earning a low whine from her once she pulls her teeth from him. Her tits move slowly with her breathing, thighs still shaking ever so slightly and parted to give him a good view of the mess he's made of her.

Her arousal combined with the cum that's leaking out of her activates a primal part of his brain and he's tempted to fuck her brains out again, but knows he wouldn't be able to.

Another time.

"Look at my filthy little doctor" 

He pulls her thighs close to him, teetering on the edge of the table, and all she's able to do is make a sound of surprise, eyes widening as he sinks to his knees between her legs.

"No-no, Ettore-" she protests quickly. Her hands going back to bracing the counter tightly when she feels his warm, wet muscle lapping against her soaked folds, a combination of her climax and his swirling over his tongue with such lewdness it makes her flush bright red.

After such a recent and all-consuming orgasm, she flinches when his tongue swirls over her clit, the vibrations of his low moans against it feels much too overwhelming now.

"Please-too much-"

He runs his tongue flat over her core, groaning at the combined taste of them and lapping up whatever leaks out of her. He could spend fucking days between her legs if she tastes like this all the time. Her arousal is so sweet and tart, musky when combined with his. Mixed with his cum, he thinks, she's made to be fucked by him. Made to be filled.

Fucking her with his tongue through her fluttering walls, her hand cards through his hair, tugging. To push him away or to bring him closer, she's torn between the two. The warmth of his mouth against her is just too tempting to want him to stop and when he moves his face side to side, his sharp nose nuzzling against her already over-used clit…

"Fuck! Please-"

The orgasm that rocks through her body blazes every nerve in its path, all the way down to the way his tongue is still lapping and sucking her juices, as if she's the best thing he's tasted since boarding this hellscape of a ship. He takes every bit of essence, sighing and moaning, with a grip so iron on her thighs, she can't move even if she wanted to.

Ettore rises to his feet, giving one more flattened lap over her core, sucking at her clit, which makes her twitch. Her glazed over, wettened eyes meet his, the blue almost entirely encompassed by black. He looks like an animal who's just tasted blood again after a long time of being caged. She doesn't entirely know why, but it makes her throb with desire, and it frightens even her to know that such a dangerous man, a criminal no less, is making her feel this way.

It makes her think, is she any better for enjoying it as much as she did.

He looks down at her, almost entirely bared to him, his reddened marks blossoming over her skin in early bruises. Her fucked-out face, a mix of lust and confusion, with that tell-tale pink to her cheeks.

A dangerous grin widens across his face.

"I meant it you know…" he says, dark and low, "...I'm not using that fucking Box ever again"

General Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics

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[petri808]

Day 4 @flufftober - “Cinderella moment” Bakudeku

Through her own stymied tears, she pulls her son Izuku into her lap to explain how daddy is not coming home anymore. At first, the three-year-old doesn’t say a word and only looks at her with his head tilted in confusion. Again, she tries.

“Izuku, papa is going away and won’t be coming back.”

“Papa weave? Why?” His eyes are wide and curious.

Is there even a right way to tell a child their parent won’t be coming home? “He, um… has something he thinks is important to do.”

“Oh,” Izuku pats his mom’s face reassuringly. Perhaps he’s too young to fully grasp the gravity of her statements or due to the man barely being around anyway, Izuku’s connection to him is simply too weak. “It’s oh-kay, momma, we be okay, wite?”

Inko Midoriya is like most mothers who’ll do anything for their children. It isn’t their fault that she picked the wrong man to have a child with and they never asked to be born. So, it didn’t matter how hard she’d have to work— anything to help her child succeed. She pulls her son into a hug, “yes, we’ll definitely be okay! I promise.” After leaning back and clasping his cheeks in her hands, “And when one day you find someone you love, it won’t be like you’re papa and I— they’ll love you and cherish you just like I do.”

“Ewww, mama, das gwose!”

That makes Inko snort a laugh, oh the wonders of a child’s mind and heart. She pulls his face closer and gives him a peck on his forehead. “You’re right,” since it’s nothing he needs to think about now, “leave it to mama, it’ll be my wish for you.”

Life isn’t always fair, and if anyone knows how true the adage is, Izuku Midoriya does. Growing up, it was just him and his mother Inko once his father had left them high and dry. He was too young at the time to remember the man, but his absence is certainly felt every time he looks at his single mother. Inko worked 1 or 2 jobs to support them, which often left Izuku to his own devices. He cooked his own meals and did house chores on top of his school work, but he never felt any ill will over it because he knew she is doing her best. When he turns 15, Izuku even offers to get a job to contribute, but his mother adamantly refuses because she knows the path to success lay in education. So, to honor her wishes, he studies hard to achieve good grades and rarely dips below the top 5 percentile of his class. Then all that hard work pays off when he is accepted into Waseda University with a full scholarship in data engineering.

After college, Izuku found a job working in the IT department of a large manufacturing company. There are different engineers that focus on different areas of the business such as sales performance or raw materials to labor hours by department, designing programs and systems to collect the data and turn them into understandable reports. It’s where he’s remained for ten years. During that time, he works his way up, and now his job is to maintain the overall operating system of the entire company. It’s his job to make sure all the systems are working together or to step in and help as needed. In a way, he’s one step lower than a supervisor, but he has no aspirations to take that position either.

It’s not a bad job or place to work at all. Their office is located on the fourth floor, divided with cubicles, and separated by speciality. Because of his role, Izuku’s cubicle is next to the supervisors office along with two other data engineer assistants who he assigns jobs to work on. Their supervisor, Toshinori Yagi, is a good boss, fair and firm in his decisions, and a brilliant engineer in his own right. He is much older than Izuku and sometimes acts more like a father figure than a supervisor. They often work closely on bigger projects, take lunch breaks together, and Izuku fills in from time to time when Yagi cannot make it to a meeting.

The only annoyance comes from his two assistants, who if they weren’t so good at their programming skills he would’ve let go by now. Neito Monoma has a very snobbish attitude and feels he should have Izuku’s position, while Seiji Shishikura is similar, but has no aspirations for management. Except for the occasional whispering or snarky comments, they’ve never come out and said anything to him. However, according to other employees, they make fun of him and say mean things like he’s not as good as he thinks he is or his personality is so bland no wonder he’s still single. Never mind that it took him almost ten years of working double time to gain the respect he has. His performance speaks for itself.

One of the company’s suppliers is holding a party to celebrate their 75th Anniversary, and on the day of the event, Yagi calls Izuku into his office.

“Is something wrong?” Izuku asks as he walks in, “a system go down?”

“No,” Yagi gestures for Izuku to sit on the chair across from him. “I have a big favor to ask.”

“Sure, whatever you need.”

“You know about the party at Dynaspark Industries tonight that I’m to attend?”

“Yeah…” Red flags are going up in Izuku’s mind.

“I need you to go in my stead because I have another meeting to go to.”

Izuku pops up from the chair. “WHAT?”

“I know you really don’t like large gatherings, but every supervisor is required to attend and since I cannot, as my assistant, we need you to go.”

“B-But Toshinori-San,” he waves his hands up and down, gesturing to his clothing. “I don’t even own a suit!”

“Don’t worry, I figured as much. That’s why I’ve already contacted a tailor to get you fitted for one— don’t worry about cost, it’s covered. I’m letting you leave now to go to the shop and get ready. A company car will pick you up from the tailors and take you to the party.” Yagi gets out of his chair and stands next to Izuku, then hands him a gift to take and gestures to the door. “So, get going.”

Holding the gift with both hands in front of him, Izuku is as stiff as a board like he’s just seen a ghost. “I-I’ll do my best, Toshinori-San.”

Yagi puts his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Just mingle a little, find their IT supervisor to chat with. A couple hours should be sufficient and the car will take you home from there.”

Two hours later finds Izuku standing on a stool in a tailors shop while the owner and assistants figure out a suit that will fit him in color and style. To the untrained eye, it’s just a regular looking business suit, but a puckered seam here or there or a tie tied incorrectly is extremely unsightly in the business world. The one they chose for him is a dark gray, almost black jacket and pants over a white button up, and finished with a deep reddish orange tie and matching handkerchief. It looks quite good on him, he must say, though he feels strange wearing it— Like is this what his father looks like in a suit? That’s not something he wants to envision.

After some finishing touches, the company car takes him to the main offices of Dynaspark Industries. A receptionist in the lobby directs him where to go, a large conference room on the sixteenth floor. When the doors of the elevator open, Izuku had’nt expected almost the whole floor to be an open space! It gave no time to prepare his nerves. There is one other couple in front of the reception table, so as he waits, Izuku tries to get a flow for the room. Where’s the food or drinks? Near the bank of windows that stretch the length of the right side of the room. Looks like there’s a bar too. Are there any tables or chairs set up? Yes, raised bar-types scattered around the room. Stage? No, but there’s a podium against the far back wall. Restroom signs? Yup, to the left. On the off-chance, does he recognize anyone? Nope. And what is the IT supervisors name again?

They’re given a clip-on name tag that provides the last name, company affiliation, and title. Well, that is certainly handy. So, Izuku hands the receptionist the gift while asking her to point out the IT supervisor for him, thanks her for the information, then heads in that direction. The man is standing about 10 feet from the bar holding a bottle of beer and talking to someone. The supervisor’s name is Eijiro Kirishima and he’s looks around the same age as Izuku. According to Yagi, he’s been the supervisor for only two years having replaced the previous one when that person retired. Eijiro must have seen him coming, because once he’s a few feet away, the man waves and calls out Midoriya-San!

“Hello, Kirishima-San,” Izuku bows and hands the man his business card. “Thank you for having me. I’m sorry that Toshinori-San couldn’t come instead.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ve wanted to meet you anyways.” After giving Izuku his business card, Eijiro turns to the other person he’s talking to and gestures at them. “Midoriya-San, this is Iida-San, he’s from the accounting department.”

“Hello, Iida-San, it’s nice to meet you.” Izuku bows and hands the man his business card who reciprocates with his own. The man is a foot taller and wears glasses. He notes Iida’s first name is Tenya.

“Nice to meet you as well,” Tenya bows, then readjusts his glasses. “Did Toshinori-San retire? Are you the new supervisor?”

“No, no,” Izuku waves his hands as if to erase such a statement from the air. “He has another meeting to attend, so he asked me to come instead.”

Eijiro bumps his shoulder against Izuku’s in a teasingly tone. “I hear Midoriya-San is the top IT person next to Toshinori. Nobody can program better than he can!”

“Eh!” Izuku’s cheeks flush redder than a ripe strawberry. “I-I wouldn’t say that!”

“Oh, don’t be modest,” Eijiro continues to tease, “maybe I should steal you from him,” he laughs.

“You shouldn’t tease so much,” Tenya scolds. “You’re making him embarrassed.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Eijiro apologizes in humorous tone. “I tend to go overboard. Anyway,” he holds up an empty bottle, “I need a refill— Midoriya, drink?” He motions with his head towards the bar.

The two men grab drinks and settle on some chairs near a few other employees. The conversations are going well as they discuss some of the types of programs they’re working on recently, or about a new virus that’s going around, what do they like to do on their days off, food or movie genres, etc. A couple of hours goes by and the beginning jitters Izuku felt have melted away thanks to the courage juice, rather he’s feeling pretty good now. Eijiro is a great host too, introducing Izuku to everyone they encounter. He’s gathered quite a lot of business cards from this party so far. Yagi will be surprised.

While Izuku is standing around just listening to the conversation going on between Eijiro and two other employees named Shouto Todoroki and Momo Yaoyorozu from the sales department, he’s oblivious to how close they are to another group. The conversation is something about another good restaurant that Shouto found recently to take clients to and what the food is like. Everything Shouto describes sounds delicious and Izuku makes a mental note to look up the restaurant later. Suddenly, someone bumps into Izuku’s back, not very hard, but enough to tense the front of his feet to tense up for support. He turns around at the same as the other person.

“Sorry for that,” the yellow-haired man apologizes, but then his expression abruptly changes from normal to surprised to happy almost instantly.

“Oh, it’s okay,” Izuku smiles wide. “I was too close as well.”

The man smiles with a light chuckle, “You’d say something like that.”

Confused, Izuku immediately moves to ask the man what he meant, but in the same moment, another man walks up and tells the yellow-haired man that he’s needed up front.

The man nods in acknowledgement, then quickly finishes addressing Izuku before leaving with the messenger. “Don’t leave, okay?”

Izuku is even more confused now, but there’s nothing he can do about it. “Okay…” He’s not sure what the man meant by don’t leave. Leave where? This spot or the party?

“And that is our big boss,” Eijiro can now cut in and introduce the man. “Bakugou-San is the son of the President and the current Vice President.”

“Wow, so young to be a vice president,” Izuku is captivated, “must be nice.”

Eijiro laughs, “Not having to worry about anything, I’d say so, but he’s not the type to flaunt his money. In fact I get the feeling it annoys him,” he shrugs. At least, that’s the impression Katsuki Bakugou gives off when women try to gain his attention. “Nothing we’ll ever understand.”

Izuku chuckles, “so, true.”

At about 9 pm, the president of the company gives a thank you speech for everyone who attended to celebrate their companies 75th Anniversary. This company was started by her father and in the near future her son will become the third generation owner. Izuku hadn’t known the president is a woman which is rare, but he can tell from all the employees around the room she is highly respected. It makes him think of his mom… women are so much stronger than society credits them for. At the end of the speech, they are asked to raise their glasses in a celebratory kanpai (toast) and wished safe travels when they return home.

With another hour left of the party, Izuku decides it’s time he should leave. He does work in the morning after all and it’s already 10pm. Having forgotten Katsuki’s request, Izuku goes around and says his goodbye’s to the new acquaintances he’s made, then heads for the restroom. The car ride will be at least 20 minutes and with the amount of alcohol in his system, well… let’s just say its a precaution.

Izuku pushes the restroom door open without thinking much of it when— a BANG! Followed immediately by cursing. Oh, no he hit someone! He quickly goes inside and sees a man hunching over the sink holding his nose. “I’m so, so sorry!” He rushes over to see the damage. “Oh, no you’re bleeding?!” Izuku pulls the handkerchief from his breast pocket. “Here,” he hands it to the man yet also guides it to his nose and presses it to the nostrils as he tips his head back. “Should I call 911?”

“No.” The man nasally mumbles. “Don’t think its broken.”

“B-Broken??” Izuku feels like he’s gonna faint. This evening has gone so well, and to end like this? Why him? “W-What should I do?”

“Just keep holdin’ it there.”

“O-Okay.” Izuku does as hes told, but continues to chatter nervously, apologizing over and over. Telling the man how he’s guest from a manufacturing company who is filling in last minute for someone else and how he hadn’t planned on staying this late, but he is having so much fun, but he thinks he drank too much, that’s why he wasn’t paying attention and ended up hitting him with the door and how he’ll make this up to him somehow, eventually rambling about his life and how it was tough growing up because they didn’t have much, but that his life turned out okay and hes happy for the most part…

After several minutes, the man finally speaks up. “Still rambling huh, but it’s amusing.”

The comment causes Izuku to blush. He doesn’t know how to respond, so he changes the topic. “I think it’s stopped bleeding.” he points out as he moves the handkerchief out of the way. “Looks like it’s stopped for now.”

The man too looks at the handkerchief and sees the drying blood. “Yeah, I’ll probably go to the doctor in the morning.”

When the man turns to look at Izuku, all the blood rushes from his cheeks. With the alcohol wearing off, it finally clicks— It’s the VP of the company! The president’s son that’ll take over one day. Of all the people he could’ve hit. “Well, then…” Izuku back peddles for the door as he continues to apologize. “Since it’s stopped, I should get going ‘cause the drivers waiting for me.”

“Wait!”

Katsuki gestures for him to stop, but Izuku keeps going. He puts his hands together in a prayer pose. “Again, I am so so sorry!” Then leaves the restroom.

The second hes out the door Izuku beelines it for the elevator and thankfully it’s already waiting for more passengers. When he reaches the car, he realizes he forgot the handkerchief, but oh well, they can take it out of his pay cause hes not going back there. What a mess. By the time Izuku reaches his apartment his nerves are so wracked, with a quick shower he passes out with a prayer on his mind. There’s no way he’ll get out of this without at least some kind of punishment like a demotion or worst case, being fired. It’s the vice president, after all.

When Izuku wakes up the next morning he contemplates calling in sick. Is the fact he has no voice messages on his cell phone yet a good sign? Ugh, he hangs his head. No, he needs to go to work if at all to bring the suit back. Plus, he’s not someone who’d run from consequences if it’s his fault. So, he puts the suit into the garment bag it came with along with the shoes, grabs his back pack and heads to the train station.

Izuku takes a deep breath as he walks into their office and heads straight to his bosses office where he can see Yagi already in. It’s gonna be okay, he tells himself like a mantra. Whatever happens, he’ll deal with it. He knocks and walks in. “Good morning Toshinori-San.”

“Ah! Midoriya-San! Sit, sit," he gestures at the chair. "How was the party? Did you have fun?"

"Oh, yes, Kirishima-San was very nice and introduced me to a lot of people so I was able to make many new connections."

"That sounds wonderful! I figured it'd be okay since you two are closer in age." Yagi then gestures at the garment bag. "You can take a long lunch today and return the suit please."

"Sure! I can do that."

"Good, well we'll touch base again later about the sale project programming, but I need to get to a meeting soon."

Izuku stands up and bows. "Thank you, Toshinori-San."

At his cubicle, Izuku hangs the garment bag on the wall of the cubicle and flops into his seat. That went well. No one from Dynaspark has contacted Yagi or the company because Yagi would have also heard about it. Why not? It seems quite odd, but Izuku takes it as a tentative sign he's fine. He did apologize profusely and attended to the mans nose, so perhaps the VP holds no grudges over an accident. And if so, it makes Izuku respect him and his company even more. Still, he should send a formal apology gift, so after work that'll be the first thing he takes care of.

The first four hours goes by very quickly because shortly after starting, Izuku is called to help someone in accounting whose computer is freezing. At first they can't figure out why, but eventually they discover a virus has tagged onto a received email and started trying to shut the computer down. That takes him three hours because once he stopped the virus he still needed to go through each system to make sure everything is okay, as well as fix anything that was altered. Things have been going so well, he forgets all about the restroom incident and just does his job like normal. Finally, 11:30 am rolls around and he's free. So he grabs the garment bag and heads out after notifying the two assistants he'll be back late because of the extra stop.

Around 12:30 pm, there's a knock at the IT office door. Because of the potential trade secrets, only authorized individuals have key codes to access the door. An employee closest to the door answers and finds Katsuki wearing an expensive looking outfit who asks to see the supervisor. With Yagi and Izuku out of the office and assuming based on appearance this might be important, the woman takes Katsuki to one of Izuku's assistants.

When Katsuki walks up to the cubicle, Monoma stops what he's doing to stand and address him. "How may I help you?"

"My name is Bakugou from Dynaspark industries and I'm looking for Midoriya."

Monoma gives Shishikura a mischievous look before he answers. "Oh, I'm very sorry you came all this way, but he was fired this morning."

"Fired?" Katsuki questions, taken aback. "What for?"

"I’m sorry I don't know sir," Monoma shrugs, "but they didn't give us the details."

"I hope it wasn't—" Katsuki mumbles then stops. "Thank you for the information. I'll let myself out."

Stunned and troubled, Katsuki starts to leave and even contemplates going straight to the President to ask why they would fire such a valuable employee. But by the time he reaches the lobby on the first floor, he realizes it's not his business to question someone else's decisions. He’d waited too long before, and now he’s done it again. After walking about ten feet out the front doors onto the plaza fronting the building, Katsuki stops walking and pulls the handkerchief out of his pocket. He had so hoped to find it's owner. With a solemn sigh, he starts walking again, but as he looks up, he sees Izuku coming in his direction.

Katsuki perks up instantly and starts to wave and call for the man. "Midoriya!"

When he's within five feet, Izuku stops, completely surprised. Is he here to give him a bill? But he’s smiling... "B-Bakugou-San?? What are you doing here?"

"Your handkerchief," Katsuki holds it up. "You don't remember me, but I remember you from Waseda University." He smiles and his eyes drift up in reminiscence. "The sweet freckle-faced guy who was so focused in class. Quiet but friendly and cute. Sometimes I would stare at you the whole class and not pay attention." Chuckling, he quickly covers the distance to the stunned Izuku and takes his hand. "I was too afraid to say anything back then, but I've always loved the owner of this handkerchief, you, Midoriya, so how lucky am I that ten years later we meet again."

Izuku's eyes widen when a long held memory returns. His knees buckle and collapse him to the ground. "Y-You… H-How me? Cute? Impossible," he shakes his head. "I do remember seeing you now and also remember thinking how guys like you would never give me a second look, so I never gave it another thought. "I'm just a computer nerd and you… you're the vice president of a major company!"

Katsuki kneels and takes both of the trembling man's hands. "Yes, you and it is possible.” He lifts Izuku’s chin. “I despise people who only go for looks and everyone always just wants to date me because of my family. Which is why someone like you would make me happier. We were just simple college students when I fell in love and seeing how you haven't changed, it brought all those feelings rushing back last night." He places a hand on Izuku's cheek forcing him to look at him and affixes his amorous gaze. "Come with me, since they fired you, come be with me and I'll take care of you."

That gets Izuku’s attention. "Wait, what, fired? I was fired??"

"That's what those two guys in the IT department said.” Katsuki explains. “That you were fired this morning and since you weren't there it appeared true."

Izuku shakes his head. "I was returning the suit… Those guys… I'm so sorry they lied to you, they're jealous and don't like me."

"It doesn't matter to me," Katsuki thumbs Izuku's cheek. "Now that I've found you, I'm not letting you go. So, please say yes."

"But I can't just leave Toshinori-San…"

Katsuki shrugs, "I already got his blessing this morning."

"He didn't tell me anything!" Izuku is stunned.

"That's because I asked him not to, that I wanted to surprise you."

"Oh, wow…" Izuku's brain is short circuiting like a broken program.To think this cute guy from college wants him, loves him enough to track him down. There’s no way he’d imagine anything like this. Why not take the risk? His cheeks heat up a little at the idea of love and happiness, and the acceptance of his quirky personality and freckles. "I-I… Is this some kind of fairytale? Things like this never happen."

"Believe it," Katsuki shocks him with a kiss on the lips. "So say yes, so our fairytale’s ending is a happily ever after." He stays close with their foreheads touching, speaking softly. “Please say yes Izuku.”

At the intimacy of hearing his first name, moisture pools in Izuku’s eyes as he kisses Katsuki back and answers, “yes!”

Some wishes do come true…

[lgist]

We are ever static, We cannot move.

28/30 - Day 8 of 10 Days of Trouble

Cold and gritty, the city streets light ablaze with advertisements and the sky is pierced with overhanging skyscrapers. Tonight’s forecast showed signs of acid rain ready to hit the concrete that morning. The paths and roads are also plump with people running on fumes in their day to day activities. Bags under the eyes of the citizens inhabiting this dystopia, it is not as easy to avoid it as it was 50 years ago, now it is necessary. There stands areas of staggering impoverishment where the well comes up dry. Where the children will find scraps to eat in the waste of the few. Their malnourishment results in sunken skulls and brain formation that will precede any notion of a productive education, their fates are planned and executed to a near perfection as they are systematically formed into cogs. Cogs who will forever perpetuate the system of commercialization, working for pennies to manufacture. Manufacture anything those on top can think of, there don’t remain many options for commercial sale, everything is profitable. Forget the idea of “modern medicine”, in this world, it is divided amongst those who can afford it, death, of course, the only remaining alternative. Of those who can, they live within the walls of paradise. Perhaps, intentionally ignorant to what is below them within their penthouses and sky-high apartment blocks. Crime, ever present as further regulation has caused further avenues for the cartels, gangs and mobs to infiltrate the black market to levels unprecedented. In this city of ours, we are divided. Separated by class, distinguished by what we have and what we don’t, the promise of a “dream” is nothing more than another sale. Acceptance has rooted itself within our corrupted minds, we simply don’t expect more. Our belief of our existence is one of ownership, we are here because we put ourselves here. We spend our time spectating luxury, delusional in our thought process of “making it”. Yet we are ever static, we cannot move an inch from where we are. Designated, in place and obedient, for questioning our authority is unthinkable. Separated, all for a reason, how can we begin to relate to each other when we are all struggling indefinitely. Struggling to live, struggling to breathe as the smog enters our lungs, struggling to provide for those we are responsible for. Struggle, the ever binding concept of society. It will sap and destroy innovation and progress for euros and dollars. The few have no reality of struggle, they are born into wealth and where wealth appears, struggle is non apparent.

Non apparent either is the fruits of our labour, we are disconnected, desensitised to monotony. Hours upon hours a day for practically nothing, when they spit in our mouths, we open up for another serving. Disconnected too, is our passion from ourselves. There just isn’t enough time, our struggle is taking most of it. Maybe there are those of us who dreamt of being an astronaut as children, the stars glistening against our visors as the blue marble and all her glory becomes immortal within our memory. We could’ve been doctors, We could’ve innovated technology to suit all our needs, We could’ve been more, yet here we stand, behind a conveyor belt, inside a cubicle, serving those more fortunate than we could ever imagine. As we continue our perilous journey through monotony, boredom sets in. It is practically free advertising for things, things to buy to give you those few seconds of novelty, as if we are begging for distraction. We are lost in a sea of distractions, as we flee our Earth to those brand spanking new colonies up there in the red desert to escape the responsibility of consequence. As we come home, drenched in sweat and an assortment of cancer causing chemicals, we escape to our media, crafted to be addicting. I wonder where the addiction comes in, is it in the pings, the flashes, the bright colours or is it the relation? Are we so deprived of each other that in our desperation we search for it? Do we search for lives other than our own because we are just that bored or starved of other options? Relation could be building upon lifetime friendships where we share our experiences and our compassion for one another yet it has been shrank into our black mirrors and into the glare of our pupils, need not forget about the advertisements. In this world, relation has become a commodity except we are not buying anything, we are the product. Are they satisfied? Yet? Their insatiable hunger for more and more. Their greed making their belts buckle as it struggles to hold all that gluttony in place. 

Are we doomed for this? Is this always the end result? Should the butterfly effect exist, if the flap of the wings swayed a different direction, would we be here? Have the decisions of the past, acting as judge, jury and executioner, sentenced us to this fate? If only we could go back, redecide how we want to live. Time only moves forwards, when it’s too late we would be none the wiser. Maybe 50 years back, when we were only at the cusp of what our reality meant for all seven billion of us, we had a chance. A chance to revitalise our way of living, our trains of thought, our expression of emotion and passion, those ideas were feasible back then. Now, time has moved forward, we are ever static, we cannot move. The few have won, many more will suffer. Regret, it is what defines us now. What could’ve been, a pipe dream. 

“Just another in the sea of many” - 2072

—--------------------

Ooooooo experimental hey? Now I know there isn’t an exact correlation with trouble in this one, maybe an overarching theme? Today, I felt different, so I wrote differently. Took me surprisingly long, approximately 2 and a half hours. Stories are hard but I loved doing it. Implanting myself into a different world I imagined yet I find that the substance, you know the doomsday, real communist stuff riddled throughout, is similar to some of my other posts. Formation of ideas can take many mediums, Will it be a story? Will it be an article? It can be anything I want, like an empty canvas, a blank page only needs imagination to come to life. Much Love - S

[cubiclesforuse]

Exactly how to Get a Workplace Workstation

When you prepare to acquire an office cubicle, you should consider what type of office you'll be equipping. Although you can see work area pictures on the internet, you ought to also 'kick the tires' of the workstations in person. A furniture storehouse is an excellent place to watch as well as closely examine the cabinets, wall surface panels, and job surfaces of utilized workstations.

The experience of working with Herman Miller Cubicles work areas can be a vital lesson in the purchasing procedure. A 2nd option to consider is buying previously owned office cubicles. These used workstations can be bought for as little as $500 and can cost you anywhere from $2,500 to $10,000 depending on brand, measurements, and condition. Used workstations are also worth offering on the pre-owned market, which uses excellent chances for profit.

Even if you do not want to sell them yourself, you can donate them to a charity and also obtain a tax reduction. Workplace workstation items come in many styles. Lots of are made to be open and also permit more communication, while others are developed to permit personal privacy. If you're not sure which design to opt for, check out our option of cubicle items online. Select the style that works finest for you and also your office space.

If you're trying to find an extra personal work area, try a high-walled workstation with a privacy display and a divider. Getting made use of workstations is an exceptional option for companies with a tight budget plan. Made use of workstations may look shabby yet are of top quality. Oftentimes firms get utilized workstations from respectable office furniture stores due to the fact that they can't afford new ones.

Make sure to check the quality and also warranty of utilized work areas before acquiring them. Lots of on-line furniture stores provide quality Steelcase Cubicles, so if you're on a budget plan, this option might be appropriate for you. You can additionally purchase reconditioned workstations. These workstations are pre-owned by one more firm, yet have been refurbished to look new.

This alternative is more economical than a new cubicle, but it might take a while to refurbish the work areas. Acquiring refurbished workplace workstations is not the best option for you if you're brief on time. Nonetheless, it is a great choice if you're brief on money, yet you're going to require to be patient as repair might take some time. Another benefit of work areas is the truth that they permit staff members to have their very own room.

Staff members that require privacy will certainly have the ability to concentrate much better when they are separated from other workers. Along with this, cubicles are optimal for copywriting, design, as well as other sensitive work materials. If you require to collaborate with coworkers but do not wish to disturb other employees, work areas can be an excellent alternative for your company.

And they can conserve you money, too. Selecting a style for your office workstations is a crucial facet in making the most of staff member convenience. If you require to use the space for meetings or various other conferences, a cubicle with a lot of storage space can help keep your employees efficient and healthy. Relying on the space and its use, you may wish to think about setting up an open idea.

Additionally, you might intend to purchase a benching workstation. A benching workstation can be an affordable remedy to area limitations as well as offer added area to employees.Click here to understand more on this topic: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Office.

[yellowblogau]

5 Ways to Use Office Partitions to Create Privacy in an Open Office Space

Some open office spaces are great, but not all of them. Sometimes you want more privacy in your work environment, and sometimes you just want quieter. If you’re working in an open space that doesn’t have much privacy, here are five ways to create privacy with Office Partition that won’t break the bank or inconvenience, other employees.

1) Increases aesthetics

Office partitions help create privacy in open office spaces. This is especially useful for workers who like to keep their doors closed when working. Office partitioning, also called office screens, creates a private workspace for anyone who wants more privacy than what’s offered by typical cubicles. If you do choose to install these dividers between two offices or cubicles, make sure your company already has its own walls in place so they don’t have to be built. These dividers are typically made from fabric or glass and can come with power outlets on the side for those wanting to charge their devices.

2) Builds a sense of inclusion

Studies have shown that personal offices and private workspaces promote higher levels of productivity and overall job satisfaction. Partition walls help build a sense of community while creating a more intimate workspace. When you provide your employees with the option of privacy, it creates an inclusive space where everyone feels like they are valued members of the team.

3) Creates structure and flow

An open-plan office is great for your company's culture and workflow. But it also creates a lot of distractions, which can have a negative impact on productivity. To counter these distractions, implement solutions that add structure and flow without impeding collaboration. For example, you can use partitions to section off spaces while still allowing staff to see each other across different teams or departments. This could include using doors with glass panels so employees can see what's happening behind them while they're working or using movable walls that separate large workspaces into smaller ones so people can focus better on their tasks at hand.

4) Try out different layouts

If you’re working with a large, open office space that lacks privacy, be sure to experiment with different layouts and configurations. Go so far as moving your desk around from day to day or week-to-week—this will give you insights into what works for you and what doesn’t. And remember: You don’t have to move your entire workstation every time you want a change; just try out a different seating position or arrangement at first, then slowly build from there. When it comes to offices without partitions, the best way to create privacy is by using the least amount of tools possible. Simply use curtains, blinds, soundproofing panels, bookcases and other means to create visual barriers that allow you some seclusion from others nearby. Even if you are sharing an office space with another person or two, this will help break up distractions and noise.

5) Integrates cost-effective options

Employing office partitions is one of those options that create privacy without a significant price tag. Purchasing or leasing high-end, privacy-inducing furniture can be expensive, and might make your employees feel like they’re not free to move around their workspace. Using partitions as room dividers offers a number of perks when compared with similar measures; most notably, it creates division while maintaining a sense of unity between colleagues. When everyone is working together on specific tasks, it’s important that they feel connected and not isolated. When you use office partitions effectively, you’ll notice productivity rising and stress levels falling for every employee in your open space. Read the full article

[conceptci]

5 Office Interior Design Mistakes That Are Costing You Business

When it comes to best Office Interior Design Sydney, the devil is in the details. A well-thought-out design can help you, and your team work more productively, while a bad design can cost you time, money, and customers. In this post, we'll discuss five common office interior design mistakes and how to avoid them.

The problem with poor office interior design

Many business owners make the mistake of thinking that office interior design doesn't matter. They believe that as long as their employees have a place to sit and work, they're good to go. But what they don't realise is that poor office design can actually cost them money.

Here are five ways your office interior design could be costing you business:

Poor productivity: If your office is uncomfortable or uninspiring, your employees will be less productive.

Bad first impressions: A cluttered, dated, or poorly designed office will give visitors a bad impression of your company.

Lost clients: If clients feel uncomfortable or unwelcome in your office, they're more likely to take their business elsewhere.

Low staff morale: Unhappy employees led to low staff morale and reduced productivity.

Increased overhead costs: An inefficient office layout can lead to increased overhead costs, such as wasted time or energy.

The uncomfortable truth about corners

If your office is anything like most, it's probably crammed into a corner. And you're paying for it. When it comes to office design, corners are the enemy. They're uncomfortable and unproductive, and they make you look small.

But it's not just about looks. Corners make you physically uncomfortable, leading to cramped muscles and poor circulation. They also limit your ability to collaborate and communicate with others, which is essential for any business. So think twice before cramming your office into a corner. It might not be the best decision for your business.

You're not fooling anyone with cheap materials.

One of the biggest Office Interior Design Sydney mistakes is trying to save money by using cheap materials. While it may seem like a good idea in the short term, in the long run, it will end up costing you more. In order to create a professional and polished image, it's important to use high-quality materials throughout your office. This includes everything from your furniture and flooring to your walls and desktops.

Using cheap materials may give the impression that you're not serious about your business or that you're not willing to invest in your employees. So avoid these mistakes at all costs and invest in quality materials that will make your office look great and help your business succeed.

Bad acoustics are costing you productivity.

Loud office sounds can be seriously distracting and make it difficult for employees to focus. The office environment should be quiet and calm so that people can get their work done without any distractions.

If your office has bad acoustics, you're probably losing out on a lot of productivity. Employees can't concentrate when there's constant noise and disruption, so it's important to take steps to improve the sound quality in your office.

There are a few things you can do to help improve the acoustics in your office. One is to add some acoustic panels or sound-absorbing materials to help reduce echo and noise. You can also try separating workstations with dividers or cubicles to create more privacy and reduce noise levels.

The importance of ergonomics in the office

You might be surprised to learn that the way your office is designed can actually affect your productivity. Believe it or not, making a few simple changes can result in big results. One of the most important factors to consider is ergonomics. Having a workstation that's properly set up can help you stay productive and healthy. Make sure your computer monitor is at eye level, your chair is comfortable, and you have plenty of space to work.

If you're not sure where to start, consult an ergonomic specialist who can help you create a workstation that's perfect for you.

Conclusion:

best Office Interior Design Sydney is a critical part of any business. It can make or break your ability to work effectively and be productive. Unfortunately, many businesses make common mistakes that cost them time and money. In this blog post, we discuss five of the most common mistakes and how to avoid them.

[wtnrscap]

It never stops

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: A lead in the ruins of Sokovia brings a face from the past back.

Ask:

Warnings: Set post-Endgame, swearing, a lil angst.

A/N: I have a bad feeling I’ve butchered your ask @badasseddy​ but I hope you still like it. Feel free to complain if you hate it. Currently writing a request a day, so I will get to everyone’s.

I cannot for the life of me remember who made this divider, so if it’s yours or you know who’s it is, please tell me so I can credit them.

81 years had passed since Bucky had last gone dancing, and he felt as though his eardrums were going to burst. Adrenaline shot through his veins, the alcohol having no affects. Sam nodded his head with the beat and Bucky groaned. Is this really what music passed for nowadays?

It took several punches to the arm for Bucky to realize that Sam was trying to get his attention, and he whipped his head around so fast they almost knocked each other out. Sam yelled and smacked Bucky’s metal arm, before screaming in pain.

 ‘Serves his right for dragging me to this hell’, thought Bucky. He watched as Sam pulled out a photograph and waved it in front of his face, “We’re looking for this girl. She’s undercover. Locate her and contact me on coms.”

 Bucky yanked the photo out of the air and stared at, memorizing the girl’s face. He vaguely remembered her, but he didn’t know why. Her Y/H/C hair was tied in a lose ponytail, with striking Y/E/C eyes and a distinctive smile. Her arms were wrapped out Sam’s shoulder, while Steve’s arm rest on her shoulder. Bucky tried to ignore the youth of his friend and chose to focus on the fact that the girl was pretty. The natural kind of pretty that all the girls wanted but compensated with layers of makeup. Bucky tucked the photo into his jacket with slight reluctance. It was the type of photo where he would have cut the girl out and tucked it into his army uniform, reminding himself what he was fighting for.

 The pair separated, Sam heading towards the dancefloor and Bucky the bar. A beacon of escape, Bucky decided. Sam had said no drinking on the job, but fuck Sam, if he wanted to drink, then he would. Bucky was immune to the addictive buzz anyway.

 The bar was empty aside from a man in a suit at the end, but he seemed a little distracted, a girl on his lap, giggling at something that probably wasn’t very funny. The girls in this club knew how to make their living. Bottles were stacked almost floor high, dirty looking glasses and a few dripping taps. A girl stood at the end, scrubbing a smeared flute with a grubby cloth. Bucky tapped his fingers and she sauntered over, “What can I get ya, pal? Looking a bit lost there…”

 “Well, I don’t really fit in. You see a lot of faces here?”

 “As a bartender? More than I care to count. Need help with something?”

 Bucky pulled the photo out, folded out Sam and Steve, and slid it across the wet bar, “I’m looking for this girl. Have you seen her?”

 The girl lifted it up gingerly, letting it drip. As she analyzed it, Bucky gave himself a chance to look at her, weighing her up. Her hair was black with green highlights, ending on her shoulders. Her eyes were the same as the girl’s in the photo but the smile, it wasn’t the same. This wasn’t who they were looking for.

 The girl slid the photo back, “She’s pretty, but I’ve never seen her. I think I’d remember her if I did.”

Bucky tucked the photo back into his jacket. The girl straightened up, a crease forming across her brow, “Are you sure you don’t want anything? A dry martini?” the girl looked up at him almost expectantly, but Bucky shook his head, “I’m good. I’ll probably be here till closing time, so if you see her, pull me over.”

 -

 “We can sink no lower…” mumbled Bucky, the toilet creaking dangerously below him. Sam hushed him quickly, “The girl is here. We have to stay ’till we find her.”

 “And that means hiding in the toilets?” snapped Bucky, meriting another hush from Sam. Bucky frowned, “Hey, this is your fault! This was your idea! She never turned up, we could have come back another day, but no, we’re here, hiding in this hell hole.”

 A thump from outside silenced him. Carefully, Sam left his cubicle, closely followed by Bucky, and propped open the door, enough for them to see and hear what was happening.

 “Club’s closed boys. You need to leave…” the voice of the bartender echoed around the room. Several guffaws responded, “We weren’t satisfied with our service.”

 “Not my problem. I run the bar, not the brothel.”

 “I don’t think Batroc will be very happy with that. He employs you, does he not?”

 “Yes…” the bartender’s voice trailed off nervously, “What are you going to do to me?”

 “Show you what we do to unwilling workers. Grab her and strap to the table… That one, in the corner…”

 Without hesitation, Bucky grabbed onto Sam’s arm, mouthing, “I can’t listen to this. We have to help her!”

 Sam’s hand flew over Bucky’s mouth, “We’re not here for her… Stay put!”

 Bucky pushed against Sam, trying to free himself from the Falcon’s grip, but Sam held him fast. A brief squabble broke out, Bucky and Sam fighting against each other, until Bucky used his metal hand to break free, rushing through the door to shocking sight.

 The bartender wiped her lip, staring down at three men, “Touch me again, and I will fucking kill you.”

 “Fuck…” thought Bucky, ‘I should not be this turned on…’

 “Hey, pretty boy? Pretty boy? Pay attention to me!” the bartender’s voice snapped Bucky out of his daydream, “Meet me in the alley in 5 minutes. Bring Sam.”

 -

 The dingy alley smelt of piss and sick, but the bartender seemed unperturbed, flinging her arms around Sam’s neck, “Oh, I’ve missed you Birdie!”

 “I’ve missed you too! We’ve been looking for you all night! Where have you been?”

 “At the bar! Your friend approached me, I thought he would recognize me, but no, and when I said the words, he didn’t reply with the code!” the bartender shot Bucky an angry glance. Bucky snapped, “What words? I wasn’t told of any words. And why would I recognize you? I’ve never met you in my life! This is so stupid!”

 The bartender huffed and pulled on her hair until it come off in her hand, revealing Y/H/C underneath. The black hair was a wig. Next, she pulled out the photo from Sam’s pocket and pulled up to her face and copied the smile. Bucky saw the resemble immediately, “It’s you…”

 “My name’s Agent Y/N L/N, I’m undercover here. You probably don’t remember me, we didn’t really meet, but I helped Steve and Sam disappear in 2016. I saw you from a distance, but you were kinda wiped out, no metal arm and longer hair. As for the words, I was told to offer you a dry martini, and you should’ve responded with ‘I don’t like my martini’s dry’.”

 “I hate martini’s altogether! And I gave you a photo of yourself!”

 “I’ve had 4 people give me a photo of myself today alone! The people after you are on your case!” Y/N’s chest heaved with anger and frustration, “Baltroc will be in the old Sokovian church tomorrow at midday. He’s made several attempts to take over the Sokovian people after the country fell with Ultron. We’ve tried to enlist the help of Wanda Maximoff, but we’ve had no response.”

 “She’s gone MIA… No one knows where she is…” responded Sam slowly, “If what you say is true, not that I am doubting you, then we need to get moving now. You are relieved of your duty. Where will you head?”

 “To New York. I’ll go to the compound.”

 “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing you there…” Sam pulled Y/N into a tight hug before turning to Bucky, “We leave in 10.”

 Bucky nodded his head and looked down at Y/N, “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”

 “Not your fault. I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

 “Not your fault…” Bucky shifted awkwardly. Y/N smiled slightly, “Do you miss him?”

 Bucky’s eyes widened almost comically. He hadn’t expected that from her, the mention of Steve. He noticed the way her shoulders slumped at the question, her eyes losing their sparkle slightly. He wondered how the snap had affected her, and, for the first time, wondered what an Agent like her was doing here, in the burned ruins of Sokoiva. He tried to match her smile, “Everyday… It’s hard… I know that he is still alive, but the whole world believes him dead, and I don’t actually see him very often now, so sometimes, it’s like he’s dead to me too. It just never stops, this life. It’s fast and hard.”

 “I understand…” Y/N nodded her head, and Bucky spied a tear, and felt a pang in his heart, “Did… Did you love him?”

 “Oh God no!” gasped Y/N with a chuckle, “Me and Steve were more like siblings or best friends. He helped me and I helped him… I wasn’t snapped away, so spent the last 5 years with him. I trained with Natasha, and when Scott came back, Steve sent me away. To protect me, he said. I don’t doubt him, but I wonder, if I stayed, would’ve I been able to stop him from leaving?”

 “No. He had his mind set on it…”

 “Why’d you ask if I love him?”

 Bucky cheeks reddened, “Well, after I messed this up so bad, I wondered if once I got back to New York, you’d like to go for drinks… or not?”

 “Sargent Barnes, are you asking me on a date?”

 Bucky shivered at the use of the title, but tried to cover it, “Would you be opposed to the idea?”

 “No…”

 Bucky smiled at her as Sam yelled at him to hurry up. There was another moment of awkwardness before Bucky turned on his heel. Y/N stood still for few seconds before gasping, “Bucky! Wait!”

 “What?”

 It was Y/N’s turn to blush as she pecked a kiss on his cheek, “Be safe. Baltroc has a rep for maximum of casualties.”

 “I promise, doll…” Bucky smiled at took her hand in his, “Never thought the night would end like this. And now, I must really go.”

 -

 Sam frowned as they stepped onto the Quinjet, “How do you do it, man? 5 minutes ago, you barely knew the girl, and now you’re going on a date with her?”

 “It’s called charm, Birdbrain, you should try it some time.”

 “I have charm! And a wingman.”

 “Redwing does not count.”

 Sam huffed and sat down in a seat, “He so does. Besides, when she realizes you have a cyber-brain, she’ll be gone.”

 “Nah, I’ll just charm her again.”

 “Not with that grouchy face. If the wind changes, your face will be stuck like that.”

“I hate you…” muttered Bucky. Sam burst out laughing, nudging Bucky’s shoulder, and the man let out a small snort, smiling gently. 

It might never stop, but Bucky couldn’t deny, when it did, it was nice. Steve was gone, but he had Sam and now, Y/N too. Yeah... All was good.

[omiluvbug]

Office Hours (Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader oneshot)

This oneshot can be viewed on AO3 and Wattpad too!

You woke up at around 6:30 am as the sun's rays peeked through the shallow gaps in the curtains by your window. This created soft rays of light traveling through the room, basking the plain white walls in soft hues of orange and yellow. You patted the bed as you looked for your alarm clock which blared an overly obnoxious sound. 

Groaning, you got up, your hair a tangled mess as well as your patterned pajamas. You threw your blanket to the side as you stretched out her limbs. You contemplated on whether to stay in bed or go to work. You didn't really want to go to work today. Just the thought of you sitting down at your boring table for 8 hours doesn't seem that much exciting. You'd rather stay at home and curl up in your chair by the window, looking out to a nice view of the city. 

However, you couldn't really risk getting scolded so early in the morning in front of a lot of people. Just the thought of it deeply embarrassed you. Sighing, you got up and lazily fixed your queen-sized bed, throwing pillows on top of another and draping the blanket over the comforter.

You quickly did her morning routine—washing your face and brushing your teeth, then changing into your usual office attire and applying some makeup. Afterwards, you quickly fixed your hair before going to the kitchen to prepare a small breakfast. You scrolled through her phone as you ate, laughing slightly at ridiculous posts of some strangers on the internet.

You liked these kinds of moments; moments where you would usually be just by yourself in the morning, enjoying your breakfast as you looked through her phone, or listening to songs as you made food or cleaned the house. It was mundane for sure, just a normal day-to-day living, but it provided you a sense of comfort, even just for a little bit.

"Oh crap!" You quickly jumped to your feet as you noticed the time. You didn't realize that you were on your phone for far too long. If you don't get out of the house now, you'll miss your train. You hurriedly grabbed your bag and threw it over your shoulder as you wore whatever colored pump you could find. You then dashed through the door, making your way towards the train station which was a 10 minute walk away from home.

"Woah there, careful," Said a man with long hair tied into a bun and bangs perfectly framing his face. His hands were on your arm, preventing you from tripping on the boxes on the floor. He wore deep navy pants with the jacket loosely hanging from his arm. Two buttons of his white dress shirt were opened, making you look elsewhere.

"We don't want anyone tripping over these boxes now, don't we?" He implied, looking at you as if he was waiting for some sort of response. "You alright there, Y/N?"

"My apologies, Mr. Getou!" You said, your eyes wide open and your lips slightly agape. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and I—"

Getou chuckled, waving a dismissive hand in front of you. "It's alright, dear." He bent down to pick the stray boxes up before placing them on top of a random table. He then looked at his watch, his eyebrows rising. "You better get to where you're going if you don't want to be scolded. CEO's a handful when he's mad."

Flashing you another smile, Getou began walking away and disappeared into a nearby hallway. Suguru Getou is the operations manager of the company, responsible for hiring new staff members and training them, as well as monitoring personnel documentation, to name a few. He works alongside Satoru Gojo who deals with financial statistics of the company.

"Yuji! Hurry up!" You turned and saw three unfamiliar faces walking in the hallway. Two of them were boys, while one of them was a girl with orange colored hair and a frown on her face. She wore a pastel pink suit with a white dress shirt underneath. They looked young, and perhaps maybe a little bit out of place.

"It's your damn fault we're running late!" She hissed, glaring at the boy with pink hair and lightly hitting him with her bag. The boy stuck his tongue out like a little kid, causing the lady to scoff.

"Me? Blame Megumi! He's the one who stopped at a nearby park just to pet the dogs and won't leave until he called each one of them 'good girls' and 'good boys!'"

"Leave me out of this," the other boy said grumpily, shaking his head as he walked away and left the two. 

"Interns! Right here!" Ijichi called, calling the attention of the three. The three rushed towards the man, the girl's coffee almost spilling along the way.

Ah, so that's why they were unfamiliar to you, they're interns. You smiled a bit as you looked at the three playfully bickering while following Ijichi. It reminded you of your friends way back in high school. Suddenly, you wondered how they were doing. You're not much in contact with them these days as everyone is busy with their own lives. Besides, they weren't making much of an effort on trying to contact you anyway. 

"Get going, lady. These hallways are not the place to hang around, no?" said Satoru Gojo, who was followed by Shoko Ieri, the team's assistant manager. Shoko was quick to slap the man's bicep, scolding him for being so rude so early in the morning.

"Alright, geez. My bad." Gojo's hands were in his pockets as he walked, his head casually tipping to the side as he looked at the woman before her before paying attention to you. He was wearing his usual black sunglasses. Why he wore it inside the building was something you didn’t know the reason for. "Good Morning, Y/N."

"Good Morning," You greeted back, causing the man to grin and the lady to smile. 

"I see you're running late today." There was a teasing tone evident in his voice. He was going to say something more when Shoko tugged him closer, shaking her head and widening her eyes at him. 

"Right, well," Gojo stuttered, gently removing Shoko's hand from his bicep. "See ya around, Y/N!" They began walking away, muttering something amongst themselves. You even caught a glimpse of Gojo looking back at you and chuckling which left you confused. What was that about?

Perhaps everyone was running late today. It was quite understandable as it was Monday. You spotted a few people rushing inside the building as you clocked in. You placed your card back to the holder before making your way to the 5th floor, where you usually do her work. You were in the Public Relations Department, mostly coordinating public events for the company, helping in gaining favorable media coverage, and maintaining the company's relationship with investors among others. 

As you arrived at her floor, you quickly made your way towards your table and placed your bag on the chair before throwing away the crumbled paper you failed to discard the day before. You greeted your coworkers as you didn't want to seem rude.

The floor was brightly lit because of the huge windows that enabled natural light to pass through the transparent material. The floor was tiled and there were gorgeous wood accents plastered on the wall. Wood wall dividers were also used to separate the work space from the couch—where the employees would usually sit down during breaks to chat or wind down. And instead of cubicles, there were tables, allowing the employees to easily talk to each other when needed. 

"Good morning! Here's some morning newspapers, Y/N." The head of the PR Department, Iori Utahime, greeted you with a smile. "Morning assembly meeting starts in a few minutes. We're just waiting for the CEO."

"He's running late too, Ms. Utahime?" You wondered why, but then you remembered that the CEO had a very important business meeting to attend over the weekend in Osaka.

"Seems like everyone is. It's a monday after all." She clapped her hands behind her back, shifting her weight from one foot to another. "I almost missed my train earlier! I had to run out of the house with bread in my mouth  while  fixing my hair."

You looked at the lady before you. She doesn't look disheveled, infact, she looked presentable as always. Her hair was combed nicely and was in a half-up half-down updo—she even had a little bow tied on her hair which you thought was quite adorable. Her white dress shirt and red pencil skirt was tailored to her body perfectly, leaving no unflattering gaps in the material. 

"Good thing I made it in time though," she added as she mindlessly twirled a strand of hair on her hands. "I regret binge watching that drama last night."

You scrunched her face, knowing the feeling of staying up all night and regretting it the following morning. Utahime laughed, finding your reaction cute, before she patted your shoulders before bidding you a short goodbye. She went to the other's tables, greeting them a good morning and asking them about their plans for the day.

As you waited for the meeting to begin, you turned your desktop on and browsed through the emails. You frowned upon seeing some spam mails and quickly discarded them to the bin. You made a mental note to tell the head director that a certain investor wanted to make some changes with some of the deals. After that, you then skimmed through your newspaper, catching up on news that she might have missed over the weekend. 

 Soon, it was 9 am and the morning assembly meeting started. You stood up straight as their CEO, Kento Nanami, entered the floor alongside his trusty secretary, Yu Haibara, as well as a few other people. All eyes followed him as he walked towards the front of the room. You almost missed it, but the three interns were with them too, following Ijichi like they're lost puppies. 

The CEO's face was stern, yet he returned the smiles the other employees gave him. Your breath hitched when you two made eye contact, causing heat to rise to your cheeks. Nanami briefly smiled at you before turning his attention back to the other employees. However, the lingering feeling stayed with you. Oh my god.

It almost felt silly feeling butterflies over a brief eye contact. You were already an adult yet you still act like a lovestruck high school student whenever you meet eyes with your crush. However, you accepted the way you felt around Nanami. He was intelligent, polite, poised, extremely good-looking, and a gentleman. 

You couldn't help but to sigh. What was there to not swoon over for? He's literally the real deal. 

You noticed that he was more casual with the way he dressed today. Rather than his usual cream-colored suit paired with a blue dress shirt underneath and his partnered tie, he wore a black turtleneck with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing his expensive watch on one hand and toned arms. He paired it with a pair of off-white tapered pants. His hair was slicked back, with a few loose strands of hair he had to brush up every now and then. His shoes were perfectly polished too, clanking ever so softly as he took a step. 

Perhaps Kento Nanami was one of the reasons why you still chose to attend your job so early in the morning.

"Good morning." His voice was authoritative yet still soft and gentle. You even noticed the soft giggles some female employees let out upon hearing his voice. You chuckled as you shook your head. You couldn't really blame them for being giddy over him. Almost everyone is.

A chorus of hello's and good morning's were heard. Nanamin went through some announcements and important matters to discuss, mainly about increasing customer satisfaction rate and the like. He also talked about the short business trip he went to over the weekend and disclosed some information about future plans for a major project. At the same time, the department heads reported what plans they'll be doing for the rest of the day. Haibara happily took notes on his iPad, trying his hardest not to miss any important information. 

"Very well," Nanami spoke, the attention once again turning to him. He acknowledged the effort each department had and thanked them for their hard work. This definitely boosted the morale of the employee seeing the smile and grins on their faces. 

Nanami leaned a bit on the table, his arms crossed over his chests. He made eye contact with you one more time before turning his attention to the man beside him. "Ijichi, if you will. Thank you."

Ijichi nodded and walked forward, a kind smile evident on his face. A few coworkers giggled a bit, finding the man's actions kind of adorable. 

"Good morning," he greeted. "As you may all know, fall internships have already begun. Here we have three students from The University of Tokyo who will be seeking our guidance for the rest of the year."

He then gestured to the interns to start introducing themselves. The first one to do so was the lady wearing a pastel pink suit. She had a genuine smile on her face rather than the frown she had earlier in the morning. You thought that she was pretty—very fashionable too.

"Good morning! I'm Kugisaki Nobara and I'm 21 years old. Please take good care of me! I humbly seek your guidance!"

"Um." The next up was the boy with pink hair. He was quite charming to say the least; very bubbly and smiley much like the lady. "I'm Yuji Itadori. 20 years old, and I look forward to working with you all! Please go easy on me!"

Finally, the boy with dark hair spoke. He was quite shy and kind of stoic at first glance. "I'm Megumi Fushiguro. I'm 20 years old and I'm looking forward to working with you all too. Please guide us well… and I would like to apologize in advance for all the troubles these two might cause."

The two intern's mouth went agape and a few other employees let out a chuckle. The employees then politely clapped for the three. Even Nanami did too and you couldn't help to notice the small smile forming on his lips—as if he was already growing fond of the interns. This made you smile too. You had always liked having interns around. Just last fall, other students interned in this company as well and you could still vividly remember how rowdy and lively the lot were. Two of them were from UTokyo, while the others were from KyotoU.

 After the morning assembly meeting, the employees went back to their desks. You took a quick detour to the pantry to brew yourself some coffee before going back to her table. As you sat down, you folded the newspapers and kept them in your drawer as you were already finished reading them. Then, you went back to work.

The office was fairly quiet during working hours. Everyone was busy typing away on their keyboards to even spare the other employees a glance. It reminded you of libraries from school.

You reached out for your drink and frowned when you noticed that it was already empty. It was finished already? You didn’t even notice that the time was passing by so quickly. You contemplated on whether you should get up and brew some more, but you were already getting comfortable in your chair and didn't want to move an inch.

As if on cue, Gojo tapped your desk, making you turn to his direction. He had a cup of warm drink in his hands and grinned at her. You raised her eyebrow at him, confused with his sudden appearance. Usually he'll be on the third floor, supervising his department, or on the sixth floor, hanging out with other directors.

"A delivery for you, my lady." He put the warm drink down on her table and before you could even ask him why he gave it to you, he was already walking towards the elevator.

Frowning, you looked at the cup. Written on it was your favorite drink and a name that made your cheeks flush red. You covered half of your face, glaring at Gojo who was grinning as he waited for the elevator door to close. Grabbing your post-it from your desk, you covered the name written on your cup. Clicking your tongue, you went back to work and tried to bury the embarrassing feeling brewing inside you.

 When lunch time came, you decided to go to a nearby restaurant with a few other employees. You and your coworkers settled on a table near the door by the big windows. As you sat down, your attention was diverted towards the door, where the CEO and his secretary stood. They seemed to be looking for someone as their eyes trailed around the restaurant.

"Nanamin!" Gojo called, not even addressing the man properly. The white-haired man waved his arms around, catching a few people's attention. Getou, Shoko, and Utahime, who were with him, just shook their heads as they ate their food, as if pretending that they didn’t know him.

Nanami was about to approach them until he locked eyes with you once again. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as you noticed him approaching your table, Haibara following behind him. Your coworkers didn't seem to notice the CEO until he cleared his throat.

"Ah! Mr. Nanami!" The man before you stuttered. Nanami just offered him a kind smile before gesturing him to sit down. 

"Is it alright if I ate with you today?" He asked and the others nodded. Well, they didn't really have that much of a choice—who would turn down someone like Nanami? 

It was as if the universe was in your favor. Nanami pulled the seat beside you and sat on it, your knees subtly brushing against each other as he fixed his posture. However, he didn't seem to mind as he conversed with your coworkers. Haibara, who sat at the head of the table, sneakily glanced between you and Nanami, biting his lips as he tried to hide his smile. 

The others then decided to begin ordering their own meals. However, you still don't know what to get. Maybe Nanami sitting beside you was a little bit distracting, and maybe he kind of knew it based on the small smiles he lets slip past his mouth every now and then.

"Ms. L/N?"

"Y-yes?" You turned to Nanami, heat rising to your cheeks. 

You stared into his brown eyes. It reminded you of autumn for some reason. It was kind of fitting for someone like him, you concluded; a bit cold, but still makes you feel comfort and warmth. Maybe one of the reasons why Nanami reminded you of autumn so much is because naturally, the autumn season has a kind of romantic aspect to it. Perhaps it was the scenarios you think of with him before heading to bed, or maybe because you were actually falling deeply for him, but you couldn't help but to think that maybe, Nanami has a romantic side to him too. 

You didn't realize that you were staring at him for far too long until you heard his soft chuckle. Looking away, you tried to compose yourself. However, the butterflies in your stomach seem to flutter more and more as they hear the wonderful song that is Nanami's voice. 

"Are you good to order? I can line up to the counter for you," he offered. 

It was embarrassing honestly, making a total fool of yourself in front of such a respectable man like him. "Um… no, it's fine, Mr. Nanami."

"Is [favorite food] and [favorite drink] alright?" He asked, standing up and grabbing his wallet from his back pocket. 

You could only nod as he made his way towards the counter, catching up to Haibara and a few other employees. You were the only one left on the table, which gave you a responsibility to secure it. Not that you mind. 

"So!" You nearly jumped when you heard Gojo Satoru beside you. How he managed to sneak up on you from the other side of the restaurant was something you don't know. He shamelessly sat himself on the chair beside you, which was previously occupied by Nanami. "You and Nanami, huh?"

"What?" You stuttered, completely baffled by his statement. The man just leaned back on his chair, causally tipping back a bit. "Pardon me but what are you talking about, Mr. Gojo?"

"Gojo is fine." The man scrunched his nose. "You're making me sound like an old man. I hate it."

You purse your lips, considering his statement. It seems like he didn't really mind dropping the honorifics that much. He leaned back further on his chair, propping his sunglasses on top of his head. 

"You know," he began, looking over at Nanami's direction. "Nanami usually never dines with employees. I know you saw me call him over earlier, but he didn't hesitate one bit on walking towards your direction when you made eye contact." He then clicked his tongue, raising an eyebrow at you. "Which makes me conclude that what I wrote on your cup earlier was true. Am I right?"

You honestly didn't know what to say. He had a teasing grin on his face, much wider than the one he had earlier in the morning. He crossed his arms against his chest, silently urging you to spill it out already.

"I believe that seat was taken." Nanami came back with a tray with both your orders in his hands. The others were still by the counter, waiting for their turn.

Gojo whistled before standing up. "My apologies," he uttered, patting Nanami at the shoulder. "Pardon me for intruding on your little date."

You were expecting Nanami to deny his claim, but the blond didn't say anything. Instead, he calmly placed your order in front of you before sitting down. It was evident that he was ignoring Gojo, which caused the white-haired man to chuckle and shake his head. Gojo then gave you a wink before heading back to his table.

"Was he bothering you?" Nanami asked and you shook your head. 

"No… not really." Nanami gave you a look, as if he wasn't buying it. "I'm fine really, Mr. Nanami. Thanks for your concern."

You gave him a smile and Nanami subtly returned one back. He was about to say something else when the other employees arrived, preventing him from doing so. Nanami cleared his throat and began eating, occasionally looking at you from time-to-time.

"Finally! I’m going home!" You yawned, stretching a bit on your chair. A few employees have already gone home as they finished their job a bit early. Breezily, you gathered all your valuables and placed them in your bag. Then, you decluttered your table before grabbing your coat and putting it on.

It was a 10 minute walk from the company to the nearest train station. The train was definitely cramped since it was getting kind of late. Students were seated on the chair, other employees were busy on their phones or reading a newspaper, and others were dozing off. 

You sighed, wanting to get home as early as you could so you could jump into a nice warm bath and maybe even make yourself a nice dinner and watch a good show. It was a bit chilly at night too, so you'll sure be snuggling up to your bed, with multiple blankets laid on top of you.

Even though all of these things sound amazing, there is something else that you're looking forward to. You covered your mouth as you tried to hide a smile—you didn't want to get weird looks from other people, thinking you're out of your mind or something. 

You unlocked the door of your apartment and made your way inside. You left your bag and shoes by the door as you took your coat off and hung it on the coat rack. You wore your indoor slippers before walking to the bathroom to take your makeup off. 

As you did so, you grabbed your phone and played some music. You then turned the bath faucet on and waited for it to be the right temperature before stripping off and lowered yourself in the tub. You then made sure to tie your hair up, preventing it from getting wet. 

The warm water soothed your sore muscles. You instantly felt at ease. This is exactly what you needed—a nice relaxing night after a long hard day at work. Humming to yourself, you sank further into the tub, letting the water reach up to your shoulders. You giggled as you played with the bubbles, making random shapes and drawing silly little soap faces on your legs.

Deep in your own moment, you didn't hear the opening of the main door nor the shoes being placed inside the shoe cabinet right beside yours. You didn't hear the leather bag being placed on top of the kitchen table nor the knock on the bathroom door. However, you did hear the door knob turning and the footsteps of the man walking towards you.

"Good evening, darling." Your husband, Kento Nanami, greeted you. He seated on the edge of the tub, looking at you with such adoration in his eyes. He looked tired, but still handsome. He tucked a hair behind your ear and you instantly leaned into his touch. He chuckled, holding your cheek, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your skin. 

"Welcome home, Kento." You smiled, making his heart swoon. Despite being with him for the most of the day, you missed him. 

Nanami placed a kiss on the crown of your head, making you sigh happily and giggle. "Would it be alright if I joined you?"

You nodded. Nanami had always been a man of consent. He always asks before approaching you. He had also always put you first before himself. He had always pampered you, cared for you, and made sure that you'll feel the love that you deserve. He was a very sweet guy, really—charming,  dreamy . Perhaps you were one lucky girl to have someone like him in your life.

"I noticed you wore our wedding ring to work today," he said as he took his shirt off. He then began unbuckling his belt, making you look away. You had already seen his body multiple times, but it still makes your cheeks heat up. Nanami chuckled as he saw your reaction. You were adorable.

He placed a hand on your back as he guided you to move forward, making some room for him. He leaned back as you settled in between his legs, letting you rest your back on his chest. He draped his hands around you, softly caging you in his arms as he leaned his cheek on the top of your head. 

"Well I liked the look of it on my fingers," you answered. "I noticed you wore it too… the other day."

Nanami hummed, placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. It's not like you weren't proud of being married. Rather than that, it was merely just because Nanami wanted to see how long it would take for his employees to notice that he was, in fact, already someone else’s spouse. He had been subtly hinting it to others too—small bouquet of flowers on your table during special occasions (birthdays and anniversaries), simple random gifts at any time of the day, occasionally matching outfits with each other, and random lovesick post-it notes placed on your desktop monitor. 

You couldn't deny it but you were definitely hopeful to see the priceless reactions of the employees once they did find out. This little game than Nanami created made the office hours more exciting—for the two of you anyway.

"I think Gojo already knows," you said, intertwining your hands together. "He gave me coffee earlier with the writing: 'nanamin's wife'"

"Perhaps it accidentally slipped from my mouth when we were on a business trip over the weekend." Nanami turned you around so you were facing him, letting you rest on his chest. He let his hand rest on your lower back. "Getou knows too. I bet Gojo told him. Were they bothering you too much? I saw Gojo pestering you earlier during lunch and you looked kind of uncomfortable."

"Not uncomfortable, just surprised," you answered. "I just didn't know how to act. We never talked about how to react when they found out."

Nanami chuckled. He held your chin and placed a soft tender kiss on your lips. The action made you shiver, making him smile through the kiss. Even just for a short while, you felt breathless.

"Just let things happen," Nanami murmured as he rested his head on the crook of your neck. He placed kisses on your neck and shoulder too, making you giggle due to the tickling sensation. 

"You're being awfully clingy today, Kento." You brushed some of his hair away from his face, looking at his perfectly chiseled features. "You kept glancing at me at work and smiling at me, then you ate lunch with me, and now you're being so affectionate… not that I mind it though."

"I missed you, darling. That’s all." He placed another kiss on the corner of your lips. "I was in Osaka over the weekend, naturally, I would want to be around my sweet girl."

You laughed and nodded, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks once again. Nanami wasn't usually a touchy and a physically affectionate person, especially outside the house. He wasn’t a fan of public displays of affection, but he does make up for it whenever you two are alone.

Something you also noticed about him even from the first time you started dating, was that he was very subtle in the way he loved. He wasn't extravagant nor boastful with gifts. He was sure to keep it simple. Special occasions were an exception though.

You didn't mind it that much. You weren't a fan of lavish types of love and gift giving anyway—it's kind of overwhelming. The love that Nanami gives you was enough—not too less, not too much, it was the perfect balance in between. 

Both of you stayed in the tub for a while, just enjoying the moment as you two held each other. It was peaceful, with occasional innocent words of affection exchanged between the two of you. You were glad that office hours were over, enabling you to enjoy your time alone with your husband.

After a few moments, Nanami ushered you to stand as he rinsed the bubbles on your body with the shower head. You giggled as the water accidentally sprayed on his face, causing him to squint and lightly shake his head—like a dog. You grabbed a towel from the rack and gently patted his face. Nanami even sneaked a small kiss on your wrist, causing you to squeal and bashfully smack him on his chest.

"All these years we spent together and you're still shy whenever I shower you with affection." Nanami tugged you closer to him as he draped a robe over your body. You both wore matching classic white ones, small initials of your name imprinted in his.

"I don't know why I just can't get used to the feeling!" You said, huffing. 

"That's good. I like seeing your reactions." Nanami smiled, brushing your hair with his hands. There were some tangles in it, but he didn't mind. He liked brushing them away with his fingers nonetheless.

Nanami just stared at you, his heart thumping happily in his chest, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He wondered what his life would be like if you weren't around. Shaking his head, he didn't want to think of it. You were there, in front of him, in his arms. It was enough.You were enough. Nanami couldn't bear living his life without having you around anyway. Perhaps you might have just bewitched his heart with your charms. But he was so in love with you that he didn't mind.

"You're as pretty as a flower, my sweet." He tugged you even closer to him, wrapping his arms around your frame and resting his head on top of yours. He looked at your reflection in the mirror. Your kind smile, your flushed cheeks—To Nanami, you were perfect. 

"Kento?" He hummed, still looking at your face through the reflection. "Would you watch [favorite movie] with me?"

He chuckled, patting your head. How could he say no to you? "Of course, darling. Office hours are already over, right?"

[cryoculus]

More love for Semi please? Anything will do, your writing is exquisite in any form anyway :D

» Word Count: 1,857 wordsCross-posted on AO3

SORRY THIS IS SO LATE :(( I actually wrote three chapters’ worth of content for him already and you can read the whole thing on the ao3 link.(NOTE: This is based on the current events of the final arc of the Haikyuu manga. I tagged it as a spoiler but I won’t really go into the specifics of what’s going on. Semi is our main focus here ^__^)

—

“Please?”

“No,” was your flat reply.

Semi heaved a long sigh, mouth twitching into an irritated grimace. You returned his reaction with a sassy look of your own—one, finely penciled brow quirked as bright, red lips rivalled the adamance that Semi brought about. While you were in no position to tell him to just go back to his cubicle and get today’s work done (you, sadly, held the same position in office), you at least had the right to turn him down. Your department had a monthly financial report coming up. Why on Earth did he want your help writing a song?

“Come on,” he groaned. “You know I’d eat my fist first before asking for your help, but our manager really digs your old pieces from college.”

Your eye twitched.

“Way to beg for someone’s aid in a time of dire need,” you bit back sarcastically. “Go do it then.”

“What?”

“Eat your whole fist.” You gave him a pointed look, even making a show of paying attention by putting your pen down.

Your co-worker let out a frustrated groan, fingers carding through his messy, ashen hair. The gesture made the tattoos on his chest visible for a second, before disappearing again behind his barely done button-up. It was a mystery, how a man like him made it as a public servant—with his flamboyant piercings and tip-dyed hair—but you supposed you should learn to look past physical appearances. The agency allowed it, so why should you make a fuss?

Ah, right. Semi Eita was the most hot-headed man in your department, and he had a knack for picking fights with you.

“If you get the balance sheet done by five o'clock, I might reconsider,” you told him, not really meaning the words, as you directed your attention back at the paperwork on your desk. Balance sheets are the toughest to fill out, since the data needed had to be collated from different sectors of the city. You highly doubted that Semi, with his thinner-than-a-strand-of-hair patience, could finish it in one sitting.

“Deal.”

Your gaze hardened as you looked back up at him. “Come again?”

“Are you deaf?” he asked, folding lean arms across his chest. “I said it’s a deal.”

You couldn’t help the snort that made its way past your lips. Whatever his reasons may be, it was painfully obvious that he was desperate. But still. You knew that he wouldn’t be able to carry out the deed in your given deadline, but instead of talking him out of his own agreement, you merely shook your head in acceptance.

Semi eventually stalked off to his cubicle; the one just in front of yours. There was a divider that separated each employee’s workspace from the others, and it at least granted some semblance of privacy from outside gazes. You’ve been to Semi’s cubicle a couple of times—more to coordinate paperwork than engage in conversation, really—and he decorated his personal space exactly how a part-time rock band vocalist would. Though he didn’t exactly put up posters and painted the walls black, he added his own flair to his desk with guitar figurines, neon stickers on his desktop, and a photo of his bandmates enclosed in a sparkly picture frame.

The only reason you bothered looking so closely was the fact that you also went to the same university together (under the same degree, too!) You’ve always been keen around him, with his loud way of living, as opposed to you, who’s always chosen to live simply and without pretentiousness. Sure, the disparity between your lifestyles had caused you to be at each other’s throats since freshman year, but it was still a surprise that your synergy was top notch. You would, as Semi put it so delicately, eat your fist first before admitting to the fact, but it’s a given that you preferred to work with him instead of other, unfamiliar people.

You sighed, brandishing a bored look at the bleak document in front of you. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to help him out…

But when you recalled every time he’s talked over you during board meetings, sneered at you when he got a higher score during exams, and his distateful behavior in general, you steeled your resolve.

Either he’s going to get that balance sheet over with or he’ll keel over. If he wanted your help, he’s going to have to work for it.

—

You were in the middle of fixing your belongings when the sound of a stack of papers hitting your desk rang in your ears.

“There,” Semi said breathlessly, making you look up at him in surprise. He even tossed a flash drive on top of the papers he deposited, where you saw the city hall’s heading printed in full color. You reluctantly checked your phone for the time. 16:57, it said, in a mockingly bold typeface before shoving it in your pocket.

The damn guy really did get it done before five.

“The electronic document is saved in there, in case you lose the print.” He was panting at this point, and you had a vague idea as to why he looked like he just ran a marathon. The one printer in your department (this year’s budget was cut) broke down a few days ago, and the nearest functional one was at the Logistics office three floors down.

Still refusing to believe it, you peered at the documents he just brought in. You scanned each of the entries printed on each page. That’s when you realized that Sendai City’s expenses have skyrocketed since the new year because the list of expenses occupied a whole page alone. A worried sigh made its way past your lips, but at least the liabilities were cut down to a minimum. You heard that the governor of Miyagi was going to pledge a few hundred thousand yen for the city’s founding anniversary, too.

You paused. Blinking, you rearranged the papers neatly back into its pile—biting back the urge to clutch your wounded pride. Semi was looking at you expectantly, like he wanted you to praise his flawless bookkeeping.

In actuality, his determination was beginning to freak you out.

“Why do you want me to help you so badly?” you asked, voice almost trembling. “Seriously, dude. I thought we hated each other. Quit acting out of character.”

“I told you, our manager really liked the songs you composed back in senior year,” he drawled, tired of having to repeat himself.

Your face twisted in confusion. “Who even is this manager of yours?”

There was a half-second delay in his response, but before you could paint a reason for his hesitation, he immediately replied with, “Saito. Saito Makoto.”

You stiffened, gaze going rigid at the mention of that name. “Oh.”

“Yeah. If I manage to give him a piece by the end of the month, he’ll help us sign a contract with a big-shot record label,” Semi explained, oblivious to your discomfort.

“But haven’t you been writing songs since high school?” you wondered aloud. “That’s what you said during our Pol-Gov class ice breaker.”

He frowned. “You still remember that?”

Okay. You kept forgetting that your sharp memory wasn’t always a praiseworthy thing. You gulped, feeling the heat creep up your face. “Um, anyway, the point still stands. You’ve been writing songs for God-knows-how-long, and while I’m not one to dish out compliments especially to you, I’m pretty sure they’re okay if you managed to gather a decent fanbase.”

He rolled his eyes, leaning against the divider of your cubicle. “We’re a rock band. I write rock songs, but Saito wants me to write a goddamn love song.”

Typical Saito. Though he looked like a rugged high school delinquent, he was awfully sentimental when it came to music. He was the one who inspired you to write the songs Semi was pestering you about all day after all…

“Fine,” you relented. “I never go back on my word and since you did a…good job with this, I’ll help you out.”

His light brown eyes lit up for a moment, but Semi managed to mask his relief in a split second—containing his excitement in a single nod. “Are you free this Saturday? You can come by my place and we could start getting to work.”

Well, that was forward of him. You expected to work on the song in a coffee shop or something, but he went on ahead and invited you to his own humble abode anyway. You parsed through your weekend plans in your mind, and once you confirmed that you were free, you scribbled down your phone number on a sticky note. Almost five years of acquaintance and you’d never bothered giving it to him. Huh.

“Just text me the time and place,” you told him, pocketing the flash drive as you slipped the balance sheet in one of the empty folders in your organizer. “You better not pull anything funny and lead me to a secluded alley or something.”

Semi scoffed, folding the piece of paper and sticking it inside his trousers. “As if.”

You then slung your bag across your shoulders, grinning insincerely. “Glad we’re on the same page, then.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

With that, Semi exited your cubicle, leaving you no room to wonder why he didn’t even spare a quick ‘thank you’.

Just as you were smoothing out the creases on your pencil skirt, your phone began buzzing in the pocket of your blazer. Brows raised, you fished it out and unlocked it.

From: Makohey, wanna grab some dinner? its on me :3

Speak of the devil. You swallowed the lump in your throat, fingers shakily managing to type a coherent reply.

To: MakoYeah sure. Where to tho

From: Makocan we get some italian? ik u love the udon place across the street but akane’s having dinner w her friends there

From: Makocant have her seeing us together now do we

The way he put that so casually made your chest constrict with a too-familiar sensation. You heaved a deep breath, pursing your lips into a thin line as you sent a quick “Ok” text to end your conversation. Saito replied with those iffy heart-eyed emojis that he only ever used when he wanted something from you, and you had to compose yourself so you wouldn’t burst into tears right there.

“Oi.”

You almost jumped at the sound of Semi’s voice as he peered inside your cubicle once more. He clutched his suitcase in one hand, eyeing you curiously.

“What do you want?”

“You’re headed uptown, too, right?” he asked, and you nodded reluctantly. “Thought you’d want a lift.”

“Semi, just because I’m helping you achieve your dreams, doesn’t mean you have to be nice to me.” You laughed softly, tension easing from his uncalled for kindness.

He, however, looked unconvinced. “Do you want a ride or not?”

You raised your hands in defeat, managing a genuine smile. “Alright, fine. It’ll be a hellish commute anyway.”

You liked to think that that’s how you started becoming friends with your odd, hot-headed co-worker.

[sashawiremarryme]

No Secrets - Chapter 9

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 Peter opened the open the door to the offices and I went through first. I scanned the room. A floor-to-ceiling glass barrier separated us from the actual offices. There was the occasional gap in the glass to allow access. On the other side of the glass, rows upon rows of cubicles filled a large room. Doors lined the walls, leading to larger and more private spaces. I searched my brain for any more information about the layout of this part of the building. Peter slipped through one of the gaps in the glass to enter this larger room. I vaguely remembered that the offices were divided into three sections, three spaces, all like the one I was looking at now. I guess they must have been slightly different, Peter had to have been basing his assumption that Rossignol would be in here on something, right?

We snuck through the large room, ducking behind cubicles in case one of the guards came back. The lights were on. If we were out in the open when the guards gave up their search of the other offices, we would be seen instantly.

I heard a sound behind us. I span around and prepared myself to point my blaster at whatever made it. I stayed there for a moment, searching the small part of the room I could see for anyone that had snuck up on us. Nothing. I turned back around.

Peter was gone.

“Nureyev?” I whispered. There was no response. He couldn’t be caught, I reasoned. I would have heard something. He would have gotten my attention. He must have kept going, not realising that I had stopped. I listened for his footsteps, but, unsurprisingly, I didn’t hear anything. Master thieves aren’t known for their loud footsteps. I realised that I was going to have to search the offices until I found him. After all, he had to be in one of them��with Rossignol.

I made my way over to the closest door. I opened it quietly. Nothing. Just an empty, dark room. I repeated this with the next door, and the next, and the next. Every time I opened another door, I would be filled with panic. What if this was the exact moment that those guards walked past? We knew that there was at least two of them. Even I wasn’t dumb enough to think I could beat two train security guards in a fight. No, I learnt that lesson.

I opened the next door. The light in this room was on. I snuck into the room, closing the door behind me and hoping that it was Peter and Rossignol and not some random person who happened to be working late that night.

I turned around. I was in the right room. Rossignol was sitting at her desk. Peter was leaning over her, holding a knife to her throat. His face was close to her and he was saying something so quietly that I couldn’t hear him even though I was only a few metres away. He didn’t acknowledge me as I entered. Maybe he didn’t notice. Rossignol did. She looked over at me and smiled.

“Ah, Juno,” she said as Peter pressed the knife harder against her throat, “it’s lovely to meet you. Do you mind telling your partner to stop, now?”

“I’m not going to fall for that,” Peter hissed.

“Hey,” his head jerked to look at me. I got a brief glimpse at the rage that Rossignol must have been seeing before it was replaced with something… embarrassment, maybe? “Sorry, I got lost.” I looked between him and Rossignol. “So… what are you doing?”

“Juno, you don’t have to be here.” Peter looked away from me.

“I really think I do.” My grip on my blaster tightened and my breathing quickened. I wasn’t entirely sure if I was going to have to use that blaster on Rossignol or Peter. “What are you doing?”

“There are things I need to know, Juno.” That wasn’t much of an answer.

“Like?”

“Like how she found me.” He turned back to Rossignol, waiting for a response.

She looked at me again, and laughed. “After you left Brahma, crime broke out across the Outer Rim. A series of thefts, all of them were high profile targets that should have been impossible to break into. I spent ages trying to work out the pattern, I thought you were repeating what you did on Brahma. By the time I realised that you were just taking things that were valuable, you’d already moved on. I tried to follow you, but I had no idea where to start. Every now and then I’d hear about a crime that I thought might be you, but by the time I got there to investigate, you had vanished again. I spent twenty years waiting for you to make a mistake. And then you did.

“You robbed a crime family, I think their name was Kanagawa, and they wanted revenge. They had a video of your face. You with some detective.” She nodded in my direction. “It took me months to learn that they were trying to find you, so I didn’t get to Hyperion until you’d disappeared again. But I got lucky. I found someone else who was looking for you. A man who couldn’t speak. But he had photos of you two and he knew your names. He said—or he wrote I guess—that everyone who he used to work with was dying. Someone was killing them. He thought it was you, so he was trying to find you. He didn’t know where you were or anything else that was useful, but I got the name of your err…”

Peter must have pressed the knife harder against her throat because a few drops of blood appeared. I didn’t want to look at that, and I definitely didn’t want to look at Peter right now, so I made a show of searching the room. I looked through the papers on her desk as she continued.

“Your friend... “ I could feel her gaze on me, trying to work out something. What I was doing? What me and Peter’s relationship was? Whether or not I was going to try and stop him? I didn’t know what she was looking for, but I doubted that she got the answers to any of her questions because I probably didn’t know them myself. “Juno.” I heard her squeak, Peter must have pressed the knife closer again. I knew I should stop him. If he wasn’t careful he was going to kill her. Maybe that was what he wanted.

“I watched him for months, waiting, and you never came back.” My eye flicked up to look at Peter, almost involuntarily, he moved the knife so that it was no longer touching her skin. She breathed out, a deep sigh of relief. “I waited for months, until one day he disappeared, I assumed you had something to do with that.” Peter looked at me in confusion. I tried to remember what she could be referring to. Maybe the election?

Before I could ask her what she meant, she kept going. “I realised I wasn’t going to catch you like that, so I took a risk, a gamble.” Her eyes lit up like a gambler who’s just hit the jackpot. “I knew he was a detective, so I left a message for him to find.”

“What message?” I asked.

Peter turned his plasma knife off and stepped away from Rossignol. He pinched the bridge of his nose and started pacing that room. She straightened up; I raised my blaster to where she could see it. Between my missing eye and my dominant hand being cocooned in so many bandages I would struggle to hold a mug let alone pull a trigger, I wouldn’t exactly be the greatest sharpshooter in the world. But she was a metre away from me, I was pretty sure I could hit her from here.

“Don’t be upset,’ he eventually mumbled behind me.

“That’s usually what people say right before I get upset.”

“After the Kanagawa incident,” he took a deep breath, “I started to… keep an eye on your comms activity—”

“You what?!” I lowered the blaster and span to face him.

“I know, I know,” he held his hands up, defensively, “not my finest moment. But I didn’t read any of your messages, I was just making sure that none of them was from a Kanagawa.”

“That’s not much better.”

“I know,” he closed his eyes, “and I’m sorry. But one day you stopped using your comms. I waited for months before I assumed the worst and checked. I went to your office, you weren’t there. But I searched it anyway. That was where I found the message. Hidden in one of your drawers was a note. It was a written in…” he smiled and laughed to himself, “... I don’t know how I didn’t work out that it had something to do with Brahma…” he trailed off.

“Nureyev?” We didn’t have much time.

“Right,” he snapped to attention, “I translated the note—that wasn’t hard. It was my name and an address. I went to the address, that was where I found that note. And then I went to you.”

“I waited for so long for you to show up, I had to keep changing the events I was going to use. It was so annoying,” Rossignol said, reminding us that she was there. I turned back towards her, holding my blaster in her view.

“We are going to talk about that later. But right now, what about her?” I asked, not wanting to know.

“She knows my name,” Peter said as he walked towards her, “I don’t know what else I can do.” He turned his plasma knife back on.

“No,” I stepped between them, “you can’t just kill her.” I looked back at her. She was leaning back, away from us. She would have looked calm if not for the fact her hands were gripping the armrests so tightly they had turned white. “You’ve already threatened her, just tell her to leave us alone.”

“She’s spent twenty years looking for me, and you think she’s going stop now? She already knew what I’d done, what I’m capable of, and it didn’t stop her. There’s only one way I can stop her,” he pleaded with me.

“I can’t watch you kill her.”

He stepped towards me and wrapped his spare arm around me, the one without the potential murder weapon in it. He put his mouth close to my ear. Close enough that he could say something that only I could hear.

“You don’t have to.”

I didn’t move as he pulled away. I couldn’t bring myself to turn to look at Rossignol as Peter got closer. I never liked looking at murder scenes, let alone this one. But I could still hear it. The gentle hum of his plasma knife, the soft gasp as Rossignol drew her final breath, and the sound Peter’s knife made as sliced through her tender skin.

Then it was over.

[workspacefitouts]

What Advantages Do Open Workspaces Offer Employers?

Let’s take a seem to be at the professionals and cons of working in an open workspace, each from the business enterprise and worker factor of view.

First up, the employer’s view. Here are some of the key advantages employers are seeking to obtain by using enforcing an Office Workspace Design:

Spontaneous Collaboration

It’s true. Many of the excellent discoveries and improvements can hint their roots returned to serendipitous conferences between individuals. With that in mind, most open workspaces are constructed round factors designed to inspire impromptu encounters. Examples consist of handy informal seating areas and casual work tables that permit you to meet face-to-face with your fellow challenge group contributors — all in hopes of fostering fateful spontaneous thoughts that spur innovation.

Deliver Projects Faster

Whether you use enterprise faculty nomenclature like first mover advantage, or colloquial expressions like go huge or go home, there’s no query that being first in the market with a product or carrier is extra essential than ever before. An implicit aim of open workspace layout is to assist personnel to supply tasks faster; in fact, some commercial enterprise leaders think about the open workspace to be a bodily manifestation of the fast software program improvement methodology regarded as Agile.

Attracting Millennial Talent

An growing task for employers is attracting the pleasant and brightest talent. As it turns out, workplace plan performs an more and more essential function in finding out the place the Millennial technology needs to work — they are attracted to a modern-day warehouse-style and industrial-looking places of work — and open workspace format ideas attraction to them.

Increase Space Flexibility, Reduce Real Estate Costs

The open workspace layout thinking can decrease rectangular photo necessities by means of as a great deal as 50% in contrast to regular cubicle layouts. This can grant employers extensive savings in actual property leasing costs. Another gain is flexibility: there is much less want to reconfigure a devoted workplace house every time a worker comes on board or departs the organization.

Flatten Management Structure, Knock Down Silos

Employers additionally see open workspace places of work as an probability to flatten their administration shape — managers working face-to-face with their direct reviews can be much less intimidating and distant, which in flip can amplify the degree of have faith and openness.

Knocking down silos in an region inside an employer that have a tendency to be remoted from different departments is every other intention many employers have in thought when shifting to an open workspace environment. When contributors of specific departments work collectively face-to-face, there ought to be less of a ‘toss it over the wall’ mentality that can appear when organisation departments are bodily separated from one every another.

What Advantages Do Employees See In Open Workspace Designs?

Employees that are relaxed with open administrative center workplaces commonly see the equal benefits that their employers do:

It’s less complicated to convey humans collectively to work on projects.

Project group individuals appear greater engaged and happier working together.

It’s quicker to speak to coworkers face-to-face than the use of texting, Slack chat, or Skype.

It’s as herbal as working on your pocketbook pc in a Starbucks espresso shop. (If matters get a little noisy, simply put on your headphones.)

It’s much less intimidating to meet your boss in an open administrative center workplace — he or she is no longer hiding at the back of closed doors.

Not Every Employee Is Satisfied: Susan Cain Makes A Big Noise About Quiet And Privacy In The Office

You might also have picked up in our preceding paragraph that we have been talking solely about personnel who are blissful working in an open administrative center office.

Not everybody is happy.

According to Susan Cain, writer of the best-selling e-book Quiet the Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking, the world of people is divided into two camps — introverts and extroverts.

In the book, Cain factors out that whilst extroverts commonly welcome the transition to an open workplace, introverts have 4 essential desires that have to be accommodated to make them completely satisfied and profitable at work:

Alone time away from fairly stimulating offices — in order to listen and focus.

Ability to manage environmental factors, like noise and mild in the workplace, in order to be productive.

Calming influences, like sure heat hues or herbal substances that impart some stimulation except inflicting sensory overload.

The privateness that affords introverts a region the place they don’t sense they are on stage, e.g. being watched all the time.

Open Workspace Negatives From The Employee Point Of View

Research bears out that prolateness and noise are the two main complaints that personnel make about open workspaces.

In the What Workers Want 2016 survey, 45% of respondents pronounced that noise tiers had been too excessive in open workplaces the place they labored and 25% stated that it harmed their productivity. (This poses an undertaking for indoors architects who regularly flip to an acoustic wall and ceiling panels as nicely as acoustic dividers between desk workstations to address these concerns.)

Many personnel locates it’s difficult to hold flow, e.g. that in particular productive time when we are deeply engaged in a assignment when we work in an open workplace. This used to be tested in a 2009 learn about by way of Finnish researchers who located that many personnel had accelerated attention troubles at work, induced by way of distractions like telephone calls, colleagues’ conversations, humans on foot by, etc. For these adversely affected by way of these distractions, the learn about concluded that worker overall performance used to be down and that as a end result many of the advantages that open workspaces promised weren’t being fulfilled. (For hints on growing your productivity, see our article on 15 Ways to Work Smarter, no longer Harder.)

Another issue held through personnel working in open administrative center environments is whether or not the workplace layout notion is a shape of managerial manage that lets in administration to ‘spy’ on their work habits at some stage in the day. As a result, some personnel experience greater cautious and much less probably to collaborate in an open workplace.

Potential Downsides Of Open Workplace Designs From The Employer’s Perspective

High on the listing of issues that employers have when imposing open administrative center workplace environments is the possible for worker disengagement.

In different words, employers want to be conscious that a massive share of their team of workers may additionally be uncomfortable or downright sad in an open place of job environment. The break up between who is comfortable or unhappy may additionally damage down alongside the strains of introverts and extroverts; it should cut up alongside generational traces as well, with older people feeling greater uncomfortable in an open workplace.

Don’t forget about employee variety troubles as well. Most giant organizations are dedicated to hiring an an increasing number of numerous workforce. For example, Microsoft and SAP have been growing efforts to recruit people identified on the autism spectrum. Open place of work designs ought to be reviewed to make positive they can accommodate these new hires as nicely as different personnel with different needs.

What Is Your Experience Working In An Open Office?

Are you pleased with your present-day workspace or are you searching to make changes?

We’d like to get your opinion.

In our journey offering fixtures for agencies at the forefront of the open administrative center motion (such as Google, Twitter, and Pinterest) we’ve discovered it’s necessary to strike a stability between working patterns – the greater desire and flexibility you can grant your personnel the better.

So we motivate you to speak to us right here at Form space. Our sketch consultants are keen to share their perception and information that comes from planning and manufacturing furnishings options for each kind of need, ranging from Fortune a hundred company giants to the subsequent warm startup, to places of work for humans working at home.

Give us a name nowadays and create the administrative center that’s proper for you. You’ll be completely happy you did.

[alexskylar]

From Housewife to Whore

An erotic cuckolding tale by Alex Skylar

Eric kept looking at the numbers on the computer screen, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make them work. There were too many bills, and not enough money coming in.

Eric’s wife Jillian was sitting next to him, but she had no idea how to help. She had lost her job last week when her company had to trim some excess, and that left them in a tough position financially. There weren't a lot of jobs out there in her field, and it would take some time to find another opening that would pay well enough to make up what they needed.

They had been together since they graduated high school, almost ten years ago at this point, and this was by far the worst things had ever been. The money was the biggest obstacle, but it had also started to bleed over into the rest of their marriage. The added stress meant more fights, and their sex life was almost non-existent.

Eric looked at Jillian. She was a beautiful woman, smart and driven. Her persona was very conservative and vanilla though, and she often held herself back out of fear, especially during tough times like these. He always tried to take that stress out of her life and handle it himself, but this time he just couldn't make it work.

Jill lifted her eyes and looked at him, clearly seeing the stress on his face as well.

“There is another way we could bring in some more money,” she said hesitantly, “but I don't think you’d like it.”

Eric looked at her curiously, and she blushed when she noticed his eyes on her.

“We don't have to do this,” she continued, “but I was talking to Eve and she said I should try doing the amateur night at the strip club across town.”

Eric stared blankly at her, flabbergasted. He would never have expected her, of all people to suggest something like that. She would never have suggested something like that on her own, but it made sense to know that Eve was involved.

Eve was Jill’s free-spirited friend who was always up for an adventure. Her wild lifestyle was a stark contrast to Jill’s more conservative demeanor. Sometimes Eric would get frustrated, especially when Eve would get Jill into one form of trouble or another, and sometimes he wondered how the two of them had never gotten arrested. For some reason, Jillian could never let loose around him like that, but maybe this would be the moment that she did.

Physically, Jillian would do well as a stripper. Her blonde hair and beautiful face made her desirable by most men’s standards, and her body was fit and toned. Her breasts were full and perky, slightly bigger than one would expect for a body like hers. She had also studied dance, so she would know exactly how to move her body.

The real reason that Eric was surprised was because Jillian had always been very modest. She hated going to the beach because she felt too exposed in a bikini. Now she was talking about getting up on stage in front of a bunch of men and removing all her clothes. She would be exposing the most private parts of her body to them.

“Of course Eve would suggest that,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m sure she's probably tried it a few times herself.”

“She has, actually,” Jill replied, laughing along with him. “She said she made a lot of money. They paid her five hundred dollars just for dancing on the stage, and she made another five hundred giving lap dances afterward. That's a grand just in one night!”

That would be enough money to take a lot of the pressure off them, but Eric was still hesitant about it. He didn't hate the idea, but he was worried if she would be able to go through with it. There was also something else about it that gave him a weird knot in his stomach, but he couldn't quite figure out what that was.

“Do you think you could actually do something like that, though?” he asked her.

“I don't know,” she said, blushing. “It would be out of my comfort zone, but it also sounds exciting. I would definitely need a few drinks first, but I think I could do it.”

Eric mulled the idea over in his head. There was still that certain something that was eating at him, but they needed the money. If she was willing, then he couldn't really argue with her.

“Let’s do it then. When’s the next one?” he asked.

“Tonight,” she answered, pursing her lips guiltily.

“Wow,” was all Eric could muster in response.

“I know, but that means less time for me to get nervous and back out. Right?”

Jillian looked at him anxiously, but when he nodded, she smiled and leaned in to give him a kiss.

They pulled up the website for the place that Eve had recommended and found out that the amateur performers started at eight that night. That gave Jillian a few hours to get ready, so she hurried into the bathroom to shower and shave. She wanted to look her best when she got up on stage, so she took a little extra time getting ready.

When Eric came into the bedroom an hour later, he found his wife going through her underwear drawer. She had already chosen a pair of black and red lace panties, and she was looking for the right top. He came up behind her and pulled out a black corset that she had pushed aside.

“This one,” he said. “It’s my favorite, and the guys will love it.”

Jillian looked at him with a devilish smile. It was almost as if she enjoyed having him pick out what she would wear on stage in front of all those other men.

That was when Eric finally realized what the knot in his stomach was. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he loved the idea of his wife stripping naked in front of a room full of strangers. He loved the idea of them looking at her, lusting after her. He loved the idea of her giving a lap dance to a total stranger, turning him on before walking away with his money. There was just something about the idea of his wife letting out her inner slut that turned him on. He still wasn't convinced she would go through with it, so perhaps that was what was holding him back. There would be nothing worse than getting excited about the idea and having her back out at the last minute.

Eric watched as Jill slipped the corset around her body and zipped it up in the front. She stopped and threw him a seductive look, and he felt his cock stir. His wife looked stunning.

Jillian added a pleated schoolgirl skirt, then found a long coat to cover herself up on the way there. Once she was ready, they headed out the door. It took about twenty minutes to get to the club, a squat building with a nondescript sign bearing the name “The Club” in grey letters. Eric had driven through this area dozens of times and had never even noticed it was there.

They parked out front, and Eric looked at Jillian one more time. This was her last chance to back out without anybody else knowing, but there was something in her eyes that told him she wouldn't. She was nervous, but he could also tell she was excited as well.

“Are you sure about this?” Eric asked openly.

“Yeah,” she replied hesitantly. “I think so.”

“You don't have to go in if you don't want to. I won't make fun of you.”

“I know, but I think I want to,” she admitted, averting her eyes.

“Good,” he said, “because I want you to do it, too.”

Jillian looked up at him, realizing what he had just said. He wasn't letting her do it. He wanted her to do it. He was as excited as she was. That made her smile grow even wider. With a final nod, they got out of the car and went in.

The inside was one large room, with a small hallway off to the side leading to a private area for lap dances. There were small cubicles along one side of the hall, each with its own loveseat for the guys to sit on. Small dividers separated each one and gave the customer a little privacy.

In the middle of the main room was a large round stage with a low countertop stretching around it. There were chairs all along it, many of them filled with customers trying to get a closer view of the girls on the stage. There was a petite brunette dancing at that moment, and she had already stripped down to just a small G-string. She was attractive, with soft curves and large breasts that bounced and swayed with every movement.

There was a small table near the door where the bouncer was collecting the cover charge. Next to his cash box was a sheet of paper where the women had to sign up for amateur night. Jillian asked how it worked, and the bouncer explained that new girls get one song, and if the crowd response is good, they can come back for more songs. After signing a waiver, she would also have the option to give private dances, but it wasn't a requirement.

As Eric paid his cover charge, the music shifted to a new song and the DJ announced the next girl.

“Gentlemen, please welcome Sapphire to the stage!”

Eric laughed at the lack of subtlety on her choice of name, and when he turned around, his jaw dropped to the ground. Sapphire was clearly a stage name, but Eric knew her real name. The woman who had just sauntered onto the stage in just a bra and panties was Jillian’s friend, Eve.

Eve was beautiful. Although Eric had never seen her in less than a bikini, she always seemed to show a lot of skin when they went to the beach. He would never admit it to Jillian, but he had fantasized about her from time to time. She was a sexy brunette with the same tan and toned body as his wife. He had always found it odd that his wife had become friends with someone that was the polar opposite of her, but the two of them were often inseparable. It seemed that Eric would finally get the opportunity to see her naked.

Jill was completely unfazed when she saw Eve and clearly knew that she would be there dancing as well. Perhaps Jill had even suggested going tonight because she knew her friend would give her that extra push to get up on the stage. Eve could be very persuasive, especially when it came to bad behavior.

Jillian grabbed Eric’s hand and dragged him toward the bar to get a drink while Sapphire jumped on the pole in the center of the room and spun around it. He followed Jill, but continued to watch the stage in hopes of getting a good view of her friend’s naked body.

As the bartender poured their drinks, Eric watched Eve reach behind her back and unhook her bra, slowly letting it fall from her body. Just as he had imagined, her breasts were big and firm, and just as perky as his wife’s. When she made eye contact with him and winked, he felt his cock stir again.

Eric followed Jillian to one of the tables tucked in the back, far away from the stage. She untied her coat and let it drift open slightly, testing the waters. A few guys turned to try to get a glimpse of her body hiding beneath the coat, and that seemed to fuel her confidence. She smiled at Eric and bit her lip sexily.

While he had been entertained by his wife’s first steps toward being a slut, Eve had somehow stripped naked, finished her song, and exited the stage before Eric could catch a glimpse of what she had between her legs. He was kicking himself inside, but hopefully she would return to the stage again at some point to give him a second chance to see all her goods.

Eve emerged from the backstage room a short while later wearing a tiny little dress. The bottom half was a mini skirt that was so tight, he could see that she wasn't wearing panties under it. The top half was a loop of fabric that loosely covered her front and wrapped around her neck. Her boobs, clearly free of any restraint, swayed under the fabric with every step.

Eve gave Jillian a hug first, then stepped back and looked her up and down.

“What is with this coat?” she barked. “Take that off right now!”

Jillian blushed and tried to hide her face behind her hand, but there was no escape. Eve wasn't going to give up. She reluctantly stood up and slowly peeled the coat away from her body to show off her corset and skirt. A lot more guys were watching now as she exposed her sexy corset and schoolgirl skirt. It wouldn't be long before those same men were watching her naked.

Once she was satisfied with Jill’s look, Eve turned to Eric. He had always felt nervous around her, mostly because she was smoking hot and he didn't want Jillian to get jealous. Eve seemed to pick up in his shy interest though, and she often enjoyed making him even more nervous.

Tonight, she seemed to enjoy it even more.

Eve bypassed Eric’s outstretched hand and gave him a big hug. She pulled her body tightly against him, letting him feel her breasts pressing against his chest. He could feel his cheeks burning as she let go and threw him another wink.

Eve ordered a round of shots for the three of them, and then another. Once Jillian had some liquid courage in her, her friend grabbed her by the hand and pulled her toward the backroom. It was clear that Eve was eager to get her on the stage before her nerves got the best of her.

Eric sat alone and nursed his beer, feeling a good buzz already. A few of the girls would stop and try to chat him up for a lap dance, but he politely declined each time so that he wouldn't miss it when Jillian came out. His heart raced as he waited. Soon the music died down, and the DJ announced a new girl.

“Gentlemen, please welcome Starlight to the stage!”

The sound system started blasting a cheesy eighties rock song about hot girls, and that was when Eric saw his wife strut out on stage in almost nothing. The skirt was gone, leaving just the corset and her panties. She had a smile on her face that radiated confidence though, and all the guys cheered as she came out.

Jillian took a swing around the pole, handling herself well. Eric wondered for a moment if she had been practicing for this with Eve, before realizing that they had been planning this together for a while now. He could see the stage fright on her face, but a few wolf whistles from the crowd seemed to help her confidence.

She danced around the edge of the stage, making a quick loop first as she got her bearings. As she passed along the side closest to Eric's table, he got a great view of her. That's when it really sank in: Jillian was up on the stage of a strip club in just her panties and the corset that he had picked out for her. Every one of those men staring at her were now fantasizing about what it would be like to fuck his wife. This was really happening, and he loved it.

Jillian stopped at one spot where there were a few particularly loud guys. She dropped to her knees on the stage in front of them and began grinding downward as if she was riding an invisible man underneath her. Her head rolled back and her eyes closed lustfully as one of her hands travelled down the length of her body and slipped between her legs. Then she leaned forward and gave them a closeup view of her cleavage spilling out the top of the corset.

The guys loved the show, but she didn't have time to linger, so she moved on and kept repeating it for different men. Everywhere she stopped, the men would stack bills on the edge of the stage. Jill used her body to knock them down, always giving them a show while she did so.

The first song wound down and it was time for her second song. Most girls waited until the second song to take off the rest of their clothes, so this would be the moment of truth.

Jillian headed to the pole at the center of the stage and did one quick loop, then stopped and faced a few guys who had given her a good payout the first time. She watched them intently as her fingers pinched the zipper and slowly pulled it downward. When it hit the bottom, the corset fell away from her body and revealed her bare top half to everyone. Her breasts swayed slightly above her tight, flat stomach. There was another loud cheer from the audience, who seemed very pleased with what she had shown them.

Jillian moved to the end of the stage and started to make her way around again. At her first stop, she turned her back to a group of rowdy guys. She slipped her fingers under the waistband of her panties and slid them down, bending over as they moved down her legs. Eric got a clear view of her exposed pussy while she was bent over, and he knew that every other guy on his side of the stage had gotten the same glimpse of his wife’s tight pink slit.

Jillian stood up again and turned toward the guys, then squatted down and ran her hands along her inner thighs. Her pussy spread wide open for the strangers, and she smiled and blushed as they got extra loud in response.

Once again, she made her way around the stage and stopped to dance for a few other groups. With every stop, she became more brazen. By the time she got to the last group of guys, she was down on her knees with her ass pointed toward them and her legs spread wide, grinding sexily with the beat. Her shyness was gone now, and she wanted the audience to see every inch of her body.

The song finally came to an end, and Jillian hurried to gather her dollar bills. She left the stage with wads of cash in her hands and her lingerie tucked under her arm.

A few minutes later, Jillian and Eve emerged from the back room. Jill had put her corset back on, but had left her skirt off. She strolled confidently through the room in her panties.

“I just made two hundred bucks, and they said they want me to dance a few more times later!” she said giddily as she shimmied up close to her husband. “Eve wants me to go mingle and see if I can get some guys to buy lap dances. Are you okay with that?”

Her hand brushed across Eric’s crotch and she felt his erection straining against his jeans. After that, she didn't even wait for his answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said with a giggle. “I’ll be back.”

Jillian gave him a quick peck on the cheek, threw back one more shot, then turned to follow Eve. They headed straight for one of the busiest tables, a huge group of a dozen guys who looked like they were out for a bachelor party.

Eric watched from afar as Eve, the more extroverted one, introduced Jillian to the group. They both flirted openly with all the guys, and at one point Jillian ended up sitting in the future groom’s lap. Her ass had to be pressed up against his cock as she smiled and laughed at everything he said. His hand slithered up and he wrapped his arm around her waist, and she made no attempt to stop him.

It didn't take long before Jillian and Eve stood up, followed by two men. The groom had chosen Jill, which seemed somewhat ironic considering that she was the only married one between the two girls. Eve had different guy in tow. Both men were in their early twenties and clearly drunk. The four of them headed to the bouncer waiting outside the hallway, where they paid for their first dance before disappearing down the hallway.

For Eric, the next ten minutes were excruciating. His wife was in a secluded room with another man, where she would remove all her clothes before grinding her naked body against him. He felt jealous, but only because he couldn't watch the action. It really made no sense in his head that he would be turned on by his wife flirting so wantonly with other men, but somehow she seemed to enjoy it in the same way. In fact, she seemed to be teasing him with it.

As another girl danced on the stage, Eric paid close attention to the song blasting out of the speakers. Each lap dance was the length of a complete song, but customers would sometimes stay for a few songs at a time, paying for each one. The more songs a guy wanted, the more money Jillian would get.

The first full song came to an end, and Eric watched the doorway for the girls. Eve emerged moments later with her guy, waving goodbye and thanking him. She made her way across the room to the table where Eric was waiting, but Jillian was still nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, big boy,” Eve said suggestively as she approached him. “Are you having fun?”

Eric didn't know how to tell her that he was actually loving this whole thing. Admitting that might seem kind of weird, and he wanted to try to keep that between him and Jillian.

“I’m doing alright,” he said. “Where’s Jill?”

“I think her customer wanted to go for another song. He seems to really like her, so she might be in there for a while.”

Eric felt his stomach tighten and his cheeks burn, but he forced a smile for Eve. Her breasts swayed freely below her dress and he found it hard to maintain eye contact. Eve picked up on that and moved closer to him.

“You can look if you want to,” she said, placing her hand on his arm and stroking it softly. “You’ll have to buy a dance if you want to see them without the dress on, though.”

Eve looked at him with a sly grin that said she was only half joking. If Jillian wasn't here with him, he might have even been tempted to say yes.

“I think Jillian might be a little upset with me if I took you up on that offer,” he said.

“Why don't we ask her?” Eve said, and tilted her head toward the hallway.

Jillian had just emerged with the groom. His face was flushed and he looked like he had thoroughly enjoyed her show. She gave him a quick hug, and his arms slipped around her waist and held her a little longer than he should have. After that, she waved goodbye and came back to their table.

“I think your husband wants me to give him a lap dance,” Eve announced loudly as Jill got closer to them, “but he's worried you’ll be mad. Can I?”

“Well, I just got thoroughly fondled by that guy, so I guess he should be allowed to have some fun, too.”

Her words were like a punch to the gut, both arousing and frustrating. The customers weren't supposed to touch the girls, but he had also heard that some dancers were more relaxed with that rule. If Jillian didn't stop the guy and the bouncer couldn’t see them, then the customer could do pretty much whatever they wanted.

Eric drifted into his own mental space as he pictured Jillian grinding on the stranger, pressing her naked body against him as his hands cupped her breasts. A total stranger had just groped his wife, and he loved it.

Eve snapped him out of his daze by grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the back hallway. Jillian giggled and waved to her husband as he trailed off, then headed toward a table full of several well-dressed gentlemen in their forties. Eric wanted to see who her next customer would be, but Eve poked him in the ribcage and made him pull out a twenty to pay the bouncer. He passed the bill to the hulking doorman, then followed her into the dark hallway.

Eve pulled him past several empty rooms and took him all the way to the last room at the end. It was far from the bouncer, which allowed her to be a little more risqué. This was probably where Jillian had taken her first customer so that he could touch her while she danced for him.

Each room had a love seat with a divider wall on each side. At the end of the hallway, there was one extra room on the opposite side, and Eve chose the last seat right across from it. The extra room was empty right now, but another girl would probably be coming in soon to use it.

Eve pushed Eric down on the couch and took a seat next to him, draping her long, smooth legs across his lap. He was very familiar with her body, and he could see her toned and sculpted figure under the fabric of her skimpy dress.

“You aren't supposed to touch me while I do this,” Eve whispered in his ear, “but I’ll I've you a free pass. Just make sure Jake doesn't see it if he comes down this way.”

Before Eric could respond, the previous song finished and it was time for Eve to start her dance. She pulled her legs back and jumped up to straddle his lap so that she was looking right into her eyes. Eric maintained eye contact with her out of habit, but she quickly corrected him.

“I know you want to be a good husband, but this is a strip club,” she said as she lifted herself up slightly and moved closer to him. “You’re supposed to look at my body, not my eyes. I know you want to look at my tits, so do it.”

Eve’s breasts were right at eye level, and as soon as she directed him to do so, he looked down at them. The plunging neckline of her dress left her cleavage exposed, and he could see the soft curve of each globe through the thin fabric of her dress. She wasted no time in showing him what he wanted to see, as she lowered her head and slipped the halter portion of her dress off her neck. She whipped her hair back and ran her fingers through it, and as her arms went up over her head, she arched her back and her full breasts pressed outward inches from Eric’s face. Her nipples stiffened instantly in the cold air, and Eric fought back the temptation to wrap his tongue around one of them.

Eve gyrated her hips against him with the music, grinding her mound into his lap. Her breasts swayed even more without the dress, and Eric was mesmerized by them. Once she had completely turned him on, she slid off the couch and stood in front of him. Her hips swayed with the music as she slipped the rest of her dress off her body. For the first time, Eric got a view of the cleanly-shaven triangle where her thighs came together. Eve lifted one of her legs and placed her foot on the couch next to him, parting her thighs so he could see her beautiful pussy. She ran her fingers across her tight, pink slit and parted the labia for him.

Eve then turned and dropped into his lap, laying her body back against him and pressing her hips down against his throbbing cock. Her hands grabbed his and pulled them up to her breasts, where she pressed his palms against her bare globes. Eric squeezed them eagerly, experiencing his wife’s best friend in a way that he never thought he would. He had no idea when he woke up this morning that this was where he would end up tonight.

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, and Eve quickly pushed his hands off her body in case it was the bouncer. Seconds later, Jillian came around the corner with another customer behind her. She glanced at Eric and Eve, then led him to the couch opposite theirs.

The customer was an older gentleman with a few specks of grey in his jet-black hair. He was wearing a dress suit, but he had undone the top buttons and removed his tie. Jillian guided him to the couch and sat down in his lap, her arms slipping around his neck as she looked at him seductively.

Eric felt his breathing deepen. He wanted to watch his wife dance for the stranger, and it seemed the opportunity was about to present itself. Eve seemed to read his mind.

“Do you want to buy another song with me so you can watch them?” she whispered sexily in his ear.

“Yes,” he said breathlessly, and Eve giggled against him.

“I had a feeling you’d like this, you naughty boy,” she said.

The song ended and Jillian stood up in front of her client. As she prepared to dance for him, Eve laid back against Eric and leaned her head on his shoulder so she wouldn't block his view. His growing erection pressed against her bare ass, and she wiggled her hips slightly to tease him as they watched.

Jillian was facing the businessman, swaying gently with the music. Within the first few seconds of the song, she unzipped her corset and tossed it aside. With just her panties on, she dropped down onto the couch and straddled him. Her hips moved side to side over him, pressing down against his lap. She pulled closer to him and pressed her breasts into his face with no modesty or hesitation.

Eric couldn't see Jillian’s face. He could only see her ass, clad in those sexy black lace panties, as she rubbed herself seductively against the stranger’s body. After teasing him for a few seconds, she stood up and turned her back toward her client. Her eyes met Eric’s and she smiled knowingly as she bent over and slipped her panties off, giving the other man a perfect close-up of her tight little ass and the bare lips of her pussy. As she came back up, she sat down in his lap and stretched out her naked body against him. She watched her husband attentively, but continued to press her naked ass against the anonymous businessman.

Eve was watching excitedly too, and she decided to use the opportunity to tease her closest friend. She took Eric’s hands just like she had before and placed them on her breasts. He kneaded them gently, enjoying the feeling of another woman’s breasts in her hand.

Jillian glared at Eve, then responded by taking her client’s hands and placing them on her breasts as well. The stranger groped her, pawing clumsily at her beautiful chest. Eric’s mind raged with a sudden flash of jealousy, but his cock pressed even harder against Eve’s ass. He let go of her breasts and grabbed her hips, pressing up against her. Eve moaned quietly and wiggled her butt harder, while shooting Jillian a smug look.

Jillian spun around again and returned her attention to the customer, pressing her entire naked body against him as her lips drifted inches from his, just out of reach. Eric found himself wondering how far she would take it, and if she would really kiss a total stranger. Eve looked back over her shoulder at him and ran her hand down his leg.

“Doesn't she look so beautiful?” she purred softly as she teased him. “I bet he wants to fuck her.”

Before Eric could respond, the song ended and Eve jumped up. She slipped her dress back on, then grabbed Eric by the hand and dragged him away. Jillian was still in the stranger’s lap, probably gearing up for a second song, but Eve refused to let him stay.

“Come on, let’s give them some privacy,” she said, then pulled him back to the table.

Eve ordered a few more drinks and they sat and watched the girl on stage while they waited for Jillian to return. Three songs ticked by before she finally emerged with a giddy smile on her face. She hurried over to Eric and snuggled up close to him like she wanted something.

“How did I do?” she asked him, not even mentioning Eve’s teasing lap dance. “Did I look sexy?”

“Stunning,” Eric told her honestly. “I’m sure he agreed if he kept you back there for that long.”

Jillian laughed and blushed. There was something hovering behind her eyes, a question she was holding back.

“What's wrong?” he asked her, trying to get her to spit it out.

“That guy just paid me two hundred dollars!” she blurted out. “That's fifty bucks per song! Between my dances and being on stage, I’ve already made five hundred dollars!”

“That's great!” he replied. “So what's that look then?”

Jillian looked at him sheepishly, then finally answered.

“Well, if I stay here all night, I would probably make another five hundred dollars. That guy I was just dancing for offered me three grand if I go home with him. Three thousand dollars!”

Eric felt a sudden lump in his throat as he realized what she was asking.

“But you have to sleep with him, right?” he asked, his heart starting to race.

“Yeah,” she said, becoming quiet again.

“I don't know about that. I’m a little nervous about letting you go home alone with a complete stranger.”

“Well,” Jillian replied, “I wouldn't have to go alone. He said you can come with us and watch if you want.”

Eric looked at her with a stone-faced expression. He didn't know if she was serious or if this was some elaborate joke she had fabricated with Eve, but as she watched his reaction, it became clear that she was dead serious.

“I don't know what to say,” he said finally. “I mean, that's a lot of money. It's been really hot watching you dance for these guys, but that's a lot different.”

Jillian looked at him timidly, then moved closer to him. She ran her hand softly across his cheek, then leaned in close and whispered in his ear.

“You don't want to see another man fuck me? You don't want to watch me suck his cock, pleasure him, and make him cum just for me? Then you can fuck the shit out of me afterward and reclaim your wife. Please? It’ll be a lot of fun.”

The lump was still in his throat. Jillian had just painted an incredibly erotic picture for him, and it made his hormones surge. He could deny it all he wanted, but the truth was that he wanted to see his wife fuck another man. He would even be willing to let her do it if she didn't get paid, but he wasn't about to tell her that.

“Okay,” he said finally, taking a deep breath.

Jillian smiled at him and kissed him softly on the cheek.

“Good, baby,” she said. “I'm going to do one more dance on stage and then we can leave.”

With those words, Jillian turned and made her way backstage. Eric’s mind was so consumed with what was about to happen, he could barely even focus when she came out onstage again and started peeling her clothes off again. He had been aroused by the idea of stripping for a roomful of men when they first got to the club, but now that paled in comparison to what his shy, timid wife was about to do. He watched her naked body twisting and moving on stage, and all he could think about was her wrapping herself around a total stranger as he plunged his hard cock into her married pussy.

The song ended and Jillian made her way offstage with an armful of money. She came out a short time later with her corset and skirt on, then slipped her long coat over it. She turned to Eve first and gave her a quick hug and kiss, then took Eric’s hand and led him across the room to the table full of businessmen. He glanced back at Eve, who gave him a wink and blew a kiss in his direction.

The two of them made their way across the room to the table where the older gentleman with flecks of gray in his hair was waiting for her with his friends. He stood up when he saw Jillian approaching and shook hands with his friends at the table, then excused himself from their company. He began walking toward his date for the rest of the evening with a beaming grin on his face.

As the stranger approached, Eric could assess him a little better in the slightly brighter light of the main room. He had guessed that the guy was in his early forties, but he might have even been a little older than that. His body looked thin and toned though, and he had a strong chiseled jaw that would make most women go crazy.

He slipped an arm around Jillian, and she made no attempt to stop him. In fact, she let her body slide up against his “like they were longtime lovers and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Honey, this is James,” she said. “James, this is my husband Eric.”

James offered his hand, and Eric shook it firmly.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” he said. “Your wife is absolutely beautiful. I’m sure we are all going to have a lot of fun tonight.”

There was something about James that didn't sit well with Eric. Maybe it was his smug confidence at knowing that he could buy a night with another man’s wife. Maybe it was because he thought he could fuck her better. Either way, Jillian seemed to drink in his energy. Her smile was radiant when she was looking at him.

They made their way outside and went to James’s car, a sleek black Porsche that was probably worth more than what Eric made in an entire year. As soon as she saw his car, Jillian turned to her husband.

“I’m going to ride with him. Why don't you follow us in our car?”

Eric felt his blood boil with jealousy, but her suggestion made sense. James was a customer, and she wanted to give him the best experience for his money. She gave Eric a quick peck on the cheek, then slipped into the passenger seat of the sports car.

It took about fifteen minutes to get to James’s luxurious house, hidden in a small town nearby. Eric pulled his car into the driveway behind them and got out to join them. As Jillian climbed out of the car, her face was flushed.

“This is going to be a lot of fun,” she said, clearly still a little drunk. “His cock is huge!”

“How do you know that?” Eric asked naively, furrowing his brow.

“Because I was feeling it with my hand the entire drive,” she said.

Jillian had a very proud look on her face. She took her husband by the hand and he realized she was passing him something. He looked down and saw her panties. With a playful giggle, she turned and hurried to her potential lover’s side.

The inside of the house was just as luxurious as the outside, filled with ornate golden mirrors that looked like they belonged in a French king’s palace. The rooms were huge, and the furniture looked expensive. Three thousand dollars was probably chump change to this guy.

“Welcome to my home,” James said confidently. “Why don't you two have a seat in the living room and I’ll grab us a few glasses of wine. Let me take your coat, too.”

He helped Jillian out of her jacket, then disappeared into the other room. They made their way into the living room, where Eric sat down on one of the two couches. Jillian took a seat on the other and gave her husband a mischievous grin. She was sitting by herself to make herself available to James when he returned. Eric was left sitting by himself, just like he would be for the rest of the evening.

A few minutes later, their host returned with three glasses and handed one to each of them. He then took a seat next to Jillian and she slid up close to him. Eric felt his cock stir again as the stranger slipped his arm around Eric’s wife and placed his hand on the curve of her hip.

They made small talk for a few minutes, but Jillian was eager to get down to business. She leaned forward and placed her glass on the coffee table, then turned toward James. Her hand went to his cheek, and she leaned in and pressed her lips against his. This was really happening. Jillian was kissing another man.

James reached over with his other hand and put it on her bare thigh, letting it slide up under her skirt as they made out. Jillian pulled closer to him, getting even more into the kiss as his hands explored her body.

Jillian pulled back after a few minutes and looked at James as she slowly unzipped her corset for him. Once she had freed her breasts, she moved back into his arms and resumed their kiss. His lips began to wander, and he moved down her neck as she reclined on his couch. Her eyes fluttered closed, but when James reached her nipple and pulled it into his mouth, she gasped sharply and looked directly at her husband with her eyes wide open. Her body squirmed under her lover’s tongue, but her eyes stayed glued to her husband as she bit her lip excitedly.

James’s hand moved further up under her skirt, and when she closed her eyes again and sighed deeply, Eric knew that he had found her pussy. He could only imagine how wet she must be right now, especially since she seemed to be loving this entire experience.

James explored her body, sucking her nipple harder as his fingers probed her sex. Jillian began moaning softly and ran her fingers through his hair as his fingers slipped in and out of her pussy, moving faster with every stroke. Her cries grew more urgent, and soon she was clutching at him as her body began to shake uncontrollably.

Her climax subsided and she pulled him into a hungry kiss. James’s hands reached out to explore her body, but Jillian pushed him away and stood up. It was her turn. She crossed the room to Eric’s couch and stopped in front of him, then looked at him condescendingly.

“Undress me,” she commanded him.

Eric didn't object. He sat forward and slipped his fingers into the waistband of her dress and slowly slipped it over her hips and down her legs. Jillian stepped away from him naked and returned to her waiting lover, then dropped to her knees in front of him.

Jillian’s fingers carefully unbuckled his belt and worked it loose, then unzipped his dress slacks. James had already started unbuttoning his shirt, and as she slid his pants down, he peeled his shirt off and tossed it aside. He was left in a pair of snug boxer briefs that showed off the outline of his sizable member.

Jillian started to massage the sizeable bulge through his underwear. Her eyes were on James, contemplating what she was about to do. She hesitated, trying to hold back, to move slowly and seductively, but she couldn't fight her urges. It was no longer about the money. She wanted to fuck him, and she wanted her husband to watch it happen. She wanted to be a slut.

For more of this story, check out From Housewife to Whore by Alex Skylar, exclusively on Amazon!

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“Two ‘Detained’ Italians Fought With C.E.F. in ‘14,” Toronto Star. June 19, 1940. Page 11. ---- Home Guard, Organized at 4 p.m., Were Patrolling Internees at 6 - Prisoners in Quarters Used by 48th Wants Hotel Suite Accommodation ---- By ALEXANDRINE GIBB Even the halt, the lame and the blind were picked up by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, from the Italian colony for ‘detention,’ the day Italy entered the war. The R.C.M.P.’s first round-up was a thorough one.

The men, confined in he automotive building at the C.N.E. military camp, make up a motley crowd of coatless Fascists. When a reporter, with Major Charles B. Lindsey, who commands the Home Guard in Military District No. 2, leaned oveer the balcony and looked into the four long cubicles, with 40 men to a pen - the same quarters used last winter by soldiers - two rows of two bunks high, the Italians walking restlessly up and down conversing continually in Italian. There was an inquiry glance toward from the alien group to the commander of Veteran Home Guards.

‘A bit restless, sir,’ offered the khaki clad guard, with a chest full of war ribbons. He spoke without taking his eyes off the scene on the main floor below. His bayonet, polished up to the nth degree, shone in the bright searchlights which night and day beam down on the men...accused of living in Canada and selling her short.

One coated man stood...and he had three shirt-sleeved men listening carefully as he paced the length of his prison and turned and walked down again. An organist from a large Toronto churhc picked up Friday evening at choir practice. In the next pen, separated from the other by a 12-foot wood wall...the wall that divided the rows of bunks when the new overseas 48th Highlanders had the building last winter...in that next pen was a well-known contractor, famous restaurateur, and in the third pen was just as prominent a racketeer. He was the most cheerful of the lot, and smiled and nodded at acquaintances as he took the journey up and down the 60-foot enclosure. The no smoking rule is rigidly enforce, literature is not permitted...in the corner one game of cards was under way as we looked.

Served With Us in ‘14 The saddest sight of all was two men, separate from their fellows. They are Italians who served with the Canadians in the last world war.

Outside where two beribboned guards were in undisputed charge at the entrance, lawns and roadways were filled with relatives of the interned men. They came in trucks, in flashy cars. All were well dressed. Italian children ran around the trees and audibly wondered why ‘daddy was in there.’ The women approached the guards with parcels which were accepted by a corporal, who sent them in for inspection. Nothing reaches the prisoners without going through the careful scrutiny of men who knew what war was back in 1914-1918. In an emergency a relative may see the ma held. He or she sees him with an officer of the guard in close attendance and English only is permitted to be spoken.

The detained men were docile, obeyed orders...cleaned the floor and then cleaned them again. They peel potatoes, but do no cooking. They have been warned that one attempted break and a hail of bullets will follows. Some of these Canadians, on guard over these Italians, were once prisoners of war in Germany.

Get No Butter, Milk Breakfast is oatmeal and syrup, bread and coffee, no butter, and no milk. Lunch and supper are made tip of beef stew, potatoes, bread and tea. Knives are pretty scarce, too.

There is plenty of room for more; 2,000 prisoners could be accommodated and be well looked after by the efficient company of ex-soldiers whom Major Lindsey has handpicked for this job. He has five men who now rank as privates who were officers in the last war. One was a pilot in the Royal Air Force.

The majority of the men now so smartly clad in the King’s unfirom have been on relief for years. They slip readily back into uniform and have rounded into an efficient group of guards.

These Home Guards didn’t have a single officer on May 28. The first man was sworn in June 3, and on June 10, the day Italy came in the war, they took over the prisoners. At 4 o’clock on that day the men took over the Automotive building as a detention camp. At 6 o’clock they were receiving prisoners. One officer went off duty after 51 hours without sleep, so busy was the ‘reception’ desk and the bottling up of the Automotive building by the engineers. Major Charles B. Lindsey, D.S.O., E.D., has Major Roy Harrison, M.C., as second in command. Major Harrison is a crack revolver shot and was one of the best marksmen at Bisley. Capt. Robert Davidson is the son of the late Col. John Davidson, Capt. Cronk, M.C., Capt., Bartlett, Lieut. Chapple, M.C., D.C.M., make up the list of officers now on duty here.

One Woman Held Only one woman has arrived the Automotive building. She stayed part of a day, then was taken elsewhere. The guard over the prisoners sleep in rows close by...have exactly the same bunks as the prisoners, but the ends of their rows aren’t closed. One each day the inmates are paraded for exercise around the Exhibition grounds. They are all well fed...most of them show evidence of rich living in his Canada of ours. Many brought large sums of cash with them. The story is unofficial that credits one wealthy Italian with requesting that a suite be secured for him at the Royal York. He would pay the government the extra cost incurred, he offered.

[AL: It should go without saying almost all these men were innocent of anything but not being fully naturalized Canadians.]

[creativitytoexplore]

Who To Call In Case Of Emergency by Marina Rubin https://ift.tt/35BZ5iG Tulip's mundane work environment is brightened by her adventurous, bubbly and promiscuous co-worker; by Marina Rubin.

You can learn a lot about other people's lives when you ask for their emergency contact number. A daunting task Tulip undertook with a mix of idealistic dedication and administrative weariness, when one of her colleagues, a senior underwriter, Didi Estefanos, fainted at work. Everyone ran around the office, scrambling to find a number for her next of kin as she lay on the floor unconscious, her feet in thick brown stockings protruding from the partition of her cubicle. As the crowd swayed above her, spewing water on her face and wailing Didi, Didi, someone found her profile on Facebook, tracked down her son and sent him an SOS message. By the time two masculine paramedics rolled in and strapped Didi onto a stretcher, someone was already on the phone with her frantic son, Nicholas, instructing him to meet his mother at Mount Sinai Hospital. "Would you look at that man?" Senna, the new girl from marketing, whispered into Tulip's ear, smiling at a tall paramedic with a sleeve tattoo. "It's true what they say - New York has the best looking men!" Senna had recently relocated from Florida so most of her sentences began with "It's true what they say" and were awe-inspired declarations about her new city. Tulip had seen the tall paramedic before. Twice. Once, when the Operations Manager collapsed with a stroke and, of course, the staff struggled to find his emergency contact number since the one on file in HR was from twenty years ago - his father who had long been gone; and the second time, when one of the salespeople had a seizure while closing a deal on the phone. "What kind of business is this?" the paramedic sneered, shoving consent papers into his EMS bag. "Everybody gets rolled out on a stretcher! What do you people do here?" "Healthcare insurance." Tulip shrugged, failing to see what he was implying. Then she watched Senna, in a surprising display of concern, chase Didi's stretcher down the hall and plunge into the elevator, like a puma, behind the handsome paramedic. Tulip returned to her desk and, as if on a mission, composed a fervent email to the entire department letting them know she was collecting emergency contact numbers, "so we can avoid another Didi situation". In the coming days, emails floated from every direction, from benefit clerks to C-level executives, offering up names and numbers of loved ones: "...My wife Susan... my husband Edward... my brother Boris... my mother Beverly..." hoping they would never be used, the urgent phone calls that would never have to be made. Tulip included her husband George, although he was impossible to reach, a criminal attorney who spent most of his day in court. Tulip's boss, McNally, a devout Catholic and a perpetually angry ex-alcoholic barked, "If I drop dead, I don't want you calling anybody. Let them throw me to the dogs!" As the spreadsheet expanded into several pages and circulated around the office like some kind of a death list, there was still no news of Didi. Some speculated she was in a hospital undergoing observation, while others joked she was already on the beach in Barbados, collecting disability. One morning Senna appeared in Tulip's cubicle and, pressing her body against the grey fabric panel, said enigmatically, "I know you are collecting emergency contact numbers, I'm going to give you my children's father's number." "Sure, that's fine," Tulip replied, not looking up from her computer. "Well, he's my ex-husband, actually," Senna clarified, hanging her face on the divider and staring at Tulip with oval eyes full of longing. "But we are not together; the children are with him though... well, they're in boarding school." An attractive woman in her late 30s with long bleached hair and large breasts, Senna told everyone she had always wanted to live in New York, it had been her life-long dream. She was renting a basement apartment in Brooklyn that she called a dungeon. "It has the allure of a dungeon," she once said at a staff meeting, with tenacity and pride. "I didn't know a dungeon could have allure!" McNally jeered behind her back. But Tulip liked Senna. There was a certain endearing quality to her, she was like one of those porcelain dolls, one minute beautiful in a box in a pastel ballerina skirt and the next ashen and warped, left outside in the rain with one eye broken and a dirty dress. "Actually let me think about it, maybe I will give you someone other than my ex-husband," Senna said broodingly and walked away, bumping into McNally. "What did she want?" McNally asked, dropping off a report on Tulip's desk. "She was giving me her emergency contact number." "Weirdo," McNally hissed and disappeared. Next day Senna told Tulip by the water cooler, "I'll give you my Daddy's number." "Great. Is your father here or in Florida?" "No, he's not my father," Senna laughed. "He's my Daddy... you know, like my master." "You have a master?" "I'm in an S&M relationship," Senna said, beaming. "It's true what they say - you can be and do anything you want in New York!" At home during dinner, Tulip told her husband George about the new girl Senna who apparently had a master. George nodded and yawned, "to each his own." That night in bed, he rolled on top of her and, nuzzling her ear, teased that he was now her master and she better obey him. On Friday, McNally announced that Didi Estefanos was not coming back to work any time soon, she was officially on long-term disability, and no, he didn't know what was wrong with her. The team filed out of the conference room with an intense sense of envy and resentment towards their sick, stay-at-home colleague. Senna came over to Tulip's desk and declared, "I'll give you a different emergency contact number. It's my neighbor..." "What happened to Daddy?" "We had a fight." "I'm sorry to hear that." "He's such an inconsiderate jerk!" Senna confessed, biting her nails. "He set up a date with this girl and forgot to tell me so I could schedule a date for myself too. Who does that?" Tulip shook her head. "I hear you. Men are the worst. My husband won't even put his plate in the dishwasher after he finishes eating." Then she leaned in closer. "So it's kind of like... an open relationship? Sorry, I don't know much about these things." "Open but very committed. We do play dates together and separate, with couples, and singles. It keeps our love fresh and exciting... It's just that he should have given me a heads-up so we could sync our calendars, you know what I mean?" "Right... right," Tulip nodded. "You think it's ok if I give you my neighbor's number?" Senna asked, still agonizing. "Senna, it's just a list! A formality. In case of emergency. If anything should happen to you in the office. Hopefully nothing will happen to you in the office and they won't have to carry you out on a stretcher. Your neighbor's number is just fine! Don't worry." "Of course. Nothing will happen." Senna smiled, holding up tightly crossed fingers. In time, Senna and Tulip became chatty confidantes. When they met in the elevator on Monday mornings, they inquired about each other's weekend. Senna was always eager to share her stories, no matter who was around to hear them - here she was making a guest star appearance at some elite orgy, or dressing up as a bumblebee in a simple threesome. Tulip's weekends lacked the same kind of luster and sensationalism, but still, she kept up conversation by recalling her two days of cooking, cleaning and driving her ten-year old daughter, Abby, to ballet classes and gymnastics. When the two women bumped into each other in the hall, they shared a giggling hi-five. When they met in the kitchen for a snack, they always took a minute to whisper what an insufferable prick their boss, McNally, was and couldn't someone just put him out of his misery. Eventually they discovered they both liked foreign films - naïve romantic comedies starring unattractive yet lovable French men with big noses. They also enjoyed the same kind of music - brooding guitar ballads by Joni Mitchell and Joan Baez. They started having lunch at a little Indian place down the street called Ms. Bombay, where they always ordered the same appetizer, aloo papri chat - chickpeas in tangy sauce - and shared chicken tikka masala, wrapping chunks of meat in Peshwari naan. "Can you believe this naan?" Senna gushed every time. "It has raisins and nuts! Only in New York!" Senna told Tulip about her life back in Sarasota, how she married her high school sweetheart and gave birth in succession to two boys, Chris and Kyle. How she came to be interested in the underground S&M scene; at first her husband joined her at parties at the swingers' club, and when it escalated to dark cellars, chains and fetishes, he opted out, said he was concerned for her safety, but by that time they had nothing in common, and he couldn't stop her. She was still a young, attractive woman and didn't want to live in a matrimonial tomb. So she moved to New York. She met Daddy on-line. "There are websites and user groups for this kind of thing," Senna explained to Tulip, who listened, wide-eyed, her cheeks pudgy from Indian bread infused with nuts. She even told her how she once had sex in suspension, "You haven't had sex until you've done it suspended in the air!" "Ok, stop, please!" Tulip yelled, covering her ears, "I don't think I want to hear any more."

"So you're now friends with the dominatrix?" Tulip's husband George snickered one night, brushing his teeth before bed. "I hope she doesn't recruit you into the world of bondage." "You don't need to worry about that," Tulip laughed. "It's the last thing I would want to try! She is sweet, you know, and amusing. I'm not even sure if what she says is true... But she has this touching enthusiasm for life, New York, sex, even naan! Plus, she is not a dominatrix, honey, she must be a submissive, right? She has a Daddy." George, gurgling mouthwash, muttered something along the lines of you know better, and went into the bedroom tugging at his pajama pants. "Did I tell you I had a date with the paramedic?" Senna broadcasted one day in the kitchen. There were other people around, stirring oatmeal, making coffee, slicing grapefruit. Senna did not care what anyone thought. Tulip often wondered if she did it on purpose, shocked people. "How was it?" Tulip whispered, signaling for Senna to keep it down. "We met for a drink, then went back to his place. It was very vanilla." "Vanilla," Tulip repeated, nervously looking around. That word, the flavor of ice cream she never ordered, came back to her on the train going home to Glen Rock... Vanilla... Was Tulip's life in suburban New Jersey vanilla? As in plain, dull, without flavor or spark? Her job, her marriage, her sex life? Not that she wanted to have sex in suspension, or wear leather in a room full of strangers, hell no, but the thought, as small as a sliver of an almond in a Peshwari naan, nestled between her teeth and would not budge. She was happily married, she loved her husband; when they met in college he was applying to law school and they were such a team, so committed to getting him through it that by the time he graduated and got a job at a prestigious law firm, yes the spark was gone and so was the passion, but this was their joint achievement, a real triumph, plus they already had a beautiful daughter, and Tulip was all gratitude, but that word - vanilla, that sliver of an almond... For their office summer outing the company organized a scavenger hunt. Everyone ran around the Meatpacking district, agonizing over trick questions and looking for clues in the bricks of the buildings and inside the elevators of the overpriced Chelsea Market. "Which structure used to be a church, a nightclub, a shopping mall and now a sports club?" Insurance adjusters and claim processors struggled to answer on a sweltering day in Manhattan. Senna was wearing a pair of tiny jean shorts and high heels as she leaped over cobblestones, solving demanding brainteasers, winking at construction workers and tossing excited exaltations about the history and beauty of the city. "Look at her," McNally grumbled as he trudged alone, behind all the teams, smoking a cigar and scratching his rotund stomach, "the only thing she's missing is a balloon cluster!" Senna's team won. Wearing medals around their necks that looked like chocolate wrapped in gold foil, they celebrated in a seedy bar in Union Square. Tulip had to leave early to attend Abby's ballet recital, so Senna stayed with the analysts from Logistics. Later on she was joined by a petite, dark-haired woman with a wedding ring and a briefcase. "This is my neighbor and lover Francesca," Senna introduced her to a few remaining, intoxicated co-workers. They reported that the two women were fondling each other at the bar until a glistening Mercedes came to pick them up and whisked them to an unknown destination. Next morning Senna told Tulip how sorry she was she missed Francesca, her neighbor and her lover, the one she was telling her about, the one who would be her emergency contact. "It's alright," Tulip insisted, "I don't need to meet your emergency contact." The following week, on Friday, Senna was all pins and needles, awaiting a FedEx delivery. "Have you seen the postman?" she asked every executive assistant, madly dashing towards the reception area to see if anything had arrived. She and Daddy were leaving for the long weekend at an exclusive S&M retreat in the Catskills and she had bought a lamp on Amazon to decorate their tent. "It's a beautiful white lotus lantern with twenty leaf string lights," she told Tulip, almost in tears, showing her photos on the Internet. "I was going to hang it around our tent like a garland, so it's festive and inviting, and more people will come to visit us." "Don't worry," Tulip comforted her. "It's still early, I'm sure it'll arrive." Oh, how Senna screamed when the FedEx man appeared on the floor. A week later, the building security office was conducting a fire drill and forced everyone to leave their desks and assemble in the hall by the elevators. As the fire warden droned on about what to do in case of an emergency, Tulip noticed how three women from Payroll with strangely similar hair bobs were whispering to each other and pointing in Senna's direction. "I need two volunteers to be Floor Searchers," the warden announced, looking at the gloomy faces in the crowded hallway. "One male and one female. The role of a Searcher is very important. In case of fire, you must search the restrooms, offices, conference rooms and instruct all the floor occupants to evacuate. Do I have any volunteers?" There was an ear-piercing silence and everyone looked at each other. "Alright, I'll do it," Greg, the HR Manager, like a white angel, descended onto the floor. "I guess I could be the female Searcher," Senna raised her hand. "Great! Please come up to me and give me your names. This concludes our fire drill, thank you," the warden said in a raspy voice, as everyone trailed back to the office. "Knowing her, she'll be checking the men's room first and we'll never see her again," McNally snorted under his breath, loud enough for the interns from Group Benefits to exchange glances and burst out laughing. The word about Senna was spreading around the firm, and Tulip felt bad for her friend. "You know, you don't have to tell everyone about your life," she said to Senna in one of the little nooks of the office. "No one needs to know about your lesbian affair with the neighbor, or the hot date with the paramedic, or Daddy and the orgies you attend every weekend. Really, it's no one's business. It's your private life!" "But my life is not a secret," Senna insisted. "I married young and lived like a nun for years until I realized I deserve better. I have nothing to hide. I'm proud. I'm finally living!" For her birthday, a pair of shiny thigh-high boots in black patent leather with laces up the back was delivered to the office. Senna hiked up her skirt and tried them on at her desk. "Daddy sent them!" she exclaimed excitedly. "He's taking me to the opera! We're seeing Aida at the Met!" "You're not wearing those to the opera, are you?" Tulip asked in a thin, shocked voice. "Oh no, of course not. These are for the party we are going to on Saturday." "What do you wear them with?" Tulip asked, feeling the pleather with her fingertips. "Anything you want, really, or nothing at all! You can always dress them up with a pair of long gloves, or a classic headband." "Well, have a great time at the opera!" Tulip wished her friend, just as she noticed, from the corner of her eye, McNally standing in the middle of the office, shaking his head back and forth and staring at the black sleek boots, as if they were the cadaver of an animal. A month later, completely by accident, Tulip met Daddy. On some idle Tuesday when Tulip's husband was working late and her daughter was at a sleep-away camp, Tulip and Senna were having a drink after work. A man in a grey suit and tie surprised Senna from behind by covering her eyes and commanding her to smell his fingers. Bald, stocky, in thick dark-rimmed glasses, the man whom Senna introduced as her Daddy, her master, her lover who fulfilled every one of her fantasies, literally looked like her father, a severe man with a humorless expression, someone the IRS would send to conduct an audit at an automotive company in Detroit. Senna and Daddy insisted on driving Tulip home. Tulip sat in the backseat, watching Senna weave her arms around Daddy like a willow tree, as he drove in silence with the tempo and precision of a German tankman. Tulip wondered why they were driving her to New Jersey, so completely out of their way. Did they know no one would be home, was this a ploy to get her into bed, did they want her for a threesome, was she being recruited into the world of bondage? They dropped her off in front of her house just as George was pulling down the curtains on the bay window. Tulip breathed a sigh of relief. Daddy stepped out of the car and gallantly opened the door for her. "Who was that?" George asked when Tulip walked in. "You are not going to believe it. That was Daddy!" "Daddy? You mean, your crazy co-worker's S&M master? He looked more like a Certified Public Accountant from KPMG... Do we have anything to eat?" Sometime in November, it suddenly became bone chilling and viciously windy. "It's true what they say - New York is a toothless witch of a winter," Senna announced. Having moved from Florida, she did not have any warm clothes, so she layered her summer shirts and wore the company sweatshirt advertising their new PPO plan on top. Tulip hated watching her shiver in the revolving doors of the building. Daddy should have bought the poor girl a coat, instead of those hideous knock-me-down-and-fuck-me boots, Tulip thought to herself, fuming. Instead of saying anything, she opened her closets. With care and dedication, she picked a few warm sweaters, a scarf, a hat, woolen socks, even mittens. Then she added a Burberry double-breasted cashmere coat she had snatched up on sale at Neiman Marcus. Something every lawyer's wife should own, she wore it once to a holiday party at George's law firm, now it adorned her closet like a mistletoe, something pretty but useless. She took it off the hanger and threw it in the bag. "You can have these for the winter," she handed the bag to Senna on Monday. "Oh my God, you shouldn't have. Thank you so much. That is so sweet," the Florida ex-pat jumped up and hugged her friend. Then she tried on the coat and even though she was taller and bigger in the bust than Tulip, the coat fit her perfectly. And then the morning arrived when Senna was circling Tulip's cubicle, fidgeting and fretting about something, until she finally came out with it and asked Tulip to be her emergency contact. There was something so heartrending and pitiful about the way she asked, smiling, standing by Tulip's desk, still wearing the coat, holding out banana bread she had made over the weekend in a plastic container like some kind of sacrilegious offering, that Tulip had to look away. "What happened to Daddy?" "I don't think he wants to be my Daddy anymore," Senna said, biting her chipped nails. "He found someone younger, and prettier." "I am sorry. What about your lesbian lover, that neighbor Francesca, or something?" "Her husband found out and threatened to divorce her if she didn't stop seeing me." Tulip sighed. "Look, Senna, I can't be your emergency contact, it's ridiculous. We work in the same office. It has to be someone from outside, you know, like a family member or a friend." "Why?" Senna objected. "Well, for starters..." Tulip tried to elaborate, until she realized she couldn't come up with anything reasonable, and that's when she folded, "You know what - okay, you got me!" "Really?" Senna lit up. "Great! Can you put it down in the spreadsheet?" At night, Tulip was having dinner with her husband and her daughter, a new crock-pot roast beef recipe she was trying with red-skinned potatoes, when her phone rang. It was Senna. "I'm just calling to activate my emergency contact number," she said, laughing like a gloriously happy child.

Sometime around Thanksgiving, rumors, like pocket-sized mice, were scurrying across the office and making squeaking noises in the walls. Employees congregated by the water cooler, in the hallways, in the kitchen, whispering, shaking heads, weighing in on the latest news. Didi Estefanos was not coming back to work, in fact, she had slapped the company with a massive lawsuit, claiming everything from emotional abuse to sexual harassment, ageism, racism, and all kinds of atrocities that had caused her to collapse in the office and get rolled out on a stretcher. What was wrong with her exactly, what particular ailment she was inflicted with, no one knew. Since all the tests came back negative, the doctors assumed it was stress. She hired a high-powered attorney who specialized in harassment in the workplace. The company executives from around the country flew into the New York office and spent long days in glass conference rooms, behind closed doors, talking into round speakerphones that lay in the middle of the table like UFO plates. They walked out, exasperated, wheezing, loosening their ties, pooh-poohing the process, and hurried along to lunches and dinners at the lavish New York restaurants they enjoyed on their expense accounts. Greg, a highly respected HR Manager and a proud gay man since the 80s, was seen standing outside the building, wiping his face with a paper towel. McNally was in and out of meetings, giving testimony, defending himself. "Sexual harassment my ass," he was heard screaming, "that old hag was a hundred years old!" Meanwhile, a Thanksgiving sale was in full swing at Bloomingdale's down the street. All the girls from the office were shopping in the intimates department. Tulip always joked how their check was directly deposited into the iconic department store. "I need your honest opinion." Senna came up to Tulip one day with a shopping bag. "I bought this corset for a party on Friday. But I'm not sure if it fits me right. Could you please take a look and tell me the truth, please!" "Sure." Tulip nodded. "Let me just finish this report." "Great, meet me in the bathroom in ten minutes." When Tulip walked into the bathroom, the small vestibule with a full-length mirror and a few armchairs, was empty. She proceeded into the lavatory, it was empty as well, except for the one stall at the end where Senna was fiddling with zippers, swooshing fabric. Someone had left the water running in the sink, Tulip turned off the faucet and waited. Finally, the stall door opened and Senna appeared, wearing just a corset and a pair of a high heels. "Oh wow!" Tulip squealed, veering her face to the side as if someone had just punched her. "Wow," she repeated, violently, "wow." "What do you think?" Senna asked, standing in the middle of the bathroom, anxious, alert, her breasts bulging from a see-through corset, her shaved pale vagina on display. "Looks great," Tulip said, her hand raised to her temple, partially blocking the view. "Does it make me look fat?" "No, it looks fine, not fat at all," Tulip stuttered, looking away, focusing on a crack in a tile. She did not expect to see her friend wearing nothing but high heels and a corset. She reasoned there was no real necessity to take off her pants or the skirt that she was wearing, let alone her underwear, to demonstrate a corset, especially one that went only to her belly button. And why the high heels? For the full dramatic effect, the big picture? "Do you think it's tight in the back?" Senna turned around, flexing her muscular buttocks. "No... Not tight at all." "You don't think it's too small in the breasts?" "No, it's great," Tulip repeated, making an effort to hide her embarrassment. "Are you sure? You're not just saying it?" "Definitely! You'll be a huge hit at the party on Saturday," Tulip assured her, as she hurried out the door, blaming an urgent report she forgot to do. She ran out of the bathroom and walked down the hall, shell-shocked, frazzled, smoothing wisps of hair on top of her head, grinning to herself, imagining her husband's face when she told him tonight what had just happened, how he would fall off his chair, laughing. "What's so funny?" Tulip bumped into McNally, who was always stalking the hallways and had an uncanny talent for appearing at the most opportune place at the most opportune time. "What is it?" he demanded, studying Tulip's face. "You look strange... Is everything alright?" "Yes, fine," Tulip, taken off guard, giggled in a surge of nervousness. "I was in the bathroom with Senna, she asked me to look at this corset she bought at Bloomingdale's, but... she was wearing nothing but a corset, you know..." Tulip laughed uncontrollably. "Oh, and high heels too," she added, slowly gaining composure and realizing her mistake. McNally stood quietly, his arms folded on his stomach, listening. That night, when Tulip told her husband about the encounter in the office bathroom, he did not fall off his chair laughing, as she expected. He turned surprisingly serious and asked her all kinds of questions, as if she was a witness on a stand, or a victim, or maybe even a co-conspirator. "And what did you do?" "Nothing, I ran out of the bathroom..." "Why did she do that?" "I don't know, she's probably an exhibitionist..." "What is the nature of your relationship?" "You can't be serious, honey... That's it. I am going to bed." A few days later, Tulip was in the office kitchen, draping almond butter onto a Granny Smith apple, when Greg, the HR Manager, approached her and invited her in for a chat. In a corner office crammed with ceramic bowls and teacups that Greg made in the pottery class his partner Rob bought him for his birthday, the tired HR Manager offered Tulip a chair and asked if she wanted anything to drink. She looked at the large pitcher of water sitting on the side of the table, a testament to the many people who came through this office in the last few days, and immediately said, "Greg, I don't know much about Didi, or whatever her claims are... She seemed like a nice lady, very erudite, but other than that I have nothing to add." "Tulip, I didn't ask you here to talk about Didi," Greg said in a serious tone. "Okay..." she looked at him, waiting. "I want you to know this is a safe place and everything you say here is confidential." "O-kay..." "Tell me what happened with Senna," he said compassionately. "We have zero tolerance for sexual harassment and abuse in this company, and you did the right thing by reporting her." "What?" Tulip jumped up. "What do you mean what happened with Senna? What do you mean, reported her?" "McNally came into HR and filed a complaint on your behalf. He said that your colleague, Senna Andrews, has created a sexually abusive environment for you... Tulip, if Senna has sexually abused you, or harassed you in any way, you need to tell me right now." "Sexually abused me?" "Look, we received a complaint... It went all the way to the CEO. Of course, the big wigs upstairs are worried about you suing the company, but I care about your well-being." "Suing the company? Is this some kind of a joke?" "There is nothing funny about sexually unwanted advances, especially in the workplace, especially now - with the MeToo situation, we take these matters very seriously." "This is not a MeToo situation!" she burst out, enraged. "No one harassed me! Not me! This is a NotMe situation!" "Okay," Greg looked at her keenly. "Then why did you report her?" "I didn't," she covered her face with her hands. "Well, you communicated the entire bathroom incident to your manager, Eric McNally. To tell you the truth, I was surprised. I thought you and Senna were friends." "We are friends," Tulip sighed, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Then I don't understand what happened. Why did you report her?" "I did not report her... McNally snuck up on me. That's what he does - he stalks the hallways like a creeper, and he just caught me off guard..." "I don't know if you realize it, but your accusations could get Senna fired." "No!" Tulip exclaimed. "It was a mistake, a misunderstanding. I don't want her fired. It was a mistake. Nothing happened. Greg, you have to help me. Don't let her get fired!" She rushed out of the office and took the elevator down to the lobby. She ran across the street, sat down on a fire hydrant in front of her building and dialed her husband George. He didn't pick up. It was late afternoon and he was usually in court at this time. She kept dialing his number frantically and it kept going into voicemail. She looked at the gnarled trees around her and it suddenly occurred to her that if this was an emergency, if she was sprawled out in the middle of the street unconscious, or taken out on a stretcher from the office, no one would be able to reach George, and she finally understood what Senna had been agonizing over all this time. Tulip looked up at their building. Senna was somewhere on the 24th floor, and so was McNally, and HR, and the big wigs; what was happening up there, she wondered, what were they doing to Senna now? At night when Tulip finally saw her husband and told him about her surprise meeting with HR, he put down his fork and somberly expressed his disappointment - she had played it all wrong, she should have consulted him first. "You can't be serious, George." "When your HR rep said they were worried about you suing the company, he was right. They should be worried, because this was an open and shut case. And if you had teamed up with this Didi woman and joined her lawsuit this would have been a winning case. But instead you chose to defend your little girlfriend." "I can't believe you're saying this nonsense," she hissed. "I would never accuse a friend of such wrongdoing and get her into trouble like this." "What are you defending?" George scoffed. "Your lusty little encounter in the fitting room?" "It wasn't lusty!" Tulip shrieked, slamming the door. "And it wasn't a fitting room, it was a bathroom!" she corrected him, slamming the door again. There were many slammed doors that night which ignited a bit of spark in Tulip's otherwise vanilla life.

When she came to work the next day, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Every one of her colleagues was sitting at their desks, in their cubicles, in front of their computers, doing what they were paid to do. Greg was in his office with his door closed. McNally was on the phone with his back towards the exit. Tulip looked across the floor, studied the layout of the office, and for the first time noticed the precise division of the cubicles, the symmetrical way in which the partitions were mapped out, like prison cells, or a closed mouse maze. Senna did not get fired. Whether it was Greg's humanitarian efforts or McNally's endless maneuvering, she was transferred to another group, the only division that did not report to McNally. Was she ever called into HR, reprimanded, given a warning? Did she ever find out who reported her, Tulip often wondered with trepidation. But after the bathroom incident, she started avoiding Senna. When Senna asked if she was free for lunch at their favorite, Ms. Bombay, Tulip told her she brought lunch from home, or had an important client meeting, or was running to a spin class at the gym. When Senna invited her for drinks after work, Tulip lied again and blamed PTA meetings, ballet recitals, and date nights with the hubby. One day Senna came over to Tulip's desk and asked her if she would look at a necklace she bought downstairs. "You would tell me the truth if it was gaudy, right?" "Sure, let me see it." Tulip nodded with an old familiar smile. But when Senna told her to meet her in the bathroom, Tulip looked at her for a long time and finally said, "We don't really need to go to the bathroom to try on a necklace. You can just put it on right here in this cubicle." Senna went to get the necklace and never came back.

[t-urbulence]

Alright, we sold the house.

This is a post about that house.

Last time I was in that house was on the day of my grandma’s funeral and I remember my mum kept having to go back to pack her stuff and pack out and bring stuff home and she kept having to sleep there because taking the bus there and back on several consecutive days was just a waste of money and I still don’t know how she did it, I couldn’t have.

I said this back when we talked about what would become of that house and I said the house wasn’t the house because of the house, it was the house because of my grandma. And it’s true, it just didn’t feel the same without her but I guess that’s the same with most things that belong together.

I have very old memories of that house. I remember playing there as a really small, tiny kid, with my cousin, my uncle’s son, who for some reason said he’s going to marry me (I don’t think either of us knew what marrying meant, we were like four). I remember the dog, Pepi, the chicken in the back of the yard. I remember these two (then three) neighbour girls I became friends with through the fence, how I kept hanging out with them despite being much older and going over to their place to hang out and they would literally cling onto my waist and I’d carry them around and they were my “holsters”.

For a really long time I had no real idea of just how big the backyard was. It was basically a vineyard and there was this big tree and some junk in the back. I never really played there much, there was this weird bush with some weird fruit on it my mum loves, I think my mum called it gooseberry but I remember small black fruit. Anyway. I stole something when I was in elementary school and I buried it there then I dug it up and broke it with a stone so there would be no evidence left #genius

My grandma was a hairdresser all her life, and she had a salon behind the house. I just picture the door opening and hearing the chatter inside, of old ladies, of the hairdryer, the water flowing in the sink. The smell of hair products, my grandma standing with her hand pressed against her aching back, holding her tools in her other, her hair up in a bun. There were all these old ladies there...

On the mirror was a piece of paper of her prices and I remember I wrote it on our computer in our old house and I remember our ő (or one of the accented letters) was broken at the time (I think I spilled juice on the keyboard) so I left a space where it was supposed to be that letter and she handwrote those. Now I got mad that I don’t remember which letter it was. Maybe á? There was a lot of that latter on there. Now I’m... really angry... I don’t remember. I spent so much time looking at it and I can’t remember.

I loved it when she washed my hair though she was kind of harsh, and it wasn’t very comfortable under my neck but I liked the warmth of the water. I had my hair dyed blonde there in 2012 for the first time, the bleach stung so much. It also took me a long time to find out the salon had a bigger back area with the boiler and so much old crap she horded over the years.

I remember wanting my hair done all the time but not wanting to sit in those chairs for ages. I loved playing with the curlers, put them on my fingers, pretend I had curlers as fingers. There was so much stuff there...

There was a mosquito net door on everything because my grandma was allergic to bees. There was one on the entrance of the house too but there was a square cut in it so we could reach in and unlock this lock... thing... that was on it. The inside door, the real door was barely closed during summers which is when we were there most of the time. I don’t think we ever met my grandma inside the kitchen when we visited her, she always came outside to greet us, that’s where we hugged and kissed, and she would already be cooking something inside, listening to the radio, always the same channel, some old Hungarian thing with classical music and weird religious programmes. I always thought she smelled like a dentist, I don’t know where I got that from, it’s not true.

I was barely in the pantry but there was always so much food there. That’s where I found out you can keep the bread in the fridge. I never liked any of the fruit juices she brought or made. Sorry.

One of the bathrooms opened from the kitchen as well with this huge ass boiler but I remember bathing in that room only once or twice. It was exciting, I don’t know why. The toilet had this flusher that was weird, you had to kind of hold it and wait for a specific noise to let go otherwise it didn’t flush properly.

The kitchen table was close to the door to the living room and a chair always stood in the way, that was usually my place during meals. One time my grandma had this cat, Mici(?), and she kept playing with our feet under the table. My mum hates cats so she didn’t like it but I loved it. When she died my grandma kept luring cats to the yard. She would cuss them out for being so needy but I think she liked having cats to talk to.

The two rooms were otherwise separated by an ENORMOUS ceiling-high tiled stove. My grandma was always very skinny so she got very cold all the time, the air was BOILING HOT during winters.

In the living room where my grandma slept was where the Christmas tree would be set up. The door to the real living room that was this really cold, tiled ~middle room always covered the TV if it was open but when the stove was on she always wanted that door open so the warmth would spread to the whole house. That was the only TV in the house and I remember always wanting to wake up early on the weekends so I could watch the morning cartoons. So often I fell asleep again while watching them. For some reason I remember watching Hungarian talent shows there. And the 2008 Olympics opening ceremony. There weren’t too manny channels on it so we only gathered together there if there was a good movie going otherwise it would just be her and my mum watching telly.

That middle room thing wasn’t exciting. There was a huge dining table there but I remember eating there only once or twice when something fancy happened or when my grandma had guests over? Very rarely. She kept her plants there because it was a cold room but it had a huge window wall so the plants would get a lot of sunlight.

My keyboard was set up there sometimes. God we used to haul my keyboard over there holy shit...

One door from there led to the second toilet that was just a small cubicle with one toilet. For a huge chunk of time it didn’t work properly so if we wanted to go in the middle of the night we had to go through the living room, where my grandma was sleeping, and sneak past her without waking her up, then go potty in the kitchen bathroom. She would close the door then so she could see the TV and that door was NOISY. For the longest time this ashtray stand kept the door slightly ajar but it was made of metal and the ashtray was removable so when you had to move it it required a special set of skills to not make any noise with it, holy shit, I felt like a ninja every time.

When the second toilet got fixed I went there to write my diary in the middle of the night for some reason. There were a LOT of spiders there. 

There was a second bathroom there. The stupidest thing but I can’t remember if I liked that bathroom or not. The sink and the mirror were behind the door and the boiler was above the bathtub and I was always so scared it would fall on me. I don’t remember taking baths there I usually showered. There was a colour-changing toothbrush there. And a small space next to the bathroom, I was once playing hide-and-seek with the neighbour girls and I remember crouching there and putting a towel on myself and I pretended to be a pile of clothes, they didn’t actually find me, I shit you not :D

There was this bedroom opening from the ~middle room that we never used. It was a guest room but my grandma usually kept composts there and aspic cause since nobody used that room it didn’t require heating. Fucking aspic addicts both her and my mum. That’s so weird, why would anybody like aspic, it’s jelly soup, ew.

There was another bedroom opening from there, a smaller one with just one bed. That also had a TV now that I think about it. My mum slept there once my sister became too sensitive to her snoring but I also remember sleeping there sometimes. The neighbour girls were always trying to wake me up in the mornings by calling through the window so I would come play with them. It was endearing until I grew up. 

The last bedroom was the one where we slept in, quite a big one with one bed and another couch-thing-bed where my sister and I slept. There used to be no divide between them and I could just sprawl across my sister but then my grandma rearranged them (I still don’t know how that worked) and there was this wooden divide between them to my sister’s biggest joy and to my biggest disappointment x) I still found a way though. I think there used to be a telly in there but it either never worked or she took it out of there quickly. I’m positive there used to be a telly there.

A perfect place for the floor is lava ngl.

Then once we had laptops I remember spending so much time there... just hanging out and stuff. I remember getting to know so much music there, and just this feeling of freedom and not having to School and Life. My bag used to go right next to the bed in the corner and it was like my little kingdom, nobody could go there, I did whatever I wanted with my little corner, especially hide chocolate and candy there. We all had our own armchairs and everything had its place, whenever we arrived we’d just automatically settle in, like home. I remember when I once slept in the proper bed, I took my stuffed lion lazy, who has a hand-hole in it for puppet reasons, and I put a bunch of clementines inside her and snuck them inside the bedroom and ate them while pretending to be asleep. I don’t know why but it felt like an important mission.

There was some embroidery of a naked woman in that room, I still don’t know why. Also a very pretty drawing my grandma made of a classy woman and her classy hairdo. She was a really good drawer. Once I had my “better phone” that still wasn’t a smart phone there was this drawing app on it and she could draw well even on that.

Anyway, even though the house is on some small street in the butt outskirts of the town whenever the garbage truck came it was loud as fuck. I loved it, for some reason.

I used to have this habit of praying before falling asleep there. No idea why, I just remember praying there.

Outside the house but still in the yard was a pavement, and in the cement is a handprint that belongs to my uncle when he was a little boy. My grandma made this artificial pond out of a huge basin in her front garden. I was always scared of the frogs that would be there but the lilies were very pretty. Her garden was always very pretty, she slaved away in that garden, it was always beautiful. I remember a peach tree but not much else. I don’t think there was a cherry tree.

Outside on the street, I remember this one winter the road was really slippery and we just kept sliding up and down. I love that street. Whenever we would arrive from a night out we’d look at the sky and my sister would like, take note of all the stars and constellations and we would see the huge floodlights from downtown clubs reaching up to the clouds. They stopped one year, maybe they closed that one specific place that did this, I don’t know.

The walk back home from downtown was Long. Especially with a full belly, sometimes I would get so nauseated. I remember in 2008 when the Olympics happened my sister and my mum narrated my rush back home before I threw up like I was one of the Hungarian swimming champions, it was really cool.

Because everything in town was so far, leaving the house was serious business. Even when we just went to the store (and I usually didn’t, it was my mum and my grandma’s morning routine, the daily pilgrimage to the store) if you left something at home it stayed there. And because it was so far we didn’t leave for anything that was shorter than the walk there and back.

I hated the walk but counting the perpendicular streets was fun. Jánoskert, Petőfi (with the ice cream place, we always stopped for an ice cream on the way there), Gárdonyi (apparently there was a playground there and I remember going there once but maybe I imagined it), Báthori, Dobó, and a long walk to the main street there. There was a bookstore close to the main street and I always imagined I would once buy it and make my own store... I don’t remember what I was going to sell but it was going to be nice.

Then the another smaller street with the cabs... then crossing the train tracks, past the train station... good god...

 Luckily there was always a lot of things to do in town. Once we got there this main square with the fountain was full of people and stores and vendors, it was so much fun even though we never bought too much stuff because we weren’t exactly tourists. I would always daydream about having infinite money and buying everything though.

There was this arcade we used to go to when I was little, playing fighting games and riding a jetski, it was really cool. I think we stopped being able to afford it when I got bigger. There was this small cinema too that I was always really excited to go to though it never really had that many movies. It was just the one room, the one building with one movie at a time. It was open air too and right beside the train tracks so from time to time the movie would be drowned out by trains passing by. We watched Mamma Mia there.

I discovered a birthmark behind my ear during that movie and I thought it was cancer.

Don’t ask why I remember that.

There was this place there called Nádas, very popular though slightly out of sight, you had to go behind another store to get there, we Loved going there. I think not one summer passed when we didn’t go there. I always got the same thing, most of the time. When we were smaller there used to be these like, these things you could sit on, put in some coins and you could ride like a unicorn or something. That was the shit. I loved that place... god we spent so much time there.

Going further down the road was where the Wine Week would be organised every year. It was cool when it happened when we were there, it meant MORE VENDORS AND MORE SHIT WE COULDN’T BUY. Also sometimes there would be performers on this huge area to the right of the road.

I don’t remember the last time we got to go to the beach. The weather wasn’t always right, my grandma wasn’t always in the best shape and we didn’t spend that much time there anymore especially after she got difficult. But I loved the beach. There was this huge tree in the middle that most people were aiming for so back in the days we used to set out really early to get a spot there. I don’t quite remember the shore right now... but I remember the slides that I went down on once. We even went to the not-free beach once, I went down the slide there. There was this spinny changing room there. It didn’t have a door it was just a spiral so if you went around enough you were inside and nobody could see in or out. That was fun.

I listened to a lot of music there. Ironically, Nobody’s Listening by Linkin Park comes to mind but... there was a Lot of music there. We ate a LOT of corn too. And ice creams... we tried not to go potty there but sometimes we had to and I hated going cause the floor of the bathrooms were muddy from the wet sand...

We used to watch the August 20th fireworks there. We used to be so close I’d have to duck for fear they would fall on my head. Then we never went that far anymore for fireworks alone and we no longer stayed for one or two weeks.

We used to walk back home then both my grandma and my mum got older so we usually took the cab but most of the cabbies knew my grandma so we got cheaper fares. Once when we walked home my mum and I had to pee so much we actually went in a park. It was dark, don’t worry... I also almost threw up next to the kindergarten. Then my stomach hurt so much my mum thought my appendix burst but it didn’t.

I used to be so sad when we had to leave. It’s a little bitter feeling but once it got difficult to spend more time with my grandma it got easier to leave so maybe it’s lucky that happened so the change isn’t that huge. But it still hurts.

Because we no longer belong there.

I’m going to miss that house.