Company Ladder - Monday

Monday --

The alarm went off at 7:00, pulling me through the fog of a non-specific dream to sun-drenched reality. I knew almost immediately that it was going to be a difficult day. A vibrating energy was growing in my crotch and rapidly spreading throughout my body, quickening my pulse and deepening my breath. Being this horny this early in the morning is never a good sign. As I slid my hand between my legs and moaned into my pillow, I contemplated skipping work. But the idea of calling in sick because of this damn craving made me feel like a junkie. I like to think myself a little more responsible than that. Or maybe I just wanted more than what my fingers and a few measly toys could provide.

I dragged myself to the shower. My knees buckled as the hot water poured over my body. Switching the faucet to cold did little good as I came hard with my head resting against the cold tile. Feeling, if not under control, at least a little cleaner about it, I brushed my teeth, got dressed, and headed out the door. Usually I would be hungry about now and I was, but breakfast never crossed my mind. As I pulled into rush hour traffic, the growling energy began to rise again. I slid my right hand between my legs, applying just enough pressure to release some of the tension, but not enough to make myself cum. I'll never make that mistake again. It's so difficult to explain to the police how you ran over four mailboxes and a lawn gnome without noticing. But that's another story.

When I arrived at work, I pulled down the visor and stared into the mirror. "Kat," I said to my reflection. "We like this job. We need this job. Keep it in your pants, lady!" It was a speech I'd given myself many times over the years. It never worked, but it did at least keep the cravings at bay for a while. There was a knock at the driver's side window, startling me. Kane stood there, scruffy and tired-looking as usual in his wrinkled tee-shirt and frayed blue jeans. He smiled in his boyishly charming way, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. It was the kind of face that made you want to pinch his cheeks and kiss his forehead.

"Talking to yourself this early in the morning is not a good sign, Kat," he shouted through the closed window.

"You have no idea," I said softly as I flipped the visor back up and got out of the car. To him I said, "What brings you out at this ungodly hour." Kane was a document scanner on the evening shift. I had worked side-by-side with him, laughing and joking the shift away until Hank, the owner of our company switched me to days two weeks ago. Recently we'd only seen each other in passing as I left and he came in.

"Something's going on in there," he said, nodding at the office building beside the parking lot. "Hank asked all of us to be here early this morning for a meeting. You hear anything?" He gave me that mischievous, crinkly-eyed smile and normally in this mood it would have taken a backhoe to keep me from fucking him right there in the parking lot, but he had me worried. I stared at the building as if waiting for it to fill in the blanks.

Usually I am the go-to girl for information. I'm not a snoop or even nosy... not really, anyway. Information just has a way of finding its way to my ears, usually in the form of a venting member of management. I have an honest face, what can I say? As I said, Hank had switched me to days, but he gave me little explanation other than the dismissively sarcastic ones that he gave to pretty much every question he didn't want to answer. Since then, there had been a lot of closed doors and a tension thick enough to swim through and my well of information had dried up. I shook my head slowly in response to Kane's question.

"No worries," he said in his annoyingly optimistic way. "I'm sure whatever it is, we'll find out at the meeting." Kane and I walked into the office together to find a dozen or so other evening shift people milling about the time clock, all looking sleepy and confused, while the day people sat at their computers, wondering whether or not to start working. There were none of the usual jokes and gossip, only the buzzing chatter of the nervous.

All was silent as the front door opened and the three members of management walked in. First came Sledge, the evening supervisor, walking with a beaten puppy posture that he wore every time he was around anyone who outranked him. Then Aspen, the site manager looking, as always, sullen and morose and hot in a creepy sort of way. And then Hank bounded into the room with the energy of a much younger man. His tie was askew and it looked as if he hadn't shaved in days. "Why does everyone look so serious," he asked, smiling. He then went on to talk enthusiastically about how the office would be moving down the street. He asked the evening shift to work during the day for the week to help with the move as the new office closed at five and for the day shift to work twice as hard to make up for the work that wouldn't be getting done at night. He talked for nearly half an hour, answering questions, trying to calm anxieties, but I could tell from the way he shifted from one foot to the other that he wasn't telling us the whole story.

By the time he was done talking, most of the workers seemed satisfied with his answers, if not happy with their meanings. By lunch time, peer pressure seemed to be working positively and all the other doubters went on about their daily routines. Even I was swept into the sense of calm despite the nagging feeling that something was wrong. As usual, I sat at the desk nearest Aspen's office and typed information from medical claims while I kept my ears open to everything around me. By 2:00, Aspen and Hank as well as all of the evening shift people had disappeared to the office down the street and all of the moving noise of the morning and early afternoon faded to relative silence. I was left with only the tapping of ten keyboards and the humming of seven scanners.

Now no one else seems to understand this, but I find the sound of typing to be extremely erotic. Think about it for a second, all those fingers working so swiftly, so smoothly. And the experienced typist or keyboardist has no need to hesitate, to search for exactly the right position. Those fingers have minds of their own, knowing exactly what it takes to get the job done. The potential for what those fingers can do to a human body... as far as turn-ons go, watching someone type is second in my book only to watching hands create music or art. Maybe it's just me?

Anyway, that's where my head was, envying keyboards the fingers playing with them and that horribly wonderful, wonderfully horrible energy began to rise up again, drowning out worries of Hank's announcement, drowning out logic and any conscious thought of my job. There was just me and those hundred racing fingers steadily pounding away. I was contemplating putting my keyboard in my lap just to feel the vibration of my own fingers when the program I was using suddenly shut down and an error message popped up on my monitor. I sat there for a minute, staring at the screen as if it had betrayed me. "Sledge," I called. Across the room, Sledge's head popped up from his own monitor. "I need you," I said sweetly.

Bob Sledge stood and sauntered across the room. The beaten puppy posture was gone and he held himself up as high as his five foot eight inch frame would carry him. He was an incredibly arrogant little weasel of a man, but I liked him. He said pretty much whatever came into his head and acted like a big tough guy, but his fear of Aspen made this image he tried to create almost humorous. When we were alone together, he was so sweet, almost oily slick in a way that made me want to swallow him whole.

Sledge walked up to my left side, dangerously close. He put one hand on the back of my chair and leaned the other on the desk so that his head was lowered to the same level as mine. I could almost feel him, his face just inches away. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating and when he spoke, "What's up, sweetie," that deep voice felt like liquid heat running down my neck.

"I-" The words caught and I cleared my throat. "I don't know what happened." I nodded at the monitor. He reached for the mouse with his left hand, his forearm brushing against my breast. I tried to stifle the gasp, but there was no hiding the fact that I didn't pull away. Instead, my back instinctively arched slightly, keeping the contact of my breast and his arm. Did he even notice? I turned my head to look at his clean-shaven face. His deep brown eyes stared at the monitor. His hand worked the mouse. He made no move to pull away and an almost imperceptible smile played at the corner of his full lips. He knew. There were sixteen other people in the room, sixteen pairs of eyes that could at any moment turn and see.

"You okay," he asked quietly. I nodded, biting my tongue. "You want to take a break while I do this?" I practically shot out of my chair with some sort of strangled-sounding affirmative and rushed out the door to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face. It was one thing to have this buzzing energy centered in my crotch, but this seemed to come from every inch of me. I had to consciously tell myself that it was a bad idea to rip off my clothes at work and shout "Fuck me, now!" at the top of my lungs. I looked at my flushed face in the mirror. My reflection started on the whole liking and needing this job speech. "Yeah," I whispered. "You think it's that easy? Why don't you come out here and try it?" My reflection was speechless.

I went out to the parking lot for a cigarette, trying to regain some sort of composure, but my body ached to by touched, kissed, fucked. The place where Sledge had touched me (intentional or not?) screamed to be touched again as if the memory of his arm was permanently burned into my skin. So with my heart racing and my body on fire, I went back in to work. The insurance claims were a blur of information and I had to retype the same lines three or four times before I got it right. I tried to listen to the seductive sounds of all the keyboardists, but all I could hear were Sledge's fingers speeding across the keys. Flashes of his face only inches from mine kept popping into my head. I could have kissed him, I kept thinking. No one would have known. If he had only been just a little closer, I could have felt that smooth skin, felt his breath on my cheek, tasted his lips.

"Kat," said a voice both very far away and very close. I jumped about a foot in the air, my shoulder hitting something hard. I turned to see Sledge laughing and rubbing his chin where my shoulder had hit him. "Where the hell was your head?" I laughed nervously and looked around. Nearly everyone had left. It was 5:15. I packed up my things and headed for the door. "Don't you want to know how many claims you typed," Sledge called after me. My head told me to keep walking. My body was louder. I turned and walked back to the desk where the clipboard with a tally of our work was kept.

"I bet you I typed more than you," he said quietly as he leaned over his calculator.

"Yeah," I said. "But I was a little distracted." He looked up at me, his brown eyes looking sincere and apologetic. I didn't buy it for a minute. "So what do I get if I win," I asked as the last of my co-workers packed up her belongings and headed for the door.

"I think the better question would be," he said, eyes focused on the calculator. "What do I get when I win?" The front door closed.

"What do you want," I asked seductively. Sledge looked up from the clipboard, searching my face. He smiled, laughed nervously, and looked back to the clipboard, his eyes pausing briefly at my breasts. I leaned over the other side of the desk, watching his fingers speed over the calculator buttons, making mistakes as he tried not to look down my blouse.

"That's 793 for you," he said finally. Not a good number for me. More buttons and finally, "816 for me." He looked me directly in the eye with a devious little smile on his face. "I win," he said.

"You cheated," I said playfully.

"How did I cheat," he asked. I tilted my head to the side and raised one eyebrow. He raised both eyebrows in mock confusion.

I looked around, knowing no one else was around, but just making sure. "You kinda felt me up, Sledge," I said quietly. Sledge's face turned red and he looked at the floor.

"Sorry about that," he said.

"Don't be," I said, stepping forward so that my chest came between his eyes and the floor. "I'm not." I could see the confusion in his face as the debate raged in his head about what to do next. He didn't turn away, but raised his hand as if to touch me and then lowered it again. He looked at the ceiling, at the wall, anywhere but at me, but his eyes kept returning to my chest. Tired of this game, I unbuttoned one of the buttons on my blouse. Sledge looked around frantically as if searching for some shadow from which Hank or Aspen would jump and catch him. He was digging one toe into the floor nervously. I unbuttoned another button exposing just a small bit of black lace. His mouth opened and his hands twitched.

I took one of his hands and kissed his callused fingertips. I leaned forward, whispered in his ear, "No one will know," as I guided his hand to my breast. Whatever issue was holding him back disappeared in a flash as he kissed my mouth with more tongue than was necessary and squeezed my breast hard, his nails digging into my flesh. Every craving, every passion that had been building since I had first awoken that morning came crashing down on me as I cried out at the pure relief that this pressure would be released. Sledge hurriedly unbuttoned the remaining buttons of my blouse, looking over my shoulder every now and again to make sure no one was coming through the front door.

Sledge spun me around and pushed me roughly against the wall, growling with the effort, holding my wrist against the wall above my head with one hand while the other dove into my bra, fishing out my breast. In an instant, his mouth had clamped down on my breast, his tongue circling my nipple. My free hand slid down his belly, resting on the hard bulge at the front of his pants. The airlock that had been created between his mouth and my breast broke with an audible pop as he moaned softly. As I gently massaged the bulge, he looked up at me with a look of utter dazed calm on his face.

"You're fucking nuts, you know that," he said softly.

"Let's get more nuts," I giggled, tugging his arm. He smiled and followed compliantly until he saw that I had led him to the open door of Aspen's office. He stopped dead in his tracks. I batted my eyes at him, more curious about what he'd do than anything else.

"Hell no," he said anxiously. "You know what she'd do if she found out?" I slid my other hand down to the front of Sledge's pants, smoothly unbuttoning the button and unzipping the zipper. He closed his eyes as my hand slid into his underwear and pulled out his rock hard penis. It wasn't very long, four inches, maybe a little more, but thick, almost as thick as my wrist. My fingers trailed delicately along the full length of his dick. He looked down, transfixed by my hand as my fingers wrapped only partly around, gently stroking him. His eyes closed as he stepped forward, leaning against one hand above my shoulder. I felt the tip of his dick press against my jeans and I could almost hear my pussy crying out, "Almost there," from beneath too many layers of clothes.

"You want to fuck me," I asked in a whisper. Sledge nodded without opening his eyes. With my hand still stroking his dick, I led him forward into Aspen's office. I leaned back on her desk. Sledge leaned into me, looking around at the shelves of business books and cabinets crammed with papers. There was a picture of Aspen with her family on her desk which Sledge scowled at. "Fucking bitch," he growled and turned back to me with intensity in his eyes. He kissed me again, this time with more passion than tongue. He pulled my fumbling hands away from the button of my own jeans, released the zipper, and pulled them off of my hips. Gravity took them from there to my ankles.

With another angry look at the photo of Aspen, Sledge lifted me off the floor and set me on the desk, pushing me back so that my head rested against the wall. He stepped forward, spreading my legs apart, exposing my bare pussy to the chilly air conditioned office. Sledge stepped between my legs, staring into my eyes. I nearly jumped in excitement as at long last the head of his dick made contact with my clit. He pushed forward slowly so that the entire underside of his dick trailed across my already soaked pussy, then pulled back and did it again and again. My clit was at full attention. One more time and I would have cum without full satisfaction. But the next time, as I braced for the climax, he pushed inside of me.

Oh, the glorious pain as that thick cock stretched me wider than I had ever been, threatening to tear me in two. He pushed in slowly, his deep brown eyes penetrating my soul. As he pushed in further, his hair gently tickled my clit, picking up where the previous playing had left off. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, pulling him into me as his lips once again found my breast. My fingernails clawed at his back and I pushed my hips into him as I reached the point of no return. I held my breath as I sat of the edge of the climax and Sledge's whole body seemed to wash over me. Lights flashed inside my head with the pounding of my heart. I screamed out as every muscle in my body tensed, as waves of heat poured over me, as Sledge pushed into me again and again with a growing urgency. I moaned again and again as my body trembled in pleasure, as Sledge bit my breast hard enough to break the skin, moaning himself, pouring into me.

Then the thrusts slowed, stopped altogether. He stayed inside me while we caught our breath and while I willed the muscles in my pussy to release him. "You should go," he whispered breathlessly.

"I don't wanna," I said simply, knowing that I couldn't move even if I did want to.

"No, I mean," Sledge stood, a little wobbly, but upright at least. "I don't want you to go either, it's just..." He pulled up his pants and tenderly tucked his dick in. "Hank and... and... what's-her-face said they'd be back tonight. I'm not supposed to be alone with any woman here." He kissed me. "And this is why."

"You didn't do anything wrong," I said, sitting up. I was not as confident in my ability to stand as Sledge.

"You sure about that," asked Sledge, pointing to a puddle of our joined fluids on Aspen's desk between my legs. "Go," he said, patting me on the ass. "I'll call you later." As I got dressed, as I watched Sledge clean up the puddle on the desk, as he kissed me goodbye, I knew he wouldn't call. I walked out the front door into a blindingly bright sunset. It never ceases to amaze me how similar this afterglow thing is to a hangover.

As I found my keys and reached for the door handle, I felt a hand on my shoulder and spun around to look up into the smiling face of Kane. His smile faded to concern when he saw me. "You okay," he asked.

"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "Just not feeling well."

"Oh, then go home and rest," he said. "Feel better." And he walked away, his silhouette creating a refreshing void in the brightness of the sun. I got in my car and pulled away just as a little blue sports car pulled into the parking lot, just as the bus stopped and Kane got on, and just as I wondered whether or not I'd still have a job in the morning.