A Very, Very Low Bar Ch. 01

This story does not take place in our universe but in a close neighbour. Due to an ever-so-slight alteration in the development of the human brain's hypothalamus and its regulation of sexual arousal, the average person is of a mental state which you and I would refer to as hypersexual. As a consequence of the Sexual Revolution of the 1960s, this has led to a world where sex is an ordinary recreational activity -- acquaintances screw each other regularly and work colleagues think little more of a tongue in the ass than they would of a hug. This is what that world is like to live in.

...

I hated business parks. They felt soulless in the extreme -- just rows and rows of identical glass and plastic warehouses with barely a tree to liven things up. So I guess it was inevitable that I'd ended up working at one -- and been desperate to do so.

It wasn't much of a job and certainly not the start of a career but, as a fresh-faced graduate, I'd take whatever I could get -- and, in a place like Telford, purpose-built for this kind of heartless business aesthetic, it really was all a girl like me could get. So here I was, staring at a big glass cube in a line of big glass cubes, made distinctive only by the plastic sign near the double-door entrance identifying it as 'OVADAL-MIGNAULT TRANSPORT SERVICES LTD.' Did I know anything about transportation services? No -- but that doesn't stop you from getting a barebones admin job, apparently.

Oh, and I was late.

So, I was hurrying from the Number 6 bus and across the seemingly endless car park -- one vehicle, an old BMW, had misty windows and I wondered if someone was 'sending off' their partner before they started their own first day. Maybe. I wished that could be me -- I could have masturbated on the bus to relieve a shred of stress, I supposed, but I'd prefer not to show up all sticky and sweaty. It didn't indicate confidence to your superiors.

I wondered if they'd even like the look of me. I was a bit chubby, which had its own charm, and my black hair and poorly maintained bangs carried a certain mystique. It made me look a lot less shy than I was. But confidence was something I lacked -- though, of course, I wasn't above jerking off the occasional student on a train or tipping a delivery driver with some nipple play. What kind of ultraconservative would you need to be to be that?

Once I reached the doors, the problems mounted as I had no way of getting in. I hadn't been issued an ID card and I needed it to unlock the doors. The thought crossed my mind of following someone else inside but, fearing that I might be misinterpreted for a corporate spy (I don't know), I dug up the phone number of Mia -- my line manager. We'd spoken only once, during my final interview, and I found her number in the email signature confirming their employment offer. Oh, how I hoped it wouldn't be out of bounds to text her for help.

"Hi Mia," my text began, with me already hating it but panicking far too much to stop, "sorry to bother you but I'm not quite sure how to get into the office as I haven't been given a swipe card yet? I'm just outside the main entrance right now." I sent it -- then, cursing myself, sent a follow up: "This is Grace Bridges by the way! Sorry!" I couldn't have cringed harder at myself.

Barely a moment later, as a police helicopter buzzed overhead like a bluebottle, my phone pinged with Mia's reply.

"Hi Grace! Good news -- I'm late too! Should be with you in a few minutes and then I'll let you in. Excited to meet you!" I can't tell you how good the relief pouring into my veins felt. And it must have been exactly five minutes, too, before Mia arrived, flustered and apologising for the dreadful state of the local bus services. Dressed in blue jeans, a fuzzy yellow jumper, and trainers, she didn't look much like the head of a corporate department -- she looked like a fellow graduate, actually, and was pretty with her pudgy frame and full cheeks and black glasses and the strawberry blonde hair which ran messily down to her shoulders. There couldn't have been many years separating us.

"Hi!" she exclaimed, raising a hand in greeting, her ID dangling from a lanyard around her neck. I copied her.

"Hey," I replied, trying not to betray my nerves. "Mia, right?"

"That's me," she replied with a smile, scanning her ID -- the scanner beeped, an inner light turned green, and the double-doors swung open just a little bit too fast to be safe.

"I didn't spell your name wrong in my text, did I?" I laughed.

"Is that possible?" she giggled back. "It's three letters."

"I guess," I conceded, as I followed her inside. The reception desk smelled of carpet cleaner and was manned by a stern looking Sikh man who glanced up at us and nodded. A maintenance worker was struggling to negotiate with the water cooler across from him. "Do I need to get an ID before I start?"

"We'll worry about that at lunch," said Mia, as she led me through another set of doors and into a stairwell, "we're already late as all hell. Which is my fault and my fault only -- just to be super clear. Yeah, the IDs for all the businesses here get issued by the security office, and that's like a ten minute walk both ways. So not worth worrying about right now."

"Ah, well, fair enough, then," I said.

"Excited for your first day?"

"Nervous, really."

"I don't think anyone would fault you -- you won't be expected to know everything for, like, a year. So I wouldn't worry about getting thrown in at the deep end."

"Yeah, I remember you said something similar in the office." Mia reached over and patted my shoulder.

"You'll be fine -- everyone here's super nice. Don't see that changing soon."

I followed Mia up the stairs -- a couple steps behind her at all times, I could admire her round denim-covered bottom as she walked. Mia must have noticed because, glancing over her shoulder, she sniggered.

"Like what you see?"

"Well, obviously," I laughed; and she grinned at me. "It's a cute butt."

"I actually used to hate it," Mia replied, as we reached the top of the stairs -- she twisted to look round and regard it. "When I was younger I did squats all the time and now it's way better. I'd never let a cock in it, though. I'm far too gay."

"Oh, no, me neither," I laughed. "I mean my butt -- not yours. I wouldn't mind seeing you getting pounded."

"Only if it's a strapon," she said with a wink, before pulling the door open and leading me down the Third Floor's western corridor. We passed a few staff members, plastic lanyards dangling in front of crisp or unironed clothes, and none seemed to pay me any heed.

"So you prefer girls too, then?" Mia asked.

"Yeah," I replied, "I've dabbled with guys but I think I'm always gonna prefer pussy."

"Same -- but then I'm married so I should hope I've made my choice!" We both laughed.

"You don't think I'm overdressed, do you?" I asked, glancing down at my black dress which stuck to my admittedly all-too curvy figure, stopping at my knees where dark tights took up the role of covering my legs, in ways that had seemed nice and formal before breakfast but now felt a bit much -- especially when one man walked by in an Iron Maiden t-shirt.

"Maybe a tiny bit," Mia replied, sticking out the outer inches of her tongue. "But you look good.

We passed the break room, Mia pointing it out as we did, and through the door's thin rectangular window I saw two colleagues going at it -- a dark-skinned man in a charcoal suit with flowing dreadlocks and slender physique stood against the counter, holding it tightly, while a woman on her knees in front of him with flowing red hair gripped his hips and worked magic with her mouth.

"Oh," I said, "so that kind of thing's allowed here?"

"Yeah," said Mia blandly, "we're pretty casual. Just so long as it doesn't get in the way of work, obviously."

"Right," I replied, "that's fair. I've heard about one or two companies falling apart without setting those kinds of boundaries." Mia nodded as we passed the IT room.

After that, we were in an open space full of shared desks, perhaps a dozen people already working at the monitors.

"Morning, everyone," announced Mia, "sorry we're late." Everyone -- well, almost everyone; an older woman was wearing a headset and neck deep in a Teams meeting -- greeted her.

Mia introduced me to the team, found me a free desk by the window with a pleasant view of the car park, then hurried to the IT desk as she'd forgotten to get my login details. She returned with them, explained that my day would be nothing but getting acquainted with the system and doing some online training, and set me on my way. Suddenly, for the first time, I was an employee. I took a moment to marvel at the funny feeling. A few minutes in, the two people I'd seen in the break room entered -- they introduced themselves as Jamie and Tilly, apologised for their lateness as "Tilly was really doing a number on me," sat down, and got to work. Jamie was almost shockingly handsome -- I was pretty gay but I wasn't so gay that I'd say no if he offered, which I hoped he would -- and Tilly, dressed in a grey University of Newcastle hoodie and flowing floral skirt which stopped at her bare knees, was slim with her pale skin seeming even paler as it contrasted with her fiery hair. I thought I saw her wipe cum from her lips as she logged on -- what a pro.

Mia sat next to me, glued to two laptops and two monitors which I found pretty impressive, while I clicked my way through the training materials and got an occasional warm embrace of serotonin as it dawned on me that maybe I could, after all, do this job. As I sat there with headphones on and listening to a recorded guide on data protection regulations, I found myself regularly glancing over at Mia who seemed to be typing at a million words a minute as she sent and responded to email after email. She was leaning forward over her desk a fair bit and I looked at her pretty bottom and how her jumper rode a little up her back to expose a stripe of pale pink skin. Hoping that Mia wouldn't mind, I reached over and ran my hand along her rear, enjoying the feel of her nearer cheek. There was no reaction and certainly no resistance so, almost absent-mindedly as I kept watching the tutorials, my hand stayed on Mia's butt, squeezing her nearer cheek every now and then. I couldn't get much feeling out of it, given her jeans, but asking her to take them off might have been a step too far and, anyway, I had training to get through. But, to my surprise, with both feet Mia pushed her chair a little closer to me so I didn't need to lean towards her -- still glued to her work, I slipped my hand down the back of her jeans, my fingers stroking the thin fabric of her unseen underwear, gripping and cupping the top of her soft cheek while her jeans' waistband remained tight on my hand.

After a while, my hand sore with Mia's jeans pressing against it, I withdrew and we returned to the business of what we were actually being paid to do -- nonetheless, I tingled uncomfortably between my legs, and the temptation to do something about it was intense. I almost felt proud of myself for resisting it.

Time passed by quicker than I expected. Mia took lunch at one, along with Tilly and Jamie, so I joined them in the little kitchen adjoining the office. There, Jamie made tea for each of us in turn while Tilly and Mia shared their complaints about a customer in Scotland who could simply never be satisfied.

"Jamie never has that problem," sighed Tilly in her Geordie accent.

"Shut up," Jamie muttered as he poured milk into a pig-shaped mug. Tilly just grinned in reply. Mia glanced over at me as I struggled to open my plastic lunch box. I could never figure out the latches.

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself earlier," she sniggered.

"If you wanted me to stop you only had to say," I replied.

"And I didn't say -- so what does that tell you?" I gave her a conceding look.

"What's this?" asked Jamie, looking up from his phone.

"Grace was feeling me up earlier," replied Mia. "Grabbing my bum. So I guess we've made a welcoming environment."

"Lucky," said Jamie with a smirk. "I'd be all over you if I could be." He turned to Grace with a grin. "On my first day, I found her and Freya -- she used to work here, now she's in London or something -- in the break room just going at it. Freya had her over a table, eating her arse out, so I thought I could join in. Turned out I couldn't." He laughed -- Mia shook her head in wonderment. "If I'm a lesbian then I'm a lesbian."

"Yeah, I know, I know -- it's just a shame."

"Cocks never did anything for me, really," said Mia. "It's just how I'm wired."

"So you're telling me..." Jamie's hands went to his jeans as he spoke -- he unbuttoned them and, after pulling them aside, with both thumbs he tugged down the front of his black boxers to pull out his semi-hard cock. I stared and, imagining it inside me, shivered. "...that there's nothing appealing about this to you?"

"Not really," said Mia, looking at it with a deliberately unimpressed expression.

"Well, fair enough," Jamie replied, tucking it back in as we all laughed.

"Hey, nobody told you to put it away," said Tilly, coyly.

"Oh, no?" asked Jamie, eyeing her, pausing the business of re-buttoning his trousers. "Again?"

"We've got forty minutes," she replied, moving to stand in front of him and slipping her hand down his boxers. I saw the movement beneath the fabric of her hand gripping and stroking his manhood.

"Leave some for me," I sniggered, as Jamie quivered at Tilly's every touch, before turning back to Mia. We spent a few minutes sipping tea and discussing our former jobs while, just behind me, Jamie took a seat, Tilly reached up her skirt to pull her knickers aside, and sank onto his erection. Slowly, little whimpers escaping her mouth, Tilly wrapped her arms around Jamie and moved up and down, her grip on him tightening by the second. Her skirt draped like a blanket over their lower portions, hiding their sex from view. After telling me about her time volunteering in Bosnia, Mia glanced at the pair of them.

"They're always doing this," she sighed with a coy shake of the head.

"I've never been somewhere that's this open about it," I replied. "But I guess I've just been at quite uptight places."

"Probably," agreed Mia as Jamie groaned into Tilly's shoulder. "When I was a teaching assistant, obviously there was no way they'd allow it."

"Well, yeah, obviously," I laughed. "Not in a school."

"So, anyway," Mia continued, "when do I get to touch your bum, hmm?"

"Whenever you want," I giggled.

"Turn round, then," she replied, making a spinning motion with her finger, and I obeyed with a grin. Now facing Jamie and Tilly -- the front of Tilly's shirt was now undone and, her black bra pulled up over her freckled chest as she slowly rose up and down, Jamie was kissing between her small pale breasts -- I put my hands on my hips and glanced back round to see Mia step close enough to press against my back before she put both hands on my butt, one for each cheek, and gripped them so hard I squeaked with surprise.

"Sorry," she giggled into my ear, her grip not relenting, "didn't know you were so sensitive."

"I'm not," I protested playfully, as Mia leaned down and kissed my bare collar -- I gasped at the feeling, pleasure dancing down my body, a hand reaching up to run through her hair. Her tongue teased the base of my neck and I tried not to whimper -- but, as Tilly softly wailed herself to a shaking orgasm, I failed. I felt Mia smiling against my skin.

"Do you want more?" she whispered.

"Fucking duh," I hissed -- she laughed and, with a well-practiced motion, removed her hands from my rear and span me round by my hips with such speed it almost left me dizzy. As my feet tried to keep their balance, her lips were already on mine, her hands pulling me against her. We kissed slowly, figuring each other out, then with a growing insistence, tongues toying with each other. My hands moved to Mia's chest, pawing at her petite breasts, feeling the hard fabric of her bra, and she mumbled some affirmation of pleasure against my mouth.

There then came, suddenly, the sound of the door opening -- I pulled my lips away from Mia's to see a man, about forty-five, with round glasses and slick blonde hair, enter. He passed straight by the four of us towards the sink without a glance in our direction.

"Don't mind me," he muttered as he filled a cracked mug with water, before turning back towards the door while Tilly mumbled some complaint about always being interrupted.

"Care to join us, Tom?" asked Mia, still gripping my waist, and he glanced at her. My hands didn't leave her tits.

"Nah, don't have time -- that accounts meeting is on in a sec."

"Oh -- do you need me for it?"

"You'd just be doing minutes -- I'll send you the Teams recording and you can do it in your own time. Anyway; you're on your break."

"Fair enough -- thanks Tom!" He waved some vague goodbye, then turned and left.

"Actually," said Mia, looking back at me, "I'll have you do the minutes later -- I keep forgetting we've got an extra pair of hands."

"Happy to help," I replied, and she smiled.

"Anyway..." Our lips met once more and, this time, our kiss was more intense, more fierce, like we were fighting rather than playing. Hoping to make a point, I pushed Mia, hard enough to approach aggressive but light enough to still be playful, backwards and against the wall. Biting at her bottom lip, she let out a revealing moan, before I pulled away from her and bit at her neck instead. She squealed in a manner not befitting of a superior and clasped a hand to her mouth and another to the back of my head to ensure I'd keep going, as my own hands left her breasts and moved to her jeans, shakily unbuttoning them.

"You gonna eat my pussy?" she mumbled, gripping my hair painfully -- in a good way.

"You gonna stop me?" I got no answer as I pulled the buttons apart and sank to my knees, both Mia's hands now playing with my hair, before yanking her jeans down milky legs to her knees. Mia wore pale lavender briefs which clung tightly to her skin.

"I swear I normally wear sexier knickers," she giggled, "I wasn't expecting to need to dress to impress."

"Don't worry about it," I replied, looking up at her. "You can do that next time."

Mia pressed her knees together to let me pull down her underwear by the waistband, which turned inside out as it came to collect at her jeans around her knees, to expose her pretty pink girlhood, her lips plump and wet and decorated by shaven ginger hair. "So pretty," I muttered, hands now stroking up the outside of her bare thighs.

"Thank you," Mia mumbled, as I pressed my face insistently between her legs, hands moving to squeeze her soft and newly bared rear, my tongue toying with her wet cunt, inviting shudders and whines of delight as I teased her clit. She tasted of honey and nectar. I wondered if she expected me to deny her the orgasm she wanted -- but a good impression was called for on my first day so, of course, I let her cum as she pressed her pussy against my mouth and shuddered in delight, both hands against her mouth to suppress at least some of her moans. I pulled away and looked up at her -- she stared down at me, her face pink.

"You getting a lot of chin from down there?" she joked, her voice shaky.

"And you're getting a lot of forehead."

"More like a lot of head!" shouted Jamie, from over Tilly's shoulder. "Get it? Cause..."

"They get it, Jamie," muttered Tilly, putting her hand over his mouth to shut him up as she kept riding him. Glancing over, more than a little curious I reached for the hem of Tilly's skirt and lifted it up over her ass -- both Mia and I watched as her pale plump ass, barely covered by a black thong even when it wasn't pulled aside, moved up and down with Jamie's slick cock invading her pretty pink wetness.