Between a Rock and a Hard Place

*****

That door. That damn door. Had Lenore been writing this story, her protagonist would have acted out by now instead of pacing this door so many times. It's storytelling 101.

It was all the more tempting that there were again no smokers in sight.

Lenore twiddled the two keys in her pocket.

After all, someone wanted her to go in there. Someone with a poor vision of her but still...

Carpe Diem, as they said at her creative writing workshop.

She did it fast. Padlock. Lock.

The door opened.

Neon lights turned on. Buzzed.

She took a step into a bare, plain corridor. Dark gray. Twenty feet long.

At the end of it, on the left wall, there was a door.

She moved forward. Just so she could see what its sign said.

UPPER FLOORS

Collected step by collected step, she walked down the corridor.

The door behind her became an exit. Lenore and all the hormones of her survival instinct understood it quickly.

It was no truism. The closer she got from the end, the farer the exit felt, the one she could escape from, back into the open air, the sunlight, the murmur of the city driving back home, while behind the Upper Floors door was a noise of clogged airshafts and old machines. A sound of things left out.

Someone outside was looking at Lenore, smoking, too scared or unconcerned to get near the doorway or ask what was going on in there.

Soon they were two.

Lenore ignored them and studied the door that was not on any map. The handle.

Took it. Pressed it. She pulled.

She would get in trouble if anything bad happened but is that really why her heart was beating this way?

The thick panel of plywood swung slowly on its hinges, skimmed the tip of her nose, and she saw beyond immediately: raw concrete. Not an inch of gap. Just a wall, dotted with ends of rusty steel bars. The rust had marked the other side of the door from being in contact with it since...a long time.

Since the architect made an error.

"What are you doing here?"

The two watchers had run away, replaced by a woman of no curiosity, someone who was most likely her superior. Lenore closed the door and scampered out of the corridor, under the stern stare.

"You don't have anything to do in there."

"It was open." Much like a kid caught red-handed, she closed the service door and the padlock and went to her car without anymore apology or looks back.

Home, she relieved some of the tension caused by the event by copy-pasting the content of her USB key on her laptop, then, way later in the evening, relieved the rest with gay porn, then lesbian porn, and a succession of orgasms that wrecked her to sleep.

*****

Wednesday (six days)

They jumped her the moment she sat down. Lenore didn't get time for a coffee. Everybody asked her for something. Co-workers, managers, interns, people she had never seen before, by phone, in person, from across the floor, they all piled up and made her experience the full weight of her job.

From nine to eight, she was swamped.

And so once back home, the idea of writing was an unfunny joke. She was drained and the lazy part of herself she had to deal with for most of her life thought it deserved a rest. Or, had it been honest, was fine with one more evening wasted.

365 evenings in a year.

30,000 in a life.

What difference would it make, uh?

None. Except a few hours of self-loathing as she persevered to do nothing, pull the chain of hyperlinks until sleep time.

The internet was always the same yet there was always more to see.

TIL Disney has a secret society called Club 33. In every of their parks there's a door, very discreet, marked '33', which only members can enter. There, they can play pool, drink alcohol, or...have black masses... or... money laundering...

Then of course it was time for some porn. And suddenly the laziness was nowhere to be found.

She lay on her stomach with a leg bent to the side for better access to her pussy. Her clitoris was not touching the mattress. No friction. Lenore wanted to chase the so-called vaginal orgasm. She had done some thinking: a dildo could fuck her hole as hard and long as she wanted, without ejaculating and going soft and turn around to sleep. She could fuck her pussy till something happened; she could use that advantage over real penises.

After twenty minutes, her arm and vagina were burning but she was whimpering with pleasure nonetheless. The man on her screen was taking nine inches up his ass like it was nothing, his half-hard cock dribbling precum as it dangled around.

She saw the half-hard cock twitch and start to ejaculate without being touched and knowing she was looking at a prostate orgasm--the hottest thing ever--Lenore forgot about her plans and mashed her clit to make herself cum.

Her voice and wet noises filled the bedroom. The walls of her vagina clenched tight around the restless dildo, stealing pleasure from her clit, a lot more than usual. It was a very good orgasm and Lenore felt good for the first time today. For five minutes.

The autoplay launched a new video which she shut down immediately. She wanted silence.

After the five minutes, Lenore noticed her fingers were purple.

She turned a lamp on and looked down at her dildo and herself. Her vagina was red and swollen but it was also purple. The purple of the sextoy.

"What the fuck?"

*****

Thursday (five days)

Same story. The company, it seemed, would not give her any break, she was used, shouted at, bossed around and rushed, and even before that, by 9:07am, she surrendered. Work had a way to make it clear that middle class days would always be all exactly the same.

That's what makes artists so important, the undying warmth inside her guts thought.

That's why booze and drugs will always exist, her cynical outgrowth added.

Oh my God, I'm not depressed, I'm just depressing, those two parts realized with one voice.

Some downtime surprised her around 11am which Jill and Becky invaded nicely.

They couldn't believe that, "You never had a smoke in the bathroom?"

"I don't smoke."

"Come on, it's fun!"

"But I don't smoke."

They dragged her to the handicapped stall with much giggles and mischievery.

It was big enough for three and more, and had a small window that opened enough to blow smoke through.

Nothing beat feeling like middle school again, but while Jill was standing on the toilet lid, her hand hanging outside the window, Becky started to make things feel like college.

"One day I fingered her so hard," she was telling Lenore, "she dropped her cig and it almost set off the fire alarm."

"Oh yeah?"

"I bet you never sneaked in to make out either."

"With who?"

"I don't know. Dylan. Of Web Development. He looks so lonely sometimes."

"Shut up, you're gross," Jill commented.

"Smoking makes me horny, can't help it."

"You burn down a pack a day!"

"I know, right?"

16 waking hours in a day.

20 cigarettes in a pack.

Jill flicked her stub away and stepped down the toilet. She slid a hand down Becky's pants without any etiquette.

Verdict: "Hey, she's not lying."

I should sneak in and masturbate someday, Lenore thought as she watched them.

"Come have a feel."

Becky had said that. Not Jill. Becky with the hand in her pants. Unapologizing. She was unfastening the upper buttons. Staring at Lenore with fuck me eyes. Or fuck you eyes.

Jill's hand pulled away, Lenore's hand went down in its place.

She touched the first vagina she ever made cum.

"I'm sure you've made a lot of women cum, you just don't know about it," Jill said, reading her mind.

"You think so?"

"Me for example. I think about you sometimes when I touch myself."

"Oh, ok. Well...thanks, I guess."

"You're really pretty," Becky cut in, her voice wavering, "and you're more interesting than most people here."

Lenore pushed her middle finger in her.

Jill threw a, "Kate's in love with you, you know?"

Lenore removed her hand.

Jill took it and sucked on her wet finger.

Becky came closer, they all three embraced.

Lenore watched them kiss.

Paradoxically, this was the point of no return. She hesitated before she leaned in.

Their lips, then their tongues met. The sloppy threeway kiss made them hum softly.

Lenore thought it didn't feel as good as eating pussy and she was taken aback by her own vulgarity.

But it was the truth and it became palpable when Jill stepped away. "I'll be right back." She left the bathroom, leaving the stall door shut but unbolted, leaving Lenore kissing and fondling only Becky. It grew awkward and obvious that she didn't want all this ceremony.

Lenore wanted to cum. That's it.

"We talk about you when we fuck," Becky panted out as she kissed her in the neck.

"What do you say?"

"We want to ravage you. We wanna drive you crazy."

Their four hands peeled both their pants down their thighs. At no point did Lenore remember she was showing her pussy to an almost-stranger.

She felt soft female fingers on her clit for the time of her life. She made a conscious effort to keep quiet. She had never understood the thrill of being caught and despite everything else being spellbinding, she would stay true to her incomprehension.

Becky pulled her hood. "Your clit is so swollen I could suck on it like a cock."

Lenore gasped. Her clitoris did feel enormous. Becky was grinning. She was not.

"Do you know the word," the grin asked, "for when three girls eat out each other at the same time?"

She didn't.

"We're so doing that on Saturday."

The door behind them creaked.

Lenore turned her head and she froze. There was Jill. And Melissa of Management.

"Would you look at that," the 40-something corporate woman said with a smile.

Lenore pulled back and struggled with her panties.

Jill and Becky lined up on either side of her, to face Melissa.

"Fresh blood for the sewing circle," she said.

Pants back on, Lenore remained mortified. The woman leered at them like meat.

She shook her head. "What am I gonna do with you?"

Lenore never liked her. Yet she had never noticed how hot this woman was, and it counted rapidly in accepting this porn situation. The word hatefuck existed for a reason.

No doubt about that, the threesome had leveled up. Lenore could now have not four but six hands on her body. If she simply played the part.

Which got a harsh start:

"Get naked. Just you," Melissa told her.

So harsh Lenore felt her stomach flutter more wetness down her pussy.

Becky and Jill mewled with excitement, turned toward her to watch her undress.

She already knew she was gonna do it. It's how far she would go doing it that held her back for a few seconds.

She took her blouse off, her bra, gave them to Jill who threw them away carelessly.

Then the shoes, the socks. Lenore put her bare feet back on the sticky tiled floor. That's how far she went. After that, pants and underwear went off easy.

She rose back, completely naked, as told, surrounded by three clothed women.

Her nipples were hard for them.

"Good girl," Melissa murmured. Then lowered to her knees and crawled up to Lenore's wet pussy.

She looked at it, looked up at her and said, "I'll still be your superior after this. You slack off once, you deviate one degree, I swear I'll fuck you up so hard you'll come beg me to be my dungeon slave to pay your rent."

As Lenore wondered what she could respond to that without just laughing in this old hag's face, she felt lips engulf her swollen clit.

She moaned.

"Say 'Yes, Melissa,'" Jill whispered in her ear.

Lenore almost protested but her head was jammed by pleasure.

So eventually:

"Yes, Melissa."

Melissa pulled back, eyes smiling with the lust of dominants. "You two, pants down. Leave them on your ankles, I want you to look ridiculous."

They didn't say, Yes, Melissa. But Lenore got too sidetracked to notice, fighting against her clitoris which wanted to cum on the spot.

A few drops trickled down her contracting peehole.

"Our new pet is a squirter."

"Nice!"

"Lena, finger them."

The two girls passed an arm around Lenore, held her tight and purred with anticipation. With just a glimpse at them both, she understood the nature of the fingering she had been ordered to give, as in this position, her hands could only reach for their butts.

She wetted her fingers--her right hand still smelled of Becky--and slid her middle fingers down their cracks, brushed over the wrinkling of their assholes. The mouth on her clit eliminated any hesitation; she pushed against their holes, knuckles popped through the tight rings, one after the other... The pads of her fingers gorged in the sensations, heat, fleshy softness, like they were suddenly erogenous.

Lenore looked at her partners, for any little hint of validation.

"I fucking love anal so much," Becky exhaled and closed her eyes.

"It's easier with two fingers," Jill begged.

So Lenore added her forefingers and stretched them exquisitely. The girls hugged tighter, smothered her with kisses and gasps, their hips rolling against her palms.

She never had suspected how erotic it could feel, the feel of their anuses, crushing her fingers, yielding to them with such a visceral return pressure.

"Fuck them hard. I wanna hear it," Melissa said, lips slick.

Lenore obeyed, over and over, caught between her sensitive clit and her overly sensitive fingers. Her biceps and her wrists ached from the effort, she loved it.

Her mind's eye pulled out, like a movie camera, to see the whole scene from afar, these four women tangled in this complicated formation, each moaning in different ways. Then the words themselves were enough: lesbian orgy; first foursome; insane fuck in the middle of the afternoon, at work, don't give a fuck. Only then Lenore could have her orgasm.

She even told them.

"I-I'm gonna cum."

Her pussy started to contract and she saw herself, naked, traverse this most enfeebling ecstasy, moan as quietly as she was able to, sway on her legs as little as she could, protected all around by three all-conquering lusts that had only eagerly wanted it. Wanted her.

She didn't see Melissa rise to her feet but she felt her grab her by the chin, saw her plant her crazy eyes in hers, felt her shove two fingers in her spasming cunt and squeeze her G-spot aggressively, pump her hole almost painfully bluntly until Lenore let out a sharp cry and a stream of squirt splashed down her toes, putting an explosive end to her climax.

There was a small puddle under her soles when the three women released her.

Some clarity came back quick and Lenore protected her nudity with her arms, careful not to touch her skin with her fingers.

The three others had a last look at her, three last grins and they left the bathroom.

Out of breath, raving, alone, Lenore locked the stall door and leaned on it, her head cradled in the inside of her elbows, panting things like, "Oh my God-Oh my God," happy ones, incredulous of what had just happened, more than willing to be actually proud of it.

And proudly she turned around. She walked up to the center of this crummy toilet and stood there eyes closed to let everything go and feel the air and the light on her skin, to feel that she was completely bare somewhere other than her apartment, that she just had a foursome out of nowhere.

It made her want to cum again and right now and she did.

She washed her hands in the sink and she did.

*****

Lenore failed to see a lot of things.

Kate was not really good at being in love. None of her advances hit their target during their evening together. Lenore was too absent that night. Or perhaps too close.

So she resigned.

She slept on the couch.

In the morning, Lenore failed to see she was missing the two keys of P29.

*****

Friday (four days)

Friday was a tunnel of loneliness. Lenore didn't get bossed around and overworked to death. In fact, no one talked to her. She got all the time to write.

So there's a coven of witches at Deep Green.

They fire everyone until everybody has been replaced by their evil ilk.

Witches is tired. Let's find something else. Another creature. Something not evil. Something annoying. Mosquitoes. No, bigger. Flies.

They're flies. With a human appearance. No, it's stupid. They're human witches but they're flies too. Find something.

They chose Deep Green for its architecture. You can draw a pentacle over the hallways on the blueprint of the building. At its center: the gates of hell they try to summon. How original.

Deciding lives over the strike of a pen was the best thing ever once she was into it.

It alleviated being alone.

Writing on work hours did too.

"Hey, wanna hang out tonight?"

It was Becky. The smell of astray should have been a giveaway and Lenore shouldn't have been startled.

"Hi, Becky. Tonight? Not tomorrow?"

"Yeah, why not? Kate will be there, I called her."

The Friday factor made it a no cause Lenore was lazy, but the presence of Kate made it a yes. The presence of Kate and the lack of an eventual threesome made it a no but the presence of Kate made it a yes.

"Ok, alright," Lenore said.

"Seeya then." And Becky and her scent disappeared.

*****

The pangs of a bad feeling hit Lenore as she stepped into the flashing lights of the club.

She saw Becky and Jill already drunk and they would not stop dancing for anyone. She struggled her way in and then struggled to stay in; the crowd surrounded, smothered the newcomer with pokes and voices while all she wanted was to know where Kate was.

"What?" the two girls screamed.

"Is Kate here?"

"Who?"

"Kate!"

The instantly forgotten shrug they gave could mean they didn't know in several different ways but meant for certain they didn't care.

Lenore looked around, shouldered herself out. The only corner where she found the room to use her phone was reserved for alcohol buying, so she was almost pushed away as soon as she got herself an overpriced slammer and no response to her calls, away from the bar and back into the moving and available bodies.

It's the only drink she had. A fairly attractive man offered her one in a more or less confident manner which only drew her back to her co-workers where she would be less frontally bothered. They in turn did everything to drag her out of sobriety. And it was enough for Lenore to get angry at Kate for having bailed on her. Left her with these two psychos. Or with her horny self.

She had meticulously shaved from the neck down. She was excited for the unpredictable mess that was taking shape.

But it was just wrong.

Before they left for their place, she looked around one last time. The lights blinded her, the music pierced her ears and once outside, she had lost track of who she was really angry at.

It was clear the two girls were messing with her although it looked like they were physically unable to focus enough to do so.

She had to call a cab because she was the only one who could stand straight up or make a proper sentence.

The trip was chaos compressed on a back seat.

"Kate who?"

"Stop it."

"I know a Kate in Financials!"

"Yeaaa there was a Cate Something at the team building seminar."

"You sure you don't mean Nate from IT?"

"No. Kate, who was fired."

"Deep Greeeeen, we'll fire your biiiiitch!" they sang to the tune of the company's TV commercial.