Big Dick Hank

The step was made of fine marble, silver gray veins running through the polished white velvet stone surface. Her shiny black high heels were sartorially sculpted to her foot by Malone Souliers. Her silky white feet and sylphlike calves had a floating lightness to them that was pulled down by the heft one inch platform under the heels with skinny bands like long tentacles of a big headed black octopus.

Her hands glid down the heavy, wooden handrail spun by carpenter into an old world beauty aesthetic. Behind them was the wide open window spawning multiple floors. The eye looking out hit straight onto the cobblestone streets filled with suited finance people and the regal columns of the stock exchange front. With all the splendor, you could have easily missed her bracelet, a fluid chain of pure gold. The smaller these get, the more expensive they seem. Hers was skinny like a dental floss with so many links in them that it flowed liquid like water. It gave her just delicacy and high class.

Her body was wrapped into an above the knee pencil dress that was so snuck that it might have been a baby wrap, the kind where babies get wrapped in tightly to help them soothe their anxiety. Her hip bones were visible in a good way to show her slim tummy. She used to work out before she moved to NYC. Now it was simply the office pressure that kept her from eating. Her young face was gaunt. She was feeling her teeth. She wondered if the front, right, bottom molar had started wiggling because she was grinding her teeth in her sleep.

She left the staircase that used to be a part of a high end clothing stores at the previous turn of the century. She had to lean her 103 pounds into the heavy fire door and pushed into the pit. Tiny desks that barely fit a screen and a keyboard were pressed together. Bags, backpacks, and briefcases were piles in the little walkways between the desks. The wardrobe stands were overloaded with woolen coats. She had to lean her body way out to get past them, balancing on her heels. The tumultuous talking of two hundred people and clattering of keyboards was so disorienting that it seemed to blur the vision.

When she passed two women, one typing away and the other leaning over her back, she heard it again. Ever since she started a quarter ago, whispers of "Big Dick Hank" seemed to be everywhere. At first she thought that she had misunderstood "Big Thank" because the closing of the quarter was close. She kind of expected the bosses to hand out a good reward for the long nights, but she had lost that hope. The leadership knew that there were plenty young ones like her eager to get the good name of the firm on their resume. Half the new hires would be let go to be replaced by the next league. The tension had been heating up day by day. The mentions at first guarded whispers had become less and less guarded and expelled with more emotional sighs and smirks.

Her phone vibrated with message from her coworker Suzie: "Ms. Abergine, Elaine did a really great job simplifying her initially overcomplicated software design." A deep grunt escaped Elaine. The environment increasingly letting raw emotions gush out had affected her. Elaine had done her master thesis on algorithm design. She was sure that her algorithm that was beyond anything the firm had seen would be her safety ticket to survive the coming culling. When she had spent afterhours to mentor Suzie to understand asymptotic performance, she had thought that it would be a plus in her performance review. Fucking cunt!

Elaine swung the conference room door open. A long table had everyone assembled. Ms. Abergine was sitting at the head of it. She was in her mid-thirties, blond flowing hair, and a dress that had been bought at a high end department store and carelessly thrown over her. She was comfortably leaning back in her chair with her arms wide on the armrest like she was a captain of a ship. Next to her was Grims, nasty woman, displaying the same kind of comfort and power. Grims was the software architect. Everyone else was sitting tucked in and upright with their laptops flipped open and ready to type. Their eyes were spooked and glassy. Their carefully arranged hair pampered with the right product had turned into wild running streaks and tangles by noon.

"Elaine, you are late again!" admonished Ms. Abergine. "You need to prioritize better."

Elaine had volunteered to represent the team at the code quality council (that's the meeting that she was coming from) when Ms. Abergine had begged for a volunteer. Little did Elaine know that it was all a show for her own boss. Ms. Abergine hated losing any of her workers for nonsense like fixing issues for users. But once Elaine had realized the truth, it was too late to withdraw. Sigh, another nail in her coffin.

Elaine found her seat at the long conference table with the other first years. The floor was jumble of large Kate Spade purses, gym bags, and company branded laptop bags -- like a soccer team had thrown their gear all over the place. The other first years were in a posture of being slumped over the table to stare at the laptops, leaned back in exhaustion with the eyes at the ceiling, or were inspecting their frayed hair ends. As Elaine stepped deeper into the room, the smell, stench actually, of heavy female perspiration was immediate that it triggered a visceral reaction. Armpits were darkened. Strands of sweat wet hair clung to cheeks. Blouses were unbuttoned to provide heat relief without concern for showing blue bra cups because there were only women on the team. Ms. Abergine relished lording over the strung out, desperate, and flailing. It gave her something to look down upon that would run and scurry with every stroke she gave them without facing the least pushback or hesitation.

The first ten minutes of the meeting were usually Ms. Abergine enjoying to watch a woman curse herself into typing faster to get another batch of code submitted before the imminent status report. She also loved to admire a face that had wide open eyes and was staring straight ahead motionless with rapid breath panting through the mouth and the paleness spreading over the cheeks. Decorum had evaporated under the constant pressure so much that one woman was waving the hem of her dress up down to fan cool air unto her body and spreading the stale smell of her vagina into the stuff room. The musk scent mingled in between the acidic scent of armpit sweat. Ms Abergine's eyes were glowing. She thought of her underlings as pigs. And whenever a new cohort had reached the point where the stress caused them to act like pigs, she felt all justified in her view of them.

"We have to complete our next software release cycle in two days. The project management office has set our goal to complete 98% of the burndown tasks. Grims distributed the remaining tasks to you. If anyone misses their goal, that person won't be eligible for a favor performance rating anymore. What are you still doing wasting your time in a meeting? Get coding!" Ms. Abergine waved them to scurry out of the conference room.

Half the women had slipped out of their heels. Some were quick enough to snap them right on. Others grabbed them to walk out barefoot. A couple single shoes were left behind because the owner couldn't find them fast enough under the table. A female business suit jacket was left behind. A purse lay on the floor. Lots of Starbucks cups and vending machine snack bags were left on the table. Ms. Abergine joyfully shook her head at the mess her first years left behind -- like a battlefield.

Elaine found herself at her desk. Her breathing was so fast. It was hard to slow it down. It was hard to have enough air. She tried to stare at the code at her screen, but her eyes kept only repeating the same line: "for (int i = 0; i < goal; i++);" Her mind couldn't comprehend anymore. She looked in panic at the small corners of her desk. She looked around herself to see the soft afternoon light filtering in through the distant windows that were mostly covered with something because some of the coders liked the dark dungeon look. Even getting up to the restroom to put water on her face felt suddenly overwhelming.

She felt frozen, too scared to move. She wanted her mind to click in and function again, but she could only sit there. She was still aware enough to realize that she had lost the sense of time. She could have been sitting like that for a 10 seconds or 10 minutes. Her mind couldn't reach beyond the distance of time to plan what should happen and recall what had happened. The past had gotten increasingly fragmented over the last days. The bits of memory frames that she remembered had gotten more and more distant. Sometimes in the morning, she had been at Starbucks. She remembered looking at a little kid's face because the kid was dressed in a suit with a tie, exactly like a Wall Street Mogul. The last memory bit before that was a fragment of brushing her teeth. For a moment, she remembered how good it used to feel to give her gums a little morning massage.

But now she was on her chair with her mind suspended. Her skin felt increasingly clam. Even though the room was cold from the air conditioning, she started sweating. She tried to focus on the deadline, but that made her panic grow only stronger. Her vision started getting blurry. She was trying to hold onto the blinking cursor in front of her. She feared if she'd let go of that, she may fall to the ground.

"You need to see Big Dick Hank!"

Being spoken to, gave Elaine a shot of adrenaline to snap to it. She swung around to look at Stacy, the short chubby Asian, who had entered the cohort after it had started because a first year quit on the first day and opened up a spot. Stacy had been waiting at the receptionist the whole day until afternoon anticipating that something like that would happen. Stacy didn't pretend to dress up like the others. Neither did she seem to have an urge to spend all the crazy high pay on cute stuff. She was dressed like a school girl in black flats, knee high socks, knee long skirt, and a blouse. She could have come right from the Battle Royale movie. She had something sullen and fierce about her. She was never fierce in anyone's face, but when she coded, she could become very fierce.

"I keep hearing that name," said Elaine innocently. Elaine had gotten enough of a sense that he was some kind of office stud and provided stress relief. She had never met him though.

"C'mon! You know what's up. You are going to crack today. Go already!" Stacy yanked Elaine's lanky arm to get up. Like a deer, Elaine rose onto her high heels. The short and stubby Stacy pulled the svelte Elaine forward by her arm. And then Elaine started walking towards the door, not because she had overcome her fear or made a decision, but like a mental ward patient, the process of walking towards the door was something familiar, something that she knew how to do, and so she kept doing it.

Before Elaine was gone, Stacy pushed a yellow post-it note into Elaine's hand. It said: "Mill Lane. $700"

When Elaine walked out of her office building, her mind asked "A fuck?" and answered "A fuck!" Somewhere there was a logic to banging out all of that stress. Have a guy have her way with her. And somehow that orgasmic intensity will wash everything away. It made sense. And then there was the thought of: "You should get to know the guy first. Guys always come first and leave you hanging." But that second voice was soft, fading, and with way too many words. That other voice that kept prodding her with "A fuck?", "A fu-u-u-u-u-ck :)", and "A FUCK!!!" held her attention so much stronger.

Shen went into the TD Bank ATM at Wall Street and Broadway. She pretended not to know what she was doing when she got $700 out of it and put it into a white envelope, but she knew what she was doing. It was like when she was dieting and bought herself a quart of Van Leuwen ice cream pretending it would be to celebrate the end of her diet, but at the same time, her heart got so excited because she knew that she would be eating it the moment she got up the stairs of her walkup.

Sex! It's been so long! She remembered her senior year in high school when she was 18 and her mom let her have her boyfriend over and of being bored during the long school breaks, lying around on the couch, watching TV, then fucking, watching more TV, fucking again, and the days turned into weeks like that. Life used to be so. College was full of studying. At first there was sexual frustration, and then exhaustion to make sex not even appealing anymore, but all she wanted was a bed to sleep or if she got fancy a warm bathtub to snooze in. She thought about the last time she had seen and handled a thick, hard penis in her slender, pale fingers. It was fun exciting and adventurous.

She was lost in her thoughts as she walked down the cobble streets of Wall Street that were closed off to traffic after 9/11. They tried to be very classy in the way how the turned the metal boulders to block traffic into something pretty rather than a rampart against terrorists. She could have her thoughts and exhaustion all to herself. People in the streets of New York were free to do whatever. Some people cried walking down the streets. Others yelled on their phones. Some people were dressed like they were straight of a fantasy movie set. Yet nobody paid anybody a mind except for the food delivery guys on their e-bikes. They were always trying to ogle her butt, boobs, or sometimes her feet, but they never talked to her and always turned away when she got closer.

She got a little past the security cordon and found the alley Mill Lane. It was a tiny alley and dead end. Hardly nobody had a reason to venture into there. The sunlight was so hidden that a darkness like evening held on the bright early summer day. The walls of the buildings were used to lean dumpsters, piles of garbage bags, and random refuse like rusted bicycles and pipes. The ground was grimy was dark spots of leaked garbage that hadn't been cleaned in a long time. NYC has all these little secretes hiding away.

At the end of the alley, she could see a big figure sitting on a box. The figure seemed to be wearing a coat and a hat. She walked closer, but it was hard to see in the darkness until she was close enough for talking. He was a black man. He was definitely chubby but also strong. He held a lot of flair in his clothing. The light full body coat was velvet purple. His facial expression was full of flair as well, like he really lived and breathed a life of flair and magic. His bare chest poked out at the coat opening. It was shaven and had heft to it.

"Are you Hank?" Elaine asked.

"Who's asking?" she replied with a smile that made his porcelain white teeth gleam and his brown eyes sparkle like they were the sunshine. They were the brightest thing in this dark, musky alley. He gallantly reached his hand out. Before she could react, he guided her in a twirl. With a slow gaze, his eyes meandered over her body. His face reacted to every little bit of her physique. His eyes lit up at the sight of her belly. His cheeks grew merry at the sight of her butt in that tight skirt. A big warm smile spread over his face when he relished the features of her face.

The manliness that he was exuding made her feel weak, made her blush, and made her tingle. That masculine energy was making her feel alive in her skin. She could sense something in him that didn't exist in her own body. And she grew a desire to make that energy that she felt in him grow stronger. The masculinity felt like strength and solid hardness. She felt a little scared when she recognized an unbending desire in him. That unbending desire of getting what he wanted made her feel vulnerable because she didn't trust herself to be able to stop it. Yet that unbending desire of getting what he wanted was also a feeling that she wanted to get close to and touch.

She felt so fluid in her life, so pushed around, and always flowing around challenges. To feel someone's intention so unbending and so much solidness was like something that was foreign to her body. Yet she had a yearning to be close to it.

Normally, she would have been disgusted by being paraded like a piece of flesh. She had told her girlfriends about hat often. Yet with Hank, it was different. He was so manly. She wanted to be near that manly. So she pulled the white envelope with the $700 out.

"No, not here!!!" Hank's face darkened. "Pay me after. Simply drop the envelope through slit at the driver window of the Lambo that's parked up front."

She quickly put the white envelope out of sight, fearing she had broken a taboo. She wavered. She shook a little.

"Don't be scare!" Hank said with a warm voice. His baritone voice had a vibration in it. It was so resonant that she thought she could feel his voice vibrating in her belly. The close alley walls helped to reflect his voice back. He pulled her into his embrace. He was a big man. His purple velvet coat wrapped around her. Her nose was pressed against his bare chest. The skin felt freshly showered. She could smell the spice scent of a deodorant from his armpits. He felt perfectly groomed and refreshed for her.

He was quiet with her -- holding space. She could feel her heart pounding with alarming alacrity -- not like it suddenly started pounding, but she was suddenly calm enough to notice. Her cheek was resting against his heart -- a powerful, slow thumb. Feeling safe, she nestled herself more comfortable into his chest, wrapping her arms around his back, feeling his strong back muscles. She leaned herself into his embrace and felt safe.

"Rough day in the office?" he said without actually asking a question but with a lot of sympathy. "I'm going to take some blood now."

"Okay." Elaine wasn't quite sure why but agreed.

He got a needle and a glass plate from a big square backpack. He pricked her index finger and squeezed a few drops of blood onto the glass plate. Then, he placed another glass plate on top. The square backpack actually house a black box that barely fit into it. He slid the glass plates inside and pushed a few buttons. After a few clicks and a wind up that sounded like a flash getting ready to flash, a piece of paper came out of the box. Hank lifted it up to his eyes.

"You are all clean and not pregnant," he said the last thing with a light laugh. "Do you want to keep the lab results for your records?" He held the piece of paper to her. She took it. It said things like HIV, herpes, syphilis, and so on.

The sudden sense of medical office visit made Elaine realize that she was about to have sex with a prostitute. He would put his dick inside of her. Unreal! How would that even happen? Like would he simply pull his dick out and jab it into her? People don't do that! She panicked. She wanted to leave. He calmly folded his purple coat over and placed it onto the box that he was sitting on. She was a lot more chubby than she had imagined him to be under the coat.

He slowly walked up to her. She had a bit of panic like she was sensing that her last chance to speak up and leave disappeared with every step that he made forward. Probably because her mind was so frayed, she stood in place dazed out. Without waiting a bit, his hand slid up the back of her thighs and lifted her skirt up to expose her butt cheeks to the alley. The nature of his touch was so masculine and strong and painted her in such a feminine way like she hadn't felt before. His touch said that she was a worthy woman. His touch said that she was feminine. The way that his strength was restrained to be gentle with her, she felt delicate and special. In the onslaught of these emotions, she also felt her butt exposed and saw in the distant end of the alley the shadows of people walking across the bright sunlight out there. Anyone turning his or her head would see her exposed.