Candy Dishes and Chocolate

I suppose it really started two years ago when I was working for a small community newspaper in Colorado. It was the holiday season and, as in a lot of places, when the holiday season arrived the offices take on a gay, festive air. Banners and posters appear, Christmas cards get pinned up on cork memo boards and desks suddenly sprout scented candles and candy dishes. It was a candy dish that did it; a candy dish and Dove dark chocolate individually wrapped squares.

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I love the ladies. Can't help it. I've been attracted to the fairer sex for as long as I can remember and I have a pretty damned good memory. I remember playing 'doctor' with Nancy Neubert at an age I won't mention and that was just the start of my life long quest to look at the female form in its naked state. If I couldn't get their clothes off of them it didn't matter because I got as much pleasure out of looking at them fully clothed. A woman in a skirt or dress wearing high heels got to me just as much as a naked lady wearing only a smile. It was a jones of the highest order.

There is a term or someone like me. Some use it as a derogatory term, but I have always considered it a badge of honor. That term is "Dirty Old Man" and I have been a Dirty Old Man since I was eleven years old. As with most Dirty Old Men my love for the ladies manifested itself in the way I looked at them; openly and completely above board. No sneaky peeks or surreptitious glances for me, I looked and I appreciated and I didn't hide it one little bit.

The other thing I had in common with most Dirty Old Men was that I was a terrible flirt. I complimented the ladies on their looks; I made 'soft' passes at them and jokingly asked them to abandon their husbands, fiancés and boyfriends and take up with me. I remembered their birthdays and on Valentine's Day and Sweetest Day I gave them cards, flowers and candy - all of them! There were six women working in the office and I flirted with all of them equally. But, as Orwell stated in Animal Farm, "Even though all pigs are equal some pigs are more equal than others" and that held true for the ladies in our office. Even though I treated all of them equally Jennifer always got a little bit extra. If all the girls got flowers, Jen's bouquet was always just a little bit bigger. If everyone got candy, Jen's box was just a tad more expensive. Jennifer always got 'just a touch' more.

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Jennifer was about five foot five, maybe 125 pounds and she had blonde hair that fell in waves to her shoulders. She had that healthy California girl look about her, like she spent all of her free time on the beach working on a tan. I didn't know whether the tan came from a tanning bed or from her lying out in her backyard, but it didn't matter where it came from on her it looked great. Jennifer had a beautiful smile and her eyes sparkled when she looked at you and gave you the full 'wattage' but her best features were all south of the border, so to speak. She had a fantastic ass and a spectacular walk that made it look like two melons rolling around in a gunny sack and I do not believe that there is a man alive who wouldn't stop whatever he was doing to look when she walked by. The sight was marvelous when she wore skirts and dresses and absolute stupendous when she wore slacks.

But to me anyway, her absolutely best features were her long legs and sexy feet and don't think for one minute that she didn't know it. A lot of ladies would go to nail salons or beauty parlors once a week to get their fingernails done and Jennifer did that too, but Jen also got her toenails done. Blood red polish with little designs that changed from week to week and she also wore toe rings. She always wore strappy high heeled sandals that displayed her toes. Even in the winter. If she had to wear boots to work because of snow she always changed into high heeled sandals once she got to work.

Upstairs Jennifer was a little shortchanged as she wasn't much better than flat-chested, but who cared about the upstairs when the downstairs was so outstanding. It did not hurt one bit that I was a dyed in the wool ass and leg man with a foot fetish and that high heels had always been a major turn on for me. Her husband was one lucky guy. The bottom line of course was that while the other women were equal, Jennifer was just a little more equal when it came to my attention.

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It was two weeks before Christmas and I was on my way from the pressroom to the circulation manager's office and as I passed Jennifer's desk I noticed that the candy dish setting next to her computer monitor was full of Dove dark chocolate squares. I filed the information that she liked Dove dark chocolate away for future reference and went on to my meeting with the circulation manager.

Over the next several days I noticed the level in Jennifer's candy dish going down and it gave me an idea. One night when I was doing my grocery shopping at Safeway I bought six bags of the Dove dark chocolate squares. I start at six in the morning but the office people don't get in until seven-thirty or quarter to eight so the office was empty when I got there the next morning and filled Jennifer's candy dish. Over the next three weeks I kept Jennifer's candy dish topped off, but I never let her or anyone else in the office know that it was me doing it.

The day after New Years Day when I got to work the candy dish was gone. Okay, no candy dish so we just shifted gears. Every morning when I got to work I would put two of the chocolate squares in the center of her desk pad. For the next two weeks I left two squares a day on Jennifer's desk and as far as I knew no one knew it was me. And then one day as I was passing Jen's desk she stopped me and asked me why I was leaving candy on her desk every day. I asked her what made her think it was me and she told me that one of the ladies on the night cleaning crew had seen me putting the candy on her desk. Busted, I told her I was leaving them because I was having fun being the mystery "Candy Fairy." She thanked me for the thought, admitted that she was a chocoholic and just loved dark chocolate. She also admitted that she had spent a lot of time trying to figure out who the candy man was.

Since I had been 'discovered' I stopped putting candy on her desk when I got to work. What I did instead was that every time I went up to the front office I would put a piece of candy on her desk as I went by. Three weeks went by and then one morning as I was leaving a piece of candy she said that she really needed to give up chocolate and switch to something like carrot sticks or celery. I asked why and she told me that she and her husband were going on a cruise and she needed to lose five pounds so she would look good in her bikini. The next day when I passed by her desk I left a sandwich bag with four carrot sticks in it. The next day it was a couple of pieces of celery and the day after that a handful of grapes. I did that for the next week until she left for her cruise and the day she got back I started leaving the dark chocolate again.

Three days later the production manager came and got me and said that I was wanted in the front office. I followed him and he led me into the Human Resource manager's office and closed the door. As soon as I saw that it was the HR manager's office we were going into I knew that it wasn't going to be a pleasant visit. I didn't like Jill and she knew it. On her part she thought I was disrespectful to management and I needed to be put in "my place." Shortly after she had been hired to replace the HR manager who had resigned she came out into the shop and handed me a list of things she wanted done and then told me that she "Expected to have them done by the following Friday." Her tone of voice and her "I am a manager and you are a peon" attitude pissed me off so I looked at the list, laughed and handed it back to her and told her if she expected it to be done by Friday she had better get busy.

"And just what is that supposed to me?"

"I don't work for you and nothing on that list is covered in my job description. You want it done, do it yourself."

"You are being insubordinate."

"No I'm not. You are not in my chain of command. I work for the production manager and he falls under the circulation manager. You aren't anywhere in the chain."

"Well we will just see about that" and she stomped away.

I found out later that she went to the circulation manager and complained and said she was going to put a letter of reprimand in my file. The circulation manager told her she was out of line and to stay the hell out of his shop without checking with him first. Things had been 'cool' between us ever since.

Jill had me sit down and then she told me that a harassment complaint had been filed against me by Jennifer. Jennifer had accused me of giving her unwanted attention and that I had refused to stop when she had asked me to. I hotly denied the charge. I admitted to the attention part, but stated that she had never asked me to stop and had never given me any indication that the attention bothered her and that if she wanted me to stop all she ever had to do was ask.

I was told that the complaint was going to go in my file and that I was to stay away from Jennifer. I was told that even if we passed each other in the parking lot I should look the other way and not even say "hello" or "Good morning" or anything at all. Then Jill handed me the complaint and told me to sign it and I told her no. She said, "Sign it or I will have to terminate you." I was just getting ready to tell her to stick it up her fat ass when the production manager stepped in and told me to go back to work. As I closed the office door behind me I heard the production manager tearing into her. Bottom line was that I still had a job at the end of the day.

When I left the HR office I passed by Jennifer's desk on my way back to the pressroom and she looked up at me and I gave her a look that should have set her hair on fire. She frowned and by then I was by her and gone. If the old adage, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" had an opposite it would be, "Bobby will carry a grudge to the grave." I didn't know how or when, but the bitch would pay and pay dearly for fucking over me.

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There was no way Jennifer could avoid seeing me every day as I had to walk right by her desk on my way to the circulation manager's office; a trip I made on the average of four times a day. I made it a point to look her right in the face both coming and going and I smiled inwardly as she always averted her eyes. I didn't say a word, but then I didn't really have to; the look on my face said it all.

Valentine's Day came and every woman in the office got a card and a heart shaped box of candy from me - everyone except Jennifer. I knew the birthdays of all the women and on their birthdays they all got cards and flowers from me - all of them except Jennifer. The other girls in the office noticed and I'm sure they wondered what was going on.

It was about four months following my visit to the HR office that I had my first opportunity to get back at Jennifer. My hours are a little weird. Since eighty percent of my job is maintaining the equipment and keeping it running I have to be there when the presses run to fix anything that breaks down. The other side of the coin is that I can't do maintenance and repairs when the machines are running. The company is death on paying overtime so I have had to set up a schedule that would allow me to do my job and still hold my hours down to forty. Basically, I put in from fourteen to sixteen hours on Tuesday - from 3 AM until the presses stop around 5 PM. Wednesday is usually a fourteen hour day from 7 AM until 9 PM. Thursday is my slow day and I work about seven hours from 7 AM until three in the afternoon. Friday I come in at 4 AM and clean, oil and grease until my forty hours are in and then I'm off until the following Tuesday.

Because of my work schedule I have a key card that gets me into the building at all hours. The only other people with this ability are managers and above. The rest of the employees can only get in the building when the electronic timer deactivates the door locks and that happens at seven-thirty in the morning. At seven in the evening the computer electronically activates the door locks and you can't get in the building unless you have a key card.

It was a Wednesday, one of my long days, and we finished running the presses around seven-thirty. It usually takes me a half hour to finish the paperwork and power things down. Since I am usually the last one out of the building it is up to me to make sure that everything is turned off and locked up tight before I leave. I was making the rounds to make sure everything was the way it should be when I saw Jennifer walking out to her car. She must have worked late. As I watched through the window she got in her car and turned the key in the ignition. Jennifer's car was a late model GM product and it had a sensor in the dash that sensed light levels and automatically turns on the headlights when it gets dark outside. This feature is 'live' as soon as you turn the key on. I saw Jennifer's lights come on and then start to go dim and that told me the she probably had a dead battery. I smiled at her misfortune and finished going through the building, cleaned up and then punched out at the time clock and headed for my pick up truck.

Jennifer saw me and she got out of her car and walked toward me and said:

"I need you to let me back in the building. My car is dead and I need to use a phone to call my husband to come and get me."

I ignored her and opened the door to my truck and started to get in it.

"Didn't you hear me? I need to get back into the building so I can use a phone."

I turned to her and said, "I'll probably get in trouble for this, but what the hell, you are a lady in distress so I guess maybe I can get away with it."

"Get away with what?"

"I was told that I wasn't to talk to you or have anything to do with you. In fact, I believe the exact words were, "Even if you pass each other in the parking lot you should look the other way and not even say "hello" or "Good morning" or anything at all." But since you are in trouble I'll speak to you long enough to tell you that there is a payphone at the Texaco station. It is only a ten minute walk from here."

And then I pulled my door closed and drove away leaving her standing there.

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Three weeks after the parking lot incident Jennifer left the company. But that didn't mean we wouldn't see each other any more. The town wasn't that big that we wouldn't run into each other occasionally. We had a Safeway, a King Soopers, a Target and a Wal-Mart Super Center. There were ten gas stations and maybe a dozen restaurants so the odds were that I would see Jennifer from time to time and I did. And every time I saw her I stared at her with a "You fucking bitch!" look on my face and she would always look away.

It was the week before Thanksgiving and a Wednesday and I had just gotten off work and I had stopped at Wal-Mart to do some shopping and I saw Jennifer pushing a cart through the store. She was pregnant - looked to be about seven or eight months worth - and she saw me. I gave her "The Look" and she turned her cart and headed for the checkout stands.

I finished my shopping, checked out and headed for my truck. I was loading my stuff when I noticed a woman about six parking aisles over trying to wrestle the spare tire out of the trunk of her car. There was snow and slush on the ground and the temperature was falling and the slush was starting to freeze and the woman was slipping and sliding around. I finished loading my stuff in the truck and then I drove over to see if I could give the woman a hand. I got out of the truck and said:

"Can I give you a hand with that?"

The woman turned to me and I saw it was Jennifer. "Oh, it's you" I said and turned to walk back to my truck.

"God damn you" she said to my back, "I wouldn't hurt you to try and be a decent human being for once in your life!"

The wrong thing to say and the wrong tone of voice to say it in. I turned to her and said:

"You want my help? Okay, I'll help you. All you have to do is climb in my truck with me and give me a blow job. Either that or the parking lot is full of cars so go find someone else to help you."

"Would I be trying to do this myself if I could have gotten anyone else to help me? I tried, but no one could be bothered."

I shrugged and then I got back in my truck and then I just sat there and watched her struggle. After she had almost fallen down twice she walked over to my truck and stood there waiting for me to roll my window down.

"I'll give you twenty bucks to change my tire."

"No thanks, I gave you my price."

"Thirty-five then. It's all I have."

"Sorry."

She stood there looking at me for several seconds and then her shoulders slumped in defeat and she said, "Okay. Change my tire and I'll do what you want."

"No way. Payment up front. You give me the blow job and then I'll change the tire."

"You don't like me so how do I know you won't take off as soon as I'm done?"

"How do I know you won't laugh at me and tell me to go to hell when I finish and ask for payment? You want my help, we do it my way. Head first and then I help."

"Bastard!" she snarled and then walked around the truck and got in on the passenger side. I unzipped and took out my cock and she looked at it and said:

"Just so you know, I don't swallow."

"Then get out of the truck. To me it isn't a blow job unless it includes swallowing. You don't want to do it get out."

I saw a tear form in the corner of her eye and then she gave me a look of pure hatred as she lowered her head and took my cock in her mouth. It wasn't a bad blow job considering the fact that she was being more or less forced to give it and I just sat there and smiled as her head bobbed up and down. It took her about five minutes to get me to the boiling point and I warned her when I was ready to shoot. She kept her mouth on me and she swallowed it all when I let go. Then she surprised me and kept me in her mouth until I was limp and then she sat up. She looked at me while she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and the look on her face said it plainer than words:

"I did my part. Now get your worthless ass out there and change the fucking tire!"

I put my cock away, zipped up and then turned the truck heater on full blast. "Stay here and keep warm" I said and I got out of the truck and changed the tire. The temperature had been dropping fast and the slush and snow was freezing so when I was done changing the tire and putting things away in the trunk of her car I went back to the truck and gave her my arm to lean on so she wouldn't slip and fall. Not a word was spoken and when we got to her car she got in, started it up and drove away.

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It was two weeks before I saw her again. I was sitting in a booth having dinner at The Black Eyed Pea when I spotted her heading for me. She stopped at my booth and said:

"I saw you sitting here and I know how much you get off on my misfortune so I thought I'd stop by and make your day. My husband left me. Three weeks before Christmas and eight months pregnant and he is gone. Hope that brings a smile to your face" and then she turned and walked away.

I didn't smile as she walked away; I actually felt sorry for her. I saw her stop at the counter and pay for her meal and on an impulse I got up, threw enough money down on the table to cover my ticket and a tip and I headed for the parking lot. I caught up with her as she was unlocking her car door. She saw me walking up to her and she said:

"Coming to gloat? Going to tell me how glad you are to see me being fucked over?"