Christmas Party Intrusion

Some of the offices keep kitchen supplies and stuff in their kitchenettes, but access to these areas is a problem at 8:30 in the evening. Most keycards are restricted to certain areas and certain times; generally working hours. The way the building is set up, is that it`s actually three different buildings connected with links. The building to the south, or the south wing, is where the conference centre is and was opened for the party. The building in the middle is the laboratory and testing area, the area where I generally confine myself to corridor number 3. At the north end, or north wing are most of the offices, at least the offices that aren`t part of the science group directly. The Styrofoam cups were sitting in a north wing kitchenette, but inaccessible to most.

The strange thing about my access, given the amount of movement I do in a normal day, is that it`s universal. This isn`t unique to my position, most of the scientists at a certain level are given free range over the building. It`s a bizarre status thing, where someone, somewhere along the line decided that it was important to the esteem of our position to have this on our access profile. I actually have access to more places in the building than the building operator; he doesn`t have uninterrupted access to certain sample rooms.

"I can get in there," I said un-intrusively below the general rumbling of despair over the impossibility of the situation.

Nobody seemed to notice, so I said it again to nobody in particular, "my card will work, I can go."

This time the well-dressed guy who I flirted with earlier picked up my voice over the other voices that prevented me from even hearing myself. "You can get in Michelle? Ok, let's go!"

He was inviting himself to go with me. It`s not as if I'd have been able to find them by myself and I expected someone to come with me, but at the same time it dawned on me that I hadn't really thought it through when I volunteered. It was a pretty long walk, the hallways would be dark and I was a little drunk. After presenting myself as a hero I couldn't really decide not to. I wasn`t scared of him in a violent or sexual way, I was scared of having nothing to talk about while walking all the way there and just being plain awkward.

"Come on, I`ll show you where they are, and be back in no time," he was motioning me to follow, "unless you want to give me your card?"

I couldn't do that, that`s a security breach I wasn`t willing to make, the minor one of escorting him with my access was fine. I felt nervous, but the wine had given me some social courage and it wasn`t completely drained yet. Nobody else in the room seemed to notice that I volunteered to go, I figured I could just slip out and come back. With that in mind I left the comfort of the noise, and safety blanket of being interrupted, to enter the dark corridor with a stranger whom I saw all the time.

I really had no idea what to say, it was hard to think that we would have anything in common. He wasn`t saying much either, his mood seemed changed by the silence of the corridor. It is a strange feeling to go from a loud, cheerful and well-lit room to a quiet, darkened and sleepy corridor. The only sounds were the buzzing of the emergency lights and the clicking of my shoes, as the struck the tiled floor in rhythm. I find silence between strangers so uncomfortable, I`m not even sure why there isn't a rational reason. I didn`t know if he could sense me getting uncomfortable, I was unable to read anything in him, I couldn`t tell if he was enjoying my eroding nerves or if he was just as nervous as me; he wasn`t showing anything. I felt like I had to say something to fill the void.

"I've seen you around here before." I`m not sure I could have rehearsed a more ditzy thing to say. Of course I`ve seen him around there before, he only works in the building! I really do have a special way of making any sort of intellectual ability that I have seem incredulous to anyone I`ve spoken to socially. Any time I feel some pressure my words come out all wrong.

He didn`t answer the open ended statement right away, perhaps there was no good way to answer it. It certainly gave me time to feel the proverbial dunce cap on my head.

Then, as if composing himself, he said, "You don`t know my name, do you?"

I paused for what felt like a minute, and then started laughing uncontrollably. The truth of the statement, in that moment, felt so funny to me. I was laughing so hard that I felt tears in my eyes as I managed to say, "I have no idea!" Now he was laughing right along with me, I'm not sure why I found it so funny, perhaps it was relief that he mentioned it and that we had an ice breaker.

He told me that his name was Deeb, and that was my que for my next, and most spectacular, of social blunders. "Is that Greek?" I asked with my ditz on full and open display. He explained to me, in good humour, about some of the historical animosity between the Turks and the Greeks in the Anatolian peninsula. And about how certain members of his family may have taken such a question as a mortal insult. Now I was laughing even more and leaning on his arm to keep my balance; the no contact rule had unconsciously been breached. My arm stayed on his as we got to the end of the lab building corridor and I opened the link to the office building.

Talking was coming naturally now. It felt like after learning his name, and "mortally insulting" it, that we were now friends. It didn`t feel like flirting anymore, just that we were having a good time walking down the narrowly lit corridors and carrying on nonsense. We stopped when we got to the restrooms.

"Just a minute." He said as he motioned toward the door.

Being silly, "Be quick about it, I'm scared of the dark," I said in an attempt to keep up with my ditzy pace that I had set.

"Just come in." The way he said this was almost mocking and almost daring. Like a kid promising you that you would be cool if you just went along.

"That`s a men's room, I can't." All of my emphasis and intonation was on the hard "t".

"Never seen a urinal? Come on, nobody will catch you." He was half laughing with a mischievous smile.

I actually never had seen a urinal, but that was hardly what was drawing me into the washroom. There was that sense of danger too. That's really what I had been flirting with all along: danger. How far could I push myself to the edge without going over? I wanted just enough to see the other side, to feel the electric feeling of being somewhere I shouldn't be, with someone I shouldn't be with. In no way was this an indictment of my life, my comforts and my family, just an insatiable need to see through the window. As if I was drawn to the complete darkness, I walked into the washroom behind my new friend Deeb.

"I'm just looking for the light." The washroom didn`t have emergency lights, it was completely dark once the door closed. I stood still and let Deeb grope the walls looking for the switch. I felt some sort of anticipation building, until suddenly the light went on. I was still standing beside the door, close enough to exit if need be. The washroom was small, just like the women's across the hall, but instead of two stalls there was a stall with a single urinal beside it. It was just hanging on the wall, as I imagine they always are, but there still was something alien about it. Beside the entrance was a single booth sink with a large mirror starting from the counter, making it so no matter which way I looked the urinal was visible.

Deeb stepped up to the urinal, undid his pants and starting to go. I know that this is what he came into the washroom to do, but nevertheless, it seemed so brazen. I moved over to lean against the counter. I wasn't about to be scared off. He went for a long time. The sound alternated from high to low trickling water and he groaned and grunted from time to time; I'm not sure if the display was for my benefit but it did sound sexual. We had stopped talking, but I didn't feel uncomfortable. This was a very unusual situation, in a very unusual setting, and I had been around long enough to know what was coming. He was going to try to fuck me.

I knew that I had to leave the washroom before he turned around, but my feet were failing me. My brain was giving signals that my body paid no attention to. This washroom was far too hot, the tension was unmistakable. I no longer questioned what he was thinking. I couldn't blame him; I had given all of the signals from when our eyes met over an hour previously. The flirting had gone way over the line, no question about that, but I still had my wits to stop it. I don't know why I wasn't moving.

He turned around, his eyes were devouring me. I felt like a deer in headlights. He calmly stepped toward the sink, toward me, and I tried to take a step to the side. His hand found my right hip and pushed me sideways, back to the sink. My heart was racing a mile a minute, I felt almost powerless. He started kissing me aggressively, while his hands roamed up and down my back; my shawl falling to the side exposing my shoulders. I was pinned against the sink counter and fully engaged in kissing back. The stubble on his face rubbed coarsely against my cheeks and chin as we kissed in uncoordinated passion, the scratching engaged my nerves. While all this was going on he got his hands around my thighs and encouraged me to sit on the counter.

I kicked off my shoes and wrapped my legs around his waist. Our bodies were aligned in a fully sexual position as we kissed, sucked and bit at each other's lips. He grabbed my bottom and pulled our hips together, so that I could feel his very hard cock pressed between my legs. My adrenaline was making my thoughts very clear -- I wanted to get fucked by him. I wanted to get fucked hard and bad by him. I wanted to get fucked in this little dimly lit washroom, I wanted to get fucked like the office whore, I wanted to get fucked and feel so dirty. I wanted him to rip off my nylons and shove his cock where I knew I couldn`t let him. And that was the other thing I realized with a sinking feeling, I couldn't let him.

"Deeb," I said, but he ignored and continued to kiss, "Deeb!" I had stopped kissing and felt deflated. "Deeb, please stop............................Deeb, you have to stop."

"What? What's the problem?" He stopped briefly to say, before burying his face in my neck in an attempt to continue the tryst, his hands still roaming and our bodies pressed.

"Come on Deeb, we can't do this." My tone was pleading for him to just see what I meant without having to actually say it.

"We're doing it," he continued to kiss and grope, "you know you want it. Tell me you want it." His voice was oozing with desperate passion.

"I want it." I started to return the kissing again before regaining my composure, "I want it Deeb, but I can't and this has to stop; please."

While I pleaded, his hand found its way between my legs. "You're hot," he hissed into my ear, "I can feel your heat.............you're wet............you need it."

I tried to pull his hand away, but from my position it was no use. I felt so conflicted in that moment. I was right on the edge of giving in completely, and at the same time my flight response was in the red. He was feeling my most intimate place, feeling my body betray my pleas for him to stop. Inside of me the battle was raging; there was an ebb in flow that I was losing a little bit more each time. Soon he was peeling my stockings off, removing one leg at a time, never losing his position. Despite my verbal protests, I was now sitting on the counter pressed against the edge of the sink, my dress pushed up around my hips, my legs bare and panties to protect me. The sink felt cold on my butt as it pushed uncomfortably into my tailbone.

As I lost my clothes, the severity of the situation was coming even more into focus. If I didn't do something drastic I was going to get fucked. I felt like I just couldn't let that happen. Aside from the fact that he didn't have a condom and the fact that I'm married, there was the embarrassment of it. What if he told people? What if someone else had access and came looking for us? They would find us fucking on a dirty sink. What about my marriage vows? What about the fact that I just learned this guy's name 20 minutes ago? Everything was wrong. It didn't matter what my body was saying, the rational me had to put a stop to it and put a stop to it now.

I gathered my resolve and said in a very firm and loud voice, "I mean it! STOP!" This was my voice that only those closest to me had ever heard. It was an attempt to shed my submissive nature in his presence and show that I could be forceful while being backed in a corner. There could be no doubt as to the seriousness and the finality of the statement. I was telling him that the game was over, and he had to really stop, no more convincing, no more pushing and no more pulling.

The only thing was, in my compromising position, he was the one who had to relent. The counter was not a large one - the walls framed it like a booth, the paper towel dispenser was to my right and the sink in the middle took up most of the space. The lip of the sink was now pressing very hard into my tailbone as he pinned me with more pressure. The way my legs were around his waist gave me no leverage to kick or push anything, and the mirror was too far away to lean against and try to push with my hands. I was trapped unless he backed off and let me down.

"Deeb............let me go." I said in a whiny voice like a kid asking her brother to give her a turn.

I could hear his laboured breath and feel him getting angry. He didn't move, he just kept me pinned there and seemed to be ignoring everything. I tried to stay very still, hoping that he would back away and then we could both gather ourselves. I wanted to put my feet on the ground but he wasn't giving me any space. I could hear his breath getting even more laboured, like he was sucking air through the back of his nostrils and pushing it out his mouth.

I raised my eyes to meet his but when we met I'm not sure he even saw mine. His eyes looked like empty shells that seemed looked right past me. It was a frightening sight; a sight I will never forget. He looked disconnected from being human, more like an angry bull. His breath complimented his expression, both seemed foreign to humanity. The most striking feature was how the light was being reflected from deep in his retina making them glow. He looked so eerily evil.

I decided to make another plea, "Deeb, please just let me go," I dropped the whine and went back to a firmer expression to snap him out of his daze. There was again no response. The firmness of his hold had not relented one bit. "If you don't let me go..........."

"You'll do what?" He interrupted me with a question that I had never thought I'd have to answer. The tone of his voice was deep and guttural. His breath was still deep but now more evenly paced.

"Just let me go!" I was getting quite angry. I was done feeling sympathy for leading him on. I wasn't going to take the blame for him confining me. I felt rage surge through me, having no option for flight, I gave my hope to fight. I started flailing any part of my body I could. I got my arm free and scratched him as hard as I could on his face. The nail on my middle finger dug into his temple and I pulled down, the result was an immediate red streak down the side of his face. The cut was nasty and deep, it caused him to briefly stumble back and my feet hit the floor.

Before I was able to gather myself, the back of his hand struck me with considerable force. He had closed his fist and hit me right across my mouth with his knuckle. I was completely stunned. I had never been punched before, the whole side of my face and my teeth felt numb. I could see a stream of dark red blood flow down as it gushed from my lip. It hurt too badly for me to even cry.

"You fucking bitch!" He was pushing me back up on the counter while pinching my neck right below my jaw. "You fucking cut me! You stupid fucking bitch!"

My urge to fight was paralyzed by fear. I didn't want him to beat me up more, I just wanted to get away from him, but one glance at his angry eyes told me that he wasn't about to let that happen. He was raving; I never knew the real meaning of "raving mad" until this. Saliva was dripping from his mouth. The gash I had given him on the side of his face was bleeding profusely and making him look even more terrifying.

"I'm sorry! Please, I'm sorry! I'm fucking sorry!" I was now sobbing openly. My tears were an unconscious reaction to the stress of what was happening, appealing to his strength to have mercy on me, letting him know this was a fight I couldn`t win. "Please...........I'm sorry.......Deeb......I'm sorry..."

"Sorry for being a stupid cunt?"

His tone was taunting and I hate that word, but I was not feeling like I was in a position to argue, "yes, for being a stupid......"

"A stupid what?"

"I'm stupid...."

"A......stupid.....what?" He repeated slowly and deliberately with the emphasis on "what". While he said this his other hand grabbed the back of my head and pulled down on my hair.

He was making me say it, "I'm sorry for being a stupid .....cunt," I managed to spit out between his two handed grip that was starting to feel like a vice; his right hand still pinching firmly behind my jaw.

This was so humiliating and I felt completely powerless to stop it. I could tell he was enjoying this, enjoying breaking my will. The numbness in my face and teeth had given way to a pulsing pain; I wasn`t even sure if I still had all my teeth. His sleeves were rolled up, and the blood from my lip was running down his forearm, it looked bright red where it had spread out.

He released the grip on the back of my head and pushed me into the corner of the sink area, making me bend uncomfortably around the sink. I was pinned in much the same way as I was before I clawed his face but now I wasn't being allowed to sit up, which made the sink even more uncomfortable than it had been before. He removed his grip from under my jaw and I felt a bit of relief in breathing easier.

I looked up at the walls of the counter stall and the blood had spread all over. The fight we were having was a very bloody one. Although my lip was bleeding badly, I think most of the blood was his. I must have dug right into the vein of his temple. He tried to wipe it off but that just served to spread it around. It was smeared on both walls that enclosed the stall, and he had blood all over his clothes. I looked up at him trying to avoid making eye contact, but he wasn't looking at me anyway. He was looking at himself in the mirror, almost as if I wasn't there. He wasn't blinking at all; it was as if he was in some sort of trance. At that moment he started to laugh, but this wasn't the same laugh he had in the hallway, this was the laugh of a maniac; nothing I ever expected to hear outside of a cartoon. It sounded sinister, crazy and what can only be described as deranged.

He broke the laugh as abruptly as it started and turned his attention back to me. I had been too scared to even attempt to break free. I felt like he had to let me go. There were security cameras outside in the hallway, and to this point we had just had a fight that I would not want to report to anyone. The circumstances of the fight were just too compromising for me. I also didn't want to get into an argument over who threw the first punch or why it was thrown. I just wanted this to be over.

"Deeb, please..................I'll help clean up..........just let's go home.........." I said this while pulling myself back to the seated position on the counter this had started in.

"You think this is over?" His tone was quizzical and strangely conversational.