Hate Fuck

The moment I saw Lucille for the first time, I hated her. She had golden platinum blonde hair in large curls that bounced as she pranced through the hallway on her shiny four-inch nude-colored platform heels. She wore a tight pencil dress that accentuated her curves. With double-D breasts; a firm, round ass; and a small waist in between, her figure was the hourglass shape that made every woman jealous and every man uncomfortable in his business slacks. Every man, that is, except me. I loathed her and her porcelain skin, her ruby lips, her power walk. She walked like she knew she could get whatever she wanted from whomever she wanted. What I hated most about her was that she probably could.

Unsurprisingly, her interview went swimmingly (for her). There were three interviewers: Daniella, Kyro, and myself. Each of her answers were perfect, laced with just the right amount of southern honey to draw us in. She knew when the interview was over and stood before us, giving us an ideal view of long legs clad in sheer pantyhose. I could hardly contain my disdain as she shook our hands and trotted out. Predictably, Kylo watched her ass wiggle out the door and down the hall.

"Wow, she's-"

"Perfect for the job!" Daniella interrupted, unknowingly blocking Kylo from saying something unprofessional.

"My thoughts exactly," he said, giving me an impish look to indicate those were not his thoughts exactly.

"Don't you think she's a little..." stuck-up? Bitchy? Exactly the kind of girl we all hated in high school? "Over-enthusiastic?"

"That's the best part!" Daniella gushed, completely missing what I meant. "She will get our team excited! This is exactly what we need!"

Kylo suppressed a snicker. 'She'll get them excited, all right,' his expression read. I shook my head.

"Well, if you guys really like her..." I started, emphasizing the resignation in my tone.

"Yes. Great. I will call her." Kylo rushed off as if someone else would try to beat him to it. Daniella nodded as if everything was falling into place the way it should, collected her notes from the interview, and shuffled back to her desk. I sighed and returned to mine, as well.

I had never been especially close with any of the ladies in the office, but we formed a sort of bond after Luci started. A common enemy will do that to a group of people. We watched as she trotted proudly around the office, quickly becoming a favorite among the leaders-once again, all except me. I ignored her as much as I could, but when I couldn't, I did my best to hide my contempt for her, never calling her "Ms. Barbie" or "Dolly" to her face (despite the temptation to do so).

Throughout her first few months, I got the sense that she was trying to get my attention. She would walk past my office to the copy room, back to her desk, then back again, laughingly saying, "Whoopsie!" as if she had forgotten something. Maybe she did; I never paid much mind. She would always look my way as she walked by, trying to catch my eyes, and I would stare fixedly at my screen in return, as if the email I was typing required much more focus than it did. Actually, usually the emails were about her. I confess I had made a game of sending little jokes about her-or written impressions of her-to Susannah, one of the older broads I had recently bonded with over our mutual disdain for Ms. Barbie. Susannah often joked that Ms. Barbie had a crush on me, and recently she had overheard the broad complaining to Daniella that I didn't seem to like her. In the moment, I had resolved to brighten up my behavior towards her-after all, she hadn't done anything wrong-but the resolve had weakened the first time I saw her after that. I still didn't know exactly why. Is it wrong to hate someone for no reason?

Wrong or not, I did, and the longer she worked there, the more my hatred for her burned. Finally, at six months, Luci couldn't stand it anymore. I didn't see her much for a whole week, but on Friday around 3:00, she knocked lightly on my door. The timidity shocked me, and I looked up with a surprised and quizzical look on my face.

"Hey, Julian... could we talk?" She asked, again stunning me with her unusually shy advance. I nodded, and she closed the door. A bit odd, but I shrugged it off. It wasn't against company policy, though atypical for a man and a woman to converse alone with the door closed.

"Listen... I'm not sure how to say this exactly..."

For some reason, my heart was racing. Why was I nervous? I hadn't done anything wrong.

"but over the past six months that I've worked here... I've gotten the sense that... well... do you not like me? I'm sorry, that sounds so juvenile."

I swallowed. Uh-oh. She was confronting me? I wasn't sure how to respond.

"It just seems like you don't like me at all. Even in the interview, Daniella, Kylo and I got along great, but you seemed tense. I wondered if you had a problem with one of them. But now that I've been here a while, I know you go out for drinks with Kylo every Friday night, and you and Daniella get along fine. I know it's me. So what is it about me?" She was looking straight at me, her arms folded, her shoulders slightly slumped in either a defensive or submissive stance, I wasn't sure.

"It's not you," I said after a painful silence. "I've just been really stressed lately."

"For six months?" She asked. I smiled sheepishly, raising my right hand to my left shoulder as if to rub a stress-related knot.

"Pressures of leadership, I guess," I chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood. Her brows furled in concern, but perhaps also disbelief. She came around the desk to the back of my chair.

"Hm, you do seem tense. Do you mind?" She had hardly asked before placing her hands on my shoulders and kneading them with her fingers. A feeling stirred within me, disgust mixed with something else.

"That's okay!" I practically jumped out of my seat. "I'll see a professional about it this weekend."

At first she was taken aback; then, she was angry.

"It IS me!" She said, putting her hands on her hips. "You hate me! Tell me why."

"Luci, I don't hate you!"

"Yes you do! What is it? Do you not like the work I do?"

"No, you do great work. Your numbers were excellent since day one."

"Okay, then is it how I keep my desk?"

"What are you talking about? You're more organized than anyone."

"Is it how I look? Do I remind you of someone?"

I hesitated too long.

"I do, don't I! I remind you of someone! Who is it? An ex-girlfriend?"

"No," I said, becoming sheepish again as my mind put the pieces together.

"Who is it, then? You know. Tell me."

"It's a lot of people, okay? The cheerleader. The popular girl. Barbie. The sorority girl. The supermodel. Little Miss Perfect. You never mess up. You're always here on time, looking perfect, walking like you own the place."

"You don't like the way I walk?"

"I don't like anything about you!" I finally said, a little louder than I intended.

"Why? Because you think I'm unattainable? You think I'm perfect?"

"No! I think YOU think you're perfect. You think you're better than everyone else. You think all the guys want you and all the girls want to be you, just like all the preppy girls in high school."

"So what? Maybe it's true. You said it yourself-my numbers are great, my desk is neat, I do my job well, and I look great every day. Is there a problem with that? Are you mad because you could never get a girl like me in high school?"

"What?!"

"Yeah, that's it, isn't it? You always hated girls who had it together, because they were all too good for you, huh?" Her defensive stance had changed. Now she had both hands on her hips and was looking at me once again from atop her throne, the queen of the world.

"No. They weren't too good for me, and you aren't, either. But you're so damn proud that it makes me sick. Someone ought to put you in your place."

"And what is my place?" She asked, the fire rising in her dark blue eyes. "You think I don't deserve my looks, my status? What are you going to do about it?"

Suddenly, I lost it. Something came over me, and I couldn't hold myself back anymore. I grabbed her wrist, sat down in my chair, and pulled her roughly over my lap, ignoring her surprised gasp. Before she could steady herself, I reached to the hem of her pencil dress and pulled it up over her perfect rear, revealing the tops of her thigh-high pantyhose and her red lace thong. With one hand holding her firmly in place, I started raining down smacks all over her pale cheeks. The more she bounced, kicked, and whined, the harder I smacked. I reached up to the elastic lace of her thong and yanked it down, then returned to my work reddening her ass. I moved down to her upper thighs and back up. Finally, when her skin was good and red, my hand was starting to hurt, and her protests had ceased, I righted her beside me. Her face had reddened deeply and her mascara was smeared. There was a short silence between us as we stared at each other, and then she muttered,

"Take me now."

"What?" I asked, sure I had heard her wrong. Irritation colored her tone as she repeated,

"Take me. Now."

I rose from my chair and threw her against the wall, her back to me. I pressed my cock through my trousers against her reddened ass and reached around her with both hands, one clutching her left nipple and the other making its way to her clit. I dipped a finger into her and she was soaked. Bringing the moisture up to her nub, I pressed my fingers against it, rubbing her hard while I pinched her nipple. She moaned hungrily. I flipped her around, bowing my head to her right nipple and biting it. Her hands were in my hair, pulling me against her as I sucked, licked, and bit at her tender flesh. I had a knee between her legs and she was bucking against it, pressing herself into me, greedily seeking more pleasure. Finally I moved my hands to my belt, undoing my trousers as I continued biting her nipples. When I had them off along with my boxers, I threw her over the desk and took her, penetrating her deeply all at once. She started to scream and I covered her mouth, slapping her ass again to remind her of her place. She bit down on my hand but I held it there, pinching her nipple with my other hand. I pounded her deep and hard against the desk, her hips thudding on the wood and her moans muffled by my palm. I moved the hand from my nipple into her hair and clutched it tightly, pulling her head back as I felt my orgasm rising inside me. Just before it overtook me, I pulled out of her, pushed her down over the desk, and came onto her back in several hot spurts.

Moving my hand from her hair to her clit, I rubbed her in slow, wide circles, bringing them tighter and faster as she bucked against me. When her moans and movements became more urgent, I pressed the bottom of my palm into her opening and vibrated my fingers against her clit. Groaning with satisfaction, she came hard into my open palm.