Hate on the 38th

It happened so quickly and was so painful, that even that next morning, when the memory came to haunt and horrify, it all seemed blurry and out of focus — except for her face. Taylor's. Her smirk. Her taunting laugh. Those bits of it would never fade — never soften, for they were seared into Rebecca's soul — as if she had been branded by her chief rival.

A woman who had been Rebecca's co-worker at Bowman International since the erection of the company's new tower in New York. A building which housed each of the two women on the same floor, on the same projects, in cubicles not feet from each other for approximately 2 years at that point.

Yes, they had survived without killing each other, but it had always been hard — painful — as each found the other absolutely nauseating. Not unattractive mind you, as both women were tall, leggy, and stunning — but there was just something — just EVERYTHING about the other that drove them insane.

Such mutual disdain had led them down the primrose path, as each engaged in argument after argument, in private and in plain view of their office-mates. Their feud eventually becoming so vitriolic and distracting for not only their co-workers but themselves, that they were called into not one disciplinary meeting, or two, but more than either could even remember.

The last of those "get togethers" as Austin Bowman called them, had been months ago. And, perhaps foolishly, that distance in time had led Rebecca to believe that perhaps finally, she and Taylor had reached some sort of equilibrium — a plateau in their escalating office war.

That was until she, the girl with the fire-red hair, arrived home one night, with the sounds of moaning and grunting hitting her ears as soon as her key hit the lock. With speed and well-earned suspicion, she threw the door open and ran upstairs, finding there her husband with his legs spread, lying beneath Taylor, her hated rival, who sat facing the door to the room, fucking him.

On the blonde's face as she rode him hard was an evil and expectant smirk, one that read like a victory speech — a gloating eulogy to their parity. An expression that had been aimed straight at the door, making it clear that such a moment and in fact, the entirety of the seducing of the redhead's husband had been orchestrated by blonde, just for Rebecca. Just to punish and humiliate her, in the most intimate of ways.

It was a master stroke. A finishing blow, Taylor thought. One so devastating and hurtful that Rebecca would have no choice but to quit her job, and leave the 38th floor of Bowman Tower all to her better.

The shock, the pain, the rage, all led Rebecca to scream and yell, as Kevin quickly tried to pull his cock out of Taylor mid-thrust, and run to his spurned wife. But for that attempt Taylor was ready, and before Rebecca's traitorous husband could even sit up, the blonde reached down, grabbed the comforter beneath both of them, and used it and her sexy bottom to keep him pinned.

Then, as the bed-bound man struggled beneath her, and as Rebecca stood mouth open and fists clenched, Taylor sped up her riding. Her rod-centered bouncing. And within seconds, drove not only he, but herself to an explosive orgasm.

At that happening, both Taylor and Kevin screamed out out in ecstasy, as the spurned redhead could do not else but watch. Watch and cry as she buried her face in her hands and tried to leave, too hurt and dejected to fight or yell. Too wounded by her rival to do anything at that moment, but run.

But Taylor was not finished, as she needed to drive home her message of finality, and so she chased. The platinum blonde grabbing her clothes as she sprinted, catching up to Rebecca in the hall, and though wearing nothing but sweat and Kevin's fresh semen, Taylor grabbed the redhead by the shoulders and slammed her back against the wall.

Then, before Rebecca could turn all of her anger and hatred into sound or action, Taylor reached between her legs, scooped what juices she could from her red-hot sex, and then as she glared into the redhead's eyes, smeared them across the cheek and lips of the same.

It was truly a devastating exclamation point of humiliation. One that left Rebecca quivering and defeated to her very core, as she slowly and pathetically slid down the wall and to the floor. She just touching down thereupon, as Taylor said with her most venomous of tones let drift: "I win..."

Afterwards, once Taylor had left, and Kevin found Rebecca sobbing in the hall, he tried to explain — to apologize and console her in whatever way he could. But his words, his actions, his EXCUSES, meant nothing. Because, despite the dagger he helped plunge into his wife's back, this wasn't about him. It was about her. Taylor; and the last line between them being crossed — the last straw broken, along with the camel's back.

From that night on, Kevin was relegated to not just the doghouse, a shared Facebook account, and the couch, but also the back of Rebecca's mind. For first and foremost, she sought revenge. A revenge so complete and destructive that Taylor would regret ever entering the redhead's home, fucking her husband, or even thinking that she was Rebecca's equal.

Despite those fist-clenched vows of taking swift justice on Taylor, Rebecca spent the night crying. Crying and thinking, searching desperately for some master plan to ruin her enemy's life. But as the sun rose, and her cell phone's alarm went off, she had nothing — just anger, a petulant, impotent rage. One that she carried with her out her front door, into the car, the parking garage, and then into Bowman tower.

At that point, despite wanting more than anything to cause Taylor a searing and unforgettable pain, all Rebecca had in her mind was to simply work and try to breathe — try to live. And yet, in the back of her mind, in the fanciful imaginings of a desperate woman, the young redhead had hoped, that Taylor wouldn't be there when she arrived, or at all. That she would be sick, or that she would take a day to celebrate her victory.

Clinging to such wild-eyed possibilities, Rebecca walked into the ground floor elevator of the tower, and pressed the button to take her to the 38th floor. As soon as the button was depressed however, she found herself greeted from behind by Amber, personal assistant turned fiance of Austin Bowman. "Good morning, Rebecca! You have a meeting today with Mr. Bowman. Austin, to be exact."

"I do?" Rebecca asked confused, her hair a mess, her eyes bloodshot, and her eyelids puffy from a night of sobbing without sleep. "When?"

"Yes, you do! Oh, ugh ... right now, actually! Mr. Bowman is waiting for you in the conference room on your floor." Amber continued to explain, her demeanor sweet, and her smile wide.

"Do you know what the meeting is about? It wasn't on my calendar." Asked Rebecca as she fished for whatever info she could get, nervous that somehow Austin had heard about the goings-on of the night before.

"I do." Amber said shortly.

"Uh, can you tell me?" As she spoke, the elevator let loose a loud bing, announcing their arrival at the 38th floor.

"I'll let Austin do that. Good luck!" The short brunette added, her expression impenetrable, and her comment of 'good luck' ominous.

"Ok, well ... thanks, Jennifer." Rebecca said, not all to clear on which personal assistant she was talking to. Bennett and Austin's looking so similar it made it hard to tell them apart.

"Amber." The thick and busty brunette corrected, not near as infuriated by the comment as she would have been only a month prior.

"Right. Thanks!" Rebecca, embarrassed at having made such a mistake, left the elevator nonetheless, and headed towards the conference room. As she did, those about the floor watched her, gawked at her, and then quickly looked away, if the redhead's gaze moved anywhere close to them.

Their eyes told Rebecca a tale that scared her. One that made her feel as if everyone knew what was about to happen, except she. With that terror struck deep in her already wounded heart, the redhead reached, turned the handle to the office where her fate awaited, and then entered the location of her impromptu meeting with one of the two owners of Bowman Industries.

"Rebecca! Glad you're here. Have a seat." Austin said cheerfully, as he sat on one side of the overly large conference desk. His hair being, as always, immaculate, with blonde curls held perfectly in place and styled until it almost looked fake. He wore a sharkskin suit, the jacket of which hung on the back of his chair, with no tie, and a French style dress shirt with glimmering cufflinks.

But as Rebecca's eyes detached from his near angelic glory, she found to her right: Taylor, who beamed with a confidence-born smirk and the kind of glow reserved for a woman who had finally overcome their most-hated rival.

The very sight of her threatened to send Rebecca into a spiral of shame and sadness, effects she was able to restrain only by focusing on the seething hate she had for the woman.

"As you can see, I've invited Taylor too. Say hello, Taylor." Austin bid.

"GooOooooood morning, Rebecca! Rough night?" Doing as Austin asked, Taylor greeted, but in so doing, buried a verbal knife deep in the redhead's back.

At hearing the comment, Rebecca's eyes began to blink, and she grew dizzy, her swelling anger and rage threatening to explode right there, in front of her boss. But again, she fought off reaction, only by imagining what it would be like to attack Taylor — to hurt her — to beat her until she begged for mercy. As such barbaric imagery played in the redhead's mind on loop, Austin continued.

"Now look, you've both been here for awhile. You know this department. You do your jobs well. But..." The suited-man's 'but' brought a sudden end to both Rebecca's daydream of violence, and Taylor gleeful but wordless gloating.

"I think it's time for something a little different. I like to think our company is one that thinks outside the box and lets our employees' passions drive us to innovation and success. And really, I think that the reason you two have had so much conflict, is because you're both so passionate and in a lot of ways: similar. Now, I believe, that's a good thing. A great thing. And I want to utilize those dueling passions to help this department." Quickly the man spoke, not wanting to give either woman a chance to argue or even question his proposal.

"So, starting tomorrow, I'm promoting you both..." Austin's words took each on a rollercoaster of emotion, through fear, and then excitement, and then straight to confusion. Promoted to what? They each thought.

"Thompson is retiring. Which means this department needs a lead. I am making you both co-leads. That means you work together, on everything, from now on." As if Rebecca hadn't suffered enough in the last 24 hours, she again found herself beset, as her employer laid out that she and her nemesis would be bound at the hip from that day forward.

"But, I..." The blonde began before deciding to reword her question. "Wouldn't it be better to just promote one of us?" Taylor asked, her voice breaking through her nauseatingly fake all-smiles attitude. And as it did, Rebecca remained quiet, she being too overwhelmed by emotions to argue. All of this, every moment of it, seeming like hell to her.

"Maybe, but if I was promoting a single person, it wouldn't be either of you. I am choosing you two, specifically because I believe, as does Bennett, that together, when you move past your grudges, you'll be better than one person. If I'm wrong, so be it. But I'm going to be honest. If this doesn't work, and you two can't work together, or if one of you quits, I'm firing you both." There had to be a workaround. An escape hatch. A way to get rid of Rebecca, and just take the role herself, Taylor thought. Taylor hoped. But as soon as plans began to formulate, Austin shattered them as he continued.

"If Rebecca fails, you do too, Taylor. If Taylor can't hack it, Rebecca, you'll be packing up your desk. To put it simply, you two either work for us as a team, or you don't work for us at all..." There was no budge in Austin's voice. No room for negotiation. This was his decision, and it was clear by his tone that no amount of whining from either girl would dissuade him.

It was that determination, and the weight of the very idea of they two working together, and having their future's so entwined, that left each girl speechless. Speechless and winded — neither able to muster even the slightest reaction, each instead finding themselves lost in shock.

"Look ... I know it can be hard to not fall in love with certain feelings. To cling to animosity, jealousy, and petty squabbles as if we'd die without them. But I am going to be increasing your salaries ten fold. And to put it bluntly, neither of you will EVER get a better job than I am offering you right now. But offer isn't the right word, because you can't refuse this and still work here. This is a take it or leave kinda deal. Promotion or dismissal. Taylor and Rebecca the team, either here at Bowman, or in the unemployment line..." There was so much sense in his words — in his explanation. And though it was couched in a bluntness that would have normally evoked at least some reaction from near anyone, including two women as fiery as they, Austin got nothing in return.

No, instead, both Rebecca and Taylor, redhead and blonde, just stared out the window behind the Bowman brother, stunned by the prospect of having to work together, after all that happened the night before.

"Well, I'll leave you two to talk it over. Amber sent the staff emails last night, so they're ready for you two to take charge. Prove me right, ladies. Prove you are each more than your little feud." Austin added as a finish, before he stood up, grabbed his silver suit coat and left. He leaving the two women together in the conference room with their new reality. One that was already a smoldering pile of ash, though it had just begun, thanks to Taylor's cruel seduction the night before.

There, between them, silence fell. The two women sitting a few feet apart, literally unable to come to grips with the sudden binding of their futures.

Minutes passed, one after another, up into the tens and then passed even that, until finally, Taylor opened her mouth to speak. Her voice shaking, timid, and lacking all of the confidence it had before, and yet still it came. "Rebecca, I..."

"Fuck. You." Rebecca spat, her eyes still angled away from Taylor, though within them burned what appeared to be the fire of the sun.

"I deserve that, I'll admit. And there isn't anything I would rather do, than sit here and hate you. To gloat about last night, but I think you'd agree, we have to..." Always a practical girl, Taylor immediately began to try and talk Rebecca down, and calm her. She did so, knowing that though she despised the beautiful redhead, she needed her.

"Don't even fucking speak to me. I don't care about ... about this..." 'job', Rebecca was going to say, but in an instant Taylor reached out with her right hand and covered Rebecca's mouth with her palm, not even wanting the words to be spoken — terrified by what they meant for her own future.

Already passed the boiling point, Rebecca in an absolute fury, reached up and grabbed Taylor's wrist, so that she might pry it off her mouth. Taylor resisted, and together the two stood from their chairs. The blonde, closed in quickly, and wrapped her left arm around the redhead, pulling their bodies into a tight embrace, with Taylor's breasts pressing against Rebecca's back.

From such closeness, and as the redhead mumbled hatefully into the blonde's palm, all while Taylor brought her lips to Rebecca's ear and spoke calmly. "Shhh... Shh... I know you hate me. And you know, despite whatever Austin just said, I hate you... BUT, 'Becca we have to work this out! Think of the mone..."

Mid-word, an elbow drove back hard into Taylor's stomach, causing her to not only release her silencing palm, but to also lean forward with a painful, though muted groan. Rebecca, with her blood on fire turned, grabbed Taylor's golden locks, and with a hard toss, threw her in theory onto the table in the center of the room, but in practice over it and to the floor on the other side with a carpet-muted crash.

There, as the blonde laid on her back, Rebecca stormed over and dropped herself into a straddle of Taylor's abdomen. The redhead then raising her right hand high into the air, as she prepared to deliver a hard slap to Taylor's face. But as the hand raised, and then threatened to swing down, Taylor raised her two arms and guarded her face, terrified. Not of the pain, but instead of something else. "No, no, no, PLEASE, Rebecca! We can't let them know we're fighting!" Taylor pled in the loudest whisper she could muster, knowing that if either of them were too loud, the office would know, and both would be fired."

"How dare you ask me for ANYTHING!" Came Rebecca's equally hushed reply, as she abandoned her prepared slap, and instead reached for Taylor's collar, dragging her up off the floor in anger. Two reductions, both in volume and violence, that showed she too had begun to worry about the consequences of being caught.

"We have to ... we have to get out of here, we can't..." Almost hyperventilating, Taylor spoke from beneath her rival. Her state brought about by a terror that at any moment, Rebecca might scream or attack again and their jobs would be forfeit.

"Fine, slut, where...? And don't say my house, you will never step foot in my house again... I should have killed you when I caught you there..." With every word, Rebecca shook Taylor, slamming her into the carpet and then dragging her back up, only to do so again.

"M-my place then. My husband won't be home till — till later." As Taylor stuttered out her answer, feeling as if at that moment Rebecca held all the cards, the redhead began to smirk.

"Fine... We settle this there..." Rebecca said resolutely, as she released Taylor's collar and stood up above her. There, as she stood, the redhead glared down at the woman who tore her life apart just the night before, and somewhere in all she felt, she found enjoyment. Satisfaction. Not in their delayed battle, but in the reversal of roles.

So much so, in fact, that rather than leaving, she lifted her leg, and then extended it, pressing the long, sharp heel of her footwear into Taylor's breast. Digging it in without words, though Taylor swore she could hear her rival mouth out the sound of 'mmmm', even as she herself only whimpered in pain.

A pain that along with a fear of being jobless turned the blonde completely submissive, pushing her to just lay there, and take the punishment. All as she looked up at her rival with a pleaful expression.

Please... Her face said.

Not here... Her eyes pled.

After a few moments of grinding her heel deep into the blonde's breast, Rebecca had satiated her desire to hurt and humiliate Taylor. At least enough to wait — to pause their engagement and move it somewhere outside of the prying eyes of Bowman Tower.

With such satiation playing both the role as antidote and teaser, the redhead pulled her leg back and left — smiling wide at all those employees on the floor. Her every ounce of pain and heartbreak forgotten, it having been seemingly healed by her moments spent bending Taylor to her will.

An effect and replacement of emotions she would from that day on never forget, one that she found herself fixated on as she made her way to the garage, her car, and then to Taylor's townhome. One she had been to for an office party, she was forced to go to, some months back.

Rebecca arriving only moments before Taylor, each parking in the business' professional's two reserved spots just feet in front of her door. There, as each exited their cars, the two women did not speak, each instead walking in silence together to the front door, as Taylor brandished her keys and did the unlocking.