Misadventures of Oakley

Greetings Earthlings,

It's been a long time. My laptop broke amidst the apocalypse and all of my writing was lost. ALL of it. I gave up on writing for a long while, except for this little story I kept coming back to that was just going to be for myself. But I fell in love with these characters over the months I spent with them, and I hope a few of you do too. I don't want them to disappear.

There are 9 chapters written and I will be submitting each new chapter the day the last one gets published. So enjoy the misadventures of Oakley and Jett.

Oakley sipped her poorly mixed beverage. She had been told it was cranberry juice and vodka, but it tasted like sugary rubbing alcohol.

Her overwhelming irritation was making it exceedingly difficult not to crush the distressed styrofoam cup in her hand.

The workplace was in complete disarray. What were once neat, organized desks were now a cluttered mess of papers and office supplies. It wasn't the apocalypse, it was Christmas, yet everyone acted like they wouldn't have to clean it all tomorrow.

Everyone was in high spirits, drinking and laughing loudly in their ugly sweaters. A plastic Christmas tree leaned crooked against the wall, with bright multicolored lights and badly crafted ornaments hung randomly around the sparse branches. Badly cut paper stars had been hung at random from the beige ceiling tiles.

Oakley fumed. Her face flushed, but was no more red than any of the other drunken slobs around her.

She grumbled to herself, making every effort not to punch the speaker blasting holiday music, and rip the puff balls off her scratchy sweater she had been forcefully requested to wear.

Oakley was three drinks deep already, and she was far from finished. Her eyes periodically flashed to the clock. She counted the minutes, waiting for the moment she could sprint home.

It wasn't that she disliked the people she worked with. They certainly were friendly, a behavior that's very common in small towns like this. You have to be nice, because you're stuck with the same people every day. Everyone is in everyone's business all the time.

Most of the people who grew up in Veniceville quickly leave after school in hopes of never returning. Who could blame them?

They were so far in the country, that there were absolutely no attributes of Venice. The brain cell deficient people who settled this land probably thought smooshing an Italian word with "ville" would make it sound elegant and lavish. What a disappointment to tourists.

The town's population dwindled down year after year. Folks who drove through would say it felt like being stuck decades in the past. There weren't many redeeming factors to Veniceville, but it wasn't all bad.

Oakley was born and raised there, though she didn't hate it as much as most of her classmates and friends did. She did leave to go to college, where she got a degree in communications, but ended up right back here.

She loved this town. She loved the trees, the wildlife, how you could walk into the woods and get lost forever, instead of ending up in a subdivision. She even loved the incredibly dense people inhabiting the town. She loved that she could walk down any street and someone would care to smile, wave and tell her to have a good day. With the exception of one person, of course.

With eyes burning with hatred she took another sip of her drink, looking over to Jett and his arrogant ass planted right on her desk.

He was sitting on top of what had been meticulously organized paperwork, laughing with two other coworkers. His presence forced her to sit a few desks over. This particular one belonged to a much larger man who's back side had abused and completely flattened the padding. And she didn't want to admit it to herself, but there was definitely a bad smell. But Oakley would pretty much do anything to avoid Jett.

Oakley moved back to Veniceville a few years ago right after graduating college. She found a great apartment, and a cozy office job at the local PCN Cardboard Co. branch.

It had been a wonderful place to work, until a few weeks ago. Nothing exciting ever happened, but she was comfortable and happy. Routine was not always a bad thing. But now that Jett moved back, her little bubble of safety had popped.

Oakley had known him her whole life. They lived on the same block and were the same age. The town only had one school, and it consisted of only a few hundred students, which meant she was forced to be in his vicinity constantly.

When they were children they would play in the woods, build forts and make fake names for their fantasy kingdoms. They would sneak out and stay up all night, but half the time they would fall asleep and get grounded when their parents found them sound asleep in the backyard.

And then one day his attitude turned sour. It was a very abrupt change, as if it happened overnight. One day he just told her to 'go away.'

After that, the only time he acknowledged her was at school. Either to pull her hair childishly, or call her names in front of his newly acquired friends.

He terrorized her all through elementary school, and high school was even worse. He tripped her in the hallway, put gum in her hair, and anything else his adolescent brain could concoct.

As his vocabulary rapidly expanded, his insults became more creative. He taunted her about her figure, her hair, her attitude. It was a miracle his nose had still remained unbroken every time she hit him for calling her 'flat' or 'too skinny,' whether she was or not. The one time she went tanning, Jett told her she looked even paler, and she never bothered doing that again.

The day Jett left for college was a day Oakley celebrated. The very last time she saw him was at a graduation party. He bumped into her, purposefully spilling his entire drink down her back.

Oakley had had alcohol before, but this was the first time she had ever been drunk enough to stumble, or at least enough to be brutally honest. She turned around and with a wide smile said "I never have to see you again!"

The way she said that with such a genuine expression, completely unphased by her soaked shirt made his smile drop. Jett looked shocked and offended, but said nothing, and quickly pushed past her.

This victory gave her a high that lasted weeks. He was gone for good. He always talked about how he would leave for the city and never come back. What a dream come true for both of them.

Oakley had seen pictures of Jett when her friends gossiped, a hobby they passionately partook In day and night. She never commented and never cared. If they asked about him she shrugged. She already had her victory, better not to jinx it.

She was surprised to hear he even graduated college, because from what she was hearing all he did was get into trouble.

He joined some punk band, started doing ridiculous things with his black hair, and gained an excess amount of horrifically ironic tattoos.

Oakley had wished upon a star, and it had come true. He was never going to come back. Why would he want to? Especially with his new crunchy look that she did not appreciate. If he came back looking like that there's no way people wouldn't talk.

But he did come back, and no one batted an eye at his appearance. In fact everyone seemed elated. Some of the elderly women that regularly loitered at the local diner we're fascinated and always asked to see his tattoos.

It wasn't a huge deal until he got a job at the PCN Cardboard Co. local branch. Ignoring him at the grocery store, the post office, the bank, was all extremely tiring but manageable. Now she was forced to be face to face with him 9 hours a day, five days a week. But they weren't in school anymore, they were grown adults.

It only took one week before the tormenting began. Just to give a quick tug on her hair, and all too often to snap her bra. All the same childish tricks that infuriated her.

What made her blood boil as she kept drinking, no longer keeping track of how many she'd had, was that while she had been side by side in the elevator with him this morning he reached his finger down the back of her skirt and hooked it around her panties, attempting to tease her with a wedgie. But as she grew so did her change in clothing, and instead of cotton panties he pulled at the waist of her G string.

Oakley could tell he was surprised because he hesitated when his finger hooked around the thin string instead of fabric, but he quickly snapped it against her skin.

He let out an 'oof' when Oakley retaliated by elbowing him in the ribs as hard as she could. They both smiled politely when the oblivious man in front of them in the elevator turned for a moment.

Oakley carefully placed her paperwork on her desk and retreated to the bathroom to adjust her thong, which she was not eager to wear at work after that experience.

By the time she was out, Jett was already sitting on her desk, having no regard for meticulous organization. He had knocked over her cup of pens, and purposefully toppled the stacks of paper. She couldn't kick him off, he was already talking with Kevin and Ryan. That wouldn't be a good look for her.

He took her town, her job, but dammit he wasn't going to take her desk. Oakley wasn't a very spiteful person, but for Jett she made the exception.

'Its time for him to get the fuck out of here,' she thought.

Somehow Oakley would find a way to make him quit, or even better, get fired. Whatever lengths she had to resort to to get him out of here. She was tired of letting him ruin everything. She was going to force him out. They weren't kids anymore, she didn't need to take this abuse from a bully.

He didn't belong here anyway. You could see his tattoos creeping out shirt collar and up his neck. He still spiked his hair a bit, which always made Oakley cringe. He put an enormous effort into not looking like he came from Veniceville.

Oakley was so absorbed in her thoughts of loathing that she almost didn't notice when Jett removed his lazy ass from her desk to go down the hall into the empty meeting room.

Oakley downed her drink and stood up confidently. This was her chance. Fueled by liquid courage, she was going to demand he leave. She'd threaten him, somehow scare him into quitting.

Absolutely no one paid any mind, full of Christmas cheer and drunk on cheap vodka. Oakley stepped in to find Jett crouched down to a cracked open window, blowing smoke out into the cold air.

Oakley rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Are you serious?" She said condescendingly.

"What, are you going to tell on me?" He said in a voice overflowing with sarcasm.

"Yeah actually," she replied, crossing her arms. "I've come to tell you that you're going to quit."

Jett closed the window and put the oil pen in his pocket. "You know you can't fire me right?"

"Well, that's beside the point," she said seriously with a small hiccup.

"I don't think you get to declare my resignation."

"Ugh, fine. Then I'll get you fired."

Jett put his hands in his pockets as he casually approached her. "You like me way too much to get me fired."

"I assure you I do not. Get out. Go," she demanded, swaying while she tried to shoo him out the door.

"Hey, I'm not a opossum you can chase out of a garage," Jett said as he put his hand behind her back and expertly unhooked her bra in an instant.

Oakley didn't hesitate to slap him across the face. "I HATE when you do that!"

She had slapped him countless times, this was no special occasion, and yet as always he acted completely unphased.

Oakley grabbed Jett's skinny tie and yanked him down to her level.

Jett choked, not expecting the hard pull. "Yes?" He said playfully.

"I want you OUT."

Jett broke out into a smile. "Why would I do that?"

Oakley, not concerned whatsoever that she was choking him, clumsily poked him in the chest and hissed "because I SAID so."

"Oh, so now you get to tell me what to do? When did that start?"

Oakley jabbed her finger on his chest harder and said, "right NOW."

The tie slipped out of her fingers as Jett got on his knees, now looking up at her. "Then tell me what to do."

Oakley could only let out a long, awkward "uuh" as Jett leaned all the way down to gently sweep his fingers along her ankles and kiss the top of her foot.

"Wait, hey! No, what the hell are you doing?!" She scolded, pulling her foot away from him. If she kicked him she would easily break his nose, and then she would get fired.

"Anything you want, Mistress, please tell me what to do," he answered calmly, sitting back on his ankles with an eager look in his eyes.

Oakley's face twisted in eight different directions. "This isn't funny!" She spat. She had underestimated what lengths he'd go to to make her livid.

While the gears in her brain grinded to a halt, he started to slide his hands along her smooth legs.

He leaned forward and started to leave a trail of kisses and small bites on her inner thighs, moving up impatiently.

Oakley tried to pull down her skirt but it didn't matter, he was already underneath, his tongue gliding between her legs.

Without hesitation Jett hooked his finger and pulled her panties to the side, bringing his tongue to her warm pussy.

"O-oh," she stuttered, taken by surprise by the sudden pleasurable sensations.

Oakley's eyes fluttered, her knees shaking. It felt impossible to breathe. His tongue circled around her clit in all different directions, not missing a spot.

When her addled brain reminded her of who owned the tongue, she instinctively grabbed at his hair to shove him off, but as his tongue dipped inside of her she found herself drawing him closer.

Oakley wasnt a virgin, she'd had sex before. And they all were so mind numbingly boring that eating cardboard would have been a more thrilling experience.

Robert was as graceful and attentive in the same way a potted plant was not. Dan had a habit of picking at his teeth during sex. Josh had an absurdly big cock and had absolutely no idea how to use it, and ironically turned out to be the least enjoyable of all. And what they had in common was each one had all the personality of a wet paper towel.

The intense ache and burning pleasure Jett was so excitedly giving her was completely overpowering. It was addicting. She'd never felt anything like this before. If her eyes popped out and her brain melted, so be it. There was no way she could stop him now.

The way Oakley's fingers curled and pulled at his hair seemed to give him validation, because he only grew more enthusiastic. He looked ravenous, as if the only way to fulfill his hunger was by eating her alive.

Oakley let her legs open a bit, now welcome to take anything he could give her. Her grip on his hair progressively tightened as she pulled him close.

He thrust his tongue in and out quickly, periodically stopping to make a detour around her clit, carefully making sure not to neglect any part of her.

Oakley brought her arm to her mouth, using the sleeve of her itchy Christmas sweater to muffle her moaning.

Her other hand grasped Jett's hair so tightly it was a miracle she didn't pull out clumps of it. Jett didn't seem to care in the slightest. In fact he looked like he was thoroughly enjoying it.

Oakley's whole body swelled, and she uncovered her mouth to shakily say "right there."

Jett obediently focused on the sensitive spot he had found, swirling his tongue with seemingly endless energy.

Oakley bit down on her arm to silence her screaming while she experienced the most intense orgasm of her life. Her thighs shook and squeezed around his head while she firmly kept her grip on his hair, suffocating him against her pussy. It seemed he could hold his breath for quite a long time, which was fortunate because it was the longest she had ever come. Although it only lasted a minute or two, it felt like eons of explosive pleasure.

It was a high she didn't want to come down from. While she huffed and panted, trying to catch her breath and regain her vision, Jett dutifully licked her clean of all the juices that had flowed out of her.

Oakley moaned as the lingering sensations slowly subsided. She released her grip on his hair and stuttered, "s-stop." She had become excruciatingly sensitive and could not possibly endure any more.

Jett obediently pulled back, returning to sitting back on his ankles. He looked up at her, as if waiting for something, but Oakley quickly pulled down her skirt and ran out the door.

Jett stood, fixing his tie, and jumped when the door swung wide open.

Oakley had come back in a rush, but only to stick her hand in his pocket and confiscate his oil pen.

"This is mine now," she said angrily, and dashed away into the night.