Ok, Zoomer!

You'd think that after several years of forced (and then, less forced) isolation and 'screens', I'd be looking for to meeting people IRL. But no. I'm not really a people person. Not in real life anyway. I tolerate my family Thanksgiving and maybe over the Holidays. I have a selection of friends I might meet for a beer and/or pizza. Outside of that, the most meaningful non-virtual relationships in my life are with delivery persons. Don't ask me how I got to be this way. I've no clue. It's not something I set out to do. I guess I'm a product of my generation. Physically, I'm actually not bad looking (even if I do...), I'm pretty fit, but not obsessive. I have a sense of humor that people seem genuinely to warm to. I'm expressive. I have a decent knowledge of world events and a patchy sense of history. Oh, and my name's Ozzy, by the way. Short for Oswald. But if you call me that, I'll have to kill you.

The thing is, I've never met anyone I didn't like through screens. Or rather, everyone I've met through screens, I have liked. Except Ruby. Ruby just rubbed me up the wrong way from day one. She treated me like some neckbeard living in his momma's basement. But, I tell you girl, I was making this remote shit look good before most of you could spell pandemic.

Ruby, to me, existed only inside a rectangular box. She had a black bob, pale skin, thin, scowly face. Height? I'd guess 5'5" or 5'6". Body-type? She'd strike me as skinny-assed pixie bitch on calls, but who could tell? Age? Probably somewhere close to my mid-twenties, I guessed from the look of her face peering at me, scowling. I was chill and at my most convivial on screen, whereas she was intense and rude. Especially to me. Don't just take my word for it, half the company would bitch with me about what a dragon she was to me. I'm not sure everyone thought it was entirely her fault, however, as I caught sight of a meme doing the rounds that showed the two of us in cartoon form reenacting 'in real life' the rather more infamous Oswald and Ruby meeting. Don't get me wrong, Ruby was exceptional at her job, and that was essential for me to do mine. But it worked definitely in spite of her rather than because of her.

Anyway, this simmering feud had been progressing for a number of years and resulted in many an email on both sides being sent to HR. Nothing was ever done about it and we were continually teamed together even though everyone knew we would rapidly butt heads. Roll on the arrival of mandatory anchor days in the office. I managed to avoid them like the plague, but eventually they caught up with me. I was officially requested (only not so politely) to show up at the office the following Friday or to feel free to tender my resignation. I arrived before 9am.

Thankfully, I managed to locate my work id. Security insisted on forensically studying it, hissing through their teeth, and remarking how they'd never seen me before. This did little to warm me to the ways of the office dweller. Anyhoo, off I toddled to find the desk that had been allocated to me. Fifth floor, back left, no window. Anonymous as I could select. I should have spotted immediately that something was up. Apart from security, I didn't see a soul in the building. Even the coffee station, normally the buzzing heart of the building (if I remembered correctly) was unoccupied. Anyway, I hadn't been in in the office for so long, I never even noticed.

I was at my desk for an hour and a half before my first video call. My fellow colleagues held it together on the call for the first ten minutes. Then slowly, smiles spread across their faces. It took me a few minutes to realize something was going on. By that time, they were openly laughing at me, and I knew something was up. Eventually, they came clean. Friday had been a designated work from home day across the organization. Because I wasn't in to get the hard copy of the memo, I'd been duped into coming in (I rarely read the official emails we got a dozen an hour) -- and was the only one in the building bar security!

I was busily packing my gear away after the call to head homeward when I realized I had one more meeting scheduled that would occur on my ride back across town if I left now. And it was with Ruby. I just knew she be all over me if I missed it. So, I unpacked my gear and grabbed an early lunch. I made it back to the office with minutes to spare. Soon, I was dialing in, dreading the next half hour's sparring with Beelzebub.

I arrived on the call first and waited for her arrive. She was late. When she eventually appeared ten minutes late, she was breathless and looked in foul form.

"Oh, it's you." She puffed.

"You were expecting maybe Tom Cruise?"

She went on the offensive. Even more offensively than usual.

"Listen, dickbrain, I've far more important things to be doing than nursemaiding you through your job. There are things going on in this org that would make your tiny mind shatter."

"Jesus, Ruby. Lighten the fuck. This is heavy-handed even by your usual standards."

"Ozzy. You know I can't stand you. I think I've made that abundantly clear."

"The feeling's mutual, Ruby." I sniled back (half smile/half snarl), thankful this call wasn't being recorded.

"There are, however," she continued obliviously, "thing going down today that impact directly on you and me. And I really care about me, regardless my absolute apathy for your wellbeing."

"You've lost me."

"Not surprising."

My mouth opened to respond, but in fairness, I'd set myself up for that one, she could have the point.

"You won't have received the email yet."

"What email?"

"It's circulating at board level at the moment. An ally there leaked it to me."

"What is it?" She had piqued my interest.

"You know that billionaire that sits in the big chair?"

"Uh-huh." I responded. You couldn't miss seeing her face on the company website.

"Well, she's just decided that as our major competitors have laid off between 5 and 25% of their workforces, we should do the same so as not to make the C-suite appear weak."

"But we're flying it? Profit forecast is off the charts."

"Listen, grunt, I'm not about to get into the ins and outs of the fragile ego of the sociopath and the power they wield in the upper echelons of the Fortune 500. Suffice it to say, I've had a head's up that may just enable me to keep my job. And if you do exactly what I say, you may manage to hang on to yours too."

"Bullshit."

"I know we don't get along. So, I'm going to let that slide. But I really, really need you to take your tiny dick out of this equation. I'm happy to let you hang out to dry, but it makes life easier for me if you work with me to secure our careers."

"When's the last time you offered to help me do anything?"

"When's the last time you had to cash in a food stamp?"

Mad bitch was loving this.

"Ok, I get it. What do you want me to do?"

"Exactly what I say. Ok?"

Grudgingly I said "ok." And surprised myself that I actually meant it.

She outlined a couple of hours work for me, upscaling certain projects, minimizing underperforming accounts, a little bit of slick accounting, some underhand hospital passes."

"Zasha Grundeweld?" Ruby asked me on a call later that afternoon.

"What about her?"

"Do you think she's any good?"

In my brain, I said 'clarify good': she was a six-foot Scandy type with massive breasts and a cinched waist who wore inappropriately revealing outfits and, occasionally, trousers that I'd fantasized about getting into for months now.

Instead, I said.

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"Because fuck her and her career. You and I are going to make her and her department, up and down, the fall guys. Shutting her vertical should account for a good 5% cut."

"Whoa. Isn't that harsh?" I asked.

"Have you seen the tents on the street?" She snapped back. "In this world, you keep moving towards the top, or you fall like a rock to the bottom. The bottom in this case being the literal gutter."

I began to argue. She cut me off by telling me to stop using Little Ozzy to make big boy decisions. I really couldn't argue with that.

By 4 pm, we had a plan of action together to preempt the company-wide memo announcing staff cuts. We had turned ourselves into the golden children of the organization. Indispensable.

"Now, we just need to monitor everything for the next 24 hours, leave nothing to chance. How soon can you get in to the office?"

"How soon?" I stuttered. Then realized I'd had a wallpaper background on all my Zoom calls. She had no idea I was already in.

"I can be here eight hours ago." I quipped.

"You're actually in, in person?" She was amazed and I felt unfairly offended.

"Have been since before 9."

"Jesus." She snapped. "Much as I don't relish the proximity, it would be much easier to work with both of us in the same room."

"Why? Where are you?"

"Do you know the war center?" The cutely named 15th floor. Where teams went to lock themselves away from prying eyes and plot to take over the world.

"Yes, I do."

"I'm in one of the break-out rumpus rooms." The chill out areas where people could flake out for an hour and regain the killer instinct required to conduct business at the highest levels. Or gossip together to hang colleagues in the next room out to dry.

"Oh, right."

"I've just authorized you to stop there on the elevator. Bring your stuff."

I hadn't even realized you needed a different level of security to stop on the 15th. I'd never had any call to go there and just presumed it was the same as any other floor.

I gathered my gear once more and hunted down an elevator that would take me to the 15th.

It took me a moment to find the bit on the elevator panel that I should wave me id at in order to bypass the no-fly zone of the 15th.

Ruby had warned me that I would light up on the system when I used my card, but it couldn't be helped. She'd generated a request with security for a short-term pass for me using a bogus account. If no one looked into it too deeply, we'd be fine. Much as I detested her, Ruby was the bomb when it came to corporate shenanigans.

The 15th was unexpected. Dimly lit and darkly painted, it felt like a world apart from the neon impersonal glitz of the rest of the building. I had a bit of trouble finding my way, and opened many doors onto empty meeting rooms. Eventually, I opened a door, saw someone sitting on a beanbag on the floor, did not recognize them, apologized for my intrusion and was leaving when they shouted out my name.

Ruby, it turned out, in real life, looked nothing like screen Ruby. It was like a Tinder date who used a cousin's pic in their profile. No, used a granddaughter's picture. From our screentime together, I'd always pictures her as my age, mildly attractive, slim, average height. In real life, I couldn't have been more wrong.

As I walked across the dim room festooned with bean bags, I took in a woman who must have been in her 60s. She was really short, and way overweight. Literally, her face looked young and slim, everything below the neck looked like she was borrowing from her fat grandmother. Obviously, the shock registered on my face.

"You were expecting maybe Florence Pugh?" She said, curiously demurely.

"Um, no. I just didn't recognize you in real life. Screens."

"Yeah, well you're not the short ass nerd I was expecting either."

I nodded absently, trying to drag my eyes away from the unexpectedly massive funbags, tiny legs, round tummy, aged face. It was definitely the Ruby I knew and loathed but somehow, she been put through a time machine. A wringer of a time machine. How could this be the same person? Forgive me for thinking this, but the first thought I had was that she looked in real life much more like her personality.

"Pull up a beanbag." She ordered. Seeing no alternative, I complied, trying not to sit too close.

"Any plans between now and Monday morning, cancel them." Was her next missive. I didn't have any plans but nor was I about to cancel them on her account. Nonexistent or not.

"Hey, I have a life." I tried, disgruntled.

"So, go have a life. What you won't have, come Monday, is a job. Capiche? I' trying to save your dumb ass here. If you aren't prepared to do every single thing I ask, then feel free to freefall out of this building anytime. Be sure to grab a tent in the camping supply shop two blocks over."

Christ, how had someone so poisonous managed to last in the corporate world so long?

"No, I'll do what you ask." I said sullenly, embarrassed that I sounded like a teenager all of a sudden.

"Good. Everything. No backchat. No debate. No resistance."

"Sure." Just to complete the teenager vibe. One step up from 'whatever'.

"You can start with a latte and a chicken and pesto sandwich from Bocconcini's."

"What?"

"I haven't eaten yet today. I need to keep my strength up. I suggest you do the same."

With some more teenage vibes, I show my dissatisfaction all the way to the elevator. Then actually enjoyed the trip to the deli and back. I felt so generous, I stocked up on sweet treats for us both.

When I got back, Ruby had disconcertingly ditched her blouse for what could only be described as a wife beater. It did nothing to hide her rolls of fat, or, surprisingly, her bullet-like nipples which stuck out prominently through the white cotton like she was trying to smuggle two erasers out of the building. I suppressed a giggle at the thought. Thankfully, she had chosen to keep her knee length skirt on, I laughed somewhat hysterically to myself.

Without a word of thanks for sandwich, coffee, or extra pastries, she proceeded to eat, type and order me about all at the same time. To be honest, the genius of her approach was really only becoming evident as the evening wore on and I was becoming a little in awe of her Machiavellian mind.

The evening passed with little chat and lots of orders. Despite myself, I found my admiration for Ruby had increased dramatically. Then, at one stage, she absentmindedly brushed some sandwich crumbs off her chest. I became painfully aware of her hand brushing her own nipples and the image collapsed in my mind with a thousand porn videos I'd seen.

That was the very first moment I thought of Ruby as a woman. It was a fleeting thought.

The evening wore on. Around ten, she finally laid her laptop down and unsteadily got to her feet. Stretching her tiny legs, she uttered a loud expletive and took off across the floor like whirling Dervish.

"What up?" I asked, smiling at the sight.

"Charlie horse, you asshole." She was not amused.

"Ow, ow, ow." She hopped and turned, trying to find a position or pressure that relieved rather than added to the cramp. Nothing seemed to work.

"Fuuuuck." She stomped about. Finally, she whirled in my direction.

"Make yourself useful, asshole." She ordered, standing in front of me, offering the back of her thigh to me.

"I'm not..." I started.

"Anything. You said you would do anything. Right now, I need to get rid of this fucking cramp or its game over for both of us. Do it."

"Jesus."

I reached out and gently touched the back of her thigh through her skirt.

"What the fuck are you doing?" She snapped. "I need it massaged, not pointed out to me." She raised her skirt to reveal the affected jamb, and her surprisingly macho baggy tighty whities. I very self-consciously began to rub the back of her thigh where a massive knot was more than evident. Avoiding her underwear like the plague, gentle rubbing turned into more targeted massaging, and I felt the muscle begin to loosen.

That close to her leg, with my face only inches from her ass, I became increasingly aware of a scent. Perfumed soap dancing with a light, pleasant sweaty smell, and a hint of flower nectar. I shook my head to clear it, sensing a twitch in my boxers. I reminded myself that I found this woman's personality abhorrent and her body repellant.

"Yep. That. There. Just like that. Stronger. Down a bit. There. Don't stop." She spat out orders and I complied.

Soon, she had dropped her skirt once more and resumed her seat.

"I'm like a pedigree racehorse." She told the room. "I'll need you to keep me fighting fit over the weekend."

"Your wish is my command." I responded sarcastically, overly conscious that twice sexual thoughts had appeared in my periphery. She's saving your ass, and you're stuck in a room with her. Probably Stockholm Syndrome.

Ten minutes later, we we're side by side on beanbags, me surfing social media for any industry chatter, and her sending emails and messages to allies in the organization and amongst our clients and prospective clients. Regularly, she's lean over to me to check what I was doing. Infuriating me more.

"My ass is going asleep." She complained later.

"Well, I'm not massaging it if it does." I said trying to add an air of levity.

"Yes, you will." She spat back. "If I need it, you will provide assistance. You gave me your word."

"I didn't --" The words died in my mouth. I had indeed made a deal with the devil. I just realized I had no idea how high the price could be.

As if reading my mind, she shifted her weight on the beanbag and launched her little legs across mine on the bag beside her.

"Hey, I'm trying to check --"

"I'm just trying to get comfortable." She snapped. "If you've a problem..."

"I get it." I sighed.

"Good. Rub my feet."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I'm not rubbing your feet." I felt indignant.

"Rub my feet."

"Why?"

"Because I told you to. And you do exactly what I tell you to. I need to know you're committed to this now rather than waste a weekend's work on you and discover you're the same old asshole."

"I'm not an asshole. You're just being --"

"Demanding. Yes. Now rub my feet or fuck right off now. Not another word."

I could have left right then. But I didn't fancy blowing my career away. I'd worked hard in a few short years to achieves the role I had. I'd be down a couple of rungs or more in any other organization. That's if any were hiring right now. So, I rubbed her feet.

"That's more like it." She said smugly, shimmying her ass into the beanbag as I worked on, first one foot, then the other. I really tried hard to give a good massage in the hope that job done would mean fewer demands.

Ruby continued to work on her laptop. Mine had been sidelined while I worked on her feet. To be honest, she was clean, her feet were well maintained. They didn't smell. It wasn't a hardship. Besides, they were pretty small.

She let out a small, contented sigh and added. "Just like that." Not exactly what I was hoping to hear, as I had thought I was just about done.

She moved her foot in my lap, and I felt it brushed off my cock, which jumped, presumably in shock. I looked up at Ruby and felt nothing but dislike. So why was my cock swelling slightly in my shorts at her touch? She repulsed me, and what was worse, somehow, she'd managed to get my cock to betray me. Probably just an impulse animal reaction.

I don't think she was aware of the mild tumescence in my nether region, but she shifted her feet again, this time leaving one rest against the side of my penis. I began to redden and feel uncomfortable.

"How's that?" I asked.

"If you could just do the calves as well, that would be great." She responded immediately.

"I need to use the restroom." I said.

"Hold it." She snapped. I dutifully held it. Full bladder feeling disappeared under her withering glance.

Her calves were surprisingly dainty considering the weight they must have to carry about. They were completely hairless, and the skin was smooth and more youthful than her features up close would suggest.

I decided that I would do my best to massage her calves to the best of my ability. Keeping her happy would keep her from making more demands.