The Long Resignation Pt. 02

Chapter 6 - It Wasn't Like That

"Take off your blouse or your boyfriend gets the lightning again!" she stated matter-of-factly, gesturing at the naked British man beside her.

In this kind of situation, Erica reflected, any sane person would have been full on fight-or-flight. For her, however, the intensity of the threat and the surreal nature of the situation offered a bizarre sort of pause for her mind to catch-up a bit in terms of how she got here.

It had started with a board meeting, she recalled quite plainly. She had arrived early to pass out the reports everyone would need for item 5 on the agenda, and had been pleasantly surprised to find the second person in the room to be Nigel Banks, a roguishly handsome upper class British stereotype of a man who she happened to know was not from London, but definitely spoke with a London accent, presumably, Erica figured, so he could pull a Hugh Grant act on all the young women in the office, allowing him to both sleep with them, and then dump them, without consequence, since what else would you expect from so transparent a cad. Knowing this, however, had not made Erica immune to Nigel's charms, or to the kind of handsomeness his face projected - the kind that made you resentful to the very concept of God for being so impartial in distributing beauty. It was simply unfair how good he looked.

"Good morning, my pretty," he had beamed at her playfully...

"Dammit" thought Erica in the now. "He probably just called me that because he didn't know my name."

She had not come to that at the time, however, and simply smiled back with a "Good morning to you, my fine sir."

They'd talked. Talked was generous. They'd flirted, Erica now admitted to herself. The man was like an AI Box experiment - given enough time alone with a single subject, he would have her phone number. Possibly her bra. Erica was embarrassed now by how much she had loved the morning thus far.

He had touched her hand. It was a small gesture, but the sensation was electric, intoxicating.

They talked some more.

He had touched her arm.

"Am I that easy?" Erica wondered as she played back the physical escalation in her mind, "or is he that good?"

They talked some more.

He had touched her neck. That was her favorite part. She wasn't even embarrassed to recall it at all.

They had kissed.

He had touched her breast.

"Yeah, I'm definitely way too easy," she surmised as she let the memory of that touch caress her all over again.

Then the door had opened, and the third person in the room happened to have two very unfortunate things going for them: 1) they were engaged to Nigel, which, of course Erica knew nothing about, and 2) they carried a taser in their purse. Who does that in this day and age?

The answer was Michele. She was short and muscular-looking, like some sort of cross-fit Instagram influencer or something. Having never met her before, Erica wasn't sure if she was a terrifying person, or just a terrifying person in the moment she'd met her...with her fiancee's hand on Erica's boob.

"Wow," was all that Michele had said.

"It's not like that," Nigel had seamlessly lied. "We were just having a laugh."

Erica was not about to tolerate that, however. "It's absolutely like that. I didn't know he had a girlfriend. This guys a douche, and I'm very sorry for you."

Michele was too enraged to express her gratitude, but she gave a knowing glance to Erica that could have passed for appreciation. Erica felt quite good about the exchange.

And then the taser came out.

"Calm down," Nigel had begged.

"No," Michele replied with the kind of calmness that is easily recognizable as a higher level of anger.

"You should put that away," Erica had offered, hoping their shared bond of trust would allow her to de-escalate the situation.

"No," Michele replied.

Then Michele had paused for a very long time and the air in the room felt thin and somehow insufficient for all involved.

"What time is the meeting?" Michele asked.

"Twenty minutes," Nigel replied. "Please put that down now. You're scaring the poor girl."

"Shit," Erica thought again upon reflection. "He called me poor girl because he didn't know my name...also he was using me to emotionally blackmail the fiancée he was cheating on. Douche!"

"Take off your clothes," Michele commanded, staring straight into Nigel's eyes.

"I beg your pardon," he barked back in outrage.

She didn't say a word in reply, but just stared at him then, and her eyes must have carried some sort of truth to Nigel, because he balked, and immediately started undressing. Erica had discreetly taken two steps away out of respect (but also safer distance from the taser). He only paused when he was down to his navy blue briefs, acting as though he were already naked.

"Keep going," she commanded.

"Oh come now," he coughed back. She took a step forward, and before the full weight of her body had landed on the ball of her foot, Nigel was shucking off the last of his garments to stand completely naked in the board room. The whole situation felt oddly appropriate - the cad had been punished and humiliated. This would be a fun story to tell her...

"Give me your shoes," Michele demanded, staring now at Erica.

"Uh, what?" Erica replied.

"Last chance," Michele stated.

"I'm not going to..."

In seconds, Michele was on top of Nigel, and the sharp sizzle of electric current could be heard, accompanied by a high-pitched squealing noise as every muscle in Nigel's naked body seized simultaneously before crumpling to the floor like a Ziploc bag filled with Jello.

"Holy shit!" Erica had cursed, immediately kicking her shoes off while Nigel rolled about on the carpet in the aftermath of agony. "What the hell did I do?" she dared to ask the woman holding the weapon.

"I see you, honey." Michele replied. "Take off your blouse or your boyfriend gets the lightning again!" she stated matter-of-factly, gesturing at the naked British man beside her. And that was that. That was how Erica found herself where she was.

"But," Erica replied.

"No buts," Michele warned. "Not again."

Erica unbuttoned her white silk blouse and held it out to Michele's eager clutching. She regretted that she had worn a simple ribbed tank-top this morning for an undershirt, rather than a more formal cammisol. She looked a bit like half boxer, half businesswoman now, with her finest black dress pants still on.

"OK then," let's build our tableau! Michele stated enthusiastically.

"Our what?" Erica asked?

"Don't ask any more questions or you two will be wearing matching outfits, OK?"

"OK," Erica replied.

"On your feet, Colin Firth."

The handsome naked British man pushed himself up slowly to his feet with a series of mildly entertaining groans.

"OK, you two, chest to chest then. Let's make sure all your employers get a chance to see Nigel the way I got to today."

Nigel was already moving toward her without saying a word, but Erica hesitated. Michele raised the taser a further 6 inches into the air and smiled coldly in response. Erica turned to Nigel, to the naked Nigel approaching her. She closed her eyes out of squeamishness as he pressed up against her. She couldn't bring herself to open them again until she felt the plastic zip ties wrap around her torso, binding them together. As she did so, she was astonished to see that they were pink in colour. She had to close her eyes again as the two large zip ties were drawn tight by Michele, pinching into the flesh around Erica's biceps and drawing her and naked Nigel into a tight embrace, their arms dangling helplessly at their respective sides. And then it was done. Their fate was sealed in plastic.

"Have a lovely meeting," Michele said with a parting grin and an exaggerated hand wave goodbye. And then walked out of the room with a full bundle of stolen clothing in her arms.

Nigel immediately started trying to get himself out of his bindings, heaving and flexing with all of his might. Unfortunately, with Erica strapped directly to him, this felt a lot like a naked guy wiggling all over you, but in a grosser than usual way.

"I don't think that will work," she told him.

He ignored her and heaved a good ten more times before he settled, exhausted, which kind of felt to Erica like a sweaty naked man collapsing on top of her, but in a sadder way.

"Let's go get some help, Hercules."

"What?!" Nigel asked incredulously. "I'm not going out there like this."

"It's a little late for modesty, bud," Erica replied. "People will be coming in soon anyway."

"We have to hide then!" he stated whilst looking around the room for his best possible spot.

"What would that even accomplish?"

He seemed more determined than ever now. "We hide until the meeting's over, when catering comes in to clean up, we get the crew to unclip us and I slip them some cash for their discretion."

"I am 100% not doing that."

"You owe me," he replied...somehow, and Erica could feel the anger accumulating inside of her.

Before her anger could take the shape of words, Nigel continued talking, very quickly.

"I'm just saying, you completely sold me out. Had you not done that, I could have talked her down. I was trying to protect both of us."

"I know exactly what you were trying to do." Erica replied. "I'd sooner shit the bed, rollover and go back to sleep, than play along with anymore of your lies."

"They'll fire you too." Nigel changed tracks. "And everyone will talk about you."

"I'm sure you'd set them straight, though, right?"

"Please," he begged. "I need this job."

Erica knew he was right. Even if they didn't fire her, she'd never live the story down and would have to leave anyway. She liked her job; and it wasn't the kind of economy in which one could count on easily finding another. More than that, she had never been particularly good at saying no to naked men. It was a rather massive character flaw. At the same time the events of the day had left her feeling guilty and ashamed, and that made her, oddly enough, more kind and forgiving than usual. In the end, it was probably that which made her agree to play hide and seek.

"Let's go behind the curtain." She agreed.

"Thank you soooo much," the naked British man acclaimed.

In their eagerness, they both started to move simultaneously in the direction they were facing, but as they were facing each other, the immediate result was an awkward and painful flop onto the floor, Erica hitting first, and Nigel's full weight falling on top of her, squeezing all the air out of her body like when you jump on an air mattress to deflate it.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "Are you alright?"

She didn't have her wind back to reply.

Getting back up became the next challenge. They wriggled around on the floor a bit trying to get the right leverage, but it always proved wrong. Finally, they talked out a coordinated effort where Nigel on top, would pull back from his knees while Erica would do a sit-up and push to her feet, all in one synchronized movement to get them back aloft.

"Exceptional!" Nigel proclaimed after they grunted through the laborious process and stood up once more.

"Nope," Erica shouted abruptly.

Nigel looked down to where she was looking and saw a pair of dress pants wrapped around her ankles.

"Oh dear." He remarked, before looking over her back to see that her underwear was now pulled down at the back as well, exposing her ass.

"Carpet friction?" he asked.

"Yup." She replied, wriggling her fingers frantically to try to reach the unreachable and desperately trying not to think about the sudden, consuming sensation of the head of Nigel's uncircumcised penis pressing against her inner thigh.

Erica was getting upset. "I was wearing a belt!"

"Yeah," Nigel replied, "but..."

"But what?"

"I undid it earlier when we were..."

"YOU UNDID MY BELT WITHOUT ME NOTICING!"

"Well you did notice my right hand on your boob at the time, and I don't recall complaints on that score. The belt was just what my left was doing!"

Erica's right knee surged toward Nigel's genitals, reflexively, two, then three times, each time failing to make any kind of contact with her target, getting lost instead in the press of flesh between them. She tried once more with the left knee to the same disappointing effect.

"Ssshhhh!" Nigel suddenly hissed, suddenly.

Erica heard it, too. Voices in the hallway.

Nigel quickly kicked Erica's pants under the large conference table (her various kneeing attempts had set them free of her ankles), which only furthered Erica's rage. With her ass in the open air now, though, she complied when he - slowly and carefully this time - led them hopping as one toward the crimson curtains at the back of the room, and then behind.

"See if you can reach it," she whispered, anxious about having her ass crack exposed in the room as they listened to the sounds of people filling in. Nigel complied, stretching and fluttering his long fingers to see if they could latch onto her underwear. He grazed the fabric a few times with the odd fingertip, but couldn't get a grip to pull with. They gave up.

The meeting got underway, and thanks to the large billowing nature of the curtains, the darkness of the room itself, nobody was any the wiser of the two people hiding behind the curtains. Erica continued to focus her energy on not thinking about Nigel's warm, tight body pressed against hers. It was hot behind the curtains, however, and getting a bit hard to breathe. It was his sweat that she noticed first, pressed as his face was up against hers - salty drops of perspiration were forming and his perfect hair was looking moist with it as well. When the worst of the heat got to her, she envied his nakedness to some degree, but she could also feel sweat evaporating across the surface of her buttcheeks, which made her again conscious of her nakedness.

**********

"It's kind of weird though isn't it?" complained the familiar voice to Nicole's left. "For all he knows, he's being catfished. Hell, he might be fucking a ghost or something," said Garret.

"I kind of love it," said a voice from Nicole's right, and Nicole and Garret's necks became suddenly synchronized, turning to face Heather who was beaming at them enthusiastically. "I think it's hot."

Chapter 7 - Meekly & Madly

Garret was not one to apologize or show any signs of embarrassment whatsoever. He simply turned away from both women to look back up at the projector screen as if nothing had happened at all.

Nicole panicked immediately and slammed the laptop screen shut, then immediately regretted that for fear that she had shut it too hard and damaged it. She even rolled her chair back a good six inches before she managed to calm herself.

She began to explain, but "Uhm..." was the full extent of her explanation. Beside her, she heard Garret snicker at this. Obviously, he was still listening.

Heather smirked disarmingly. "Seriously, I liked it. You're a good writer."

"Uhm..."

Heather reached out and touched Nicole's arm in what felt to Nicole like the genuine spirit of sorority. "I wish I could write like that."

"Thank you?" Nicole replied, still unsettled, still unmoving, and now suddenly realizing that the rapid push away from the table had renewed the intense front-wedgie she was enduring at the hands of her husband's boxers.

"Unfortunately," Heather began, "I'm not good at letting things go." She reached over to the table and opened up the laptop. "Show us how it ends."

Garret turned back to face the pair of them. "Actually ladies, now might be a good time to..."

"Oh shoosh," Heather derided him.

"Yeah," said Nicole, newly emboldened. "Shoosh."

Her fingertips mounted the keyboard and the story continued unabated. Heather huddled in closer to Nicole, and Garret too fixed his eyes upon the screen.

**********

The meeting went on for what seemed like hours. The sweating was worsening and Erica could feel that her tank top was heavy with their accumulated perspiration. It might have all been in her head, but she became quite sure that when she exhaled, it dripped, simply from being pressed up against Nigel, like wringing out a towel.

The combination of heat and sweat and boredom and the smell of Nigel started to push Erica's mind into a wholly different direction. She adjusted herself, swinging her hips back ever so slightly, then gently forward again, pressing her body into his.

"What are you doing?" Nigel whispered.

"Just adjusting," she replied. "Sshhhh!"

She eased her hips back again, then surged them gently forward, pressing the front of her panties up along the sweaty shaft of his downward-facing penis.

"Seriously," Nigel protested. "What are you doing?"

"Ssshhh!" she chastised him in return.

Craning her neck to reach, she tucked her face under his chin, and extended her tongue to lick the sweat off of his neck. Her hips started moving rhythmically at this - back and forth and back and forth.

"We'll get caught!" he protested.

She sucked the skin off his neck into her mouth and nibbled gently at it with her teeth in reply. She could feel him swelling between her thighs, giving a force and pressure to the sensation of her thrusting. She caught herself.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked.

He paused for a long time, during which she was quite certain that his penis grew even harder.

"No," he sighed. "Just be quiet about it."

She kissed him again on the lips, renewing the trajectory of their earlier encounter before Michele had interrupted them. She spread her legs as wide as they could go, letting the elastic ricochet of his erection collide against her vagina, sending shivers down her spine that flicked the raw sweat of their bodies off of her like an animal shaking off rain-water from its coat. Erica marvelled at the inversion - at how desperately she wished her underwear were off entirely now, where moments before she longed for the safe coverage and modesty that it had provided her. All she wanted now was to be exposed to the embrace of his soft warm flesh, even in the heat of their curtain sauna.

He pushed into her embrace and his erection surged upward. Even through her panties, it felt strong and hard and welcoming. She closed her eyes and groaned.

"Oh shit!" she thought, immediately. "How loud was that?" She opened her eyes to gauge Nigel's reaction. His eyes were huge and condemning.

"Oh shit!" she thought, and she could feel his erection shrivelling between her legs.

"Oh shit!" she thought, as she heard Sandra pass her presentation and ask aloud "What's the matter, William?"

William, a 59 year old senior partner (thus, the youngster of the senior partners), replied "thought I heard something behind the curtains over there."

In the silence that enveloped the room, Erica could hear the wheels of William's chair turning, and the soft flump of oxford shoes on expensive carpet. Nigel's eyes grew wider, and Erica couldn't tell if the trembling she was feeling now was from him, or from her, or both. "Oh shit."

Time slowed, and her mind, accepting the inevitable, ran through as many possible explanations that it could come up with to minimize the damage here. Firing was inevitable, but maybe there was something she could say to avoid extended humiliation. Would the truth be best - that she was a prisoner whose pants had also fallen off? Could they even believe that with Nigel's boner pressing through her thighs? For the first time in her life, the erection between her legs could not disappear fast enough for Erica's liking.

William caught the bottom of the curtain with the tip of his shoe and, with genuinely impressive balance and mobility for a man his age, raised the curtain up a couple of feet to reveal the couple of human feet that would be found there.