George Roberts is surprised to find he is the first one in the office. Most days he is the last to arrive. He has received a number of warnings about this from his boss, Mandy. He doesn't like Mandy much. In fact he resents working for a woman but he didn't have much choice in the matter following the incident in his last department. It was only the dogged support of his union rep that allowed him to keep a job at the company.
Mandy's always on his case. The only consolation is that she is quite good looking. She has a nice body too - for a woman of her age.
Taking the opportunity of being unobserved George opens his desk drawer and pulls out his hip flask. A little shot to celebrate beating the others in his office into work and to set him up for the day. He winces as the cheap whisky goes down and lands in his empty stomach and gurns at the slightly oily taste. Then he hears the door to the office open and quickly stashes the flask away before bending over his computer.
'Morning, George.' It is Mandy, the boss.
George looks up, watching as the brunette slips out of her long winter coat and hangs it up.
She is dressed as Wonder Woman.
George's eyes widen and then slide to the curves of her nicely rounded bottom clad today in the tight blue knickers of her costume. He lets his eyes drift down the neatly toned thighs. There is a little cellulite; Mandy is in her early forties, probably a two or three of years George's senior but he wouldn't say no. He rather likes the look of those boots she's wearing too.
She turns to face him and George quickly casts his eyes down to his screen.
'Didn't get the memo I see,' she says.
George looks up to be confronted by Mandy standing arms akimbo, thrusting forward her generous breasts in the red and gold bodice.
He forces himself to look up at her face noting that she's wearing a gold tiara and that she's even carrying a sparkly lariat.
'Memo?' he asks hesitantly, immediately defensive. George is not good at reading his emails.
'The one about dressing as superheroes,' she regards him with that look of disappointment she seems to reserve specifically for him.
George frowns.
'Never mind,' she says dismissively and turns towards her office giving George another chance to look at those very tight blue knickers.
George watches them go and then his eyes light on the calendar.
He smiles realising the date.
April 1st.
He knows what's happened now and he's very pleased.
*
All the others in this office are women and, while he doesn't mind this, especially not the little blonde intern or even the pretty brunette graduate he doesn't feel part of the team; not that he'd want to. He doesn't do all this team-building bollocks. Work is work. He's all for the 'sisterhood' but it would be easier to put up with if there was another male to talk about them with and to bitch about Mandy. The fascist bitch confiscated his phone a few weeks ago. What is this for god's sake, school?
He was taking a break at his desk. He's a grown man, he's allowed to access porn if he wants to.
However, he now knows the sisterhood is not as solid as he thought. The little minxes are clearly putting one over on the boss.
Memo about dressing up a superheroes!
He hasn't felt this good in a long time. It will be good to see high and mighty Mandy brought down a peg or two and he wonders if she's brought a change of clothes or whether she'll have to spend the whole day as Wonder Woman.
He hopes for the latter and grins broadly at the thought. He'll be able to leer at her and enjoy her discomfort. If she reports him the whole building will know she's been set up by her supposedly loyal team.
If he could get a picture on his phone he could post it online.
However, when Sarah comes in, the smile drops from his face.
The only consolation is that she's dressed as Batgirl in very tight purple leather that displays her body nicely. Sarah is a redhead, Mandy's deputy. She doesn't like George and was pretty outspoken in her criticism when he was redeployed to their department.
'I see you didn't get the memo.' Her tone is frosty and she glares at him through the eyeholes of her cowl.
'Obviously not.' George says sarcastically.
The idea of dressing up, he reasons, was probably hers. He knows she's into cosplay and re-enactment. He's checked her out on social media hoping to find a way of getting some sort of dirt on her but hasn't found anything. Maybe if she'd had some pictures of her as Batgirl he might have formed a different view of her but most of it seemed to be dressing up in second world war uniforms in muddy fields. She seemed to play the company nurse. Some of the wounds they'd mocked up for her to treat had been nearly enough to make him vomit.
That she would have excluded him from the email doesn't surprise him. She was probably trying to make him look bad like she always does - ratting to the boss when she's behind or has missed a deadline.
Sarah shrugs. 'As if I care.' She turns and walks to Mandy's office where she calls a cheery 'hello' before going in and closing the door behind her giving George only a brief chance to leer at her firm leather covered bottom and thighs.
When she's gone, he takes another slug of whisky before checking his emails.
He can't find anything about dressing up today.
*
The next arrival is Ruth, the pretty brunette graduate. She is George's favourite. Not that they ever speak but she has a very decent body and likes to wear short skirts, tight leggings and boots; she also favours polo necks and jumpers too which show off her figure and her large breasts. She's always carefully made up and George imagines her heading out clubbing after work.
He imagines her doing other things too including screaming his name as he takes her from behind, his hands squeezing those gorgeously large tits.
He thinks it was her who complained to Mandy about the way he looked his female colleagues so, as well as fucking her, he'd like to spank her lovely round arse.
He pretends not to watch as she takes off her fashionable trench coat and then feels his jaw drop.
She is dressed in a tight fitting black fishnet body stocking, black leather bustier and knickers; heeled black boots. He swallows as she turns to look at him, sliding a cat mask over her face.
'You're face, George.' She laughs as he colours.
'I'm Panther.' She confides leaning forward. She has a northern accent, Mancunian probably.
She's close enough that he can smell her perfume and her make up.
