NOTE: This story is loosely based on autobiographical fact, which makes it difficult to write about. The actual facts are painful to dredge up, and even more painful to put to print. I've gone as far as I can with this for now. If you, the readers, request it, I'll do the best I can to finish the story. Feedback will determine whether I finish it or not.
Another boring Monday night on second shift, and Molly knew she would have to work hard to look busy. There just wasn't enough in the schedule to keep her busy for the eight hours she was forced to be there. Oh god, how she hated this job. Tedious, low paying, mind numbing work, but it paid the bills, sort of, if she really worked at it. The only real redeeming part of this job was that the boss was kind of cute, she thought, and if nothing else it might be fun to flirt with him some more. It was something she did on a fairly regular basis. The fact that he was married, and several years older, didn't bother Molly too awfully much. She liked older men, especially the ones that didn't get along with their wives all that well, and besides, they were usually more mentally stable than the young ones. She was married too, although she and her drunken husband were newly separated, so fuck it, why shouldn't she have some fun? Besides, she hadn't had any sex for months and the itch between her legs was getting to be too much to take. Her husband had taken to liking his alcohol more than he liked her.
The small machine she operated had a nasty tendency to jam up if she fed it parts too quickly, and that required the boss to come out of his office to repair it for her. Sometimes she jammed it on purpose if she just needed a long break, or craved some intelligent conversation. Jim, the boss, always had something interesting to say, or some fun story to tell while he fixed the machine. They had found that they had quite a bit in common, despite their age difference. Music, philosophy, even cars. She had grown up in Australia, a place he had wanted to visit, so she told him stories of her childhood, her exotic pets and her friends. They talked a lot. Molly liked him, maybe more than she would admit. She crammed parts into the feed tube of the machine, her heart pounding as a plan of seduction formed in her head. She was beginning to get mental pictures of herself bent over the work bench while Jimmy, tools in hand, rammed his huge phallus into her ass. Her pussy was beginning to drip with desire. She could feel him inside of her, could feel him driving deep into her aching body. She crossed her legs, squeezing her thighs together...
"Come on baby, jam! Lock up like a virgin's knees. Momma needs some man meat!"
The machine jammed with a quick high pitched screech and Molly smiled wickedly to herself as she hit the power switch, shutting the machine down before it did more damage than the boss could repair. Grabbing her purse, she made a detour to the women's bathroom and added a touch of perfume to her well defined cleavage, and opening the top button on her work shirt before knocking on the boss's door. It was hardly what she would call sexy, but it would have to do. It's not like she could wear a mini-skirt to work in the grimy little factory, but a woman has to do with what she has on hand. What Molly had on hand was a pair of perfectly round breasts which pushed out of the tight shirt, and a sweet, innocent looking face.
"What can I do for you Moll'?"
"You can fuck me within an inch of my otherwise boring life is what you can do for me!"
"Machine locked up again, Jimmy," she said, sweetly.
"Sure it did. Sometimes I think you do this on purpose just for the down-time."
"Would I do that?" Innocence dripping from her voice.
He gave her a look that said; Yes, I think you would, and I'm pretty sure you do, but I can't prove it. "Go on back to the bench and do some cleanup. I'll be out to work on it in a minute."
"Thanks, cutie," she said, and wiggled her ass for him as she left the office. She hadn't meant to call him cutie, that just slipped out, but the exaggerated ass wiggle was on purpose. She did it for him a lot. It had started out to be a joke, but now it was for real. Molly was a tease, always had been. Sometimes it got her into trouble, but mostly it got her what she wanted.
"Cute girl," he thought, watching her wiggle out of his office, "Damn nice tits too." He felt the stirring in his crotch just thinking of getting his hands on those sweet breasts.
"Rule one, don't fuck the help. Never a good idea, especially if you're married. Even if you're married to a woman who thinks that bi-annual sex is a chore to endure. Don't fuck the employees, ever."
"Looks like you jammed it good this time, Moll'."
"I know. Sorry." "I also know how to keep you here for a while, big boy. If you would only jam me the same way it would make the night go faster..."
"So, how are things going with you otherwise?" he asked, removing the tools he needed from the kit he brought with him.
"Could be worse, I guess. I threw Dale out over the weekend. He went to live with his brother. Got tired of his passing out drunk on the floor in a pool of his own beer vomit, and spending all the money I make here buying it. I think he was actually glad to go."
"Feel like coming over and comforting me, in bed?"
"I never could understand why a guy would be like that. I'm glad I never got the taste for alcohol that some people seem to have."
"How are things with you?" she asked, hopefully, ignoring his reply.
Suddenly his head jerked up, and he starred at the windows of the conference room, a mezzanine that rose above his office. For some unknown reason, in just the right spot on the plant floor, it seemed as though he could see movement in the darkened room. It always made him a little nervous.
"Conference room ghosts again?" she asked, and grabbed his arm in mock horror. She had seen the phenomenon too, on occasion, especially after he had told her about it.
"Yah. Weird."
"Maybe we should go up there after work and check on that," she offered, her voice husky, suggestive.
"Sure, let's do that."
He was being sarcastic. Molly was serious.
"It could take an hour or so to investigate that properly," she said in her sexiest voice.
"Are you hitting on me?"
"It's about time you figured that out."
He thought about that for several seconds, weighing the options, before he replied. "It could indeed take all of an hour. Maybe two. I'm calling your bluff, Molly. Stick around, if you care to. There, your machine is fixed. Don't be so brutal with it." Jim packed up his tool kit and returned to his office, his heart pounding in anticipation.
"Never, never, never fuck the employees, ever!"
The buzzer went off at precisely eleven o'clock, signaling the end of the work shift. Fifteen minutes earlier Molly had hidden in the back storage room. No one noticed. She stripped off her work shirt and took off her lacey red bra, put the shirt back on and merely tied the tails of the shirt together under her breasts. Five minutes after the buzzer, the little plant was empty and quiet for the first time in seventeen hours. Jim closed the door to his office a little harder than necessary, making as much noise as he could. He hadn't seen Molly leave, but he wasn't totally sure she had stayed either, until he heard the door to the store room close, a little harder than was necessary.