The Sweetest Darkness
Kristie Kane was working late again. She'd her head down over her desk with a frown putting lines on that pretty face of hers. It wasn't a frown of unhappiness she wore however, but instead one of deep concentration. She was getting her "work on" and she meant business! This was her daily hunt and she reveled in the thrill of the chase, (even if it consisted of all numbers and figures).
She looked up at her computer screen and then down to the papers to her right and tapped on her keyboard. There! She found the error. Things meant sense. The universe made sense again. She gave herself a pat on the back. She enjoyed little victories when she could get them.
She was all about keeping things orderly and organized. That was why she'd been hired by the folks at Praetorian Group. She was a good little organizer with her good little cup of coffee and her white bread sandwich and her predictably organized performance.
That was her problem. She was too predictable, too dependable. Such a good girl, doing good girl things all the time. Good and boring. Just ask her cat, Oreo. That black and white stray she'd taken in was the only thing with balls that had stayed with her.
Once a week she'd do dinner at her parents. In between listening to her father talk about himself or about how all her brothers and sisters were doing with their families, she had to endure her mother's passive-aggressive comments about how she was so proud of her "little girl" and how her little girl didn't need the validation of a man or children. The problem was, that bit of humiliation and condescension was really the only social interaction she had during a normal week. In at the office each work day at nine, out whenever she finished, five days a week; that was her routine,
and the routine was her.
She'd been noticed for her diligence. That woman from Corporate had flown in for a few days and met with her late in the day during periodic reviews to discuss her report card.
What was her name?
...Annette Bishop,
yes that was it!
Yes, Annette from Corporate had seen at her record (and even nodded her head with approval). She'd scanned the accomplishments with her pretty brunette head down as if Kristie wasn't even in the room. Sucking on her pen and considering hard what she'd seen she'd finally broken the silence with,
"Impeccable... absolutely sterling performance, Kristie. I can clearly see all these late nights you put in are paying off handsomely,"
It was a compliment. It could have been a back-handed one. All these late nights were because Kristy had no one to go home to on two legs. There was just her four pawed occasional cuddle partner Oreo... but even he was there only when it was convenient for him. Asshole male.
As quickly as she'd said it, Annette made eye contact with her saying,
"Of course all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. I suppose you are out a great deal in this city. You need to be -
balance and all that, you know.
"Oh I get out here and there," Kristie fibbed, " its just that tonight I knew it was important to meet with you in the chance you'd be able to see me."
Annette saw the fib, but let it go. She'd seen Kristy's type before;
in at work early, go home late.
Kristie was one of the rowers keeping this company sailing, one tedious stroke at a time.
Poor girl.
Yes, she let it go with,
"Of course... naturally."
Yes, poor girl Kristie. When the meeting was over she went home to her cat Oreo and her empty flat to fix herself a frozen dinner and fall asleep in front of the television watching predictably unrealistic
made-for-TV
movie about impossibly pretty people in unbelievably mundane lives. It was one of those sappy escapist chick flicks that frumpy desperate women would watch so they could tell themselves they had HOPE. Then they would retire to bed with chocolate ice cream to rub their clit furiously and see the face of the film's leading man right before their eyes before drifting off to sleep.
The thing was, she'd not even made it to bed. So exhausted from being "the best little worker" at her small little corporate office park, (part of a huge non-caring conglomerate)... she fell asleep from the syrupy music and the equally sicky-sweet dialogue right there on her couch. When she awoke, the couple were kissing in a love scene. She opted to simply "take care of things right there and then," using the leading man's face as fuel to rub that bean of hers to.
Pushing Oreo aside, she handed him the soupy melted contents of pathetic bowl of ice cream so he'd leave her be as she jilled-off. Now that she'd taken care of the needs of one pussy, it was time to address the needs of the
other.
Sliding a hand beneath the elastic of her sweatpants, she got busy.
It was a good slow sleepy stroke-off she gave herself. She stared at the television screen. He had chin stubble,
that guy on TV
.
Good. She liked that. Very good in fact!
Her fingers splayed apart her shaven smooth twat taco; smooshing and tugging lightly at the outer lips just so. That felt nice. She stirred things around a bit, focusing upon the actor's face. OH NICE! She wondered what that strong chin would feel like rooting around at the top of her cleft. She'd love to bump
her
cleft against
his
cleft and
find the fuck out!
Now it was time for the middle finger to earn its keep. She splayed things apart again a bit and found her hooded clitty. The man had just pulled back from the kiss and licked his lips. She saw his tongue-tip and imagined it wasn't her finger doing the tickling. Her hips rose to the occasion from the couch, pushing firmly against her hand.
She found the correct pace and commenced moving arm and fingers in self-abusive harmony; all while enjoying that handsome face with those five-o'clock-shadow cheekbones and all that curly black hair. A few minutes later and she wheezed and squeaked her way through a hand-humping gasp before enjoying her inner-release. She exhaled then drifted off to sleep, her rubbing one out and the film's sappy music haven taken their toll on her ability to stay awake.
She woke a short time later. The credits were rolling on the screen. She really needed to get to bed; it was late.
Switching off her TV, she moved five paces away to her futon in her tiny little apartment; Oreo presently joining her in a purring ball next to her rump. Eyes shut, Kristy Kay slipped into that lovely black pool of sleep, the sweet if only temporary darkness.
***
But that was all but a few days ago in the recent past and now here she was, grinding away on another stack of numbers. She could have been home by now but
no,
she wanted to see this latest project completed and besides, Oreo would wait up for her. He'd even cuddle with her right up until she needed to rub one out to some of her chick porns or lame TV programs. He'd take it as his cue to move to the other side of the room and put a sandpaper tongue to his kitty dick n' balls while Kristy pulled maintenance of a different sort on her twat taco. She'd be home in a while, she just needed to work the num...bers...
STEP STEP STEP STEP
... she heard footsteps
waaaay
down the hallway outside the cube farm she sat in. She knew those steps; knew those shoes too. Well-made shoes they were... hard soles. The shoes of a man...
THE
man, in fact! Unlike the leading man whom she'd frigged herself to sleep over, this guy was quite real and tangible.
"Time for
a girl to get some water,"
she thought to herself.
She was at once up to her feet and across the cube farm, taking fast steps so as to arrive just...in ....time.
She made it! She'd headed him off.
There he was, carrying several folders under his arm and walking
his walk.
