Copyright PennameWombat April 2020
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This is my submission for the
2020 'On the Job' LitErotica event
.
*****
Howard pushed through the stairwell door and emerged onto the darkened eighteenth floor, 8 P.M and the short days of late January meant sunlight was hours gone and he'd deactivated the automatic motion sensors which left only a couple of widely spaced soft security lights for the floor. Even the cleaners were almost finished across the five floors his employer occupied so he was alone. Music played through his wireless earbuds as he tapped at his phone to pull up the error report. Cubicle 14. That way, one of the lucky assholes with a cube on the outer ring, which gave them an easy view through the windows of their skyscraper. No cubes on this floor touched the walls that were floor to ceiling windows as was the building across the street and most other nearby skyscrapers. The perimeter was a hallway that allowed the company to claim everyone was equal, the infamous 'corner window office' didn't exist. It did, but only two floors higher where hoi polloi didn't sit.
He arrived at the target cubicle, the resident had reported 'files won't save' but it had come too late for the day crew to address. Not that they cared. The cube walls where they abutted other cubes were six feet tall but along the hallways only four. He scanned over the darkened shapes of knick knacks as he stood at the entrance. He stepped inside and tapped his phone to use the screen to find the switch for the light mounted under the overhead bookshelf. He paused when he caught sight of a couple of family pictures, a brunette nearing middle-age and going stout, chubby balding husband and a couple of cherubs, a boy and a girl. The latter two were probably tattooed and pierced ne'er-do-wells by now based on the apparent age of the photos. Bright, sudden lights at his back drew him from imagining how much bourbon the husband got into each night while the younger two smoked massive bowls of ganja and the cube's resident chugged down white wine.
He turned slowly. And his jaw dropped.
He didn't know what company was on the eighteenth floor across the street but apparently they used active motion sensors. He was suddenly pleased at that as he slid to stand behind the short cube wall along the outer hallway, gauged the spill of light and found it fell short of him. It wasn't that great a distance to the other building, the street between the buildings was two-lane pavement with parking on only one side and the usual urban sidewalks.
She was tall, approached six feet in those heels, based on the furniture. He'd seen it before, one of those 'open plan' offices instead of cubicles, sets of tables in cross shapes which each offered four spaces to sit, each with a large display screen users could attach to their laptop. People sat where they would each day. But other than cleaners he'd never seen anyone there this late.
Her long, blonde hair trailed behind her as her arms moved in a rather animated fashion. He wondered at that before he squinted and saw the white, wireless earbud when she brushed the hair behind her ears. She suddenly stopped from her rapid stride and stood with her hands on her hips. Her face did something but then she shook her head and walked slowly.
Apparently she was on a phone call.
He watched her mouth move as she approached a table set directly across from him that offered the usual four workspaces. He saw her approach an open laptop that was side-on to him. The nearest chair was pushed well behind that spot and sat against the window. She must've applied considerable force when she'd stood up. He expected her to retrieve the chair but she simply walked to the desk and bent at the waist to put her weight on her elbows and stared at the screen.
"Shi...," more of an exhale than a word.
She had high, stiletto heels, a beige color that matched her skirt and the matching jacket. The skirt was at the shortest of the acceptable range for women who worked in the city but she clearly had the figure and legs to do the skirt justice. He guessed she had panty hose on given the chilly temperatures and hue of her legs. Her posture meant that all but the top inch or two of the backs of her thighs were in view.
He guessed she was within a year or two of his thirty years. He had enough experience to know that no one would mistake him for a model but nor would anyone assume he lived under a bridge and waylaid unsuspecting travelers. He volunteered to work the evening shift since it gave him the afternoons, especially now in mid-winter, to get what sun there might be to work out.
The blonde stood straight and her mouth moved while she stared forward for a few moments before she shrugged off her jacket and laid it across the table to her right, next to a purse. She had a skin-tight white sleeveless top that revealed flat abs and a very impressive chest.
Howard exhaled slowly as she became animated again as she spoke and her body shook. Like the shirt, the skirt traced her ass and hips. She stopped speaking and shook her head again.
He pushed back slightly when she turned and walked to the window but it appeared her gaze went upward rather than straight across. Her hips were nicely proportionate to her figure and that top offered significant cleavage. He shifted his own hips to adjust to the pressure that his prick suddenly offered. She frowned, then nodded and her mouth moved quickly, he thought at least one word was 'goodbye' and indeed, her hand tapped at one of the earbuds. Her hands went back to her hips, her eyes closed and she leaned her head back and rotated it in a slow stretch.
