"You. Come with me."
Our eyes make contact, the seriousness of the situation clear in my expression.
I immediately turn and start walking away hearing the frantic rustling of papers from his cubicle.
"NOW!!" I bark back at him. That should get his ass moving.
I walk briskly down the row, my eyes scanning above the cubicles, searching for an open door. Each step sending a small shock wave through my feet and up my legs; the rhythmic bumping causing a painful pinch in my chest, reminding me of my urgency. The cube farm is nearly empty and from appearances every conference room is taken.
"Fucking sales conference." I mutter under my breath. "Fucking two hour traffic jam." I continue, when finally I find my target. Call room #3. "Jesus Christ. I guess it will have to do." I say to no one in particular as I continue rapidly down the aisle.
"What?" the intern behind me replies scrambling to keep up.
I quickly turn down another cube row, angling towards the call room, his question left unanswered. Within seconds we reach the room. I push the door open, grabbing the intern by the shoulder and pushing him in front of me. As the fluorescent lights flash and pop to life, I take a moment to assess my surroundings, closing the door roughly behind me.
Our office call rooms are designed for one purpose: so sales team can yammer on the phone all day long without bothering their cube neighbors. The company is too cheap to give them real offices, so they spend half their day in what is essentially a glorified closet. A single chair, a small table (more like a bar), and a high narrow window in the office door. The rooms are too small for air conditioning or ventilation, and the sales guys are required to keep the door shut. So they pace back and forth, talking into their bluetooth headsets and chugging bottled water like caged animals as the room slowly gets hotter and hotter.
"Toby, right?" I ask, sliding the heavy bag off my shoulder and on to the table.
"Yes. Ma'am." he replies.
I smile to myself as I push past him, quickly wincing as the drum tight flesh of my bosom momentarily envelops his arm before we exchange places in the room. Ma'am. Oh that's just hilarious. You're not that young kid. And I'm not that old. I sit down in the chair and began to unzip my bag.
"Toby. You've got one job. That is to keep your eyes glued to that window and make sure nobody barges in on us." I say. As my hand fishes around in my bag I feel the familiar shape of cool plastic and pull out my breast pump. Within milliseconds understanding dawns on Toby's face.
"Starting now." I say, pausing for effect. "Am I making myself clear?" I continue as I look him squarely in the eyes.
His response is immediate, turning his head 90 degrees to stare over his shoulder out the small window placed conveniently at eye level.
"Yuh, yuh, yes, Miss Thompson." he stammers, unable to look back at me.
I begin quickly unbuttoning my blouse, feeling the heat of my engorged breasts through the fabric as I work my way down to my waist. No time for pleasantries I think as I pinch the front clasp on my bra and pull the cups to the sides, letting my G cup breasts spill out. I think about how nice it will be when this is over and I can go back to my normal C cup. Grabbing the pump I place it over my right nipple, quickly stiffening in the open air, latch the shield to my areola and began the quick squeezing motion that will start the flow.
I feel the faintest trickle of milk before I see the white fluid in the pump. Satisfied I reach into the bag to grab my second back up pump, letting the first pump hang from my right breast.
Since giving birth I have only tried double pumping once. It seemed more trouble than it was worth, and honestly felt a bit filthy, having a pump on each breast, like some kind of farm animal. I kept the second pump around as a backup, but had not used it since. Desperate times call for desperate measures I think as I line the second pump's shield to my left nipple.
Squeezing the handle quickly I watch as my nipple extends a full inch into the suction cup, retreating as I let go, then sucking back in on the next squeeze. I savor the tug of suction, and within seconds a spray erupts as white fluid fills the shield and begins traveling up the pump tube.
I look down at my enormous milk filled breasts, shiny and hot, nearly bursting, a pump attached to each nipple, and grab a pump in each hand. Closing my eyes and leaning back I begin to slowly and rhythmically squeeze the handles, expressing milk into the pumps.