A New Thing

work sucks

A fine opening line,

John surmised. He was unsure if he really needed an opening line, but, having not heard anything but cursory, belated "hey"-like responses to his previous texts from Riley since she'd practically bolted out the door after giving him one of the shortest (and to be fair, he had to admit, most skillful) blowjobs he'd ever had almost a week ago, he thought he might. With no response immediately coming, he surveyed his work desk, found it uninteresting, and sent a follow-up message:

happy hour?

He surveyed his desk again. On it sat a laptop, various official looking documents he had spent a good portion of the morning printing, and various stationary, all intended to give the effect to any passersby that he was working quite hard. It appeared to be working, as long as he could keep his texting restricted to times with no observers. This was a challenge, less because of the number of potential witnesses and more so because he was so bored.

Also because you are so anxious to hear from her,

an annoying voice in the back of his head pestered him.

Yeah, yeah, that, too,

he answered himself silently. This week, with its new consulting job, had been seemingly interminable, having felt like time, which had previously been flying by nicely, decided to come crashing to a painful halt. It had almost all been enough to take his mind off the fact that Riley had been AWOL since her brief, if much appreciated, appearance. But then Monday came, and with his new job starting, he found himself wondering where she'd run off to and whether he was correct to fret about it at all. She had, to be fair, continued to answer his texts, but never promptly, signaling she was either busy or, more worrisome, that she'd lost interest. Given how recently they'd spent an entire day fucking each others' brains out, and given that she had never expressed anything but continued interest in casual sex with him, the latter option seemed irrational, but deep down he couldn't shake it.

It was now Thursday and he was beginning to suspect that whichever middle manager had hired him had either forgotten about it or been sacked and so he had been shoved into this small, out of the way cubicle to do fuck all. This was, generally speaking, amenable, but he had to admit that it was not helping him feel any less antsy.

It really made no sense to feel as anxious about Riley as he did: everything was casual, and all parties knew this. Besides, he had tacit permission to fuck other people on the side, and had been taking advantage of that permission by repeatedly hooking up with Liam. And besides that, he'd even fucked both his ex and one of Liam's friends, neither with seemingly any negative consequences.

So,

he thought to himself,

you really need to relax and not get too hung up on it. She had to go meet friends is all. She's probably just busy at work or something. Don't get up your own ass about this.

wish i could

, a text from Riley interrupted John's thoughts. Another text came before John had even picked up his phone

busy all week

.

He sighed and put his phone in his pocket.

See? She's working. Selling her labor for want of capital. As you are supposed to be doing, comrade.

He turned his attention back to his laptop, which was currently displaying a report created from a template he used at every job by making the smallest of changes. It was already ready to go, although he had nowhere to send it at the moment. He'd been given minimal instructions by some employee who seemed to have something far better to do at the time and so now he had very little idea which manager to send documents to be ignored to.

He sighed again. At times like these, with no one around and nothing to do, there was always the temptation to jerk off, but as always he opted for the safe-for-work option of not doing so but rather just daydreaming while staring at the screen.

If those daydreams turn sexual, well, then, so be it.

He began, despite himself, mentally reviewing how things had been going since he took that first step of getting on a dating app, which had lead to hist first the date with Riley, which had lead to that second date with her, which, despite the disappointingly abrupt ending, had actually been kind of amazing. They had basically spent Saturday night and the better part of the following Sunday fucking and sucking each others' brains out. He thought back to how perfect she had looked in her little black dress and how she'd looked even better out of it, how her perfect, tight little ass had drained his balls over and over, how she had filled his ass with her big, hard cock, how delicious her cum had tasted as they swapped it back and forth. Of course she had had to run out quickly, a fact that he had become annoyingly reminded of as he sat there, cock already straining against his pants just from the memories.

But then there had been Liam. He didn't know why the memory of the following day's activities with Liam hadn't pushed any annoyance he'd felt with Riley's sudden departure out of his brain entirely. He kind of felt bad about it; it was as if Liam was just a consolation prize. He made a note that he had to be sure he wasn't treating the kid that way. Liam was, all things considered, an amazing lover, sexy as hell and always down to fuck.

Maybe it's some remnant of my life of being "straight",

he thought. Plus, Liam had put his money where his mouth was when it came to the casualness of the relationship: he'd both sucked off another guy while out with John and not objected to John spending that same night using Liam's friend Zoe as a fuck toy.

And that wasn't even including the fact that Liam had gotten a threesome with Ethan hooked up, a first for John. He thought back to how they had all taken turns sucking each others' dicks, how tight Ethan's asshole had been as he came, how hot it had been watching Liam fuck another guy, and maybe hottest of all, how it had felt to share Liam's hole with that other guy.

I wonder if that foursome is ever really going to happen.

Even not knowing the slightest thing about Ethan's at the time absent boyfriend, John found himself excited and fantasizing at the prospect. Maybe this time he could even take up a middle position in the train, simultaneously fucking one of the boys while taking a fat cock up his ass.

How good would it be to suck Riley off while taking another man's dick up my ass,

he mused. The thought of her getting off to him getting fucked was making his dick almost painfully hard, which had the annoying effect of reminding him that this was just a fantasy: he hadn't even asked either of the boys if they would be into adding a trans girl, and even if they were, which was certainly no guarantee for guys who, by all indications, were 100% gay, she was unfortunately unavailable.

I need to get a hobby that doesn't involve sex,

he conceded.

But on the other hand, if I weren't such a horny pervert, I probably wouldn't be the guy that Carrie would fall back on when she needs dick.

He was about to start reminiscing about Carrie's pussy when his thoughts were interrupted by a knocking sound, which it took a second for him to realize was emanating from a few feet away, where an unfamiliar woman was evidently making do with his assigned cubicle's lack of a door by knocking directly on the cheap gray material of the cubicle itself.

"Knock, knock," she added unnecessarily.

"Uh, hey, what's up?" John reacted, unsure if this was the correct level of formality for the current situation but also not particularly concerned if it wasn't.

"Some people were going for lunch in a bit, and I wondered if you wanted to go along. I know it can be tough to get integrated into the whole corporate social relation web," his visitor said.

John looked at his interlocutor. She had a nice smile, one that seemed genuine even if it almost certainly wasn't given the situation. Beyond the smile, she was generally nice enough to look at that he had to force himself to reply soon enough so that he wouldn't be thought of as ogling. "Oh, uh, sure. I mean, thanks, that sounds good."

"Cool, temp," she said. She wore attire that, while certainly fitting of the environment, a long gray skirt and a light blue blouse, also looked as if she had chosen it to accent her exceedingly blue eyes. Her hair, which appeared to be naturally dark brown but with blonde mixed in, was tied back smartly.

Is that type of coloration called "highlights"?

John wondered. He really had no idea about these things and had only in the last few years even figured out what women were talking about when they referred to shoes as "flats" so he assumed this was probably incorrect terminology. He then realized he was staring and should say something.

"Oh, uh, I'm not a temp, by the way," he said, unable to think of anything more clever.

"You're not? That's what they told me," she said. She made a cute little face that John couldn't interpret the meaning of, then started in another mock voice "'Go ask the temp to come along,' they said, 'He's kind of cute.'"

"They said that, did they?" John asked, chuckling.

"Yeah, 'the temp', they said," she answered, making quotes with her fingers.

"Ah," John replied, "probably they'll be very disappointed when you bring along the ugly old consultant to lunch instead of whatever cute temp they meant."

"Oh, 'consultant'," she said with a smile, "I beg your pardon, good sir. Anyway we're leaving if you're not too busy..." she looked at his laptop screen, which had switched to a screen saver from disuse,"...with that important-looking work, temp."

"I think I can tear myself away," John said. He got up to join her. "And since we're going with 'temp,' what should I call you?"

"Boss," she said as they walked down the hallway towards a more populated area of the floor, "or, since I guess I'm not

technically

your boss even though you are kind of a temp, anyway, Penelope is fine. Penny if you're not feeling formal."

"Penny, huh?" John said.

She stopped and turned to face him. "Yes. But please refrain from any Inspector Gadget references. If you had any idea how many times I've heard variations on 'hey Penny how about some Brain...'"

"Wouldn't dream of it, boss," he said, "I'm not nearly that clever."

"Good," she said, turning and leading him to where a small group of employees was gathering. When they had finished taking the final few steps to the small group, she announced "I have retrieved the temp, as requested." This seemed to elicit a handful of awkward smiles, which she seemed to ignore. "Let's go."

John followed the group into a cramped elevator, which descended to the ground floor, while all the occupants seemed content to remain all but silent.

Fun crowd,

he thought to himself. The crowd of five people, including John, made their way to a restaurant/bar a couple blocks from the office building. From the crowd inside, John surmised that this place got by mostly on groups like the one he found himself in now, neighborhood office workers squeezing in a lunch break. It was on the whole fairly nondescript but, by that token, also comfortable enough for an office drone such as himself.

As they stood, waiting to be seated, John subtly took stock of his compatriots. Besides Penny, who was standing just to his right, having squeezed in the door right after him, there was one other woman in the group, who stood at least a head shorter than anyone else and looked to be in her early twenties, if that. She had a cute face and skin a lovely south Asian-looking shade of brown. The other two were men, one looking like he'd probably spent the last 20 years of his life at whatever desk he was at, balding and slightly pudgy in khakis and a dress shirt and tie, and one probably 15 years younger, blond and lean, a few inches taller than John. The two men were discussing some work-related thing while the girl listened, paying far more attention to their conversation than John could muster.

He turned his attention to Penny, who, as soon as his eyes met hers, pretended unconvincingly she had been looking elsewhere. "So, you come here often?" he asked.

She turned her gaze back towards him. "Oh, not that much. I guess it's kind of a regular spot," she answered. John was unsure how it could be a regular spot and one that she didn't frequent, but he didn't particularly care. He'd never been particularly good with small talk; he considered one of the benefits of his work to be bouncing around between companies and not having to deal with the attendant forced socializing and its attendant forced small talk. He had largely accepted the invitation to come along because

He had no obvious reason to turn it down;

He had hoped it could provide a distraction; and

Penny was cute, so his lizard brain exerted just enough control to push him in the direction of being social.

And she

was

cute. Her face reminded him of some actress, though he couldn't place which exactly; he chalked it up to being an amalgamation of the leads of various half-remembered television dramas from his youth. He was finding it difficult to pretend to be interested in the restaurant's decor while stealing glances of her, so it was a relief when they were finally seated at a booth.

The presumably south Asian girl and the younger guy slid into one side of the booth and Penny into the other. The older of the two guys appeared to be expecting John to take his seat, so, thankful that he had not had to choose a seat for himself, he slid in next to Penny and the other guy followed him, making a bit of a tight fit. He did not mind the warmth of Penny's body close to him, although he could have used some space.

"Oof, sorry if I'm squishing you a bit," the guy said. "Maybe I should start ordering salads, huh?" he indicated his gut playfully.

"Ah, no problem," John said. He really did not know how to deal with these kinds of normal social situations, for as much as he could appreciate the effort that his interlocutor was certainly going to.

"I'm Frank, by the way," the man introduced himself, awkwardly reaching around himself to shake John's hand. "That string bean over there is Bill, and that cute little thing next to him is Priya. I guess you already met Ms. Penelope."

"Ah, nice to meet you all," John said, having managed a sideways handshake. Priya smiled and Bill nodded politely. "I'm John," he introduced himself.

"Good to meet you, John," Frank said. "Hopefully you're better than our last temp."

John was just about to correct him when a waitress, looking cheerful despite the obviously hectic lunch hour, appeared and asked, "Ready to order?"

"Yes," answered Penelope before John had even had a chance to question it.

The waitress looked toward Priya first. "The usual?" she asked.

"Yes, please," responded Priya in a cute little Indian-accented voice.

"Same for me," added Bill. The waitress turned her attention toward Frank.

"Maybe I should have that salad," said Frank, before smiling and adding "Ah, just kidding, the usual for me, too."

"And for you?" the waitress looked to John expectantly.

"Uh..." he began, having no idea how to finish his sentence.

"The temp will have my usual," Penelope interjected, "as will I, thank you." She looked at him with those blue eyes as if pretending to get confirmation, but it didn't matter, in any case, since the waitress left to fetch their orders, anyway.

"Yeah, that last temp was terrible," said Bill, resuming the conversation from earlier. "Couldn't even get a coffee order straight."

"Oh, he was cute," said Priya. "Besides, you can get your own coffee."

"Aww, heck, Pri," said Frank, "that's what temps are for, right? Fetching coffee, making copies, that kind of thing. That's why they're temps; no skills or anything." He seemed to remember the present company suddenly, turning to John. "No offense, of course."

"I'm not actually a temp," John began.

He was about to explain when Penelope interrupted again. "He's a consultant. So you all had better watch what you say around him. He might recommend to the boss that we start downsizing."

John chuckled, but, looking around the table saw that nobody else had taken it as the joke that he supposed it was. "That's not really what I do..." he started.

"Oh, sorry, we heard you were a temp," Bill said.

"It's not a problem," John said. "I mean, I

am

only temporarily hired by the company, so..."

"So you're a temp. Technically," said Penelope.

He looked at her and could not for the life of him figure out what was going on behind those blue eyes. "I suppose so. Technically," he said. "Now technically I just need to figure out who is technically my boss while I am temporarily employed here."

"You don't know who your boss is?" Bill asked, a look of confusion on his face.

"Usually some manager hires me," explained John. "Well, they hire the consulting company, and through the magic of corporate bureaucracy, I end up reporting to someone, maybe the same guy who hired me, maybe somebody else. Usually somebody points me to where to go, who to submit things to, but this time I was not so lucky."

"Who did this explaining this time?" Penelope asked. She was trying to force an expression of amused curiosity but it was not convincing.

"Wish I could tell you. I didn't get a name and I haven't seen her since Monday. I don't think she knew any better than I do."

"I see," said Penelope. John imagined he could hear the gears moving behind her eyes.

"This reminds me of that book, Catch-22," Priya interjected. "Have you ever read that?"

Nobody else seemed interested in answering Priya's question, which was too bad, John thought. He vaguely remembered liking that book.

He was going to say as much when Bill piped up, "Probably it was Harris. That guy was a moron."

"Yeah, a real grade-A dipshit," added Frank.

"Who's Harris?" asked John.

"A manager here. Well,

former

manager," Penelope corrected herself.

"What happened to him?" asked John. He took it from the silence that followed that he'd asked an uncomfortable question.

"There was an

issue

with HR," Penelope said. Everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when the waitress reappeared with a tray of food.

It turned out that Penelope's usual was a salad. This was fine with John and not even something he found surprising from a slim young woman like her. What he found a little more peculiar was the drink that accompanied it: apparently a martini, which stood in somewhat stark contrast to the soft drinks that the others had. He found it odd for a work lunch, but considering that Penelope evidently had one regularly with her lunch and the others in the group paid it no mind, he decided it was probably fine.

For a while everyone mostly just ate their meals in relative silence, with only scattered conversation pertaining to various office-related affairs that John could not and did not particularly care to follow. He glanced around the room casually as if surveying it, an excuse to eventually turn his gaze onto Penny, which he considered both more appealing visually than the crowded booths and tables around them and more curious. He found that once again upon being observed she quickly flicked her eyes back towards the other three members' conversation and pretending to be listening in a most unconvincing manner.

When all had finished their meals, which did not take long, Priya took a lull in the conversation to excuse herself to the rest room. "I'll join you," said Penny, which seemed to come as a bit of a shock to the girl, but she quickly covered it up with a smile and after some awkward sliding out of the booth, the girls disappeared around a corner, leaving John with Frank and Bill. He was, by this point, really just wishing the waitress would bring the check.