I didn't have the first clue who Snooki was, but I had to admit that the boss's attempt to dress like her had a good result. Ninve was a babe in her own right, so that wasn't difficult. Every time I saw her, I had an immediate rush of blood to my cock and impulses that I dared not follow. Among those was the urge to take my supervisor and grudge-fuck her there in front of the whole office, something that would no doubt wreck my career. Even though she got her promotion based on something other than merit, that wouldn't excuse my conduct. Management always had double standards for the rest of us.
The Halloween party went well that night for everyone concerned, with plenty of booze to go around, too. I lived in easy walking distance, so I hadn't bothered to ride my Harley to the office for this function. I didn't need a designated driver, but I still didn't get plastered.
The same couldn't be said for Ninve. She had tossed back more than a few tumblers of her favorite cocktails by this point and she wasn't feeling any pain. I saw her bloodshot eyes and knew that she was in trouble. The morning would see her hung over like a damp rug on a clothesline, a phrase that made me think of her pussy and got me very hard as I thought of it. I knew that I would have to do the responsible thing and find Ninve a designated driver. This realization caused my dick to go limp again, as I didn't look forward to it.
I had just washed my hands after pissing when the power went out. I didn't know how or why it was off, but I knew that the doors were automated, so we were all stuck there until the morning. Since tonight was a Friday, this was a bit of an awful start to the weekend. Then again, wearing the same clothes and being hung over at work could be more than a little awkward for all of us, even if we understood why.
"Damn!" I thought, as I grasped for the paper towels.
That was before I opened the door and bumped directly into someone.
"Ouch!" Ninve squealed, her voice unmistakable with its whiny tone.
"Sorry, Ninve," I apologized, indicating recognition.
"Mark, it's okay. I just need to know if this is the mens' room," she worried.
"Yes, Ninve, it's the mens' room ... I'm not gonna sneak into the ladies' room, even in the dark. Though I don't suppose that it really matters, since I can't see anything just as you can't," I observed.
"That's a comforting thought, Mark. But you're right, so can I go ahead and use the mens' stalls? Promise you won't tell a soul?" she pleaded with me.
Now, it's not commonly known, but I have a soft spot for chunky women like Ninve. She wasn't obese, just soft, curvy, and adorable. She had a gift for making one feel bad for her, but especially a guy like me. She had the passive-aggression angle figured out, at least where I was concerned. This didn't mean that I lacked a backbone, as she knew well, but it meant I had to keep an iron grip on my feelings around her. Otherwise, she'd walk all over me. Thankfully, this incident wasn't a serious issue for me, and I saw some potential leverage in it for me.
"Sure, Ninve. I'll stand guard outside and make sure no one walks in on you," I offered in most my genteel guise.
I was good at the phony chivalry game, despite knowing what a load of unfair hypocrisy it was for women to demand special favors and equality at the same time. I didn't mind voluntary courtesy, of course, but I resented the sense of entitlement, the "princess" persona, the idea of obligation.
Even so, I could maintain a facade of being just another pawn in the ladies' mental chess games. It had the virtue of making most women think that I'm harmless when I'm anything but. The last thing that I wanted was for my true nature to be revealed to all and sundry. I was a fairness fanatic disguised as something else entirely, a zealot obsessed with my own notions of justice.
"Why bother? I'd rather you stood close to the stall and talked to me. I'm scared of the dark. I could use your company, Mark," Ninve urged me as she headed to the stall.
