Call Waiting On Line Screwed

Thanks to

HeyAll

for organizing the '

OnTheJob

' event. [Write a story which happens while at work.]

Please read my profile for my stance on comments. Feel free to email suggestions or to start a conversation. Private messages work too.

Dolly Parton: "You're in the same boat with a lotta your friends, waitin' for the day your ship'll come in."

+ + + +

Mona bit her hand lightly to prevent what she really wanted to do, which was scream through her orgasm. Marty, with plenty of stamina after Mona's sloppy top blow job, continued pumping away. His cock wasn't exactly a snug fit in Mona's pussy, but he could feel her squeezing his cock.

She never talked about whether Homer, her husband, was that much bigger than him. Sensing this could take forever, Mona pinned her knees together to try and get enough friction for Marty to finish. A few minutes later, he did.

They knew they could only cuddle for a few minutes. After snuggling, both snuck through the dimly lit Conference Room F. The slits in the window coverings provided what little light they had.

Marty sensed annoyance in Mona's voice when she sniped "Did you move my clothes?"

"No, why would I do that?"

"I don't know why, but mine aren't where I left them."

Marty warned "Keep your voice down. The last thing we need is somebody hearing us."

Shouting quietly "I KNOW! Have you found yours?"

"No, did you move mine?"

"OF COURSE NOT" in hushed anger.

Marty pondered out loud "Well crap. Where could they be?"

"What makes you think I know? Crack the blinds a little so we can search."

Marty wiggled the hex shaft, letting in a bit of sunlight. Sunlight which found only carpet on the floors.

There was fear in Mona's whispered voice "Oh shit! Somebody took our clothes. My phone is in the back pocket of my slacks."

"Are you kidding me? My phone is in my pants. You have cum dripping down your leg."

Stopping the flow by scooping up a handful "I don't see any napkins. Don't they usually keep some next to the water pitcher?"

"Beats me. I'm not seeing anything you can use."

"This is just great. Now what?"

"I'll lock the door until we can figure something out."

"You mean you didn't lock the door earlier" Mona sniped a little louder.

"ME? You were the last one to come in."

"AND I LOCKED THE DOOR ASSHOLE" was whispered louder than it should have been.

In a much quieter voice "Keep it down. It was unlocked. I've locked it. Crap. We're screwed. Anything in the supply closet we can use?"

Mona's boobs bounced as she shot across the room to the closet door. A tit man more than an ass man, Marty admired the show.

With the limited light, it was difficult to see much. Mona did spot an unopened bundle of napkins. Breaking the seal, she immediately cleaned her cum soaked cheating cunt. A second napkin dried her legs where cum had leaked down. Today wasn't a total loss. This small victory wouldn't be remembered though.

Time stood still. Neither one spoke for several minutes.

Mona broke the silence "We need everyone to go home. Once the office is empty we can at least leave this room."

"It's eleven fucking o'clock in the morning. Certainly someone has this room reserved today! Lie low for another seven hours? Don't you think somebody will come searching for us?"

"Hey asshole, I'm not hearing any better ideas out of you. I know I've got a two o'clock meeting down on the third floor. If I miss that meeting my ass is grass."

"Well sweetheart, I think our asses are grass already. Whoever has our clothes can demand just about any fucking thing they want. Ready to be someone's office slut?"

"Fuck you. Maybe they're gay and you'll be in the men's room, on your knees, giving blowjobs."

Marty suddenly felt very close to puking. He silently prayed 'Come on karma, let it be a woman with our clothes.'

After a few more awkward minutes of silence, Marty asked "Is there anyone we can call?"

No sooner had he uttered that question when the conference room phone's intercom calmly announce 'Call waiting on line three for Mona.'

Mona froze. The confirmation, that someone knew she was in here, was very unsettling. With a little trepidation, Mona punched line three's button on the outdated intercom console.

"This is Mona."

"Hey babe. Great idea about lunch. I'll swing by your office around noon. I'm really busy right now, so I'll let you go. See you in a bit."

"Homer, wait, I ..." but the line went dead. Mona slumped to the floor, tears streaming down her face. Her sobs made it difficult for her to speak.

"What happened? Who was that?" a startled Marty calmly asked.

Mona couldn't find her voice, but she didn't need it. The intercom calmly announced 'Call waiting on line two for Marty.'

Acting as if he was tangling with a cobra, Marty carefully punched line two's button.

"This is Marty."

"Hey sweetie. Sure, I'd love to have lunch with you. The kids and I will be there at noon. Looks like mom is calling, I'll let you go. Ta-ta!"

Not prone to tearing up, Marty failed to stem the flow of his tears. He knew he was fucked. Whoever had his phone was set on making his life a living hell.

Mona choked out a few words "You too? Lunch with spouse?"

Marty nodded his head in defeat. For roughly the same reasons, both sat sobbing. 'It was just sex honey' probably wasn't going to save either their marriages or their jobs.

Just when they thought their morning couldn't get any worse, the loudspeaker announced 'Monthly birthday party at noon, fifth floor, Conference Room F!'

Mona let out a gasp with "Oh Gawd, I forgot about that."

"Do you think the windows open?"

"Were on the fifth floor Einstein! I can't fly and I bet you can't either."

"Calm down bitch! You got any better ideas?"

"NO! Break the fucking window open. I'd rather die than face everyone naked, especially with you."

"Yeah, well I plan on telling everyone you charged me fifty for a blow job and doggy fuck."

Mona lunged at Marty, claws ready to strip his face off. He grabbed her wrists before her recently painted nails could inflict pain. He was, however, unable to protect his jewels from her knee. Falling backwards, Marty pulled Mona with him, sending her into a forward summersault. Skidding a few feet, Mona sustained some very painful road rash on her ass cheeks. Conference room carpets are more like asphalt than lawns.

Marty scrambled to his feet. His nuts hurt like hell, but when you have a woman intent on clawing your face off, you deal with it. Using the conference table as his shield, he was able to keep Mona at bay. When she dove underneath the table, Marty slid onto the table top, awaiting Mona to emerge.

This continued for a few minutes before Mona regained her sanity. Marty was too athletic for her to win. Keeping an eye on Mona, Marty tried the windows. They were sealed tightly and appeared to be too thick to break easily. Even if there wasn't glass in the window, Marty knew he wouldn't jump. There wasn't a ledge to facilitate an escape.

+ + + +

It was eleven twenty. They still had forty minutes before their lives would be over. Marty had an idea. The ceiling! Perhaps they could climb across into one of the other conference rooms? It was worth a try.

The acoustic ceiling tiles were easily dislodged. Unfortunately, the supporting wire maze wasn't going to be strong enough to allow a person to climb across it.

While Marty was busy looking for a way out, the intercom sounded again 'Call waiting on line two for Mona.'

Mona uttered 'now what?'

Professionally answering the phone "This is Mona."

"Mona, this is John Burns. I need you to bring the Simpson files down to my office immediately. Mrs. Simpson is on her way up as we speak."

"Sir, I won't be able to" was cut off with an angry retort.

"THAT WASN'T A REQUEST. NOW! GOT IT?" was followed by a loud clunk.

John Burns is a senior partner, and the highest ranking person at this office. If Mona failed to deliver those files, her career was over. As if it wasn't over already. More tears, but those didn't solve anything either. Marty smirked at the obvious discomfort he saw Mona enduring. His smirk disappeared when the intercom mingled with Mona's sobs.

'Call waiting on line four for Marty.'

'Just shoot me' was whispered just before Marty answered.

"This is Marty."

"Marty, this is Marge Krabappel. Mr. Burns would like you to run the Simpson pro-forma analysis using quarter point increments from two to four percent. Please print those out and deliver them in the next ten minutes."

"Mrs. Krabappel, I'm having an issue with my computer."

"Sucks to be you. Ten minutes" and the line went dead.

Marty closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He should have never wondered 'What else can go wrong?'

"Fifty dollar this jerk!" and then a moment after the ugly scrunching noise, Marty felt a pain unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Mona had swung the empty glass ball pitcher in an upward motion smashing his exposed cock and scrotum.

His scream, and the sound of his body landing hard, activated the intercom again.

'Please keep it down in there. SOME people are trying to work.'

Marty was gasping for air. Mona vented at the phone 'Fuck you bitch!'

+ + + +

Five minutes passed. Marty was still balled up in a fetal positon, having puked twice. The stench was permeating the room. Mona had tossed the napkin bundle at Marty. The intercom was now utterly annoying.

'Call waiting on line one for Mona.'

Mona debated for several seconds whether to answer or not.

"This is Mona."

"What the hell is this? I ask for the Simpson files and you send down a sack with your ID tag, clothes, and phone?"

Mona hung up, and then collapsed onto the floor. How could things have turned out this bad?

'Call waiting on line three for Marty.'

Mona punched line three's button and then tossed the handset to Marty.

Taking a deep breath and choking out his response "This is Marty."

"Marty, this is James Smithers, HR manager. I've got a sexual harassment complaint against you from Mrs. Krabappel. She claims she asked you for some spreadsheet printouts and you sent her a sack with your clothes and phone. Used clothing she claims, complete with skid marked shorts. What kind of prank are you trying to pull?"

"Sir, it's not what you think."

"My office. NOW!" was followed by the echo of a phone being slammed down.

Marty turned to Mona "Whoever is doing this is having a lot of fun at our expense."

When Marty rolled over, the carpet was blood stained. The well placed groin strike had caused a hemorrhage.

"Oh my gawd Marty. You're bleeding! I'm so sorry!"

"Call nine one one. I need medical assistance."

"But, but ..."

"But nothing. We're already dead except for the burial. Give me the fucking phone!"

Mona got an outside line, and requested an ambulance for Conference Room F on the fifth floor.

It was eleven forty five when the paramedics knocked politely. Mona tried hiding behind the door as the two hunks entered the room.

"Must be REALLY casual Fridays around this office" the younger of the two chortled.

John Burns screeched "MRS. VAN HOUTEN! PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!"

"I can't! Someone stole them!"

"Somebody give her a coat. Where's Marty's clothes?"

Mona answered meekly "They stole his too."

"Somebody put a gun in your face and told the two of you to strip?"

"No sir. We used the conference room for a tryst and while we were distracted, our clothes disappeared."

By this time, a female coworker had given Mona a coat to wear. The paramedics called for the police to investigate the suspicious injury.

As noontime neared, everyone in the office was gathering around for the meeting. The rumor mill was far more titillating than reality. A policeman spoke briefly with Marty, and then he ushered Mona to a corner to talk with her.

Covered on a gurney, Marty was wheeled passed the gathered throng. Lori, the fifth floor receptionist sniped at him "Thanks for nothing helping me get that promotion."

Marty cringed. In an attempt to get into Lori's panties, he had boasted about his connections within the company. When Lori was uninterested in any kind of extracurricular relationship with him, he started treating her like an underling. Lori's devious smirk gave him a clue to the identity of his tormentor.

Joining the throng of people was Homer, Mona's husband. He was followed in the next elevator by Marty's wife with a toddler and stroller. She was coming up while Marty was going down.

Lori made sure that Mr. Burns was within ear shot of her loud comment. "Hey Mona, still think that a lowly receptionist lacks the imagination to succeed in the business world?"

Mr. Burns took the opportunity to introduce himself.

"Young lady, who are you and what do you know about this fiasco?"

The two spouses listened intently.

"Sir, my name is Lori Flanders. I'm the fifth floor receptionist. I'd suspected something amiss about Mona and Marty reserving conference room F. This was not the first time they had done so. Once they entered this morning, I quietly let myself in. They were too 'into each other' to notice me gathering their clothes off of the floor. I left as quietly as I had entered."

A smirk crept across John Burns face as he tapped his fingerprints together "Excellent! Go on."

"I transferred the incoming calls from their desks to my console. Using their cell phones, I sent texts to their spouses inviting them here for lunch at noon. I told the spouses that they should dial the office directly. When anyone tried calling, it was routed to my console, including your calls sir. I used the intercom to inform each of their waiting calls."

John's smirk had turned into a smile. Most gathered around were chuckling with each revelation. That excluded the two spouses, who were steaming.

"And the clothes being sent to myself and Mrs. Krabappel?"

"Guilty sir. My apologies to both of you. I wanted it to be the final nail in their coffin."

"I see, well you succeeded. Why do you harbor such ill-will towards these two?"

"Other than I find their conduct reprehensible? Both treated me with disdain and as if they were somehow superior to me. Perhaps they'll refrain from burning bridges so haphazardly in the future."

"Ms. Flanders, my personal secretary, Mrs. Krabappel, will be retiring in a few months. I'd like for you to apply for the job."

There was a random clapping of hands which grew into a crescendo.

The policeman asked Mr. Burns "Would it be possible to get the sack of clothes for Mona? I'll be taking her into custody for the assault on Marty."

A minute later, Mona did the perp walk. Homer shouted out "Don't bother coming home bitch!"

Marty's wife cried out "Where's Marty?"

John Burns escorted the teary-eyed spouses into his office. The ax would fall hard on Mona and Marty. Marty's spouse was offered a nice settlement as Mona was in management and Marty wasn't. In lieu of a cash settlement, Homer asked that their spouses be retained until the divorces were granted, thus sealing the alimony issue.

The divorce court ordered painful alimony for Marty. Homer Van Houten's petition for divorce was uncontested and he completely avoided paying alimony. Mona and Marty were dismissed for violations of company policies, shortly after each divorce was granted.

Lori Flanders became Mr. Burns's personal secretary. Some fear her more than him.