"Look, I don't mean to be rude," the young teacher said, interrupting the janitor's awkward small-talk, "but these projects all need to be marked by tomorrow morning. I really need to concentrate, so if you're done in here...."
"Sure, sure. I understand, miss. It's just that ... you look pretty stressed out. And I think sometimes, taking just a few minutes to stop and recharge can make a job that much quicker and easier. If you just took a moment to stretch your neck, maybe close your eyes...."
She hadn't really noticed, but her neck
was
tense, and her eyes
were
stinging a little. And there was something odd about his voice, that she couldn't quite put her finger on. She listened more closely: "Just take three or four minutes off to relax. Take a deep breath. In ... and out ... in ... and out ... in ... and out. Feel all the tension just slipping away." His hands felt very good massaging her shoulders. "Forget about the projects, forget about the desk, the room. You are aware only of my voice. You are growing more and more relaxed. You don't need to worry about anything. Just obey my voice. Following my instructions will make you calm. Do you want to be calm?"
"Yes," she said.
"You will address me as 'Master.' Do you want to be calm and happy?"
"Yes Master."
"Very good. Open your eyes." The janitor was sitting on her desk in front of her, with his overalls undone to the crotch. He unzipped his fly and got out his love noodle. "My semen will make you calm and happy. Would you like to drink some?"
"Yes Master," she breathed, staring at his manhood. "May I?"
"You may."
She parted her lips, and wet them with her tongue. She slowly, dreamily moved her head toward him. She took the head of his cock between her lips and flicked her tongue back and forth across it. It rapidly grew, and she sucked it into her warm mouth...."
Addie read incredulously. This was the seventh or eighth story like this she'd looked at. Who read this stuff? Who wrote it? If these perverts seriously thought hypnosis worked that way, why weren't they picking up babes in real life, instead of writing bad prose about it? Or if they didn't ... why bother with it as a plot device? You might as well just write a story about a bunch of sex robots going at it. Well, everyone's got their own interests, I guess, and this is probably fairly harmless. But ... "love noodle??"
Like the suggestible teacher, Addie was working late. She usually did, really. If you asked her, she'd say that time just seemed to get away, and there was always so much for a system administrator to do. She could say that—her workmates wouldn't know any better—but to be honest, her job wasn't really that hard. With a bit of planning ahead and a systematic approach, she was able to keep things running perfectly smoothly, and under budget, at the small company she worked for.
No, to be honest, she felt just as much at home here as in her apartment. She could go home at five, order dinner, maybe watch some TV or a movie, and end up dwelling on why she was alone; why, at 27, she'd never really even had a boyfriend. Or she could spend the evening here, where there were always systems to tinker with, scripts to write, new platforms to research (usually beyond anything the company actually
needed
).
This evening, though, rather than doing any of those things, Addie found herself reading bad amateur erotic fiction. In theory, part of her job description was to keep an eye on staff internet usage. Normally she didn't like to pry, and certainly many staff accessed personal email, news websites and humour blogs quite frequently. She didn't want to be a hard-ass, and the office manager hadn't made an issue of it (Mr Dunsany wasn't interested in IT, and left her more or less autonomous), so she turned a blind eye. But she did have a script running each week to search through recent internet activity for anything inappropriate; the real concern was fraud, but while writing the script she had also added search terms for "offensive" matter. This morning the script had run and flagged some pages that Jack in Sales had viewed, and here she was, checking them out, to see how offensive they were, and whether the company ought to be concerned.
Initially Addie had wondered whether she ought to report this to Mr Dunsany. But Jack was the company's top seller, and she was sure the boss wouldn't care. Mr Dunsany was no moral beacon himself, judging by own internet habits. So as long as Jack didn't waste
too
much time reading this stuff, or start spreading it round to the other staff, she probably didn't really need to do anything. It was funny, though, to think of him, sitting there in his office, reading these stories, maybe gently stroking an erection under his desk ... well, she had to admit, it was a little titillating. She felt like a voyeur, seeing right into Jack's fantasies, right into his mind.
Not that Jack was
at all
her type. He was dumb as hell, for one thing. He had good looks, boundless confidence and a total lack of skills, talents or knowledge, a combination that would be disastrous in any other setting, but was irritatingly successful in sales.
But when she got home that evening, she had a bath before bed, and soon found herself imagining Jack reading those stories, while her finger drew circles over her clitoris. She pictured him sitting in his office, reading online erotica while staff went about their business in the offices all around him. She wondered how often she had walked past his open door while he was reading about hypnotising women for sex, and whether he had looked up, surreptitiously stroking his cock through his trousers, as she walked past. Whether he had imagined hypnotising her. She thought of him fantasising about her appearing in his office, and about himself putting her into a trance, shutting the door, bending her over his desk, pulling up the skirt of her dress, pulling down her panties, and slowly pushing his swollen purple cock head between her lips and inching into her depths....
She came suddenly, hugely, gaspingly, convulsively. In her involuntary thrashing, she lost her balance, went under the bath and came up a couple seconds later coughing and spluttering. This soon turned to laughter; she hadn't come that hard in a
long
time, and she would
never
have thought to fantasise about that dolt Jack.
* * * * *
The next day at work Addie kept thinking about Jack and his reading habits. Because she was pretty good at her job, she didn't really have a lot to do, and so a few times she found herself checking to see whether Jack was using the internet. Of course, Jack was often on the phone (when not out visiting prospects), but at lunchtime she checked his browsing and saw that he had downloaded a long story (
Hypnosis in the Spices and Condiments Aisle
) just three minutes earlier. He must still be reading it!
She felt a thrill, and imagined herself visiting him on some pretext. She wouldn't do it in real life; she wasn't very brave with that kind of thing. She wondered whether she could come up with a believable pretext, anyway. But then, she thought, what's "believable?" The guy's a moron; he'd believe anything! And how scary was this, anyway? It wasn't like asking a guy out; the whole thing was totally deniable. She would just pretend she knew nothing about the erotica, and go right in. Within a couple of minutes, she had come up with a pretext and dared herself to go through with it.
She stepped into the server room and grabbed her little multifunction electrical tester and the stepladder, and traversed the corridor to his room. His door was closed, which was unusual; Jack always kept his door open when he was in there. Addie hesitated, but then a colleague came round the corner and she thought she'd look pretty peculiar just standing there with the ladder, so she opened the door and barged right in.
He was wide-eyed and red-faced, and his right hand was under his desk, but she pretended not to notice anything. "Oh, hey Jack, I thought you were out," she said. "Ignore me. I've just got to test your cable. I'm getting some ... uh ... strange readings, and I might need to look at the ... couplings." As she said this, she set up the step ladder in the corner in front of his desk, where the data cables ran near the ceiling. She climbed the ladder and started brandishing the tester at the cables. She theatrically held the tester near various points on the cable and jotted down the numbers from the testing device, while wondering how far up the back of her skirt Jack could see.
Jack was normally pretty quick with some inane wisecrack or other, but now he just gibbered, "Sure. Okay. No problem," and cleared his throat. After a minute or so Addie thought she heard a barely perceptible rhythmic susurration coming from under the desk. No way, she thought. Someone walked past in the corridor and the sound stopped; then ten seconds later it began again. Sure enough; he must be staring at her ass, rubbing his cock under his desk! She did her best to look totally absorbed in the numbers she was jotting down, and the sound got a little louder and faster. How could he think she wouldn't hear that? Did he even care? She leaned forward to reach further along Jack's cable, and felt the material of her skirt ride further up the back of her thighs. She was pretty sure Jack would be able to see a little corner of her panties. She held that pose for about ten seconds, taking a reading and jotting it down. She pretended not to notice the change in his breathing, and the salty smell that filled the office as she slowly climbed down the ladder. She folded the ladder, picked it up, stepped back into the corridor, and only then turned to face Jack. He was redder than ever, and looking somewhat dazed. "Thanks Jack. I guess your cable
is
working," Addie said with a friendly smile. "Would you like the door open, or closed?"
* * * * *
The rest of Addie's day was an absolute write-off. Of course, if any crises had arisen, she could have dealt with them, but crises weren't very common the way she ran things. As it was, she just had a few medium-to-long-term projects on the go, and none of them could maintain her interest after what had happened at lunchtime. Nevertheless, out of habit, it was early evening by the time she started logging off and getting ready to head home. She looked up from organising her things and was surprised to see Jack in her doorway; normally by 6:45 she had the building to herself. "Oh, hi Jack! Still here, eh?" said Addie.
