Bad Bad Luc

The sound of my alarm blaring wakes me from a deep sleep and I reach for my phone to shut it off but it's not on my nightstand. I lift my head blearily and look around for my phone, and hear it on the opposite side of the bed. I roll over to the cold side of my bed peer over the edge. My phone is on the floor lights flashing and the song Bad Luck by Social Distortion is playing. I reach down and grab my phone to shut off the alarm just as the song reaches the part in the chorus where Mike Ness starts singing, "You got bad bad luck." I sit up in bed and look at the time. I blink, and I look at the time again and my eyes go wide, it's 9:30 am. That means I only have 30 minutes to get up, get ready and get to work.

"Shit!" I exclaim as I jump out of bed, "I'm going to be late!"

I rush into the bathroom and turn on the shower so the water can warm up while I grab my clothes. As I turn around I accidentally bump a small hand mirror I keep on my bathroom counter. It falls to the floor making a sharp clatter and lands face down on the cold tile floor. I cringe as it hits the floor, but am relieved when I don't see broken glass everywhere. I pick up the mirror and turn it over, and slump as I see a crack like a lighting strike down the center of the mirror.

"Great," I sigh and place the mirror back on the counter.

While the water warms I head to my closet for my clothes. I grab an undershirt, a white and blue raglan tee and, and some jeans from my closet then grab a pair of black bikini cut panties. On my way back to the bathroom I give myself a quick look in the mirror before I hop in the shower, my shoulder-length blonde hair is tousled and messy from my restless night, and my brown eyes look tired and a bit red. I hop into the shower and yelp as the cold water hits my body. I reach down to turn the hot water up, but the temperature does not change. I shiver and reach for my shampoo and squeeze the bottle into my hand but nothing comes out.

"UGH!" I grunt in frustration and throw the bottle to the shower floor.

I rinse my hair and body as quickly as possible still shivering. I get out of the shower much more awake than when I got in. I dry my hair and body, before quickly getting dressed. I look at the time and only 10 minutes had passed, I could still make it to work on time. I head to the door. I grab my keys off a hook in the hallway on the way out and rush to my car. As I run down the stairs I realize I am bouncing way more than I should be and look down to realize that in my rush I forgot to put on a bra. I look back up at my apartment, then down at the time. I have to get going. I can't be late again or I'll receive another write up.

I bounce my way down the rest of the stairs and make my way to my car. As I walk towards the parking lot I see my neighbor, Ms. Gilmore, outside watering the small plants she keeps outside her apartment door. She sees me and waves. I wave back, and she starts walking over to me. I curse under my breath before putting on a smile and walk over to meet her halfway. She starts to tell me about all the gossip from around our complex. She tells me about the new guy down the hall always having different people coming at all hours and how she thinks he might be selling drugs, about how she overheard her neighbor screaming at his wife about too many late nights with her boss, about the girl in the apartment above her stomping around with a different guy every week, and on and on. While there are a few interesting bits of information here and there, most of it I don't care about at all, and I don't have the time to listen to it. I idly wonder what she says about me to the other neighbors, probably something about how I never leave my apartment except for work and how I haven't had a male visitor in almost 6 months. She finally gives me an opening to speak and tell her I really have to get going. As I walk away she asks me to please keep an eye out for her cat Shadow. He got out last night and hasn't come home yet.

I wave a quick acknowledgment back and head into the parking lot. As I slip between two cars I hear a small meow and look down and see Shadow, Ms. Gilman's cat. The sleek black cat stretches lazily before scurrying off in the direction of the apartments. I finally sit in my car and pull off. I look at the time on my car's display. 9:47 that gives me exactly 13 minutes to get to work, and it only takes 10 to get there. I speed down the highway pull into the parking lot of my office and head in with 2 minutes to spare. I clock in with my badge and head to my desk. Just before I sit down I hear my boss call my name. My boss' name is Mr. John Jameson, he is a bigger guy 6 feet tall, over 200 pounds, and in his mid-40s with a large belly. He carries himself with a level of authority that I've always found intimidating, and I've always felt like he just doesn't like me. He stands in front of my desk with his hands on his hips and looks down at me.

"Late again Cassandra," He says, "What is the excuse this time?"

I start to protest that I wasn't late but see the big digital clock on the wall behind him. 10:13, I pull out my phone and look at it as well, it has the same time. I drop my head in shame and let out a defeated sigh.

"I'm sorry Mr. Jameson, I woke up late," I reply weakly, "The clock in my car must have been slow. I thought I was right on time."

"This is the third time you've been late this week," He says, "The 12th time this month."

"I'm sorry Mr. Jameson sir," I reply, "I will try my best to not let it happen again."

"You always say that," He reprimands, "I have given you more than enough slack. I need to see you in my office. I will call you after my meeting."

"Yes Sir," I say and try to sink lower into my seat.

Mr. Jameson walks away and heads upstairs to his office, leaving the room quiet with all eyes on me. The silence hangs in the air for a moment before people start back to work. Soon the room is filled with the sound of keyboards and idle chatter. I sit up in my chair and try to focus on work. I open up my emails and start half reading them and moving on. Once my inbox is clear I start my reports and inventories for the day. I am about mid-way through my first report of the day when my computer screen goes black. I reach up and hit the power button on the monitor but nothing happens. I press it again and the screen goes from black to blue, and a windows error message is displayed. I drop my head and sigh. I am about to reach for my phone to call IT when I hear Mr. Jameson call to me from across the office. I look up to see him waiting for me by the stairs. He motions for me to come over so I get up and walk over. Without a word he turns and walks up the stairs toward his office, I follow him silently.

Our office building has three levels. The first floor consists of a lobby, two conference rooms, and a large open area full of cubicles. The second floor holds our break room, a few supervisor offices, storage, and more conference rooms. The third floor is only one office and our servers. The third floor always creeps me out. It is always kept dark and cold because of the servers, and as soon as you reach the third floor all you can hear is the low steady hum of the equipment running. As we walk silently down the hall to Mr. Jameson's office I start to shiver and I can feel goosebumps form on my skin. I think of the hooded sweatshirt I keep on the back of my chair in my cubicle and wish I would have grabbed it before rushing to follow. Mr. Jameson stops at his door opening it then gestures for me to enter. I lower my head and walk past him into the office. The office is bright compared to the dark hallway we just left and I squint as my eyes adjust. Mr. Jameson follows me into the office closing the door behind him, as the door shuts the hum of the equipment outside disappears and it is eerily silent in the room. Mr. Jameson's office is large and open with a huge window behind a luxurious solid dark wood desk with a large comfortable looking leather chair.

"Please have a seat," Mr. Jameson says gently.

I pull out the chair in front of his desk and sit down. I unconsciously begin rubbing my arms to warm myself.

"Cold?" Mr. Jameson asks, "I'm sorry, it can get pretty chilly up here."

"A bit yes," I say forcing myself to stop rubbing my arms, "It's ok."

Mr. Jameson sits at his desk and stares at me for a moment before speaking.

"Cassandra," he starts, "is there something going on?"

"No," I reply

"You are late all the time Cass and not just 5 to 10 minutes here and there." He says

"I know, I'm sorry" I reply and struggle for an excuse, "I just have trouble waking up.

Mr. Jameson sighs and stands up. He walks around his desk sits on the edge and looks down at me. I lower my head and drop my arms in shame, and we sit there in silence for what feels like forever. Mr. Jameson clears his throat and I look up at him then back down at the floor.

"Cass, you are an excellent employee, and I'd hate to have to let you go," He says, "But at this point, I don't know what more I can do."

My head shoots up and I look at him with panic in my eyes.

"Please, I don't want to lose my job," I start to beg, "I won't be late again."

"We've been here before Cassandra," he says sternly, "I write you up, you promise you won't be late again, and then a week or two later you are back to the same routine. There must be repercussions."

I open my mouth to argue, but close it and start to lower my head again. I am starting to shiver from the cold of the office and the fear of losing my job. I raise my head and look Mr. Jameson in the eyes ready to make one last argument to keep my job. Mr. Jameson's eyes lock to mine before suddenly dropping to my chest.

"Cass, are you not wearing a bra," he blurts out and gestures towards my chest.

I look down and can see that my nipples are hard and showing prominently through the white of my shirt. I look back up at Mr. Jameson who is now looking at me with a look a predator that has just spotted prey wears. I blush cross my arms over my chest and apologize.

"Don't apologize, I am sorry," He says, "That was extremely unprofessional of me."

"It's ok," I shrug, "I just left the house in such a hurry,"

He cuts me off with a wave of his hand.

"You are constantly late for work," Mr. Jameson starts, "and no matter what I do there seems to be no change in your behavior. I'm sorry but I'm going to have to let you go."

Tears stream from my eyes as his words hit me, I put my face in my hands and sob. Mr. Jameson puts a hand on my shoulder to comfort me. After a few moments, I calm myself enough to look up at him.

"Is there anything I could do to change your mind?" I ask squeezing my arms together making my breasts squeeze together, "Anything?"

Mr. Jameson looks down at me with that predator's grin, then shakes his head.

"I'm sorry Cassandra, He says, "but no. I have to let you go."

I drop my head in shame and feel my face burning. I finally stand up and leave his office. I head to my desk, pack my personal belongings from my desk into a box and hang my head trying not to make eye contact with anyone as I do a walk of shame back to my car. I sit in my car for a while before I am able to drive. On the way home I remember I need shampoo, and a few other things so I stop at the store to get what I need.

As I enter the shop I see a man in a security uniform, big and mean looking. When he sees me he immediately looks me up and down his eyes stopping at my chest and he grins. His eyes follow me as I walk past and it makes my skin crawl. I make my way around the store in a bit of a daze picking up the things I need and absentmindedly throwing them in my cart. My phone has been going off constantly since I left work with messages from coworkers asking what happened and checking on me. I've been ignoring them. My phone goes off again in my pocket. I take it out and look at the notification before setting it in the upper basket in my cart next to a few of the smaller items I picked up. As I continue through the store I hear my phone again. I pick it up without looking and place it in my pocket and continue through the store. Finally, I make my way to the front to pay for my items and unload my cart onto the conveyer belt. My phone chimes again and I grab it from the cart look at the screen, silence it, and put it in my pocket. I pay for my items and I make my way to the door when I am suddenly grabbed by the arm. I turn to see it is the large security guard I saw when I entered the shop.

"Excuse me miss," He says politely but with a wolfish grin, "can you come with me please?"

"What is this about?" I say flustered, "what's wrong?"

"Please come back to my office and we can discuss this in private," he replies and pulls me away from the doors, "I'd prefer it if you didn't make a scene ma'am."

"I didn't do anything," I say and struggle to get my arm free.

By now the employees and a few of the shoppers in the store are starting to stare. I look around and I blush embarrassed by the attention. I can hear them murmuring and the crowd watching starts to grow.

"What did I do," I ask.

"We have reason to believe you have attempted to remove merchandise from the property without payment."

I go cold at his words and freeze, he tugs my arm and I follow him into a back room of the store, up a set of stairs, and into an office. This office couldn't be more different than Mr. Jameson's. It's large, but everything in here is beige and cheap looking. The windows behind the desk are two-way mirrors that give you a view of the entire store. There is a large monitor on the wall with different camera views from around the store. There is another monitor with only one camera view. On it is a freeze-frame of myself in a cosmetic aisle reaching for a shelf.

"Please have a seat, He says, "My name is Martinez, I am a loss prevention agent here."

I sit and look up at him.

"Is that you?" He asks and points at the screen.

I look at the monitor and nod. He sits at his desk and hits play on the screen. I walk down the aisle placing items in my basket. Then I reach up and take an Item from the basket and put it in my pocket. He stops the video and looks over at me. I stare at the screen for a moment blinking back tears before looking over at the security guard. He has both his elbows on his desk and his chin resting on his knuckles. He is staring at me and says nothing. I open my mouth to speak, but he puts his hand out to stop me. We sit there in silence for a moment.

"Our policy is to prosecute shoplifters to the full extent of the law." He says breaking the silence, "I will need to call the police to come to pick you up, but first I need to search you for any other merchandise."

"The police?! No please!" I say and immediately start crying, "I didn't mean to do that, I didn't steal anything."

"We have clear footage of you placing merchandise into your pocket and passing the last point of sale in the store," He says, "You were intending to leave the store with that item without paying for it."

I put my face in my hands and sob harder. I'm trembling in my seat and I feel myself starting to hyperventilate. How could this be happening? Today has been the worst day of my life. I look up and see that Officer Martinez is standing in front of me with his arms crossed an annoyed look on his face.

"Please stand up," He says annoyed as if it wasn't the first time he has said it, "I need to search you to be sure you haven't take any other merchandise from the property."

I slowly stand up, as soon as I am on my feet Officer Martinez grabs my arms roughly dragging me over to the center of the room. He takes my hands and puts them on the back of my head and kicks my feet apart like you see police officers do in movies to someone that they are about to handcuff. I cry out as he roughly positions me.

"Shut up," he snaps, "don't move!"

I snap my mouth shut and do my best to remain still. He holds my wrists together behind my head with one hand while he shoves his hands into the front pockets of my jeans. He takes out my phone and my keys. He then reaches in digging around a bit more before moving to my back pockets. He shoves his hand into my back pockets and he squeezes my butt. He releases my wrists and takes his hand out of my pockets. I keep my hands behind my head as he places both hands on my butt and starts squeezing and kneading my butt slowly then slides to my hips, his hands travel forward and he unbuttons my pants. I start to protest and pull away but his right hand is instantly grabbing my wrists again and he pulls me back forcing me into an awkward backbend. I cry out in pain.

"Don't move," he growls, "I can easily add resisting arrest to my report."

I say nothing and he loosens his grip. His hands move back to my hips then slide up my belly. He slides them up along my belly and stops just under my breasts before sliding them down and then back up again. When he reaches my breasts this time he cups them then squeezes them in his palms. He releases them before lifting each breast individually and squeezes them again. He runs his thumbs across my nipples almost flicking them with each pass. He does this a few times squeezing and kneading my breasts more with each turn. He lets me go and slides his hands down my belly again then he reaches up under my shirt then under my undershirt. He lifts my shirt as his hands slide up my body. His hands slide up and down over and over giving me goosebumps. He takes my breasts in his hands and rolls my nipples between his fingers. I gasp in pain and I hear him chuckle behind me.

"Listen, we can make this all go away if you want," He says quietly, "just play along and this can all be brushed off as a misunderstanding. Fight it and I call PD, let them deal with you."

I shiver in his hands, but I don't respond. His fingers continue rolling my nipples and I drop my head in submission. He twists my nipple painfully and I gasp as a shock of pain and pleasure shoots through my body. He plays with my breasts rubbing and squeezing them flicking my nipples with the tips of his fingers. I bite my lip to keep myself from moaning.

"Do we have a deal?" He asks.

"Yes," I gasp as he pinches one of my nipples again and I nod.

"Good girl," He breathes into my ear making me shiver, "move over to my desk so I can finish my search, then the real fun can start.

I feel myself grow cold at his words but obey his commands. His hands slide along my body, up my back, across my shoulders, and then down my sides. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my jeans sliding his fingers around the inside before pushing them down over my hips. I stay still, my hands still behind my head.

"Bring your feet together, he says, "I'm going to pull your pants down."

I do as he says and he pulls my jeans down letting them bunch up just below my calves and slides his hands up my legs as he stands. The feel of his warms hands on my bare skin makes my flesh tingle. He lets his hands wander and find their way back to my breasts. He squeezes them again before reaching up and taking both my wrists in one hand. He pulls my hands behind my back then I feel cold metal press against my wrist, then a quick ratcheting and I realize he's handcuffed me. My jeans are down around my ankles and now my hands are handcuffed behind my back leaving me almost completely immobilized. He places a hand on my hip and another between my shoulders and with gentle pressure he forces me over his desk. My cheek against the hard plastic top, my breasts are squished beneath me. He stands behind me his hands rubbing gently up and down my back then to my shoulders, down my arms, and to my ass. He squeezes and rubs my ass for a bit. My skin tingling with every touch. He slides his fingers along my slit teasing me through my panties. I moan and push back against him. He slides my panties to the side and slowly slides a finger into me.