*All characters are 18+. This is fiction for erotic entertainment only; I do not condone nonconsensual sex.*
*This was written for
HeyAll
's
On The Job Challenge 2023
. Some of my stories are a hint of me. Perhaps in another world, another life...*
***
I used to say I'm shy. Lately, I realized I just don't like people. I was a people-pleaser, and it took me way too long to understand that you can't please everyone.
So, fuck people. Other than a few close friends and my sister—who thinks I'm hilarious, weird, and doomed to be a crazy cat lady—I'm done caring about what anyone thinks.
And my job, I suppose. It's fine; I work from home, and it doesn't involve much interaction. I can handle professional emails and perk up for a minute over the phone. My cat is quick to let me know if my voice goes an octave too high.
I spend my free time reading romance novels and watching crappy soaps. It's hopeless, but I can fantasize, right?
And I'm still a bit of a people-pleaser. It's hard to stifle a lifetime of forcing myself to smile and act normal-ish. Which is why I feel obligated to show my face at least once a year and remind my company that I exist. The Christmas party is a good excuse—at least I could get some free booze and food.
This year is oddly warm. The whole winter so far had barely dipped below 50°F. So, with a light coat over one of the few fancy dresses I own and hardly wear, I head to one of my equally rare social gatherings.
—
It's strange coming back to the office. For my first year, before the pandemic, I worked full-time in the office. Since my job doesn't require much in-person collaboration, and my manager likes me, I was approved to continue working at home after they opened up again.
Everything is the same, except for a few new people. It feels oddly like deja vu, both familiar and unfamiliar since I've been gone so long. Like I don't quite belong here but I also know every corner.
Such as the effectively single-stall bathroom on the second floor because the other one doesn't flush well, and no one could fix it. Or that worn couch in the break room that has an unofficial nap schedule everyone somehow figures out.
It almost makes me miss the office. Almost.
But I do not miss the hour-long commute, the randomly disappearing lunches from the communal fridge, or the business casual dress code. I exclusively wear sweatpants now. Maybe a slip-on dress in the summer.
And of course, the people. I don't miss the people.
"Rachel!" Jack, one of my coworkers, spots me and grins, his arms wide open.
Oh, hugs. Yay.
"Hi!" I smile brightly and lift my hands. He hugs me for longer than I like, but since that was never...
Jack was always too familiar. I didn't think about it while I was in the office, but looking back, I remember how he'd often accidentally bump into the prettier women, found excuses to touch us every day, and seemed to talk to my chest. He's good at his job, so he never got more than a slap on the wrist if someone complained. I don't think he got a lot of complaints; he was cute, and some of the women flirted right back.
I had brushed it off. He didn't focus on anyone in particular, and he wasn't too overt. But in the last few years, Jack had started copping a feel here and there during this party, apologizing smoothly if anyone mentioned it, and blaming the alcohol.
He isn't drunk now. Yet his fingers are suspiciously close to my breasts, his large arms wrapping all the way around my small body. He smells nice though, a faint cinnamon-y spice.
He squeezes me one last time, his fingers definitely rubbing the sides of my boobs, and lets me go. He pats me on the arm. "It's so good to see you again! We miss you!"
"I miss you guys, too!" I almost glance around for my fake-o-meter cat.
"Your desk is always here if you want to stop in." He gestures to my old corner.
Yeah, no thanks
. I keep my polite smile. "I noticed. You guys should use it for something." Thankfully, my manager steps into the room just then. "I have to say hi to Frank. I'll talk to you later!" I scamper off before Jack says anything else.
"Frank! Hi!" This greeting isn't fake. My manager is a nice guy.
"It's good to see you, Rachel." He looks a little surprised. "Oh, I've been meaning to tell you, it just keeps slipping my mind. I'm retiring."
"Oh wow! Congratulations!" I make the appropriate happy noise—he deserves it, really, I'd been wondering when he would finally retire. But I also worried about who would replace him. If they offer me the job, I'm not sure I want it. He travels several times a year and interacts with people a lot more—it would mean returning to the office.
"Thank you," he says. "I'm sorry I didn't mention it before. I've been training Jack to take over."
My mind skids. "Jack?" I'm a little disappointed, though not surprised, that they hadn't offered it to me. For the best, really. But still, Jack?