"I'm sorry honey, but there's nothing I can do. I know this game was important to you, but I just can't make it this time. If I don't stay and finish these reports, I'll be in serious trouble come tomorrow."
Her name was Celeste. She was the Branch Manager of out Marketing and Advertising firm. "Don't talk back, Scottie," she said in a firm, but somewhat bratty tone. "I love you son, we'll finish this when I get home."
Celeste was undoubtedly attractive. Very arrogant, but well bred. She was the ultimate control freak, very bitchy when she wanted to be. She laughed very little, and anyone could tell of the responsibilities that weighed down on her. People steered clear, because her snappy and snake-like attacks could be set off at the drop of a hat. You could say she was an abusive boss, at least verbally. There were rumors about the history of her marriage - her husband of fourteen years cheating on her, which resulted in divorce. Two kids resulted from that marriage, and now she is a single mother. Yet, she remains strong, a successful businesswoman, who demanded respect from her subordinates, and her kids alike.
She called me into her office to discuss a game plan on all the teams' collaborative effort on developing the information she needed to compile for her reports. When I walked in, she was already on the phone with a Branch Manager at one of our sister locations. She gave me a look.......the type of look that says, "I see that you're hear, have a seat." I watched her as her semi-full lips went to work over the receiver, explaining everything that was expected to happened to get things cranking tonight.
She had her full, dark brown hair wrapped up in a pencil. Her face had sort of an exotic look. I believe I heard somewhere that her mother was Hispanic and her father was Caucasian. A little bit of rouge tinged her cheeks, accompanied by a light red lipstick. Even without makeup, her face would still be more than fair. She was wearing a dark blue blazer with a white blouse underneath, complimented by some lighter blue business slacks. They were the somewhat stretchy type that conforms to the curves. But she looked strictly business, so much so that I had to wonder what was actually going on in her head other than, well, business. 'What's got her so wound up and frustrated all the time?'
"Okay, I'll get things going on my end. I'll update you later." She hung up the phone.
"It's going to be an interesting night, isn't it?" I asked. She sighed in disgust and stood up.
"Interesting? Are you kidding me? Instead of babysitting you all, I'd much rather be at my son's game. He was counting on me to be there, since his already deadbeat father flaked out on him."
"Celeste, I'm sorry about that. I can understand why --"
"YOU'RE sorry? Please! I can't begin to tell you how sick I am of having to pick up slack behind everyone. Here, at home, whatever I'm doing! I want this to be an uneventful night, got it! No bullshit. Let's do this and get the hell out of here! Get those financial and projective revenue stats together so we can get things going!"
I stared as I watched her speak. I wasn't upset at the unprovoked verbal beating she was giving me. I only felt like she was a wounded animal, still hurting, and ready to strike out at anyone who apt to try and harm her.
"Ron, are you listening to me? What's wrong with you?"
"I'm sorry Celeste, it's been a long day. I guess I'm sort of in space."
"Well, snap out of it!"
She had no idea, but as she was admonishing me, I was scrambling for ways to distract myself from allowing my cock to come alive. The way those slacks hugged her hips took me. Her level of stress created this odd paradox -- she wasn't eating right because of it, but she was exercising to combat it. Those contradicting factors made her look good nonetheless.
I could feel the tremble, the subtle waves of hormones migrating from my pituitary gland to my midsection. I fought it like hell, in the hopes of avoiding the words "sexual harassment" passing through her teeth upon seeing the bulge. I won this battle with myself, this time. My dick moved around, enough to where I could feel it, but not enough to be seen. I got out of there with my ass still intact.
Later on, we were all taking a dinner break. Celeste, as usual, isolated herself to her office, avoiding any contact with anyone unless it was necessary.
"Celeste is such a bitch sometimes," a co-worker said in a matter of fact manner.
"Yeah, everybody has their problems, but a smart and balanced person can manage to separate their personal lives from their work and vice-versa," said another.
I had to interject. "Well people go through things and handle things differently. She probably doesn't mean to use us as punching bags you know, it just......happens. Since when were we all perfect?"
I received a plethora of strange looks from everybody, as if I'd said something alien-like.
"What the fuck..........." someone mumbled.
"Ron, you were at the forefront of the crowd when it came to bitching and complaining about her behavior. Now you're siding with her?" another co-worker inquired.
"I'm not siding with anybody, I'm just saying that we're all human, and maybe we're all taking this thing too personally. It may get better after the quarter is over."
"Oh, so now it's a football game? We're playing this thing in quarters now? And what are we, the Chiefs, and she's the Rams?"
"Okay, that's enough," I said interruptedly. "Let's just take care of this and get this night over with." We all threw our scraps in the garbage and headed to our stations. Theirs, down the hall and around the corner. Mine, on the opposite side of our floor, two doors down from Celeste's office.
I didn't have to, but I couldn't stop myself from "checking" in on her. I knocked twice and entered. There was a half empty takeout box sitting in front of her and slightly to the right, and she sat there, one hand on her head, as she concentrated furiously on the paperwork that laid before her. She was now out of her blazer, and had taken the pencil out of her hair. Her lipstick was faded from eating, but the rest of her makeup was still in place.
"Ron, what the hell are you doing in here? Are you all just now getting done with dinner?"
"I came to see if there was anything you need from me or if you had anything for me before I got started back up again." When I said that, I wasn't referring to my work. I was actually talking about the thoughts I had in my mind about her earlier when we spoke. That's when "the rising" began again.
