All characters are over eighteen. This story involves non-consensual sex being treated as acceptable under certain conditions. In real life, International Copulation Day would be inherently immoral and illegal. If you have a problem with this, please leave now.
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*****
As far as I'm concerned, the image of the computer geek being a loser with oversized glasses who lives in front of their monitor was created solely out of jealousy. I was a software engineer in my late twenties with a six-figure salary, and I had an active social life.
Despite being able to leave most people baffled with my talk of tensors and instruction architectures, I never had any problem with the ladies. The fact that I'm consistently told I'm handsome, funny, and in great shape might have something to do with it.
One of my favorite jokes was to ask people if I went missing, would they tell the cops I was a nice young man no one would want to harm or not. Everyone would laugh and say yes. No one had anything bad to say about me.
Well, almost no one. One of the security guards was named Cheng, and he hated me. I wasn't even sure why until fairly recently.
Much to my surprise, I was assigned to mentor one of our newest hires, a young woman by the name of Ling. When I asked my supervisor, she informed me that most of my female coworkers spoke quite highly of me.
Ling told us her parents immigrated from China when she was young. I think the most important thing I taught her was how to genuinely enjoy programming instead of only thinking of it as a job. She later told me that was some of the best advice anyone had ever given her.
While I did consider Ling attractive, I never pursued a relationship beyond mutual respect. I didn't want to risk her career. Our workplace was more lax about relationships than most, but there was no point in tempting fate, especially since I knew she needed the money.
It was only after I saw Cheng drive Ling into work one day that she explained Cheng was her boyfriend. They were childhood friends since their families had moved to America at the same time, and he often acted as her protector in the rough neighborhood they lived in. Apparently, he took the fact that Ling sat next to me the wrong way.
One fateful Friday afternoon, I returned from lunch to find a box waiting for me. Our office has a mailing system setup that allows packages to be delivered to our desk. Problem was, I wasn't expecting any packages, and the mail room had pasted my desk number over the shipping label, so I had no idea who it was from.
When I opened it, it turned out to be a pre-owned model of an older type of phone. I won't tell you which brand I prefer, but I will tell you that I think Apple is building its own closed universe.
I couldn't find a slip or any other information to indicate the intended recipient. As a last-ditch effort, I tried turning it on. You wouldn't believe how often people forget to wipe their data. Sadly, it looked like the previous owner had the sense to keep his or her Google searches hidden.
"Hey, asshole! That's mine."
Cheng was fixing me with a look of pure hate, as if I'd stolen a priceless family relic. Under normal conditions, I might've just handed it over, no questions asked. For whatever reason, I decided to let things play out.
"Cool it, big guy," I said. "The box was on my desk. It even has my number on it."
"It's mine," he growled. "Hand it over!"
"You want it?" I asked innocently. "Saying please always helps."
Cheng reacted to my jest by trying to slam his fist into my face. I dodged at the last moment by twisting my body to the right. Cheng wasn't so lucky. Long story short: he smashed some equipment, got some deep cuts on his arm, and even hit his head on an uncomfortable edge that left him seeing stars.
I applied first-aid until the medical responders arrived. When security arrived, everyone testified that I hadn't done anything wrong. Once they reviewed the cameras and confirmed my story, I was cleared to leave. Regrettably, my plans for a perfectly good Friday night were ruined, but it could've been worse. I had a feeling Cheng wouldn't have much to look forward to once he got out of the hospital.
*****
Confession: I started out Saturday feeling downright melancholy. I'd been hoping to celebrate the day with someone special, but I'd never found anyone I was interested in sharing a life with.
I could've if I wanted: all my female companions thought highly of me. My life wasn't devoted solely to sex, though. What I really was looking for in a companion was a challenge. I believed that one of the keys to making sure a relationship lasts long-term was to make sure it never gets stale. To that end, I'd even taken conflict-resolution classes.
The forecast was blisteringly hot, so I was much surprised when the door rang. It sounded in quick succession, suggesting whomever it was had little patience.
"Coming!" I yelled.
My visitor turned out to be a young woman who looked to be around my age. I have to tell you: I've worked with a wide variety of people from every background imaginable, but I've never met anyone as cute as the tiny little East Asian girl on my doorstep. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall, and she had smooth, creamy skin, black hair, brown eyes, and a gorgeous round face. She was dressed for the weather, with a sleeveless top that exposed her navel and a miniskirt that accentuated how slender and petite she was. I could see sweat forming on her forehead, but that failed to distract from how sexy she was.
I was certain I would've remembered someone as cute as her, so I was befuddled by the furious look in her eyes. If looks could kill, she would've subjected me to a thousand torments first.
"Hi," I said politely. "How can I help you?"
"You stole my brother's phone!" she snarled.
"Sorry?"
"Cheng is my brother. He says you stole his phone from Ling's desk and attacked him when he tried to get it back."
"I'm afraid your brother is prone to exaggeration, sweetheart," I told her. "I never laid a hand on him, and the package was left on my desk."
"And why should I believe you?" she snorted derogatorily.
"The box had my desk number on it. Security can show you the video of him trying to smash my face. I suggest you call them."
"What is this? A fucking court? Just give me my brother's phone."
