Author's Note: This is non-consent to the max. Please don't say I didn't warn you. I don't want any e-mails telling me I need counseling. I already know that.
The building dated back to the 1940's when the main concern was utility, not style. It was four stories tall and square with a red brick exterior. If there hadn't been a few windows installed it would have made a great warehouse.
It belonged to a big law firm which owned even older, but fancier, buildings on a neighboring street. That fact made the ugly, square building stand out even more. And the inside was no better. Attorneys and paralegals had the offices with windows. Secretaries—lots of secretaries—sat in row upon row of cubicles in the middle of the four floors.
And then there were the boxes. Boxes were everywhere...in the offices, in storage rooms and in the hallways. They were stacked six feet high in places. The paperless society promised so many years ago had not found this place.
It was in this unexciting place amid all the clutter that the beautiful Lisa Bowen worked all day. Lisa was a secretary. Her good looks, charm and constant smile alleviated some of the dreariness. And her dedication to the job made her a valuable asset to her boss, a partner in the firm.
Lisa was old enough, at thirty two, to know how to walk that fine line between appropriate and inappropriate attire...the line that separated sexy from slutty. Lisa was sexy. Very sexy. She knew how low a neckline could go without crossing that line. She knew how high a skirt hem could go.
Her height was above average; her hair was long and perfectly groomed; her body was curvy without being Barbi-esque; her legs were magnificent. Lisa was smart and witty. Her future was bright.
Lisa was single.
There's an unwritten rule in the law firm that attorneys do not date the secretaries. That was fine with Lisa, as she found more than enough interested men outside the firm to keep her satisfied. At least until about two months ago. Then she hit a dry spell.
Lisa had dates, but not with anybody she wanted to take home. It began to depress her to the point where she purposely worked extended hours to avoid lonely hours in her condo. The dry spell would come back to haunt her.
Wednesdays were not particularly busy days for Lisa and this one had been slower than most. Still, she found herself at her desk working at quarter past seven in the evening...long after everybody else on her floor had gone home. She almost enjoyed the quiet compared to the bustle of normal work hours. At seven thirty she would go home, she told herself.
Lisa was thinking about making one last set of copies when she heard something. It might have been a box falling. As many boxes as there were, they rarely fell. She instinctively left her cubicle and headed down the hall toward where she thought the sound came from. Her last job of the day, she thought, would be a simple clean-up.
She passed empty offices and cubicles left and right. Her eyes were locked straight ahead at the stacks within her sight. Nothing out of order, yet. She approached an intersection with another hallway.
That's when she was hurled sideways and face-first against the wall. She groaned as nearly all the air was crushed out of her from the weight of a body pressing her forward against the plaster. A gloved hand covered her mouth. She tasted and smelled the musty material as her senses returned.
"Don't make a sound." The voice was low and calm. A man's voice. "Who else is here?"
Lisa shook her head as much as she could.
"Nobody?"
Lisa nodded.
"If you're lying you'll die." She felt the cold edge of a knife, or something, at her neck.
She shook her head just a little, fearful of the blade.
"I'm going to take away my hand. If you make a single sound the last thing you'll ever see is your blood all over this wall. Got it?"
Lisa nodded and the hand slowly drew away. But the pressure on her body did not. She couldn't move if she wanted to and probably couldn't have made much of a sound if she dared.
"We're going to walk to your left and enter that next office. Not a sound. OK?" He spoke just above a whisper.
Lisa bobbed her head once again and was relieved to feel the pressure removed from her body. A firm hand gripped her by the arm and they quickly moved into the office. Only then, in the dim light, did she get her first look at her assailant.
He wore a ski mask with openings at the eyes and mouth. But even that was hardly enough to allow her to identify him later if she had to. How she hoped she would be alive for that to happen.
He was looking at her. He was looking at her blouse, and her cleavage, and her skirt and legs. Lisa felt herself trembling. This was not good.
The man pulled out a cell phone and flicked it open. His eyes scanned the little screen. "Seems we have one of your coworkers down on two. Maybe we can go visit her later. If you're cooperative, that is."
He closed the phone and shoved it into his pants pocket. Lisa was still digesting his last statement.
Cooperative
. How could such an undemanding word make her stomach hurt?
They stood in the middle of an attorney's office. There was a large desk, bookcases, and two overstuffed chairs for visitors. The desk was relatively clutter-free. Lisa knew, of course, who resided in this office and wished he was here now to protect her. He wasn't.
No lights were on. A little light shown in from outside and through the open door, but very little. The darkness only increased Lisa's anxiety.
When the man took a step toward her, Lisa noticed the knife still in his hand. He stopped directly in front of her, nearly touching her body with his. Then the knife was placed at the bottom of her chin. The tip hurt as it pricked Lisa's skin.
"You've been very good. Don't blow it." He put the broad side of the knife against Lisa's cheek. It was cold and hard. Then he touched her lips with it. Lisa's heart pounded.
She watched as the man leaned forward and kissed her lightly. She felt the mask before his lips finally found hers. He licked her gently.
"Very nice," he said in a whisper.
He moved the knife down her throat and into the opening of her blouse. Lisa felt him stop at the first button. She was looking straight ahead, fearful of glancing down with the knife so close.
The man put the knife below the button and pulled up, cutting through the thread as though it didn't exist. Every muscle in Lisa's body tensed up. Up until now she was just a captive. Suddenly, she was turning into a victim.
The knife touched the inside of Lisa's blouse and pushed it open, revealing the top of her breast and the sheer white bra that covered the remainder.
"Take it off," the man said in his roughest voice yet. He backed up a step.
Lisa's hands shook as she undid the next button. She purposely took her time, hoping beyond hope that somebody would come around the corner, enter the office and remove the masked man. She opened another button. They were still alone in the dark room.
The man stared at the full breasts being exposed as Lisa worked her way down the blouse. They weren't huge, just perfectly full and round and firm. He felt his cock twitch.
Lisa pulled the blouse out of her skirt and finished the buttons. She let it hang open with her arms at her side.
"I said take it off."
The secretary took off her blouse and laid it on the desk. The man's eyes were all over her. Lisa suddenly sensed a chill in the air and she felt naked. She dreaded what it would feel like when she finally was. And she accepted the fact it was likely to happen.
Once again, the knife was on her skin. This time it ran up her abdomen until reaching her bra. She expected the delicate garment to be ripped in half at any time.
"Take it off."
