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- This is an erotic fantasy that deals with non-consensual sex. I don't ask that you agree with what is presented in the following text but if you are adverse to it you would be better off not reading any further.
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"Working late", I hate working late! It always seems to have to happen at the worst times. I suppose that's just a point of view once it becomes inevitable; still I always get this nagging wish that it could just happen some other time. Usually when the samples don't make it by noon they don't make it at all, they aren't supposed to deliver them in the afternoon but every now and then there's a mistake. They're time sensitive; if the samples aren't processed the day that they arrive they're useless. I was minutes away from going home at 4 when the call from the shipping dock came in. I saw the number and considered not answering it.
"If I don't answer it I can be home in 15 minutes.......who's going to know?........I know what this is.........urrrgggg......". Rambled my inner-monologue urging me not to answer, but then as if by a force of nature I ignore my every thought.
"Analysis and testing", I tried to say in my most evasive and passive voice with a lump forming in my throat as if to try to prevent me from identifying myself, "Michelle speaking." I swallow it realizing that I let myself down again.
The familiar, rough, voice with a thick French accent informs me, "ahh we haz zome zzamples down here for youz mizz, zee youz ah zoon."
3:54 – Fucking three-fucking-fifty-fucking-four!!! And zzamples! How does this happen? The guys in the field know it takes hours to process them. They can't do this to me. Why did I answer that phone? I could have been in the bathroom, I could have been down the hall, I could have been in my car and on my way home if I didn't let myself get caught. In all my 40 years I'd like to say that I've never been so dumb but I'd know that wouldn't be true, and at that point it didn't make a difference I was making my way to the dock to get the samples.
I work in a lab that is part of a government office that serves a variety of directives; the place is a ghost town at 4:00. Everyone with better sense or less work ethic has already made their way to the exit. There is no mass exodus, people tend to slip away one by one each afternoon; the slow but steady pace drains the place, leaving only the stragglers to leave at the proper time. Why I always work my hours? it's really just a matter of being a rule follower. Some people follow rules and conform to society and those expectations and other push the boundaries and attempt to conform society to their needs with varying degrees of success. My attempts at the latter have never resulted in much success, so by default I find myself in the former category. Still I like to dream what life would be like if I pushed more boundaries, pushing back at the resistance when it comes. Daydreaming is fun but that's not really me.
What I am is a middle aged woman, one who is becoming comfortable in that role. I'm a mother of two, with a stable home life and a loving family. The signs of aging that have long driven me crazy with grief I've come to accept and in some cases flaunt. Sure my hips are a little wider now, my joints don't always agree with my need to be active, and one glass of wine can put me to bed, but I still look good for my age. I still get plenty of looks from guys of all different ages and some are even bold enough to flirt; something I'm even better at recognizing these days. My long brown hair that curls when I don't straighten it still has its natural colour....for the most part...and my grey eyes are still as striking as ever. I'm by no means big, in any case I have stopped struggling with every pound, I work out and try to eat right but I don't chastise myself for a sugar binge anymore. I'm comfortable at 5'7" and between 145 and 155.....depending on the aforementioned binge. I'm not stranger to the gym or the yoga matt, it's for myself these days and not to make a vain attempt to get my dancer's body back.
My favourite past time of daydreaming wasn't on my mind that day as I made my way down the hall with the multi-coloured floor towards the shipping dock. Nope, I was overcome with despair, "why oh why did I answer that phone", words that would come to take on different meaning before the night was over. In the three minute walk self-loathing had changed to self-pity; acceptance wouldn't be far behind. All three emotions were also to be made more intense due to circumstances beyond my control.
"Aello, miz Meichelle, theze boxes for zee pretty lady." JP exclaimed in a voice that left no doubt that he was happy to see me.
That was really just his nature and he talked like that to all the women. Most guys wouldn't be able to get away with it in the government work setting but this was just JP. He spoke rough, likely from years of cigarette smoking, but always met you with a smile which went a long way in seeing past his intimidating physique. JP is over 6 feet tall with pretty broad shoulders and wide proportions. The typical middle aged mid-section from likely indulging a little bit much at the bars, he is missing a few teeth from he describes as a less settled youth. Well that is me translating, the way he puts it in his typical way is, "If yous think I's lost my pretty faze, yah should haz zeen zee other guyz", chuckling "so long ago it's anodder life."
Over the years I'd heard all sorts of stories from JP. Whenever I have to go for the samples he loves to talk, it takes a bit of time to fill out the declarations and always takes longer due to the small talk. I don't mind though, it's a detour from the lab and he can be entertaining. It's not in my nature to talk a lot so mostly I just listen, other times I have to cut him short because I just have work to do. This was one of those days that small talk just wasn't on my mind. I didn't mean to come off as a bitch or anything but I was pretty short with him and gave dismissive signals when he engaged me with his usual banter. It was nothing personal, just I wasn't in the mood for stories at the moment.
I'm not sure how it seems to other people, but I'm not the most social person in the world. I don't really talk to many people at the building and sometimes I find it unsettling when people try to talk to me. I don't know if they expect me to talk about myself or just listen to them or what. I grew up rather introverted in most things, being pretty nerdy in high school and dealing with bullies as a result. Even with the stuff long in the past, opening myself up to other people isn't something that comes naturally to me; even when I work at it it's quite difficult. As a result a most of my interactions remain superficial and one sided; I don't mean anything by it, it's just the way I am.
On the other side, I often find myself in my own world. I love to daydream, and fall into them in all sorts of different settings. Hours after picking up the samples I was doing just that, immersed in my little worlds and taking longer with my work as a result. It didn't matter at this point; I had past acceptance and was now enjoying the quiet stillness of the lab. It felt so ghostly serene with only the emergency lighting to light the hallways and me in my fluorescent oasis. I was beginning to become thankful that my day became a 12 hour work day as I called my husband to tell him that it would be at least another couple hours before I was home. The lab isn't half bad at night, maybe the lab isn't that bad at all......just all the people that work there.
It's not that I hate everyone; it's just that some people just get on my wrong side. There's a guy who thinks his every word is a contribution to the grand total of humour in the world, some that attempt to undermine everything any does in an attempt to look better, a new manager who just changes things to show that it's his lab and not because the former managers way was wrong and then there is me who listens to everything and says hardly anything. The others just seem to have more in common, add that to my general mistrust for people and the space isn't always a happy one for me. With none of that around and just my work I can remember what I loved about the work in the first place, I can take my time and daydream and I can forget that there is a world outside of the darkened hallways that runs in a rectangle around the entire lab.
By the time I file the report time became so distant that it could have been a figment of my daydream. Taking off my lab coat and snapping back to this reality I notice the time to be 10:30 in the evening. This had to be one of my latest nights of work, yet for some reason I feel like I'm leaving a sauna too early. As I turn the lights off I feel a little cooler although the temperature is no doubt the same. I straighten my accordion style pleated skirt I ordered from Zara, it's grey and cuts just above my knee, perhaps a remnant of my mid-life crisis but it makes me feel sexy and I like to feel that way some days; despite the lab coat that goes over. Taking off my lab coat has also revealed a smart looking blouse with a floral pattern I got at H&M affordable but caught my eye. My shoes are plain flat-bottoms that don't compliment my outfit but at least appeal to the common sense of not wearing heels at work....a mistake that my vanity still occasionally allows. My hair is tied back and I know it will feel good to release it, so much so that I won't even wait until I get to my car.
