Page 8 of Filthy Boss

Chapter4Milly

The elevator moved so fast my stomach almost flipped, and it was already carrying a tight ball of desire. I was thankful I didn’t have to control myself from running my hands all over him. Knowing he was defenseless against me, I wouldtotallytake advantage of that.

Get a grip on those hormones.

Horny and squirmy is not the professional demeanor I’m going for right now.

Neither is elevator slut. So I copped a feel, and I’m going to have some very naughty fantasies later about him. That I could live with. But not elevator whore.

The tedious anxiety of the last three months left my nerves shot. And it didn’t helpthat I broke up with Todd my boyfriend of 9 months, 8.5 too long. And his frustrating gentleness, like I was somepure thing that couldn't be touched, on a pedestal, couldn't be thrown around, couldn't be fucked.

I was anxious. I was horny. I needed a good fuck. And he wasn't helping any ofthose things.

A good fuck would go a lot further than any ofDez’ pills- even the green ones. They ate away my libido and made me okay with okay. With letting myself sink into this waste of space existence, with the torpor of Todd, and of my no-job-job, then I wouldn’t be here now, waiting for the other shoe to drop in my life and the best thing in it groping handicapped older men then fantasizing about them.

Todd talked about making love. Which is great. But what I wanted, what I needed wasto get fucked. To be pressed against the wall and taken, to be gripped and thrown and have my hair pulled and feel small.

Making love sounded nice. Sounded great with time and tenderness on Sunday morning with coffee and Frank Sinatra and the Sunday newspaper. But I wanted Tuesday night before dinner.Instead of dinner.

I don't want my thong pulled off, I want someone to pull it to the side, twist it in his fingers and use it to pull me as he takes me.

Takes my virginity.

I wanted my skirt pulled up and panties pulled to side and forget dinner, forget 'How was your day', forget the mistake I made and the apology and the email that I sent reply all and the coworker who stole my idea and just forget everything and get fucked against the countertop.

And then eat Chinese take-out.

I stood over an air conditioning vent, the cool air running over my slick skin.

God I needed help.

I woke my computer and realized company-wide video conferences are never good, are they? I've never heard of one announcing raises and bonuses and puppies and rainbows and orgasms for everyone. It's always “Massive Layoffs” or more politely, “Downsizing”, or even, “Milly Wells has defrauded the company”. It’s never good news.

Downsizing me would be the smartest thing they've done in a long time. Save the salary and the rent for these offices.

If I had proposedthat three months ago maybe they would have given me a promotion.

First I had to Google video conferencing. I threw in White and Williams for the hell of it, and as always, Google knew way more than I did.

White & Williams was in trouble. Big trouble. This was the sort of thingI needed co-workers for, to gossip and tell me all about the rumors. Left to my own devices, I picked cat videos and Sudoku over news.

The stock price was plummeting, but I couldn’t tell why. Bad earnings, no profits, spending money on employees who don’t do any work- it could be anything.

Three different websites said things were so bad we might fail before Monday. We might be taken over. Nobody knew anything for sure except that it was verybad.

I must have had my head in the sand for the last few weeks because I didn't know anythingabout it. It makes sense that a company dumb enough to make a mistake like me would be terrible at everything. It also explains why I have no boss and why HR won't return my calls.

They’re all looking for new jobs.

It was a slap in the face, but it felt okay, it felt like the push I needed. If we were goingunder, then references and old bosses might be hard to find.

This could be good.

This could be a do-over for me.

Maybe I wouldn't even need to lie about these last three months. It would be a funny interview story. How they forgot me. How I had figured out what was happening, and I knew it was coming because of how they forgot about me. Okay, that wouldn’t be completelyhonest.

I would also need to leave out the masturbating part.

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