After Hours

The stairwell was empty, so you went all the way up to the office, where the door was slightly ajar. You leaned closer to listen, and heard a dull buzzing sound. You gently eased the door open and crept inside. Half the lights were off as per usual at night, while the other half of the fluorescents buzzed like normal, but it wasn’t the same as what you heard. Right by the reception desk, you saw a pair of discarded high heels. This was getting a little bizarre, you were starting to piece things together, but it wouldn’t make sense — this show was TV-14 at worst, there characters shouldn’t be taking initiative like this on their own, you figured that was YOUR job. You didn’t have to go far before the window into Michael’s office resolved your confusion.

There, sitting at Michael’s desk with her jacket discarded, one hand bracing the desk while the other nestled between her legs, Jan Levinson leaned back with her eyes closed, gently rocking along to the buzzing sound. You involuntarily gasped in excitement, but covered your mouth to stifle it. Unfortunately, this also meant you took your hand off the door, which sailed back and closed with a loud click. Your heart dropped as Jan turned abruptly toward the window, directly seeing you through the only partly-drawn blinds, ice cold **** in her eyes as her mouth hung open in shock and fury.

“Sorry, I—it’s okay, I didn’t mean to—“ you tried to reason, before Jan shot out of the chair and bolted out of Michael’s office. In a panic, you turned to flee, but had to open the door, giving her time to catch up, her bare feet letting her run much faster than you in your dress shoes. You managed to slip out of the office and round the corner by the elevator, but just as you opened the stairwell door, she grabbed you. With surprising, unreasonable strength, she thrust you against the balcony by the stairs, one hand twisting your arm behind your back, her other clamping over your mouth. Her hips pressed into your backside as she leaned over, laying her chest on your back, her hot breath tickling your ear as she half-whispered at you.

“You picked the wrong night to snoop around, kid.” You pleaded through her hand before she tensed her hold on your arm. “No talking,” she chided like a stern teacher, “Now unless you want the whole office to know what a deviant you are, before you drown in a sexual harassment suit, you’ll do as I say. Understood?” Taken by the shock of it all, and the gravity of her threat, you nodded. “Good,” you heard her chuckle softly, “Come on.”

She hauled you up, keeping your arm in a hold and her hand on your mouth, and marched you back to the office, kicking the door shut behind her.