Predictable Naomi

I wrote this for the February 2025 "I Just Work Here" Arena event at mcforum. Let me know what you think!

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"Have you seen Caitlin's dress?" Tara asked in a hushed voice. It was like she had been eagerly waiting for Preston, their office manager, to finish his morning rounds and retreat to his office so she could dish with Naomi. No sooner had his door closed than Tara rolled her chair over to Naomi's cubicle, her dark, curly hair trailing in her wake.

Naomi rolled her eyes. She looked over at Tara and pushed her glasses back up her nose. Tara was looking at her expectantly. Her sharp gaze was framed by heavy eyeliner and complemented with her crimson lips. She looked ready to pounce onto whatever Naomi chose to say in response, but what was Naomi supposed to say?! Of course she had seen Caitlin's dress! She’d clocked it the moment Caitlin strutted in. Her gold sequins caught the fluorescent office lights like a disco ball. The dress was snug, glittery, and had less material than Naomi’s handbag, but what Caitlin chose to wear was her own business. Ever since BiMark had abolished the dress code, whatever anyone wore to work was acceptable as long as it didn’t hinder productivity, and it certainly wasn't hindering Naomi's productivity.

Was Caitlin's dress immodest? Absolutely. Were her white fishnet stockings out of place in an office environment? Certainly! Did it make Naomi feel self conscious about her own lack of curves and fashion sense? Y- Maybe. But Naomi didn’t want to say anything about it. She didn't want to ruffle any feathers. With all the strange things that had been going on in the office, she just wanted to keep her head down, collect her paycheck at the end of the month, and get home to Miguel at the end of each day. He was the light of her life. He always made her feel like the belle of the ball, no matter what happened at the office.

Naomi didn't want to say anything to Tara. She didn't feel the personal need to say anything about Caitlin's dress.

The gossip queen wouldn’t go away without a response, though. Naomi sighed and turned her attention back to the spreadsheet in front of her. Her slim fingers began tapping nervously on the keyboard. "Yeah, it’s pretty—"

"Slutty?" Tara interrupted, her voice dripping with disdain. "I know! It’s like she’s not even trying to hide it anymore. I think she even gave Marcus a blowjob in the supply closet yesterday."

Naomi could see Tara's crimson smile out of the corner of her eyes. Tara wanted her to react. She wanted her to act aghast and pious, but it honestly didn't surprise Naomi anymore. Very little did. Things had been weird in the office. Many things had changed over the last few months, and Naomi just felt blessed that her life had remained largely untouched.

Still, Tara seemed hellbent on roping Naomi into the fray. It wasn't like Naomi didn't have an opinion on the matter. She did in fact want to say something. She wanted to tell Tara that she had seen Caitlin do way more than just give Marcus a blowjob. She wanted to tell Tara that for the last month, Caitlin spent most of her time with her feet in the air and her back on the boardroom table. Heck, she even wanted to tell Tara that it was her, the gossip queen, who gave Marcus a blowjob in the supply closet yesterday and not Caitlin, but that would ruffle feathers.

And around there, feathers were best left unruffled.

She had tried once to say something about it. Eight weeks ago, Naomi had asked Caitlin why she was spending so much time in Preston’s office, but Caitlin had just fluttered her long lashes and claimed to not know what she was talking about. So Naomi went to Preston instead. Big mistake. Preston had brushed it off as a confidential project in line with BiMark’s vision and reminded Naomi to keep her focus on her work, as per BiMark’s revised employee handbook.

Caitlin’s desk was moved into Preston’s office the next day, and she had quickly become, well...

Naomi stared at her spreadsheet, unsure of how to get Tara to leave. Her fingers had stopped typing as if they were waiting for her brain to give them more orders. Sometimes it was too much to process everything that had happened in the office recently. It was much easier to keep her head down, focus on her work, and find safety in Miguel's arms at the end of the day. Her computer monitor flickered in its reassuring way, as if to remind her that despite all the changes her company had made after employing BiMark Business Opportunities, she was still working for a company with barely functioning equipment—not cast in some dystopian sci-fi skin flick. Still, it couldn’t hurt to be cautious...

"Tara, what Caitlin does or doesn’t do isn’t my business," she said with an exhausted sigh, tugging at the hem of her beige cardigan. "I’m just here to get my work done."

"Girl, it is your business," Tara snapped. She tapped her manicured nails impatiently on the edge of Naomi’s desk. "Weren’t you telling me that your workload has sky-rocketed since Preston took her on for their ‘collaboration project’? Who do you think was doing that work before?"

Naomi pushed her glasses back up her nose and turned her gaze back towards Tara. She knew Tara was right. If BiMark's vision was to let some employees do the lion's share of the work while the popular clique didn't contribute, it certainly seemed like Naomi was on the wrong side of that deal, but she still didn’t want to ruffle any feathers. And frankly, Tara seemed to be in a worse position, even if she didn't know it. Naomi wondered how long it would be before Tara ditched her smart pantsuits for more daring attire. She reckoned it wouldn't be long at all and if Naomi wasn't careful, she'd be dragged down alongside her.

She weighed her options and denial seemed like the best way to divert Tara's course. "Or maybe I have more work because of BiMark’s analytics. It’s not an unreasonable amount of work, but it keeps me busy." She gave Tara a curt smile and turned back to her spreadsheet, making adjustments as needed. The screen flickered again, providing some much-needed comfort. It was best not to get too involved with office politics.

Tara scoffed, her glossy lips twisting into a sneer. "Okay, worker drone Naomi engage. Ignore all other stimulus," she said in a mocking robotic voice, her tone was dripping with sarcasm.

Naomi rolled her eyes. She knew Tara was treading on thin ice. It was probably only a matter of time before her desk got moved into an executive’s office, just like Caitlin’s had, and Aisha’s, and Rebecca’s, and... She just wished Tara wouldn’t seem so dead set on bringing her down at the same time.

Naomi considered herself blessed to have been let off the hook so easily when she confronted Preston, and she wanted to keep it that way. After Aisha’s blowup about favoritism, she’d been given paid time off and came back with a very different attitude. While she was sure that Aisha hadn't been replaced by a doppelganger, Naomi wasn't wholly unconvinced that BiMark couldn't just brainwash someone, and they didn't seem to have any problems leveraging this power. Naomi chalked up her own luck to not being as conventionally attractive as Caitlin—her small frame and geeky glasses didn’t exactly scream "eye candy." It could also be because she was a diligent and hard worker, but that seemed less likely. Either way, her plan to keep her head down, do her work, and collect her paycheque seemed to be working for her.

"Yep," said Naomi flatly. This time, she kept her eyes on her monitor instead of facing Tara, but her fingers were once again frozen in place. "I’m here to work, not to gossip. I’m sorry that your old gaggle was disbanded, but I’m not your new bestie." She looked down at her keyboard as if trying to think about what to type next, but she kept sight of Tara in her peripheral vision.

Tara's scowl burned into the side of Naomi's head. She looked like a hurt toddler ready to hit back, but before she could say anything, a male voice broke the tension.

"Ladies, is there anything I can help with?"

Naomi cringed hearing Preston's voice. This didn't look good for either of them. Hopefully he'd buy that Naomi was trying to send her off. Hopefully their respective work habits would help keep her off the chopping block, or away from the hypnotic spiral. She looked up at Preston as he stood in the aisle outside her cubicle. He cast an imposing figure filling out his tailored navy suit. He definitely had a workout regimine to maintain his body shape and while that wasn't necessarily Naomi's type, she could see why other women found him sexy. She briefly thought about how much larger he was than Miguel. Her boyfriend was a runner, competing in multiple marathons each year, so he had more of a wiry physique.

Tara dropped her scowl and put on a saccharine smile at Preston's arrival. "No, sir!" she said, batting her eyes at their manager. "I'm just having some trouble getting into the server and I was wondering if Naomi was too."

Preston looked dubiously between the pair of them and then at Naomi's monitor. "Well, Naomi's station seems to be working fine."

"Yea, she doesn't have the same issues," Tara said sweetly, even though her eyes shot daggers at Naomi. "It seems like I'm on my own." The double entendre was not lost on Naomi.

"Go see the boys in IT to get it fixed. I'm sure they'd love a visit from you," Preston said, having turned his attention back to Tara.

"Will do, sir!" Tara said, sweetly looking back up at him and slowly wheeling her chair back to her own cubicle.

"Oh, but first!" Preston exclaimed, forcing Tara to pause before she made it back to her cubicle. Naomi watched as a grin slowly formed on Preston's face and she couldn't help but feel like it hid a more sinister intention. "The reason I came over here was because Marcus requested your help with something."

"Marcus?" asked Tara in confusion. Her curly hair whipped around as she turned to look up at Preston. Naomi cringed knowing what was coming next. It explained Preston's malicious smile. She had witnessed this day after day, and yet Tara never seemed to know what Marcus would want her help with.

"Yep, he said he needed your help disconnecting the command process from the loudspeaker."

Naomi's eyes flitted over to Tara. She watched the familiar sight of her wit and intellect drain from her expression as her eyes glassed over. Even with her dark eyeliner, the intensity that previously shown brightly from her eyes was gone. Naomi watched in silent horror as Tara wordlessly stood from her seat and walked past Preston, like a drone programmed to ignore any external stimulus. The two of them watched silently as Tara walked to the stairwell in her olive green pantsuit. Naomi knew it wouldn't be long before the pantsuit was in a pile on the floor of Marcus' office.

Naomi looked back at Preston in horror. He was still smiling his malicious smile, but he turned his attention to Tara's chair. It had been left unceremoniously in the aisle and he gently pushed it back into her cubicle. Naomi knew she needed to stop watching. She knew she should get back to her spreadsheet and her comfortably malfunctioning monitor, but she couldn't tear herself away from the scene and the implications. Tara was going to be used for Marcus' sexual gratification. Just like Caitlin for Preston and the rest of the board, just like Aisha on the third floor, just like Rebecca in the mailroom...

Just like she would if she didn't get back to work...

But Naomi couldn't look away from Preston's sinister form. Even with his back to her as he pushed the chair into the cubicle, Naomi knew he was smiling. He had the physique and classic good looks of a superhero, but everything else screamed Machiavellian villain. What horrified her worst, however, was as he turned with Tara's chair to push it under her desk, she could see an unmistakable bulge in his pants, as though he was sporting a rock hard and immense erection.

Now her eyes were locked there. Locked on the tent in his suit pants as he leaned forward and reached for Tara's mouse. She wanted to pull her eyes away - she didn't want to be staring at anyone's crotch, much less her boss - but a spiralling thought kept her attention there. A thought so horrifying that it kept Naomi frozen in place.

He enjoyed it.

Preston enjoyed manipulating them. He got off on it. Naomi knew he wasn’t sporting a boner when he walked up. She didn’t know how she knew — it’s not like she looked at his dick when he approached — but she knew as much as she knew the sky was blue that Preston didn’t have an erection when he came to talk to them. It wasn’t until after Tara walked away to service Marcus that the tent in his pants appeared. It wasn't until after he had turned her into a mindless drone. As if what the company was doing wasn’t monstrous enough, Preston got sexually aroused by the process.

Thoughts flooded through Naomi’s mind while she watched him click around on Tara's desktop. There was no getting out of it this time. He hadn’t made any attempt to hide his control over Tara. Usually he kept his voice low and Naomi was left piecing together what had been said, but he didn’t seem to care that Naomi was watching. He brazenly spoke some kind of trigger phrase in full earshot of Naomi. Did that mean she was next? Did he not care because he was planning to strip away her free will too?

“That’s odd,” said Preston loudly enough for Naomi to hear.

Naomi jumped. She was still watching him intently, but she had been lost in the hurricane of her thoughts, and hearing him speak brought her back to the present. She could see her monitor flickering in the reflection of her glasses. It seemed to be going haywire, begging her to look its way, but she didn't want to turn her back on a monster.

“Tara’s already logged into the server. Does that mean she was lying about what you two were talking about?” Preston turned his head to lock eyes with Naomi. His dark gaze further paralyzed her with dread.

Naomi didn’t want this. She didn’t want any of this. She just wanted a job where she could work drama-free and earn a reasonable income. She didn’t want to ruffle any feathers. Despite all that, through the paralysis of her fear, Naomi kept her sights on Preston’s cold, dark gaze and nodded silently.

He stood up straight and approached her with a wry smile. His eyes reflected a predatory amusement like a tomcat playing with a helpless mouse.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked. His menacing figure took up the majority of the entrance to Naomi's cubicle.

Naomi opened her mouth to answer, but no words came out.

Thankfully, Preston took mercy, and she didn’t have to keep forcing silence out of her mouth. “Don’t worry, I know you don’t like rocking the boat,” he said. “Relax, you’re not in trouble. We expect fraternization here. It’s fine, as long as you keep hitting your targets. In fact...” He paused and then looked at her with a warmer smile, as if he flipped a switch in his persona, but Naomi still didn’t trust him. Her fingers clutched tightly to her armrests.

“Listen, Naomi,” Preston said. His voice softened like he was trying to comfort her, but she still felt like a trapped animal, cornered by his malicious intent and his still-present hard on. “You're a hard worker, one of the best here. You out-produce everyone else. You excel at everything you do. Everything."

Naomi felt her cheeks blush. Even in the face of horror, she still had a soft spot for praise, but she also knew that a compliment like that was usually followed by some criticism, and the look on Preston's face betrayed that.

"But lately it's felt like you don't want to be here. You've become a clock puncher: here exactly on time and gone the moment it hits five."

"I-is there something wrong with that?" Naomi stammered in response. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. In any other job, she knew how to handle this conversation. He'd try to imply that she should work longer hours, unpaid, just to get ahead, and then she'd ask if her performance was unsatisfactory. Given his earlier compliment, he'd be unable to say so and they'd move on to play that game of mental chess another day. But there... With Preston... Naomi didn't know where the conversation would go. She just wanted to be left alone with her glitchy monitor and her spreadsheets.

Preston's smile changed. It wasn't less warm, but it seemed to show admiration, like he realized that she wasn't completely defenseless. "No, not like that. But one of BiMark's goals is to create an environment where everyone feels welcome."

BiMark. The word was enough to set Naomi on edge, if she hadn't been already. She kept her eyes on Preston, even though her spreadsheet was clawing at the edge of her mind. Her monitor still seemed to be going crazy, she could see its flashes reflected in her glasses, but she couldn't turn from Preston.

"We want to foster a sense of community," he continued, "Like this is a place where you can belong, but you, Naomi, keep yourself so separate."

"I just- I just like to focus on my work," she said, unblinking. Her fingers ached from clutching her armrests so tightly, so she let go and instantly felt the air conditioned air in her clammy hands.

Preston chuckled a rehearsed, belittling chuckle. "That's the thing, Naomi." She hated how he seemed to use her name as punctuation. It seemed so pompous. "That's how you burn out. The best employees balance working hard with letting off a little steam. They embrace the culture."

Naomi didn't really know what culture he was referring to, but she wasn't the type to cheat on her partner. Surely he knew that. Surely he knew he was barking up the wrong tree.

"Most days, there are a few of us who linger behind in the office and just..." Preston paused and looked up as he decided on the right words to use, "Shoot the breeze, you know? It's a good way to get to know your coworkers."

Naomi's hands fiddled with the sleeves of her cardigan. She was still so uncomfortable, but the conversation was starting to feel a lot more innocuous, and his erection seemed to have... subsided. She was just thankful he hadn't pulled out a pocket watch and tried hypnotizing her, but it still didn't mean she wanted to spend more time on the office. She just wanted to keep her head down, get her job done and get home. The less time she was there, she figured, the less chance she had of becoming some sex zombie.

Naomi pushed her glasses back up her nose. She couldn't really tell Preston that though. She couldn't tell him that she didn't want to be there out of fear of being brainwashed. She had to come up with something else. "I can't really stay late," she squeaked out, "Miguel and I-"

“Miguel,” Preston repeated, cutting her off completely. His voice was incredibly belittling as if the name itself amused him. “Right. Your boyfriend.” His smile remained on his face, but his brow dropped and he looked at her with a condescending gaze. "I should have guessed."

"What-?" Naomi said before biting her tongue. What did he mean by that? Was he insulting her?

Preston's brow lifted and his rehearsed warmth spread across his face again. If anything, it put Naomi more on edge than his genuine condescension. "Oh, nothing," he chuckled with his chiseled smile. "Just that you're always so predictable."

Naomi furrowed her brow. She teased at the sleeves of her cardigan once again. "I'm predictable?" she asked. She knew he meant it in a bad way, but she liked her life... outside of work of course. She and Miguel had their routines, sure, but it was what kept her going. Routine is what she excelled at - it's why she was so efficient with spreadsheets.

Preston’s smile dropped slightly, like he had grown tired of toying with her. "Predictable isn’t bad," he said with a shrug. "It’s just... boring." He made sure to look her up and down while he said it with a dismissive expression as if she wasn't worthy of his attention. "Anyway, keep up the good work," he said casually before turning and strolling back to his office.

Naomi was floored. Did that just happen? Did her manager just try to insult her by calling her predictable? She shook her head and turned to face her workstation. Back to her predictable spreadsheets and her boring work.

As usual, her monitor flickered at her.

"Predictable," she thought about it with a sly grin, "Just like me, I guess."

Her hands found their respective spots on her mouse and keyboard and she got back to her work on the summary of the Robinson project. Naomi still felt shaken by everything that had happened that morning, so it took her a moment to remember where she left off. Her eyes flitted around the screen, from input cell to input cell. It usually didn't take her this long to settle back into the rhythm of things, but then again she wasn't usually so stressed out. Even with the whole office seemingly being brainwashed one-by-one, it usually remained as background noise for her, but Preston had brought everything to the foreground. The Tara thing had been so frightening, but then...

She knew Preston wasn't a nice guy, but that whole interaction seemed so childish. It really got on her nerves. Who cared if she wanted to spend every evening with Miguel instead of fraternizing at the office? She thought she had left clique-culture behind when she left high school, but then entered BiMark.

Her monitor flickered, catching Naomi's attention. She realized that she hadn't actually done anything since Preston left. Her cursor was still hovering in No Man's Land. She couldn't focus. She needed to vent to someone, but a quick glance at the clock told her she'd have to wait. It was only a little after ten, and Miguel would be in a presentation with some buyers - he'd been preparing for it all week.

"Shoot!" she hissed. She had meant to send him a good-luck text that morning, but all the drama in the office had distracted her.

She pushed her glasses back up her nose. God, Preston was a jackass. Not only did he insult her boyfriend, he made it so she couldn't even be there to support him.

Naomi shook her head and tried getting back to work, but her mind kept drifting to what Preston said. "Predictable," she scoffed. Maybe she was predictable, but that was her right, right?

Her monitor shimmered.

She stared at her work. Usually it was easy for her to do. Enter a value here, take the results from there, put them in over here. Repeat. Ad nauseum. Predictable. Boring. It was like it was taunting her.

Naomi groaned. Why was she letting Preston get to her like that? She knew he wasn't giving it another thought. He was probably sitting in his office, ogling Caitlin as they did... who knows what? He'd never call Caitlin predictable, would he? Not with her low cut dresses, and her booty hanging out for everyone to see. Naomi tugged at her cardigan, boring and beige. But it was warm. It was comfortable. She could only imagine how uncomfortable it was for Caitlin to wear that dress with those stockings.

But wasn't comfortable just another word for boring?

Predictable. Comfortable. Boring. Plain.

Was that what her life had become? Had she always been boring, or had she simply retreated into a predictable life now that she had Miguel at home? Every day was the same. Breakfast, work, come home, dinner with Miguel, cuddle with Miguel, watch a show with Miguel.

The disdain in Preston's voice when he said Miguel's name further infected Naomi's mind. Miguel. She could hear the plainness dripping with each syllable. Had Miguel made her predictable? Was Miguel the reason she was so boring?

Naomi groaned. She let go of her mouse and began tapping on her desk with her finger nails. She really needed to tell Preston off for being so rude. Frankly, his comments were inappropriate, and she needed him to know that... But, she also didn't want to ruffle any feathers. She needed to stay under the radar... But...

But she couldn't work because her brain was so transfixed in the injustice she received. She wouldn't be able to think, to focus, until she resolved it.

And what better time to resolve it than now? Preston was expecting her to keep to herself, keep her head down, and not "rock the boat" as he had said. Predictable Naomi didn't ruffle feathers. Well, she was going to give Preston a piece of her mind. That would show him that she wasn't predictable. That she wasn't boring.

With her mind made up, Naomi stood from her desk and began walking to Preston's office. The hall suddenly seemed much longer than normal. Naomi felt her nerves and fears begin to swell inside her with each step. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to risk getting brainwashed just because her manager called her predictable? Her feet stopped moving. This was ridiculous. It wasn't worth it. She'd get over it and finish her shift and go home to Miguel and listen about his meeting with the buyers and...

She turned back to her cubicle and saw her monitor sitting there. It flickered and winked at her like a good friend, and she remembered what she needed to fight for. She wasn't going to get brainwashed for speaking her mind. In fact, Preston would appreciate her more, right? That's what he wanted. He didn't want Predictable Naomi, he wanted an employee who would speak up when it was necessary, who could sometimes stay late, and wouldn't always go home every day to her boring boyfriend and listen to him drone on and on about his freaking meetings with the buyers!

With newfound fervor, Naomi spun on her heel and marched to Preston's office. The door was closed and the curtain was drawn, but she knew he was in there. She raised her hand to knock, ready to show him exactly how unpredictable she could be, but the door opened before she could strike it.

Caitlin stood there, holding the door open with a devilish grin on her face. Her gold-sequined dress reflected little dots of light like a disco ball, but it still wasn't enough to distract from her deep cleavage. "Hi, Naomi," she said slyly.

Naomi felt her face flush. This already hadn't gone as she had anticipated - she was expecting a conversation with Preston, not an ambush from Caitlin - but she wasn't exactly sure why her cheeks were burning red. Was it anger? Embarrassment?

Naomi narrowed her eyes and remembered her objective. "I need to talk to Preston," she said firmly.

Caitlin smiled and giggled, "I guessed as much. You're so predictable." The way she said it made the word sound cute and almost like a compliment, but it still grated at the edges of Naomi's mind. "Come in."

Naomi was now certain that her flushed face was from anger, it couldn't have been anything else, and she stepped into the office. What she saw inside took her by surprise. It was very different from the last time she had been in his office. When was that? She was expecting two desks in there, one for Preston and one for Caitlin, but while Preston had a desk, the rest of the room was taken up by a queen sized bed with crimson sheets that looked like they had recently been mussed. There wasn't even another chair in the room besides the one on which Preston sat, and that was when Naomi noticed the strangest thing: Preston was naked. He wore only his predatory smile and his hands were down in his lap as if...

"Hi, Naomi," he said calmly, fiendishly.

Naomi heard the door click shut as Caitlin walked away from it and took a seat on the bed. All of Naomi's fears seemed to rush back to her psyche, but she felt frozen to the spot. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. What was happening?! We're they about to brainwash her?

"Twenty minutes," Preston said with his too-handsome grin. His arm raised and lowered slowly, and Naomi knew what he had in his hand. "Looks like I owe you money, Caitlin, I really thought she'd hold out for longer this time."

"Told ya," Caitlin chirped from behind Naomi, "It's getting faster every week."

"What are you talking about?" Naomi choked out. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. But her body wasn't obeying. She could only stand and watch as Preston jerked on his long, hard dick.

"Just how predictable you are, Naomi," he said with a grin.

"I'm not-" Naomi wanted to argue, but she knew it would be in vain. Following her conversation with Preston, they had seemingly been waiting for her to prove how unpredictable she could be... Turns out she was every bit as predictable as they said. She swallowed her words and watched Preston's arm pick up its pace. She found herself straining her neck to see past the desk, but the contents of his hand stayed hidden.

Was she disappointed?

"Why can't I move?" she asked instead.

"The same reason you're not screaming for help," Preston said, "The same reason you're trying to see my cock, and the same reason you're flushed with arousal."

Naomi caught herself trying to see his dick once again. What was she doing? Why would she be trying to look at Preston's dick? It had to be morbid curiosity, right? His arm was moving, and that was drawing her attention. And she wasn't aroused she was angry... That's why her heart was beating wildly. That's why her hand was trembling. That's why her mouth was watering. That's-

Preston stood from his chair and Naomi's mouth dropped. He was a chiseled Adonis, but his dick was... She knew he was big. She could tell from the tent in his pant earlier, but... Wow. He was much bigger than Miguel. She wondered how it would feel to have a cock like that inside her. How it would feel to gag on a dick that fucking huge. How-

Naomi tried to shake her head from the intrusive thoughts, but her eyes stayed fixated on Preston's large, glorious cock.

"Someone else is in control, Naomi..." he said quietly, conspiratorially.

Naomi stayed entranced on his dick, but she felt a few words tumble from her mouth, like there was still a part of her paying attention to the bigger picture. "Who? Caitlin?"

She heard giggling from behind her and suddenly became aware of another sound coming from the bed, like a rhythmic squishing sound. She could only assume that Caitlin was masturbating on the bed behind her, and for some reason she desperately wanted to look.

"Guess again," sang Caitlin, her voice was equally angelic and insidious.

Naomi didn't want to guess again. She just wanted this to be over... Or maybe she just wanted to be able to join in. She couldn't tell. It was all so confusing. She felt her head spinning.

Preston walked over to her, cock in one hand, but lifted her face with the other so her eyes met his. "Naomi," he said, strong and commanding. His smile was malignant, evil, and... irresistible. "What happens when you spell your name backwards?"

Naomi didn't even have time to process his question before her mouth responded, like her body had been lying in wait for him to ask the question. "I mooooaannnn," she moaned.

In an instant, Naomi felt herself recede into the depths of her mind, like the boring, predictable version of herself was being saved in a backup file to be restored at a later time. She felt her personality get rewritten step by step as if Preston had triggered a macro in her head and every cell of her being was overwritten with some other data.

She felt free. She felt horny. She felt sexy.

Naomi looked at Preston and smiled wide, "Hi, handsome," she said. She pushed forward and brought her mouth to his, once again tasting his delicious lips. She felt his hard cock press against her belly and her hand instinctively went to grab for it, replacing his hand in the process. It always felt so amazing in her grasp... So large and satisfying.

A third set of hands came from behind and pulled the boring beige cardigan off her shoulders. Naomi moaned into Preston's mouth as she felt Caitlin's hands begin to explore her torso.

"I just love your tiny titties," Caitlin said as her fingers found their way under her bra. Naomi flushed at the compliment. She loved being complimented, especially by those two.

Naomi finally broke off from her kiss with Preston, but she kept her hand steadily stroking his cock. "Please tell me you're making me a Full-Time Slut," she begged, but the responding look in Preston's face quickly dashed her hopes.

"Not yet," he said. Caitlin continued to fondle Naomi. She had her hands up her shirt and was rolling her nipple between her finger and thumb. "You, well, the other you, is too good at her job. We can't lose that productivity, not yet at least."

Naomi was disappointed, but she still liked hearing compliments from Preston, even if it was about Boring Naomi. Preston grabbed her hand and removed it from his dick before walking over to the bed, leaving her in Caitlin's busy hands. "The good news, though, is that she's fighting you less and less, and BiMark's newest round of adjustments are promising. Projections show we might be able to start distancing her from her boyfriend, so it might be sooner than you think."

Naomi was only partially listening to Preston, because Caitlin had taken the opportunity to begin disrobing her completely. Her boring clothes were piled on the floor in a beige puddle. It was in stark contest with Caitlin, who looked so sexy in her tight, shimmering dress and her white fishnet stocking. Naomi wished she could dress as sexy as her, but she knew Miguel would notice. He was such a pain in the butt.

She looked up at Preston, at his chiseled figure and his rock hard cock. She couldn't wait to feel him inside her, it was so much better than Miguel's. Preston was a sex god. Her glasses were askew, so she grabbed them and tossed them with the rest of her drab clothing. His charming smile radiated her vision. "We're going to see if we can convince her to spend more time here. How does that sound?"

It sounded so good to Naomi and she nodded ecstatically. Caitlin finished removing her panties, a practical and boring cotton brief that Naomi couldn't wait to replace, and she strode over to her manager. She straddled him on the bed and lined up his dick with her dripping wet pussy. "I can't wait to have more time with your dick," she said huskily, "It's the only thing that makes me feel good after looking at those soul-crushing spreadsheets all day."

Preston chuckled and began lifting his hips, letting his hard cock slide into her wet womanhood. "Trust me, I want more of your pussy too. I meant it when I said you excel at everything you do."

Naomi moaned as she felt him fill her, as she heard him compliment her, as she felt Caitlin slip into bed beside them and wrap her mouth around Naomi's nipple. At least she could count on world shattering sex every time they brought her out. It was the good kind of predictable.

**

"Have you seen Caitlin's dress?" Tara asked in an excited voice. It was like she had been eagerly waiting for Preston to finish his afternoon rounds and retreat to his office so she could dish with Naomi. No sooner had his door closed than Tara rolled her chair over to Naomi's cubicle. Her dark hair was up in a bun and really showcased her high cheekbones.

Naomi rolled her eyes. She looked over at Tara and pushed her glasses back up her nose. Tara was looking at her expectantly. Her sharp gaze was usually framed with heavy eye liner, but apparently she had decided to go with no makeup that day. It made her feel less intense, almost giddy, rather than critical, but Naomi knew what was going to happen. Regardless of what Naomi would say, Tara would leap onto it and pile judgement towards Caitlin and then pretend that they were both in on it together.

But what was Caitlin supposed to say? Of course she had seen Caitlin's dress! She'd clocked it the moment Caitlin walked in like sex on heels. The gold-sequined dress was so tight and shimmered gloriously. It was snug and glittery and exposed all of Caitlin's amazing curves. Was it inappropriate for a workplace? Maybe. She'd probably kill at a nightclub wearing that, especially with the white fishnet stockings, but ever since BiMark abolished the dress code, Caitlin was free to wear whatever sexy little number she desired. Naomi almost wished she could wear something like that, but she knew Miguel wouldn't approve. He was uptight and boring like that.

Naomi knew Tara was expecting a response, but she really didn't know what to say. She didn't want to rock the boat. Strange things had been happening at their office ever since BiMark came in, and she just wanted to make sure she kept her head down so she didn't get caught in the crossfire.

Still, she knew the gossip queen wouldn't leave without stirring the pot. May as well take the bait. "Yea," said Naomi cautiously, "It's pretty-"

"Sexy, right?" said Tara, shocking Naomi. That was not what she was expecting to hear. Tara's eyes dazzled with excitement. "But let's face it, she'd made anything look good."

Naomi was stunned silent. This was not the Tara she knew. She was expecting vile resentment and criticism. Not... Admiration?

Tara looked off into space with an almost wistful look. "I'd kill to have a body like hers."

Naomi still didn't know what to say. Had they gotten to Tara? As far as she was concerned, Tara always dressed well. She was fashionable, but professional, but she always looked down on women who flaunted their body. This seemed like a complete departure from Tara's usual self.

Naomi pushed her glasses up her nose and turned back to her computer, leaving Tara to daydream in the opening of her cubicle. The monitor flickered in its familiar way. She looked at the time. It was 2:00 PM, still enough time to finish the Robinson summary before starting to compile what she needed for the Jacobson project, before heading home to Miguel. She briefly thought about texting him to ask him about his presentation for the buyers, but she knew he'd probably drone on about it while they cooked that night. It likely went well and he'd be spend the next few nights working on his next presentation while she sat beside him watching Netflix.

Naomi sighed. It sounded boring. About as boring as her spreadsheets. Usually they filled her with joy and a asnes of accomplishment, but she also knew her job could probably be automated. She wasn't going to tell anyone that, though. It was best to keep her head down, not rock the boat, and collect her paycheque at the end of each week.

"Tara, can I help you with something?" came a male voice from the hallway.

Naomi welcomed the sound of Preston's voice. At least maybe Tara would get back to work and lessen the load for everyone else. As is, she was already starting to grow concerned about being able to finish the Robinson summary before the end of the day - she just couldn't seem to focus.

"No, sir!" Tara replied with an overly pleasant affectation. Naomi kept looking ahead at her flickering monitor, but she knew she was batting her long eyelashes at their manager. "I just asked Naomi for some advice and then I got lost in a thought, sorry!"

"That's fine, Tara," he said as the woman wheeled herself back to her own cubicle. Preston paused briefly. "Keep up the good work, Naomi," he said before continuing down the hall.

Naomi blushed hard. She had a thing for praise. It was one of the reasons she always worked so hard, but for some reason it felt really good to hear from Preston. She began to feel warm between her legs, like the thought of her manager praising her turned her on. It felt good.

Truthfully, it felt better than Miguel had made her feel in the last week or two. He had just been so caught up in getting his presentation ready, but it made their home time routine really... bland. She glanced at the clock again. Usually by this point she was counting down the minutes before she could leave, but today...

Naomi craned her neck to watch Preston walk away down the aisle. Miguel was attractive in an almost geeky way, but Preston... Preston was like a hometown hottie. He and Caitlin ruled their floor like homecoming king and queen. She wondered what their evenings were like. She knew they usually stayed behind a little after work, she had no idea what they did, but maybe she could find out...

Her monitor flickered again, prompting Naomi to give it more attention. She looked at the spreadsheet with mild disdain. She didn't want to work on it, but she had to get it done before she left for the day. That's when she had a brilliant epiphany. Maybe if she dragged out finishing the Robinson summary, she'd have to stay late and she could really see what happens after hours.

But that brought up another pressing issue. What could she do instead to help the time pass?

As if she was psychic, Tara rolled her chair over to Naomi's cubicle. "Have you ever considered plastic surgery?" she asked.

Naomi chuckled and looked dubiously at and the usually intense woman. "What?" she asked as she pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

"Like a boob job?"

Naomi shook her head softly.

Tara's eyes went wide and she dropped her voice further. "I was just looking it up online. It's way more affordable than I thought!"

Naomi smiled. She didn't know what she believed less: that Tara was looking up getting a boob job, or that it was actually affordable for women like them. "How affordable?"

Tara smiled and ushered her over to her own cubicle. "C'mere! I'll show you."

Naomi smiled and began rolling over to Tara's cubicle. It looked like she'd be spending the rest of her afternoon looking at fake boobs, which seemed like the perfect way to pass the time. She'd probably have to send Miguel a text so he knew she'd be late. He'd start to worry if she wasn't home at her usual time, but she needed a break from her routine.

She couldn't let herself become predictable.