Friday At Work

Friday, May the 29th

For the second time in three days, you experience a slight confusion as you awaken, then the deep satisfaction of realizing you are waking up next to Jayne. The previous night had just as vigorous and enjoyable as the first, with the addition of some new kinds of foreplay and a playful sort of teasing and unhurried pace.

“Hey,” you say as you reach out and turn off your phone alarm. Jayne is stirring, then simply rolls over half onto you, her back pressed up against your side.

“Good morning Zach,” she says softly. You can hear the smile in her voice and it thrills you. Dropping your phone back on the nightstand, you wrap your arm around her, then spoon up next to her.

Your stirring cock is pressing into her naked bottom, and she wiggles backwards and giggles. “I told you last night, we should set our alarm a half hour early for exactly this reason.” Reaching behind her, she takes your growing erection in her hand and you lower your free hand to cup one of her firm breasts, rolling the hard nipple in your fingers.

“I know, but last night I only cared about the sex I was having last night. It’s sad but last night Zachary just didn’t care about this morning Zachary enough. Classic past-Zach, he’s so damn selfish.”

Laughing, Jayne spins around and kisses you, rubbing her chest on yours as she does, “Last night Jayne was having too much fun to go to sleep at a decent hour too. Also, whenever you say ‘Zachary’ it sounds so odd I have to remind myself that’s your name. Zachary. Feels strange to even say it. You are just so a Zach. My Zach.” Her voice is getting breathier.

Now you can’t help but notice how Jayne is rubbing herself on your thigh, and then your cock is sliding up and down her hot and wet pussy. Breathing hard Jayne kisses you again, and you do some quick math. “So, we have like an hour and a bit to get to work and the drive is 20 minutes…”

“I can make it in 15 if I’m motivated,” she murmurs as her hand finds your erection, holding your cockhead to her entrance.

“I’ll shower very quickly,” you promise as Jayne shifts her body and slides down onto you. You sigh in delight as sits up, taking your full length. You stare at her in the morning light, her hair messy, her naked body so trim. You can see the defined muscles of her stomach, her small but pert tits with their hard pink nipples.

She groans as she gyrates her hips on your cock, then smiles and says, “To hell with future Jayne and Zach, if we’re late for work they can deal with it. Right-now Jayne needs this!”

Despite the hurried shower and some alarming speeding in Jayne’s little Micra, you are in fact 15 minutes late for work. You both sneak into your offices like tardy students, smiling and hoping no one was looking for you right at 8 AM.

It is just after 11 when you try the washroom door again. Locked. As it was 5 minutes ago. As it was 10 minutes before that.

You sigh as a woman opens the door to the women’s bathroom a few steps away and gives a sympathetic smile. “Rough deal for you, I guess,” she says. You nod and smile - hey at least she recognizes it sucks for you - as she walks away. Pausing for a moment you then knock a couple of times, not loudly or aggressively but what you hope is just a polite indication for whoever is in the unisex restroom.

Still nothing. It’s not quite at a ‘piss in an empty water bottle in your office’ threat level yet but you definitely need to go. Instead of just standing in front of the locked bathroom like a toddler about to pee his pants you recall that the maintenance worker who installed the lock mentioned a mens room on the 5th floor. Since you’re right beside the elevator you hit the up button, normally you’d take the stairs but you don’t want to be jostling your overfull bladder around.

The fifth floor is a lot like the third. Well, you assume it is, but you can’t really tell - the washrooms are not in front of the elevators in a publicly accessible location but must be down the hall. Sadly, both doors leading out of the vestibule are locked and your key card doesn’t open them. As it shouldn’t, you only have swipe access to the floors and areas with network equipment you might need to physically do work in. Damn. Well, it was worth a try.

You could go to the bathroom on the first floor. It’s very much the last option as it’s used by the patients of the health clinic and random folks utilizing the public health services and it tends to be full and, uh, not terribly clean. You aren’t super fussy about public washroom cleanliness or anything, but seeing a big puddle of vomit on the floor the one time you used it is still burned into your memory. As is the fact that Jameson Cano, the public health nurse, once told you he interrupted some guy smoking meth in that washroom. Yeah, last resort.

As you get back on the elevator, you look at the numbers listed, from B1 through 6. The fourth floor is no good, you know it’s all locked up tight and is used by some other government department for storage or something. The second floor is an option, but while you technically have access to some of the Health Records areas you barely have any interactions with the staff there and you don’t even know where the bathroom is. It’s not by the elevators though, and you’d feel lame wandering around looking to use the washroom there, or worse asking someone.

While pondering your options you hit 6. Nothing happens, but a red light flashes on the RFID pad on the elevator. You tap your key card on it and then hit 6 again, honestly not sure if it’ll work. You know the sixth floor is empty space, but there might be a functioning washroom there still. And besides, you’ve never seen it.

The light flashes green and the elevator goes up one floor. As soon as you exit, you give a low whistle. There isn’t a handy washroom located there. Actually, there isn’t much of anything, and you know it because you can see almost the entire floor as soon as you step out of the elevator.

The only walls are bare studs without drywall and several rows of support pillars. A small section of old office space is left over in the center, skeletal and somehow eerie looking, like someone was designing a computer model of an office but didn’t add the actual walls yet. All of the flooring has been removed, and almost all the ceilings as well.

Wow, this is so cool! You see the bare exposed brick of the exterior walls and some metal beams that hold up the actual roof 15 feet above your head, it’s all at least a hundred years old. You pull out your phone, your bladder forgotten as you take a few photos. The air is still and cool, with only some dust visible. The outside walls have large windows that let in a lot of sunlight, which is good because only a handful of old florescent lights are still working in the small section of drop ceiling that remains. You take a picture of the space, with the sun streaming in and the brick and ironwork combined with the few interior wall frames you get a really cool image. Yeah, that’s going on Instagram.

“Damn!” you say aloud as you look up to your left. In the south west corner of the floor you see some old planks of wood stacked up waist high. Walking over you can tell it must be original stuff, and was probably removed carefully to reuse and looks almost like antique furniture. Hell, with the cool exposed brick and steel, the 15 foot ceilings and big old windows you could toss up some walls and make dozens of loft condos worth millions apiece.

Taking a few more photos you try to find the most artistically interesting angle to show both the hundred year old masonry and also the decades old half-demolished office space. As you wander around you glance to the shadowy corner past the stack of wooden planks and do a double take. There is a cast iron staircase going up to the roof! A small room or platform butts up against the corner, and you see an iron support beam at an angle on the two walls. The beam is covered in chalk graffiti; someone signed it in 1939, and some of it looks even older. The staircase must lead to the roof, it’s very small and clearly meant to be as tucked away and unobtrusive as possible, so probably just for maintenance. So freaking cool.

The fact you have access to this floor is likely an oversight, and while it’s all neat to look at you aren’t going to try to go up the staircase to screw around on the roof. Besides, your bladder is starting to remind you about why you went on this excursion.

As you start walking back to the elevator you hear it bing and you’re surprised to see the door open. The man who steps out is familiar, an older black man who works security for the building, you don’t know his name but you’ve seen him patrolling around the public health area and enforcing rules in the parking lot. He wears the uniform of a private security company, Castellum Security, and you think he mainly is there to watch out for **** addicts looking for stuff to snatch from the offices.

“Uh, hi!” you say when you’re about 20 feet away. He’s giving you a careful look, but as you get closer he seems to relax.

“Hello to you as well sir,” he replies. He’s in his 50’s at least, with a bald head and a slight paunch. His accent sounds Caribbean, but not quite the Jamaican patois that you hear a lot in Toronto, more like a French accent.

“I was just looking around,” you say, suddenly feeling guilty, “I guess I have swipe access?”

Chuckling, he looks over his shoulder and you see an old CCTV camera above the elevators. “So I saw. Occasionally I find folks up here, looking for a place to smoke usually, but you weren’t doing that...” He makes the statement into half a question, like a cop would, and you feel compelled to answer.

“Oh no I wasn’t smoking, just looking for a washroom actually.”

A pause at the little tidbit of info, but the older man nods and, glancing at your ID badge, says, “Well good. But you shouldn’t be up here sir, they haven’t done any work in many years but it is still a construction area.”

Nodding, you follow him in the elevator, feeling like a cop is telling you to go on home before you get in trouble. “Sure thing. I’m Zach. Zach Pritchard, I work in IT on the third floor. Provincial Health?”

“My name is Vincent,” his accent is more noticeably French when he says his name closer to ‘vey-cen’.

The elevator is heading down to the first floor but you don’t hit 3, you may as well take your chance on the public bathroom now. You think about asking Vincent about what renovations or construction might be happening on the sixth floor but his careful look straight ahead makes you decide against it. Regardless, when the elevator reaches the lobby he gestures for you to go on ahead. As you walk down to the washroom (dingy and you can see someone pissed all around the urinal but at least the door isn’t locked) you can sense he’s still watching you.

Meetings and work take up the rest of your day, which is just as well as it gives you less time to obsess and fret over going out on a date with two women tonight. No matter how many times you think about it, you can't help but feel just as nervous as you are excited.