Be devious.

Behind the Blinds

Going for the throat – that slender, graceful beturtlenecked throat – is never going to work. How exactly do you walk up to someone and ask what gives with her masturbating to a stolen video of you fucking a janitor without admitting you saw it? Far too risky. No, your field of expertise is finding the holes in people’s defenses. Digital, usually, but time and time again you remind yourself that people are almost always the biggest holes.

How, then, to approach Amy Marchiano? You’ll need some kind of excuse. You haven’t seen her (or at least, she hasn’t seen you) since before that incident, back when she was tactfully trying to talk you away from that suckup girl with the neck tattoo. Mia, you think? Whoever she was. The two of you had gotten along, and she might even have been open to a little flirting, but it’s entirely possible that the incident with that butch meter maid Brooklyn put her off her appetite the same as it did Avery. That’s assuming that her knowing you banged the custodian doesn’t sour her in and of itself.

Considering what you hope to accomplish, i.e. eliciting some kind of confession about what exactly she’s doing surveilling your old office, it will be a lot harder to be subtle if you pop in for no reason. Best to have some kind of approach. Checking your schedule with Jenna, you see there’s nothing planned between your department and hers. You do have a meeting coming up with someone on her floor, but it’s not her department, on the opposite end of the floor, and not for over a week yet. You suppose you could time your arrival to coincide with hers and chat her up in the elevator, but that puts a hard time limit on your interaction and introduces a big chance of witnesses. You’re about as eager for your office fling with Ingrid to become watercooler gossip as she would be to discuss her masturbatory habits in front of strangers on the elevator.

You even try asking Jenna to poke around online to see what she can learn, in case there’s some upcoming event where you might “bump into her” or something. Your assistant grumbles that she is no fan of social media, but she’ll try. By the time you get back from lunch, though, she’s turned up nada. Seems Amy Marchiano keeps her privacy settings dialed up high. Probably smart for an affluent and beautiful young woman, but it’s still frustrating on your end. Jenna seems to sense as much, and unasked treats you to another lengthy massage.

“Can’t you just invent an IT problem, sir?” Jenna suggests quietly, rousing you from a state of near sleep.

“Pff. She’s not stupid. Even if she’d believe it, she wouldn’t buy that the associate director himself would swing by to troubleshoot.”

“Maybe the bug requires some kind of particular expertise?” She’s not even massaging you now, merely running her fingertips lightly across your face. “Perhaps some kind of fishing malware backdoored the FTL drive seems to be ghosting the mainframe to an extranational IP domain.”

You chuckle. “That’s total gibberish. Nobody would ever fall for that.”

With a single finger under your chin, Jenna tilts your head back until you can see her looking down at you. That your temples are once more sandwiched between her boobs doesn’t faze her in the least. To be honest, you’re beginning to get used to it yourself. “Don’t underestimate the b.s. people around here will fall for. Sir.”

Your chin is released, and down goes your head. It’s a ludicrous suggestion, of course, but you have to applaud her for trying. Oh, well. You’re a smart guy. You’ll come up with something.

“Really? What the heck is an FTL drive?”

“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you,” you reply with a grin, sliding into her vacated desk chair.

“Well we can’t have that,” she says quietly. A little too quietly, maybe? She’s seemed a little anxious ever since you knocked on her door to explain her “bug.” Considering what you saw on her hard drive last week, it’s no wonder.

“Sorry to get in the way like this. I promise, won’t take but a few moments. Unless I’m interrupting something? I can come back later.”

“Oh. Um, will it take long? Or I guess, what is it you’re doing? If you can dumb it down for me. Not that I’m, you know, ‘dumb.’ I actually have a background in web design, not that it’s the same thing, but you know. Tech. Like, tech stuff.” Amy pauses, chewing her lower lip nervously. “But yeah, like, what’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing to worry about. One of my guys got a report about something weird in your computer. It’s a core-sec IP violation. Sorry. Dumb it down, Will.” You conk yourself playfully on the side of the head and resume idly tapping keys to no effect. “All it means is that something in your system tripped some of our security failsafes as potentially containing security feed downloads.”

Amy frowns, puzzled. “It… what? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, it probably doesn’t. Nine times out of ten it’s somebody downloading a file – video, typically – with some code that mirrors some of our security feed. I’m told fine-tuning the software to stop picking up false positives, but evidently that hasn’t made it to the top of the stack yet.”

“I… why would… I don’t get it.”

“You don’t really need to, Amy. It’s a dumb formality, checking it out. I thought I’d spare you a lengthy visit from one of my people doing their full due diligence. I’ll be in and out.”

“Oh. Well thanks, Will. That’s sweet.” She fiddles with her hair for a moment, a common enough look for someone who hasn’t had the chance to clear their browser history before somebody hops on their machine. Nothing damning, though. “Say, I never did get a chance to congratulate you! When I heard, I was so excited you’ll be here to stay. I, um, don’t have many work buddies, ya know? But yeah, good for you.”

You can’t help but smile. She really is a darling creature, whatever other mischief she might be up to. “Thanks, Amy. Glad to be here. So, um, just to get on with this, I just have to do a quick check on any recent video downloads. Shouldn’t take too long.”

“Oh! Oh gosh. Oh. Oh.” There it is. The video’s still there, Ingrid’s blowjob. You’d bet every blowjob for the rest of your life. “I mean, I haven’t really downloaded anything recently. I wouldn’t know how to download an FTL thingy if I wanted to. Do you really have to…”

“Oh. Well, I need to have something to enter into the report. Any idea what it could have been? The flag apparently cropped up last week. Same day as that whole craziness in the parking lot, actually. We have a rough file size, so I’d wager it was fairly lengthy. Half hour, hour? Depending on quality. That ring any bells?”

Amy slowly straightens, then takes to her feet. There’s an oddity to her expression, something you can’t quite place. Is she going to confess? Was it really that easy?

“Did you come to my office that night?” she asks softly. Softly, but gravely.

“Did I… what? Did I come by your office?” You cock your head back, snort. Laugh, but try to make an indignant noise at the same time so it just comes out like craziness. “Of course not. I mean, why would I…? Why would you ask…?”

Amy comes around the desk, and without understanding why, you scoot her chair back defensively. She stops short of you, though, and leans down to slide open a desk drawer. Inside is a stack of neatly folded squares of fabric, scarves you think, but she shifts them aside. There, resting in the bottom of the drawer, is an all-too-familiar pair of loafers.

“Are these your shoes, Will?” Her voice is dangerous.

Oh fuck.

“Be straight with me. Are. Those. Your shoes.”

“Amy, I can explain. You see–”

Her hand connects with your cheek before you can speak another word. “You son of a bitch! You son of a goddamn bitch!” You’re still clutching the side of your face, ears ringing, when she lets the other side have a taste.

“Amy, stop! Please! Let me–”

You have to dive over the top of her desk, rolling to your feet and backing away from her, arms extended defensively, holding her at bay. Barely. “You scared the ever-living shit out of me! How dare you! Creeping around in the dark, spying on people? Where the hell do you get off!”

The gleam behind those wide-framed glasses is still menacing, but you finally see an opening to reply. “I’m sorry, OK? I’m sorry. Truly. I didn’t mean to frighten you. How… how did you know they were mine?”

“Because I’m not an idiot,” she snaps. “I went looking for whoever was creeping around, and I saw these sitting in the lobby down the hall. Freaked me the hell out, so I ran the heck out of there.”

“You took them with you?”

Her hands slam onto her hips. “I’m sorry, it sounded like the guy lurking around a woman’s office in the middle of the night was judging her for not having perfectly logical reactions when she was worried some psycho **** was hiding around the corner.”

“Fair.”

Her eyes smolder. “Well? I’m sorry? That’s all you have to say for yourself?”

It isn’t, but the implications of this discovery are beginning to register. “Amy, did you tell anyone else about it? Like security or anyone?”

“Seriously? Sneak around watching me… do that, and that’s what you have to say for yourself?”

She has a point; it’s not exactly a contrite reaction. Still, if she went to security, it could cause any number of problems. They might be investigating, and that could lead back to you. Aubrey might already know, tipping her off as to how you reached 7 that night when you two spoke. Your head is no shape for analysis, but it certainly seems like it might cause problems.

“Did you?”

“No. For one, I didn’t know if it was some creep-ass security guard who was behind it and I didn’t want to get stuffed into their duffel bag and taken home to become their newest lampshade. For two, I was so freaking terrified I ran straight to my car and went right home. Slept with the lights on and with Sir MeowsALot in a **** grip. Thanks for caring, by the way.”

“I do care. I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”

Amy throws her hands in the air. “What in holy hell were you even trying to do? Are you some kind of pervert or something? For crying out loud, I was telegraphing that I liked you so dang loud that if you wanted to watch me jilling off you could have just asked and seen what I was up for.”

“Uh…”

“Don’t get a big head. I’m sexually adventurous. You’re not special. And a whole hell of a lot less special now that I know you’re a peeping Tom.”

“Hey. I’m not a pervert, OK? I didn’t come up here that night to catch you in that act or any other.”

“Oh yeah? Was I on your way to getting thrown out of a gas station?”

“On my way to what…?”

“No shirt no shoes no service!” She frowns at her own failed quip. “All right, so why then? What else could bring you to creep on me while I was…” The realization dawns on her in real-time, and you see the truth coalesce in her astute mind. “Son of a gun, you were after the pass code.”

“No I wasn’t!” you protest, but the certainty in her eyes doesn’t dull a whit, leaving you in the position of contemplating whether it’s better to be caught in the act of corporate espionage or stalking. Regardless, caught as you are, there’s only one thing to do.

Deflect.

“Fine, so I was. Doesn’t change what I found on your computer, though, Amy. Yeah, here you are throwing all these accusations at me, but who was the one watching a video they took of me fooling around with a woman in my office? Huh?”

Amy’s dark eyes go wide in shock and embarrassment. “You snooped on my computer?”

It’s your turn to level accusations. “So you don’t deny it? Good. You come out here slapping me around for looking at you, but it’s OK for you to be planting a hidden camera in my office? Is that it?”

“I didn’t plant the camera! I would never!”

“Is that right? Then who did?”

“It’s… I can’t say,” she says, eyes downcast. “I don’t even know! But I heard that you’re, you know, a commodity.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“It’s… look. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I know that. Not that you should have been doing what you were doing either – or I guess me doing what I was doing because of what I saw you doing…”

“Amy, fuck the masturbating. What are you talking about? What is a ‘commodity’?”

She looks around through the windows in her office, then quickly makes for the door and locks it, then lowers the blinds one by one. It takes long enough that you join in and help. Once you’re alone, she takes a final peek through the blinds “It means they’ve got their eyes on you. They think you have potential.”

“They? Who the hell is ‘they’?”

She points vaguely in the direction of the ceiling, but says nothing.

“Who? King?”

She shrugs. “Whoever. I’ve been here for a while now and I still don’t really know who’s running what.”

“So then how did you hear about this?”

“It was a coincidence! I heard some girls talking in the bathroom. I didn’t even see their faces.” She takes a step closer, and this time it’s you who’s tensed for a fight. “Is it really that surprising, Will? Believe it or not, the rumor mill swirls all the way up to junior VPs. I knew about you and Ingrid well before I saw that video. And Avery. And the half dozen or more other women who were throwing themselves at you. Did you really think you were just that charming?”

“Well, no…” Half a dozen? Really?

“Not that you aren’t cute. More than cute, really. Still, your streak of luck… I hope you realize nobody is _this _lucky.”

It had not escaped your attention that you were having rather a good streak of late. Nevertheless, if what Amy is saying is true, it raises too many questions. “This is insane. What is Monarch, really, Amy? Why are there so many gorgeous people working here? Why are they trying to funnel them towards some random consultant like me? Why do they have a secret re-education center buried under layer after layer of secrecy?”

She makes a face. “A secret… what? Where did you hear that?”

“King. He told me about 7. Some of it, anyway. I’m pretty sure even he doesn’t know what all is going on – or maybe he’s only hiding it behind that himbo façade of his. I don’t even know any more.”

“Look, I keep telling you, leave 7 alone. Nobody knows what happens there. Nobody’s supposed to know what happens there. For Pete’s sake, nobody’s supposed to even wonder what happens there. I heard you found your Jenna, so just leave it alone already!”

You study her, and for once she holds your gaze. After a long moment, you shake your head. There’s no evasion there. She really doesn’t know.

“You know how crazy this all sounds, right?”

“I mean, sort of? Hot people fooling around with hot people isn’t exactly weird, is it? A few – Pardon my French – office sluts? Why you? I don’t know. But you aren’t the first commodity to hit the proverbial shelves around here, and I doubt you’ll be the last.” Amy extracts herself from your grip, returning to the far side of her desk and retrieving your shoes. Amy sets them on the far edge of her desk for you. “And if you ever think to sneak around scaring the crap out of people again… don’t.”

“Where did you get that video, Amy?”

“You know, if you’d come in here and leveled with me instead of trying that little stunt to – again – creep on my computer, at least it would have been some kind of respectful. But instead…” She shakes her head. “Have fun while it lasts, Will.”

“While it lasts…?”

She points to the door. “That’s all I have to say.”

You frown. “What makes you so sure I won’t go to security about your little hidden camera fetish?”

It’s a bluff, though, and Amy calls it immediately. “Do you really have so much faith in Monarch security? After some psycho wearing their uniform bashed in your windshield? And management swept it under the rug?” She shakes her head. “Who do you think planted the camera?”

“Whoa, seriously?”

“Sure.” She shrugs. “Why not.”

“I can’t tell if you’re–”

“There’s the door, Will. Go have fun with… well, with whoever.”

She can’t mean it, you tell yourself. Again. It isn’t doing much to reassure you of any such thing. Jenna’s soothing scalp massage isn’t doing much to convince you of Amy’s insincerity.

A commodity.

It’s ridiculous. Yes, you’ve had some luck, but really only with the two women. You didn’t sleep with any of the others. You probably could have with Mia. Jenna, likely. Plus Amy herself, you suppose. Does Brooklyn’s name belong on the list? Bigtime into you, clearly, but not physically of the other women’s calibre. You put it on there anyway.

Still, that’s only… six. And only five of them insanely hot.

All right, so it’s a bit more than mere luck.

You should put it to the test. Right? There’s scores of gorgeous women at this company. For every five people, there’s at least one who could moonlight as a model. Or a porn star. The heck with people you already have a foot in the door with. Find some random woman, someone who could find a willing partner with nothing more than a smile in a public place. Don’t even put effort in. Tell them you want to fuck them, as blatantly as you can without risking a sexual harassment lawsuit, minimal finesse, and once they slap you as well as Amy did, rest easy knowing that there’s no weird Monarch conspiracy to hook you up with hot women.

But who…?

Decision time! We’re having a nonconventional poll this time. We’re accepting nominations on my free discord server. Join up and stop by and go to #hithnominees to make a nomination or vote on others. (Rules in channel.) The image with the most reactions will be the co-star of the next installment!