Rachel

The office is unlit except for a few desk lamps around the cubicle farm. Rachel sits at her own cubicle, busily typing away at a spreadsheet. She wears the same red skirt and jacket I saw today, buttoned all the way up. Her blondish hair has been pinned back with a black barrette. It tumbles down her back in loose curls.

She stops typing to greet me when I approach.

"Hi, Warren. Do you have to work late, too?"

"Victoria just has me doing nothing but busywork again.” Rachel gives a sympathetic smile. “Oh, don’t stop. You are the one doing important work here," I say.

“Okay, if you say so.” She starts typing again.

I poke around her workspace for a while, checking supplies and changing trash can liners. I see a stapler on the far corner of her desk. "Could you pass me that stapler?"

"Sure." She reaches forward, hair spilling forward as she leans. She hands it to me and I refill it, then I test it a few times to make sure it is performing properly.

Rachel does her best to stay focused as I find more things to adjust around her. I get on my hands and knees next to her. "Can you roll that way a couple inches?"

The typing stops. "Of course. Should I come back in a few minutes?"

"Absolutely not. You are working overtime here. You know how Victoria gets about overtime..."

"Yeah..." Rachel snorts half-heartedly. She resumes typing while I adjust some cabling near her nyloned feet. Her shoes are resting under the desk.

"There. All better." I stand back up and look at her. "Victoria is on the lookout for people creating tripping hazards," I explain. "You need to keep these cables better managed."

Rachel looks concerned. "Oh... Okay..." She looks under the desk, unsure of what the problem was.

I step behind her and notice some lint on her shoulder. I pluck it off. She glances up with a polite smile, but I don't meet her gaze. I reach over and drop it into the trash can. She turns back to her computer. I lightly brush both of her shoulders off. "Hmmm..." I step directly behind her and say,“I’m sorry, but do you mind lifting your elbows up a bit?” She looks confused, turning her head a little, but not enough to look directly at me. She slowly wings her elbows out to the sides, then starts typing again, but much more slowly in the unusual pose.

“Thanks.”

“Mm-hmm.”

I crouch behind her chair and reach under her arms to the front of her jacket. I pop the top button open. There is a seismic shift of fabric as forces equalize.

“Whoa, what are you doing?”

“Please, don’t mind me, this will only take a minute.” I pop the second button. The jacket fabric jerks a few inches wider. Her breasts press into the gap like they are trying to climb out on their own.

“Hey—“ she starts, but I interrupt her.

“Victoria is really on the warpath today.” Rachel stiffens her back at that. “First she made me wash out all of the trash cans. We have janitors for that, you know? Then she made me descale the espresso machine for the _second _time this month. Then I got dressed-down for forgetting to pick up her laundry on the way to work. God! She is impossible!” Rachel’s hands hover uncertainly over the keyboard.

“I think the new intern, Tom, has been cowering in the bathroom for the last hour. I’ve never seen her this mad before.” I pop the last button. Her jacket is flung wide by the heavy orbs that barely stay corralled by her bra inside the blouse. I lower my voice to a whisper. “You really need to keep working, but I have to take your jacket off. Lean forward...but look busy.”

She squirms forward, rolling an arm back so I can pull the sleeve off her arm, then the other. Her melons swing wide to the right, then to the left. I hold the jacket to the desk lamp and inspect it carefully, then fold it neatly and set it to the side. Rachel eyes can’t decide where to look. She tries to focus on the work, but can’t help glancing at me and out to see if anyone is looking at us.

I crane my neck over the cubicle. “Victoria is only two clusters away. She isn't looking our way. Quick, take off your blouse.”

“What? Why?” She says, getting upset in addition to confused.

“Shhhhh! Because she is making me launder everyone's dirty clothes to pay for my screwup this morning.” She gives a look that is something between concern for me and fear for herself. “Quickly, she is making her way toward us.” Rachel isn't moving. I bulge my eyes impatiently at her and make a few light finger snaps. "Let's go!" I whisper. "And keep working!"

She stares at her screen for a second, then leans forward a little as she tugs the bottom of her blouse out of her skirt. She starts to cross her arms to pull it up, but I don't wait for it. I pull her blouse up, peeling it off of her. As soon as her arms are out she thrusts her hands back to the keyboard. I carefully inspect the blouse and fold it, then lay it on top of the jacket. Her fingers are clicking keys, but it doesn’t sound very confident.

I pop my head up, then duck back down. “Crap! She is walking right toward us! You had better work faster.” I hiss.

I see her bra clasps in the front. I reach around her again, fingers falling into her deep cleavage like a gravitational well. They slide up and down her bosomy contour until I find the clasp. It snaps open loudly, startling us both. Her heavy tits bounce excitedly as the bra explodes apart like a party favor. She gasps, then holds her breath.

"Warren..." she whines. Tap... Tap. Tap. Tap. She types with shaking hands.

I catch her bounding breasts and cup them firmly. Then I knead then slowly, exploring their size and weight, my fingers steadily closing in on her nipples. Other than soft whimpers, she is barely breathing. She gulps.

My mouth is pressed to her ear. I whisper at the edge of inaudibility. "She is right... behind us... You have to keep working..."

Tap. Tap... Tap. Tap...Tap

I roll her nipples between my fingers. "She is...on a...warpath."

Tap... Tap... She leans forward, mouth open. Tap... She quivers, releasing breathless pants. Her eyes try to look ahead and behind simultaneously.

I pinch hard and pull.

She screams.