|Photo from http://www.wisconsinhistory.org|
For the third day in a row now, Mari could feel eyes caressing her back as she unlocked the door to her office at Ambrosia. She’d only started there a week before; she assumed it would be like her previous HR jobs, but it was so much better. She remembered being a child and smelling the chocolate factory from her school bus as it rumbled through freeway traffic every morning; now she inhaled deeply, turning the key in the lock, and paused for a minute to feel it course through her before briefly turning back to see if she would catch someone looking at her through the glass that separated office workers from the factory floor. All the machine operators and assemblers, however, had their eyes down or forward, making sure everything continued to move smoothly along conveyor belts and into boxes.
By lunchtime, she was starving. Walking past the other offices on her way to the parking lot, she looked over the factory floor to her right and noticed a woman she hadn’t seen before writing on a clipboard nailed to a post. The woman was tall and muscular – or at least she looked so in her white coat – and suddenly she looked Mari directly in the eye and smiled, tilting her head a bit. It was a genuine smile, full of curiosity; Mari could make out bundles of black hair under the woman’s hair net. She wondered briefly what it would be like to take the hair net off and run her fingers through the woman’s silky hair; the invasive thought caught her off guard, and she tripped over a snag in the hallway carpet. Collecting her purse and shaken, she looked again for the mysterious woman, who had turned around and started moving a machine behind her. Mari blushed and hurried on her way, holding her purse tight and her breath tighter, her heels soundless on the carpet.
She lay in bed later that night, thinking again of the amazon. Imagining her strong arms (god she looked so strong) picking her up so that Mari’s thighs gripped her obliques and placing her on the small desk in her office, deftly working one hand up Mari’s thigh and snaking her fingers under Mari’s panties and into her wet cunt, the other hand pulling one of Mari’s small breasts out of her camisole so she could slip the taut nipple into her mouth, her long black hair falling in waves over Mari’s face. Her hair that smelled like chocolate. Her breath that smelled like chocolate twirling up through Mari’s nostrils as she leaned in to kiss Mari with full lips, making her moan from her diaphragm. She rubbed her clit in circles, coming in undulations as she felt the woman’s tongue and fingers and body weight.
She came in early the next morning, wearing a red blouse and a bit of blush, which she never wore to work. Shortly after arriving, there was a knock on her door; “Come in,” she said, staring at the green and black computer screen in front of her. “I hope I’m not bothering you,” a husky voice said from the door frame. She didn’t need to look up to know. Her heart felt like the Kool-Aid man bursting through a wall; she swallowed and lifted her eyes. “I wanted to introduce myself,” said the woman, confident and direct. “I’m the forewoman on the floor; I thought it would help to know someone’s name in case you needed to talk to anyone here about paperwork or other unresolved issues.” She strode in, took the latex glove off her right hand, and extended it to Mari, sliding it perfectly into Mari’s small hand, her skin smooth. Her skin that smelled like chocolate. She held Mari’s hand in hers for longer than necessary, her eyes searching for Mari’s and her hand making promises. “I’m Tanya,” she said with her beautiful lips, Mari barely hearing the words, seeing in her mind her own hands on Tanya’s face and Tanya’s lips on the nape of her neck. She felt warm and full as she made it through the words “It’s nice to meet you, Tanya – I’m Mari.” Words like peanut butter in her mouth.
“Let me know if you have any questions,” said Tanya, again with her engaging smile. “You know where to find me, I believe.” She strode out, but not before turning to say, “And by the way – you look great today.” Cocoons opened throughout Mari’s body as she held her balance against the swivel chair behind her. Yes. This was so much better.
As an aside, the Ambrosia chocolate factory is a real place; Jeffrey Dahmer worked there while he was mid-killing spree. He lived eight blocks away from my elementary school while I was a student there – I remember his trial well because it was the biggest local news story for months.