Growing Concern - Part 9

She stood there in a Jersey she must have found in Andy's closet, smiling as I left the bedroom.

"Good morning sleepyhead.  Seems something must have tired you out, sleeping in so late."

There was no sarcasm in her tone, but the mocking was implied, and you could see it behind her eyes.  She stood with a hip cocked out, letting the jersey ride up just enough so you could almost catch a glimpse of the junction between her thighs, but not quite.  It was pulled back by her arm stretched out for coffee, just enough to draw it tight around her chest and pull flat against her stomach, revealing the awesome expanse under those mounds.  It seemed to come so naturally to her, how to stand, how to pose, how to show off every curve to the maximum impact.

"Nothing to say?  Do I render you speechless?"  She almost giggled as she rolled her hips to the side for a provocative pose.  It should have been futile in that baggy jersey, it should have just looks like a sack over her head, but somehow my eyes were pulled in to the figure I knew was there, hiding, and I blushed as I looked back up to her eyes.  Those always mocking eyes.

"Hardly.  What do you think you're doing?  Do you really think you can get away with manipulating Jim like that?  HR will find out, and you'll just get him fired first."  I tried to go on the offensive, still keeping my distance from the predatory woman stalking my kitchen, stirring her coffee.

"I really doubt that.  I mean, when they do they will surely call me in for a meeting to explain myself.  And I am so very, very good at explaining myself."  She slowly licked the stir stick, somehow managing to make it into a drawn out erotic act, almost pornographic while seeming purely accidental.  As it left her mouth, it drew a line down her chest creating cleavage behind a shirt that should have made it impossible.

"So that's it then?  You're just planning on sleeping with everyone in the office until no one is left to protest?"  I fumed, trying to keep my focus on her eyes and to look imposing, which was a struggle to do as I tried to resist shrinking from her as she walked over to me.

"And why not?  I'm having so much fun with it so far.  And it's not like anyone minds.  Not really.  Not once I've had a chance to.. Explain myself."  She closed the distance between us rapidly, and all too soon she was right there in my face, that coffee stirrer tantalizingly close, so close I had to resist an insane urge to bend forward and lick it myself.  "I mean, not even you really mind.  If I wanted you, you would be all too eager to listen to what I had to say again, wouldn't you."

I blushed and pulled away from her, stammering out a rebuttal that sounded far too fake to my ears. "Y.. you cut that out.  What even happened to you?  You were so nice just a week ago, and those things didn't come from nowhere!"  I walked over to the coffee machine to get a cup, trying to make it look as if it wasn't a retreat, but I was fairly sure I wasn't fooling her.

"Who knows, who cares.  I always wanted to be someone people lusted after, and now I am.  Does it matter why?  I finally got the curves I wanted, and I intend to enjoy them."  She grinned at me, leaning up agains the wall, running her hands down over the jersey, smoothing the fabric over each luscious peak and valley in turn with an almost sensual grace.

"Is.. is that what's going to happen to me now?"  I asked, gesturing down to my newly budding boobs, pressing out against the too tight t-shirt.  I tried to maintain the angry tone, but really it just came out plaintive.

"Oh look at that, lost your bee stings have you?"  She laughed, running her eyes up and down my figure. "Well, how should I know, and really I don't know why I would be nice to you after you tried to rat me out, but I doubt it.  Mine grew in over just a few hours, it's been over a day since we had our fun and you look nothing like this."  She gestured down at her spectacular figure, clearly believing that this was what all women aspired to look like.

"Just, stay away from me then, you can have the damn office, I don't want to end up like you."  I meant it as a threat, or an admonition, but it came out sounding more like pleading.  A little girl asking a bully to please not take her lunch money again.

She just smirked, and turned to open the bedroom door.  "Like I said, I could have you if I wanted.  But I don't really, not anymore.  Besides, I found someone much more entertaining."  She walked into the bedroom, pulling the jersey off over her head.  Andy snorted and perked up awake, smiling up at her glorious voluptuous form there in the doorway, eyes for her only, not even noticing my presence in our house.  She turned and smiled back at me, daring, mocking. "Though I suppose you can join in if you want.  I might share if you ask nicely."

I watched her lean and crawl out onto the bed, her soft breasts dragging up Andy's body.  His cock rising to a rigid attention at first contact, and surging as her breasts reached it.  Her mouth descended with a graceful arch, her mouth opening and tongue venturing out to lick a delicate trail up the head, as I struggled to pull myself away.

I stood frozen, unable to leave, unable to step forward, for what seemed ages as her mouth worked it's magic on his throbbing cock.  They grunted and moaned as she pressed her breasts around him, and worked her way up higher.  As she took him into her dripping center, their voices started to pant as one, his eyes fixed on her's, his hands massaging though perfect tits.

It was that look in his eyes that broke the spell.  There was no place for me here.  Not anymore.

I grabbed my bag, and the keys off the table and slammed the door behind me as I went.  And the last thing I heard as the engine revved underneath me, taking me out of that place to only god knows where, was the sound of them screaming in orgasm, of him calling her name, louder than he ever called mine.

Growing Concern - Part 8

The dreams came again, stronger, clearer. The feelings of being tossed and torn, drowned in an ocean I couldn't see or escape, they taunted me, tormented me. And through it all there were figures I couldn't make out. Male, female, I couldn't tell. Some seemed to be drowning with me, pulled down into a terrible vortex of heat and light and body, unable to escape it's current. And others rose above, looking down, seeking to help, mock, punish, who could tell.

I remember eyes though. Eyes staring down at me.

Maybe eyes is the wrong way to put it. An empty void, a spark of light. A star of focused brilliance, but somehow I could feel it watching me, weighing me, judging me.

I struggled. Long after all the rest were pulled down into whatever abyss awaited them. I struggled, I pleaded, I begged and ranted and threatened at the faceless voiceless presence that mocked me from it's heavenly perch. I screamed out my frustration as the waters started to close over my head.

And awoke again in my bed.

This time at least I could remember where I was, what had happened. Though a part of me wished I couldn't. The actions of the dark were still with me in the light of day, and shame at their having happened rose inside me, hot, overwhelming.

I looked around at my room, bathed in the light of dawn, and saw the snoring form of my boyfriend, if I could still call him that, laying across the mattress a few feet away. There was no sign of Sarah, of that demon of feminine lust incarnate in a voluptuous human form, but over the smell of sex and sweat that filled the air I could smell the strong bitter aroma of coffee coming from the kitchen.

I pulled myself to my feet, taking stock of what I could, finding some discarded jeans and a t-shirt to pull on, armoring myself against her eyes before I thought of walking out into the day, and sighed at the feeling as I pulled them on. They felt wrong, and I could tell without a mirror that I had changed more during the night. The shirt was too tight around the chest, too baggy around the middle. The jeans fit tight and loose in all the wrong places, and I needed a belt to cinch them tight enough to stay put.

It's not that I hadn't wanted to lose weight. And really I wouldn't have minded a bit more up top. It was that these things were happening against my will, without my consent. And that I couldn't even seem to bring myself to object. That's what was prompting this profound sense of loss, at my figure so indelibly altered by whatever strange power this was.

I looked over at my so called boyfriend, sprawled and snoring. Wondered what he would think when he saw me. Wondered if I cared anymore. It was hard to feel the same way after I had shared him with that, thing that had been my co-worker. Our mouths tracing up either side of his length, him filling me while I lay captivated by the mounds dangling over my head.. God, I didn't want to think about what he had done, what we had done. Even now, as confused and sad as I was, it was making me uncomfortably warm just remembering, and that was the last thing I needed now.

No, what I needed were answers, and a level head.

I looked down at him, and hear him mumbling.  He moaned and his hips rocked in his sleep, her name coming to his lips, which puckered and licked at some phantom teat.  The shame, and anger rose in me, seeing my so called boyfriend dreaming of her.  Of her and not me.  Of her tits, and her mouth, when I lay right next to him.

I took a deep breath, steeled what will I could pull together, and stepped out into the kitchen to confront the beast.

Growing Concern - Part 7

When I woke up again, all I felt was shame.  Shame for what I had done to Andy, and with myself for being so damned weak, giving in to it again.  I cleaned up my room, trying to think of what I should do now.  I tried to think of what might happen, if there was a way to stop it, did I want to stop it.  What would I tell Andy?  What would I tell work?  Could I ever go back there again?  

I walked through a cleaning routine in  daze, before noticing my phone blinking, and remembering I had another message.

I picked up the phone to listen, and felt all my restraint blow away as I heard the voice on the other end.  I don't think Sarah's voice had any special power over me, per say.  I think it was just the memories it conjured.  Memories of what I had done the night before.  What she had made me do.  What she had done to me.

I don't really remember all that she said in that message.  All that mattered was my fingers in my slit.  All that mattered was that she had heard I was out sick.  All that mattered was that she was coming over to see me that night.

I couldn't help imagining, as I masturbated on the kitchen floor.  What else she would make me do.  What I could do to resist.  If I even wanted to.  Would she finish what she had started?  Would she make me a walking set of tits like her?  I didn't want that did I?

So why wasn't I running?  Why was I just laying here, moaning on the floor, pinching those newly expanded tits, and dreaming of the sensations I would feel when she arrived?

When I regained control of myself, I decided it was that I had to wait for Andy.  I had to wait for him to get home, home so I could confess.  Something, not all of it, just that something was wrong, and that we had to get out of town, had to get away from this thing that was happening to me.  He wouldn't argue, not if I told him how important it was.  He loved me, he trusted me.  We would run, get away from here. But first I had to wait.  Wait for him to get home from work.

So I waited.  And I tried to stop, I swear I did.  I tried to keep from masturbating, to keep my hands away from my breasts, from my slit.  And when I showered to try and get clean for Andy's return, I swear I tried to behave myself with the shower head.  But my thoughts just kept going back there, kept running away from me.  And then my hands would follow, and then I would need to shower again.

When he finally got home, I didn't hear him.  I was busy with my new best buddy the shower head.  I didn't hear him come in.  I didn't hear him knock, and I didn't hear him when he jokingly inquired if he could help me from the other side of the shower stall door.

Really I didn't notice he was there at all until he was in there with me.  Hell, I don't think I even realized it was him until after I came, pressed into the shower tile with his cock buried in me.  Until after I dropped to my knees to finish him off.  I don't think it was until he was filling my mouth and I was looking up at his face that I even realized I knew the man that this cock was attached to.

After that wonderful introduction to just how worried I was, it became significantly more difficult to convince him of the seriousness of our situation.  I was in the middle of my third attempt to convince him, with my third variation on the "someone is after me" story as I stuffed clothes into suitcases and he pulled them back out again.  When I heard a car pull up outside.

It was her.  I knew it was her.  And I was too late.

I was suddenly more turned on, and more terrified than I had ever been.  I was shaking, for more than one reason.  Andy noticed of course.  He's always been caring like that, quick to know what was wrong.  But I had changed in the past few days, and all he picked up on was the fear.

He asked who it was, and all I could manage to tell him was to make them go away.

I curled up in a ball on the bed, trying to hold myself together, just telling him over and over, to make them go away.

I saw him set his jaw.  Angry that someone was scaring me like this.  He strode out to meet the fear-monger, and I was so thankful I had him to protect me.

Now, I didn't see what happened next.  But I can use my imagination.  It was only about two minutes before the lack of noise or footsteps got me worried, and I went to peak around the corner.  But two minutes was more than enough.

In hindsight, I should have known better.  After what happened with Jim, I should have just dragged him out the back door and never looked back.  But I was still trying to make sense of all of this, still trying to understand what was going on.

When I looked around the corner I knew I had already lost my boyfriend.  She was riding him, right there in the hall.  His pants around his ankles, his hands around her tits, his mouth gasping in pleasure.  He was staring at them, at those amazing tits, bouncing above him as she rode him towards a shuddering orgasm.  But she, she only had eyes for me.  They bored right into me, right through me, and I found myself standing in the hall, stripped naked by those eyes, and that mocking grin.

She stared at me, smiled at me, as my boyfriend pumped frantically into her.  Smiled at me as my hands started to wander, to touch, to tease, as I started to lose control right there in front of her, right there in front of my partner of three years.  But he didn't even notice.  He never looked up from the girl that had only taken two minutes to take him away from me.

And to tell the truth I barely noticed him either.  He was just a semi sad note on the edge of a building wave of lust.  And as they both shuddered, arching in ecstasy, as she reached out a hand towards me, calling me to her.  I barely even saw him as I went.

Growing Concern - Part 6

She had just beckoned and I came, like I couldn't help myself.. And the lust, oh god the lust.  It was all such a blur.  I couldn't put together the details, couldn't seem to remember... But.. Oh god the pleasure.. the orgasms.  Those I could remember.  Those were clear as day.  I remembered her fingers, her nail digging in to my skin as I.. as I.. what?  Oh shit her nails!  Andy would see!  Oh shit, Andy!  What would he think if I told him I was in some threesome with my boss and co worker, while I stood him up for a date.  I couldn't tell him, I couldn't lose him over, over.. whatever the hell nightmare this was.

I rushed into the bathroom, tearing off the shirt I had just managed to find and put on, looking for incriminating marks, scratches, hickies.  But, my skin looked fine.  In fact, it looked better than fine.  I pulled down my pants, looking over the rest of me just to be sure, but there was nothing.  Actually, I didn't think I had ever looked better.

I let my eyes roll up from my ankles to my thighs, thinking they looked more toned than I remembered.  Up over my abs, thinking my appendix scar was much less visible than I recalled, to my perky little A c...

I stopped there.  Really the only thought that popped into my head was "Oh shit..."

I dashed back to my bedroom, digging through piles of clothes, flinging them about the room, frantically searching, trying not to panic until I finally found a bra.  I fastened it, turned it around, settled and... It was too small.

I sank to my bed, letting the too tight piece of clothing fall as I did, the implications sinking in.

I had.. Slept with, my co-worker, and my boss.  I could barely remember what I had done.  I had cheated on my boyfriend of 3 years...

And my boobs were bigger.

I cupped them, trying to determine just how much they had grown, and was shocked by the sudden sensation.  They felt fantastic, just from that brief contact.  I hear myself moan as my fingers rolled my nipples and I jerked my hands away.

Was this what happened to Sarah?  Her boobs just growing overnight?  Turning her into.. Into.. That?  It was impossible wasn't it?  Sure I had dreamed about having a little more up top, I think anyone with an A cup has.  But that didn't mean I wanted to be a walking billboard for sex like Sarah.  And her behaviour.. Did this mean I was going to turn into some kind of slut like her?  Wrapping my tits around my bosses cock to get a promotion?  Teasing him with my mouth until he begged for more?  Seducing my seemingly perfectly straight co-workers with tantalizing contact with those glorious tits?  Watching her rub her pussy to orgasm after orgasm as she stared at her bosses cock sliding in and out of my unending cleavage, wrapping her hands around them to help milk him dry as she gulped down his hard shaft and.. 

Ohhh goddd.. What had I done??!  It was all coming back.  The moaning, the sucking.  It was all so.  So...

My memories got the better of me, as did my hands, as I fell back onto the bed.  My mind obsessively reliving every moment, my hands rubbing, teasing, groping, as I bit my lip, trying not to scream.

I shouldn't have bothered.

Growing Concern - Part 5

The damn light was in my eyes, so bright, with my head throbbing and my limbs aching.  My ears were filled with a deafening ringing, an infernal clamor that I couldn't seem to escape.  My lungs were burning struggling to breath, to move, to think.  Why couldn't I move my arms?  Everything was hot, so hot and wet.  Like a warm bath, but I couldn't get out, couldn't move my arms, my legs.  Couldn't get my head above water.

I could feel my heart beating faster and faster, trying to scream but nothing coming out, drowning, struggling, frantically fighting whatever it was that was keeping me down here, under water, over my head.  Drowning.. Struggling.. My mouth opened to scream but water rushed in, pouring into me, filling me.  I screamed to the sound of mocking laughter.. Screamed and screamed as the air left my body, screamed until..

I opened my eyes.  The sun was up.  I was tangled in bed sheets.  My bed sheets I thought.  I was pretty sure.

They were soaked through.  I must have been sweating.  Already the details of the dream were fading away, but I could still feel the panic, the sensations of being restrained.  I flung the covers off of me in disgust, staggering to my feet.

I felt cold all of a sudden, freed from my cotton prison.  Cold, and dizzy.  Dehydrated I thought.  That made sense given how much I had been sweating.  I staggered to the bathroom to take a shower, to try and get rid of this cold clammy feeling I couldn't seem to shake.

I managed to remember how to open the shower door, how to turn on the water.  It was far too difficult, my thoughts were struggling too, as if still half asleep.  I could barely manage to put one foot in front of the other, or to hold myself up under the warm cleansing spray.

The water helped.  Real water, not the dark drowning depths of whatever weird dream that had been.  The feeling of it on my skin helped me come back to reality, to let the last weird sensations of that nightmare trickle away.  Leaving...  Well, confusion.

It hadn't occurred to me yet at that point.  How I had gotten home.  What I had been doing the night before.  Hell, I couldn't seem to piece together anything past going to work the day before.  A horrible thought popped into my brain.  It had only been the one day hadn't it?  Oh shit, what time was it?  Was I late for work?

I lept out of the shower, or did the best impression of a leap I could manage as I stumbled my way around, groping for a towel, and started looking around for my phone, which wasn't at my bedside table as it should be.  I finally found it in my pants, which were thrown carelessly across a chair in the kitchen.  It sat there, blinking at me incriminatingly.  Ten am.  Four messages.

I started to panic, wondering just how much trouble I was in at work.  I fumbled for the playback button, as I struggled to put on my pants, wondering if at least my car was here.  I had driven it home hadn't I?  Why the hell couldn't I seem to remember anything?

The first message was Andy, asking where I was, time stamped the night before.  He had been expecting me for dinner.  Of course he had, I had been looking forward to our new date night routine, what the hell could have made me miss it?  I started trying to think of what I had been doing, but all I could remember was the office.. Late at night?  That couldn't be right could it?  What had I been doing?

I half listened to the next message as I buttoned my blouse.  I couldn't find my bra, it seemed to be missing, but it wasn't like I really needed one anyway. But really what did it's absence imply about the night before?  Things seemed to be getting worse and worse.  The message was just Jim calling to ask where I was.  I started taking inventory around the house, finding a note from Andy.  

"Missed you last night, you got in after I went to sleep.  Can't wait to hear what happened.  Didn't want to wake you, you looked like you needed rest."

I groaned, thinking on how hurt he must have been to have me not even call in.  When I realized what I was hearing on my voice mail.  Jim was demoting me, Promoting Sarah in my place!  That was impossible!  I was only late this once, and he didn't even have the authority to do something like that.  I couldn't even imagine what Sarah must have done to get him to...

It all came flooding back in a flash, knocking me back into the chair.  Her tits, those ridiculous amazing, enormous tits, wrapped around Jim's, hard, throbbing cock.  And her mouth, whispering, sucking, that throbbing, pulsing.  And my mouth.  I had.. Oh god and then she had.. And then I.. Ohhh fuckkk what the hell had happened last night!?

Growing Concern - Part 4

Honestly Jim didn't seem surprised.  He had noticed her.  Same as everyone else had.  I guess he figured it was only a matter of time before someone barged in to his office.  He seemed a little disappointed, as if he was hoping he could keep ogling guilt free for a few more days.  But he quickly acceded that he saw the problem, and that he would take care of it.  It was nice, to finally feel like I wasn't losing my mind.  To see that someone else agreed, even if it was grudgingly.

I left feeling better, until I got back to my desk, and felt her eyes on me again.

I went through the rest of the day that way.  On edge, feeling her staring at me, struggling to focus on my work.  Trying not to wonder when the call was coming.  When she would get called in.  In hindsight I really should have kept my smirk off my face better when her phone finally rang.  And I probably shouldn't have waved to her as she got up.  And I definitely shouldn't have made a joke to Anne across the wall as she went by.  In hindsight I'm not really surprised that she did what she did.

She stopped at my desk, leaning way over.  I tried to look up at her face, but my eyes were just pulled into that cleavage, staring me right in the face.  A dark chasm that felt like it was about to swallow me whole.  She pulled me close, to whisper in my ear, my face almost touching those soft swells in front of me.  "We both know you don't really want me to cover up" she said.  "What you really want is for me to take more off.  So while I'm in there dealing with your bullshit, you can just spend your time rubbing yourself silly, wishing for just one glance of how amazing these feel without the sweater in the way."  I would like to say I tried to pull away, or tried to struggle.  Or that I didn't moan when I felt her breath on my ear, or that I didn't shudder and press my nails into my palm as her breast brushed my cheek as she walked away.

I would especially like to say that I didn't suddenly feel wetter than I had ever been.  I would certainly like to say that I didn't excuse myself before she even closed Jim' office door behind her, that I didn't run to the bathroom, that I didn't lock myself in a stall, that I didn't struggle not to scream with my panties around my ankles with one hand buried in my pussy and another savagely groping my all too inadequate breasts.  And I would definitely like to say that I was not imagining the pen, slowly stroking her cleavage, the feel of her breasts in my hand, or the soft feathery touch of it on my cheek, as I frantically rubbed myself to three shuddering, gasping orgasms in a tiny bathroom stall on the third floor of a low rent office building.

I would like to say all that.  But I can't.

It was four pm when she went to see Jim.  The office usually starts to close around then, it's likely why he waited till then to talk to her, to keep it quieter.  The die hards and stragglers start to filter out around five-thirty, with leaving it mostly empty by six.

It was nearly seven when I dragged myself out of the bathroom, to a dark and deserted office building.

The lights were out.  Just the backup generator powered safety lights were whirring away with their dull illumination.  Except for a light coming from down the hall.  Down in my wing.

I made my way back there, and started packing up my things.  Ashamed.  Trying not to think about what I had felt, thought, done.  And I saw the light coming from Jim's office.

I almost left.

I should have left.

But I needed some closure.  Wanted to know how it had gone.

It was against policy for him to talk to me about it of course.  But we were old friends.  I was sure I could get it out of him.

I should have left.

But I went to his office anyway.

I figured he was working late.  Dealing with whatever the aftermath of his conversation with Sarah was. I was right of course, but not in the way I thought.

I stopped at the half open door, looking in and not believing what I saw.  His pants were around his ankles.  She was topless.  And her breasts.. No, her tits.. Were wrapped around his throbbing, pulsing cock.  He was laid out in his chair, gasping, moaning, as she slowly worked herself up and down his twitching shaft, whispering unheard somethings to him, murmuring something I couldn't quite hear as she stroked him with those soft full mounds.

I was stunned.  I was mortified.  I was.. Aroused..  I couldn't look away.  I couldn't tear my eyes off those perfect, incredible, amazing tits that Jim had wrapped around what looked to be an incredibly hard and painful erection.  Married Jim.  Happily married with two kids who didn't even look twice at the secretaries Jim.  Might as well be a eunuch it was so hard to get a rise out of him Jim.  Was gibbering like an idiot, gasping as his cock was stroked and tugged by those gorgeous, monumental tits.

I was so busy staring at them.  At those perfect pillows of pleasure that were milking poor Jim, that I didn't even notice the woman attached to them had seen me.  Was looking at me.  Was smiling at me.

I couldn't think.  Couldn't breathe.  Couldn't move.  I couldn't begin to wrap my head around what was happening in front of me.  And, after a moment, I didn't try.

I just closed the door behind me.

Growing Concern - Part 3

I tried to work, I really did.  I would bury my face in my monitor, try and dig through a set of numbers, through some late reports, through piles of work that should have been done days ago.  But every time I glanced up there she was.

Jiggling through some laugh filled conversation with a passer by.  Bouncing through a stretch behind her monitor.  Or just, looking back at me.  That was the worst, when I would look up and see her already smiling that mocking, knowing smile back at me, half bent over her desk showing off her cleavage.  And  seeing her grim just off in my peripheral vision when my eyes, against my will, would invariably drop to those ridiculous mounds that seemed to have me so damn confused.

Why did I find them so fascinating?  How did they have such a strange hold over me, and over everyone else for that matter.  It had to be more than just the expected fascination with an over the top display.  I had bever felt this way for anyone else, hell I had only felt a detached amusement seeing those gratuitous porn images that my pop up protector failed so miserably to stop.  So what was it about those things.. This woman, that had me feeling so different.

It was maddening.  Like a puzzle that you were trying not to think of while obsessing over a solution.  I didn't want to think about her, didn't want to look at her, but somehow she occupied nearly my every thought.  And she was always there, always looking, always sitting, right there.  It didn't even matter what she did.  She could have been totally innocent, and still just her presence would have driven me up the wall.  But it was more than that.  She couldn't be content with that.  She had to tease me, taunt me with my own feelings.  She knew.  She had to know, why else would she be flaunting herself like that at me.

It was during one of these internal rants that my desktop alarm went off.  You know the one in outlook that pops up when you are supposed to be somewhere.  I realized I was due in a meeting to discuss a budget shortfall in 5 minutes.  I was supposed to be prepping for it all morning, but as you might surmise, it had somehow slipped my mind.

I grabbed all the data I had, scrambling to put it together.  It was too late to prep a powerpoint presentation.  But I thought maybe I could fake a system issue, blame tech support.  No one would blame me if I had to run the meeting manually would they?

I started to feel almost confident again as I headed for the meeting.  This was my field after all.  This was what I did.  I could fake it, it would all be ok.  And at least I would get away from this ridiculous problem for an hour.

That was what I thought as I walked TO the meeting.  What I thought as I arrived at the meeting was a lot simpler.  It amounted to "What the fuck is she doing in here".

There she was, sitting with her back arched, legs crossed in a way that said, "look at me, I'm trying so hard to be ladylike but my body just can't help looking this way.  It's not my fault I look like I'm waiting to be ravished."  There was no explanation for her presence forthcoming as I shook hands and tried to not fumble my way through the introductions.  But no one else seemed to be objecting, so I just tried my best to ignore her.

Of course, ignoring her was like trying to ignore a fire that was engulfing the room you were inhabiting. And my best was nowhere near good enough.

I stumbled through the first few minutes, explaining my predicament as I went.  The typical tech support jokes and obligatory formalities went by and I started rolling in to my first point.  I started to pick up some steam, feeling my confidence grow, feeling good about this finally, and then I caught her eye.

She was staring at me.  Not the way everyone else was, they were looking at me, looking to me to inform them.  She was staring at me.  Staring through me, with that same smile.  Slowly arching her back trying to draw my eyes downward, trying to break my concentration, trying to make me look down at those ridiculous mounds, jutting up from her tight sweater where she was slowly and sensuously dragging a pen up and down, letting it slide between her glorious cleavage.

I realized I hadn't said anything in almost 20 seconds.  And that I was staring.  And that I was blushing furiously.

I stumbled.  I made excuses.  I wasn't feeling well.  It was too hot in there.  I forgot something.  I would be right back.  And then I was out, I was in the hall, I was breathing the cool air trying to calm my heartbeat that was racing ahead of me, tried to clear the blush from my cheeks, tried to get that image of the pen out of my head.

As I caught my breath, and the meeting members filed out of the room and back to their offices, cubicles, and desks, I started to heat back up again.  I started to get angry.  Who the hell did she think she was, that she could follow me around like this.  I had a right to a safe work place, just like anyone else.  What did it matter that she wasn't male.  She was inserting herself into meeting where she had no business just to make crude sexual innuendoes at me?  What gave her the right?

The more I thought, the more I paced.  The more I paced, the more I fumed.  And the more I fumed, the more I thought that I had to do something.  I couldn't let her get away with it.  I couldn't let her win.  So I  paced, I fumed, I raged, and I walked right into my bosses office to file a complaint.