Step into my Office

It was the first time I stayed late in the office with no one here but the two of us. I could feel the tension looming over us. Each for different reasons, me knowing what was to come and him because he was hoping that he would. 

I dropped my pen in my frantic scramble trying to get out of his line of sight and quickly picked it up and scurried away.

As if cued the intercom buzzed the moment I arrived at my desk. I put my stuff down and responded.

Now the predictable, step into my office and he was kind enough to add please to his demand.

I heard exactly how this goes. I had been warned about taking this position. The other girls whispered about how creepy he was or what uncomfortable things he had said to them when he was way too close.

There were a lot of rumors, nothing official either on the job or legally, but the stories all went the same way. They followed a pattern. Over the last week I had been watching it unfold, the pacing by my desk, extra assignments, getting unnecessarily close to me when he passed behind.

Of course, it was only when we were alone, and his timing was impeccable. I would try to only eat in the break room when others where there, but he would keep me so busy that I’d have to take a late lunch and then coincidentally that happened to be his lunch time as well. I often skipped lunch.

He would ask for me to get things off of high shelves or things that were low to the ground. I was smart enough to be able to get myself out of situations by acting clueless and/or asking for assistance from someone else.

I was not sure if he noticed that I was aware of what he was doing and avoiding him or if he just thought that I was the typical blonde airhead, but I knew what he was trying to do.

As I took reluctant steps down the hall, I recalled all of the versions of this story I’d heard. It was as if I had the playbook in my hand and I could call the next move.

I approached his office, being sure to stay in the doorway.

No surprise that he asked me to come in. He sat at the desk with a big grin.

I took a small step in, being careful to keep my back close to the doorway. I heard this part of the story too, how he would make space between me and the door so he could get between.

Due to budget cuts the janitor is not on shift at this time anymore, so it was just the two of us and we both knew that.

I hesitated in the doorway trying not to seem as if I found him to be threatening, but also not trying to invite him. He spoke to me in a tone that was gentle, calm, and reassuring, “Oh, Gwendolyn, my dear, you’ve been a stellar employee.”

He said it sweetly, but the way he looked at me was anything but. Even from across the room he felt too close, and I could tell he was sizing me up and it made my skin crawl.

He smiled and had I not known better I might have fallen for it.

“I have noticed how much hard work you've been putting in around here and I want to let you know it does not go unappreciated,” he made large gestures emphasizing everything he felt was a good point.

I nodded and thanked him.

“Yes, well, if you would step into my office, I would like to talk to you about a possible advancement. Yes, yes,” he added enthusiastically.

“I did have some work to finish, I thought that's why I was here tonight,” I casually reminded him. “I wouldn't want to be behind and have to stay again tomorrow night.” I chose my words wisely and I held firm to my position close to the door.

“Well now, honey, that is what I am saying, with a promotion, you won't have to be putting in these late hours. You deserve better surely,” he waved me in.

I walked in.

He shuffled through a stack of papers, “I see you put in early hours and holidays, darling, pat yourself on the back, mmm, yes” he said, giving me that look a lion gives a frail gazelle, “a hard worker, that’s important.”

I thanked him and took a seat.

“Listen doll, I like you so I am going to give you a piece of free advice, which might even make you rise past me.”

I sat quietly because I did not want to say anything that may antagonize him.

He continued, “You should really use all of your skills to your advantage, you are lucky you know. You don’t have to work as hard as I do to get to the top,” he clasped his hands and kind of licked his lips.

He stood up and walked around the front of his desk and sat on the corner close to me.

“See a guy like me, no matter how good looking and we can both agree I am,” he laughed a nasally laugh.

I did not agree.

“We have to try harder, despite our hard work and persistence, despite my education and training and all of my success,” he gestured towards his shelf of awards for best sales from several years ago, “guys like me nowadays, we get overseen, taken for granted!”

This rant was part of it too like a villain monologue before he reveals his master scheme.

“I'm getting passed up because of things like affirmative action or some disability law or second chance initiative. You see how that might be frustrating, right?"  He kept going back and forth from composed to unhinged.

I sat without making a sound.

“They’re just handing jobs to anyone, even if they’re less qualified, to fill a quota, it’s all about the quota, right?”

I nodded to appease him.

“They give a position that was rightfully mine to…” he exhaled hard, “and then I ask for a well-deserved promotion and get turned down because we have to have room in the budget for diversity training. Diversity training? What a bunch of bull! How does that earn sales? Am I right?”

He did not seem to be talking to me as much as he was just raving, “Yeah good luck with José getting my numbers, he can’t even speak English, am I right?”

He was not right, José’s first language was actually English, and being bilingual gave him a sales advantage. I did not say anything though. I did not mention that his glory days were long gone, and he had not put up those numbers in years.

“It’s a shame, the direction this company is going in. I knew it in its heyday, and now?” he let out a sound as if it pained him.

If I did not know any better by the way he told it I would think that the company was headed for bankruptcy, instead it was that the new head of the company was a woman, and a Black woman at that.  

“Meanwhile even a homely looking girl like you, can just go sleep with Greg in HR, or even Marianne if you wanted to! Lucky you, you could just fuck your way right to the top, right to being my boss! Ha! The only qualification you really need is right between your legs,” he slipped into maniacal laughter and added, “Isn’t that something?” He was far too entertained by himself and took a moment to bask in what he considered to be golden.

I was still silent. How could I respond to that?

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, sweetheart,” his condescending attitude cut me like a serrated knife, “I meant it as a compliment.”

He moved closer to me, and his eyes grew wide, “Come on, let me be your first rung on the ladder of success, Gwendolyn. I see you watching me when I walk past your desk, how you eagerly pick up any extra assignments, I know it is to be around me. You dropping your pen earlier, you know what you’re doing,” he reached over and touched my leg.

I bolted up, knocking over the chair and I fell to the floor.

I tried to spring up immediately, but I fell hard and was a little dazed.

“Oh, my,” he said, rushing to my aid. He kneeled down, helping me up. I pulled away without trying to seem as disgusted with him as I was, but it was evident.

“Now, now, don’t you overreact. There’s no need to be hysterical,” he hissed like a snake.

I started to move toward the door, but it was too late, in an instant he was in front of it, closing it and ushering me back to my seat.

“Please, there's no need to act so jumpy. I just wanted to talk to you about how you can be successful, that's everyone's goal isn't it? Success? Right?” he spoke in a delicate tone again.

He had his arms around me and pushed me towards the chair and sat me down.

I let him.

“Sheesh, really, I don’t bite, unless you want me to, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Or am I? I am,” he winked and laughed for way too long. “Stay seated a moment,” he said, and it sounded more like an order than a suggestion. “I just want to talk to you, that is all.” He adjusted his shirt and tie and took a seat. He went back to the papers he was sifting through before.

He made a few sounds of disapproval and interrupted the awkward silence with, “I see here you don't have much going on educationally, no, no, you don’t, a shame, really.” He shook his head, flipping to the next page. “And your resume is a little on the weak side to be quite frank. So, let’s say you left this place without a good recommendation, it could be sad to see what it might do to your future career,” he paused as if he were giving me a minute to absorb it. He went on, “Ask any of the other girls who left without my good word, not a smart move, but you, you’re a smart girl aren’t you?”

I nodded because I am smart, but also, I thought it might be best to pacify him.

“Yes, I thought so,” he seemed relieved. “So, as I was saying, before you had that little episode there,” he said opening a desk drawer and grabbing a bottle and two glasses.

He poured them both a little more than halfway and slid one across his desk. “Would you like a drink?” he asked wearing a vicious smile.

I shook my head, “Oh, no thank you.”

“Aw, come on, indulge,” he coaxed, “You’re not going to let me drink alone now, are you?”

I wasn’t sure what to say so I said nothing, but I also did not grab the glass.

He seemed annoyed, but he still persisted, gently persuading, “Come on, sugar, is it because you’re on the clock? Well, you know what? I will take you off right now. See? That is the kind of power I have around here. You’re welcome,” he said although I had not thanked him.

It was as if he wanted me to bow before him, well he obviously wanted me on my knees in some fashion.

“You’re off the clock Gwendolyn, relax, take a sip to celebrate a job well done today,” he encouraged as he lifted his glass.

It was not because I was on the clock that I did not want to, it was because I despised that stuff.

“Oh, no thank you,” I said again, a little firmer, but meek.

“Well, that's awful rude, turning someone down when they offer you something,” he ridiculed, swigging his drink.

He was an overgrown child throwing a tantrum the second something did not go his way. “I mean, I think it’s pretty goddamned nice of me to invite you in here and to offer you an advance despite your subpar resume and lack of skills,” he scoffed.

He finished his cup and grabbed the one he intended for me.

I did not speak.

“And then I take you off the clock so that you can enjoy the small time you have between now and tomorrow’s shift and you can't even thank me by having a drink with me?” he fumed, “It seems like I'm more disappointed the longer you're in here with me,” he swallowed hard, emptying the glass. “You think you might show some gratitude for me even considering you for this, I know you could use the money,” he said as if he knew my life. “I was throwing you a bone, I’m clearly out of your league, look at me,” he presented himself to me like a show dog. “And look at you, some more free advice, a lil make up never hurt.” He relished in demeaning me.

I stood up and headed towards the door, but as I grabbed the knob it did not turn, it was locked. That is what he had done, just as the stories went, I was locked in.

He had set me up and cornered me, like a cat batting around a mouse until it finally ends it.

He did not rush over, there was no need, I could not go anywhere and I’m sure he was reveling in the moment of me realizing that. Little did he know that I expected it.

I braced myself as he pushed against me from behind the way I knew he would. I did not pull away or resist.

He seemed let down by the fact that I did not struggle. “You seemed like you might be a fighter there for a moment,” he snarled in a moist whisper.

I did not fight him, I just stood in place still holding the doorknob, frozen. He kissed the back of my neck and ran both of his hands down my body.

I did not move a muscle.

“Shy girl, huh?” he asked, pressing his hardness against me and making me shutter.

“Please don’t,” I pleaded, “you don’t have to do this.”

He grabbed me closer, tighter, panting in my ear. I was as rigid as a statue.

I started to squirm, and he throbbed with anticipation. The more I tried to free myself, the stiffer he held me, breathing deep and loudly, hungrily.

I mustered my strength and broke free, but it was short lived. He grabbed me, brutally this time, forcing my arms behind my back, and holding them there purposefully hurting me to prove his point. He easily overpowered me; he used one hand to restrain my arms and the other to demonstrate his dominance by aggressively groping my breasts. He began to undo my pants.

“Not like that, please,” I cried.

He left my pants alone and grabbed me and started swaying. His damp words in my ear were revolting, “Aw, what’s a matter baby? Do you like foreplay, is that it? You want me to kiss you first, make you feel special?” He delighted in his own cruelty.

He spun me around and shoved me against the door hard, banging my head. Then he kissed me violently, it was sickening, and I gagged, but it did not stop him from doing it and asking me if I liked it.

When he kissed my neck, I reached for the key in his pocket. He hardly reacted, he only slightly chuckled and moaned, “Feisty girl.” Then he threw the keys across the room.

He turned me around again slamming me into the door. Squishing his body against mine, full pressure and I could hardly breathe from his weight. I gasped from being anxious, he gasped from being aroused. He eased off of me for a moment when he tried to undo my pants and that was when I bit him, full force and drew blood.

He screamed, jumping back, and slapped me across the face, “You crazy bitch!”

Now we were both bleeding. He was red with rage as he inspected the wound.

“So, you want to play rough huh?” he was livid. “Okay, have it your way Gwendolyn. No more Mr. Nice Guy,” he growled and lunged at me, but instead he fell to his knees. “What the hell?” he exclaimed, trying to stand up, but his legs buckled beneath him.

He sat cradling his legs and howling in distress, “Call an ambulance dammit! What is wrong with you? Hurry!”

He was on the ground, in trouble and in need and still he was a jerk.

“Something’s wrong,” he called out, trying not to sound as desperate as he was.

“Why are you yelling?” I asked him, “We both know very well that we are the only two here. Isn't that why you asked me to stay late with you tonight? Because it would only be you and me? And you know that no one would hear my screams? Now, no one is here to hear yours.”

This was always my favorite part.

“What are you talking about, you psycho?” he questioned, groaning.

He was removing his shoes and inspecting his feet, rocking back and forth.

“Excruciating, isn't it?” I provoked him as I casually paced just out of his reach. “It’s only going to get worse.” The role reversal moment always gave me such pleasure, I was giddy, something about the shift in dynamics gave me a rush. I tried to contain myself, “You can try and stand again, if you'd like, I wouldn't mind the laugh.”

He did again and again, sniveling as his legs turned to jelly and then his arms soon gave way. Despite his massive agony he managed to scream insults at me.

He was whimpering in a pile of himself, useless limbs flailing about.

“You are a predator, praying on your unsuspecting employees. You use your position to manipulate women. You hire them with minimal qualifications on purpose so you can use it against them. All the while dangling a promotion that you know they need in front of them and then you use that as an opportunity to harass and torment them, knowing you are never really going to promote them. You just want to belittle them, degrade them, take advantage of them, rape them, and discard them. But that isn’t enough, right? Long term mental, physical, emotional trauma is not where you stop. No, no, not you, you also have to blemish their professional record to make sure you ruin their future too, their means of survival, their income. You have to rob them of everything,” I grabbed his face as I leaned over him and spoke to him in that same villainous manner he used moments ago. “What are you really compensating for? That two-inch half a chub I barely felt when you savagely assaulted me? Or the constant rejection you face because no one wants an arrogant, semi competent, racist, misogynistic loser living in the past. You are vile, repulsive and past your prime. And you know it! You have no redeeming qualities, and no one is willing to give you a thing, so you take it.”  I knew he would hit me if he could.

He barely had range of motion, but what he could do was snatch away.

“You cannot take what is not yours, what is not given or consented. You are learning this lesson now. This is a public service.”

He wriggled.

“The kiss was the first dose, and the bite was the second, but I won't let you be lucky enough to have the third,” I spit at him.

“What are you talking about, you crazy bitch?! You're going to go to jail for this! You're going to have nothing! Be nothing!” he sounded all garbled up. He was quivering from the stinging sensation that started right about now.

He was becoming a mound on the floor, wailing pathetically although justifiably. His woe unheard like every woman he had victimized right here.

“See the first dose was in saliva, you did that to yourself with that nauseating kiss you thought you gifted me with. It starts to weaken you, but it takes a few minutes to kick in. Oh, but when it does? Well, you know, you are feeling it. Paralyzed, but only in mobility. You cannot move, but every nerve ending remains intact so you can feel everything.”

I was now sitting on the corner of his desk talking down to the withering heap of flesh he was becoming, a pitiful sac of grunts and moans, so different than the moans he made earlier. “The second dose, from the bite when you just couldn’t take no for an answer.” I stood and kicked the gelatinous blob of a man and he rippled.

I sat in his chair and looked at the papers he was reading, none of them having anything to do with me at all. I threw them to the floor and put my feet up on his desk, my desk.

“That second one, well it will dissolve your internal organs and all your muscles and bones into well, whatever it is you want to call this, a human smoothie if you will,” I was referencing his current state of liquifying within his skin. “Now the third dose, that is the one you would’ve wanted, that one, that's a mercy one. The one to numb you.”

He was in such misery; I knew he could hardly focus. I went on anyway, adding insult to injury, as he had so many times, “But you do not deserve that. Not you, I want you to feel it, every second of it. Just like every single person who stepped in this shit space of a has-been office. I cannot wait to make it over by the way,” I said letting my bun down and revealing my tentacle.

It squelched eagerly; I was starving but I was also patient.

I walked over and put plugs in his ears and nose, I hated when they leaked before I could do anything about it. He was choking on his own insides as they turned into a fine paste. Anything he said now only sounded as if he were gargling.

I squatted beside him, “I can't hear you, did you say, no?” I laughed, I guess enjoying your own humor is understandable.

“You see, where I come from, I am something like what you might refer to as a Black Widow. On my planet food is scarce and in order to raise our young, we need nourishment. It is what we must do; consume our mate, but we dose them. We dose them three times. That third dose is so crucial, it is imperative because we are compassionate and kind. We understand what a selfless sacrifice they are making, and we could not live with the thought of them dying in wretched pain. How cold would that be? So, that third dose, it is a favor. It does not just cause numbness, but a state of utter ecstasy and blissful euphoria. Yes, they actually enjoy being devoured, and that is a blessing because it can be a slow insufferable process.”

He could not move or talk, but his eyes could still slightly react, while they were still round anyway. The pure terror in them pleased me. When they started to soften, I was ready to release my serum. It was a sticky substance that sealed his lips, nose, ears, the gouge from where I bit him and anywhere else that he might seep out of. I did not want anything to go to waste, I wanted every solitary drop.

I waited in anticipation as the spherical eyes turned into spongy ovals and then small pools. My will power was impressive, I fought the urge to pounce, to ravenously feast.

The appendage atop of my head suctioned over his eye sockets and I slowly slurped, taking my time, drawing it out. I battled my instinct to greedily gorge. Calculated sips allowed the consciousness to last longer, and I wanted this to last far more than I wanted to just scarf him down in one gulp.

I was careful to keep the skin intact, I had plans for it. Men like him knew other men like him and that was my favorite kind of meal.