Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Chapter 23: Working Stiff By Diola Dragontail

   His pulse was racing, his knuckles sweaty as his fingers gripped the
faux-leather.  His eyes darted around scanning his surroundings in a
panicked frenzy.  He felt like a mouse dangling by his tail as some unseen
giant lowered him into an aquarium full of hungry snakes.  Danger seemed to
be all around him, hidden in the shadows, poised to strike if he should put
his guard down for even a second.

   The worst part was that the danger felt inevitable.  It wasn't like this
was just a passing moment.  That if he made it through this gauntlet, and
then everything would be ok.  It seemed like it was just a matter of time
before he tripped and then felt the fangs sinking into his back.

   Arnold tried to calm himself by slowly counting out loud.  He wasn't
sure if it would actually work, he'd just seen someone do it on television.
It seemed like it worked for them and, at this point, he was willing to try
anything.  After two days of almost unrelenting panic, he felt like his
heart would explode in his chest if something didn't give soon.

   He turned the steering wheel slowly, guiding his car through the turn
into the parking lot.  The panic had been growing and ebbing inside him for
almost two days now.  It was a dull aching headache that just stayed with
him, reminding him of what was coming.

   The worst of the terror came when he tried to sleep.  Laying in the
darkness, staring up at the ceiling, his mind had nothing else to focus on.
He felt cold sweat building on the back of his neck while his pulse raced.
A passing police siren, normally ignored on any other night, was enough to
send his fevered brain over the edge, the panic flaring up to cardiac
threatening anxiety.

   In his mind, he was sure that the fading of the sirens only meant that
now they were clustered outside his front door.  Prepping themselves to
kick the door down, to barrel through the house and drag him from his bed.
Then marching him across the lawn in shame, for all the neighbors to see.

   Ten minutes after the sirens had faded he felt a small wave of relief.
His mind realizing that they weren't coming for him.  Not yet anyway.  He
had another couple of hours of freedom at least.

   When sleep finally did come to him it only seemed to be because his mind
had fretted itself into exhaustion.  His synapses, unable to cope with the
constant stress, shut down in protest and forced the darkness to overtake
him, finally granting him a blissful state of ignorance.

   He had managed to have a few merciful moments where the panic faded, but
those were only when he was lucky enough to be distracted.  Because of
that, this Sunday probably ended up being the most productive day of his
entire life.  This was despite the fact that he was working on almost zero
sleep.

   He threw himself into any task, no matter how insignificant it was, no
matter how long he had been putting it off.  The lawn got mowed, the trees
were pruned, the gutters got cleared, and the attic was cleaned out, just
to name a few.  The list of accomplishments would have made Hercules
envious.

   As his car rolled through the parking lot, he was surprised to see that
there were no Police cars waiting for him.  His panicked imagination had
painted multiple versions of this morning.  A dozen cop cars lining the
parking lot, SWAT teams on the neighboring roves.

   Somehow the absurdity of that image had managed to comfort him.  The
absurdities making the whole situation seem surreal and impossible.

   He had decided to come in early.  If the inevitable was going to happen,
it seemed like it would be a lot less painful if fewer of his co-workers
were around to see it.  He knew it would be the stuff of gossip for weeks
to come, but if he wasn't there to here it, then he didn't care.

   The emptiness of the parking lot told him that his plan was working, at
least in theory.  There were only a handful of cars in the lot.  He only
recognized two or three of the cars as being co-workers.

   He pulled into a nondescript spot, closed his eyes and breathed slowly.
He tried to convince himself that it was just another day, nothing special.
He wanted to walk through the doors with his head held high, even though he
really felt like running inside and hiding in his cubicle.

   He concentrated on imagining a blank piece of white paper, nothing else
but emptiness.  He felt his heart slow down, the throbbing of the veins
slowly descended from bass drums to a pair of tambourines.

   In the blank whiteness inside his mind, a face started to form.  He knew
who owned the face, but he tried not to think about it.  Tried to banish it
from his mind.  If he didn't acknowledge it, then maybe it would go away.

   And then, just like that, he was back in the movie theatre.  The
whiteness inside his mind faded and was quickly replaced by dim flickering
lights and the smell of old soda.  He could feel the soles of his shoes
sticking to the floor and the threadbare fabric of the armrests just like
he was really there.

   He tried in vain to banish the images from his mind.  He knew what was
coming next.  The whole encounter had replied in his mind a hundred times
at least.

   He could feel the warm mouth wrapped around his cock, doing things to
him that his wife would never, had never, done for him.  The tongue rubbing
against him, the enamel of teeth barely grazing his flesh, the warm breath
against his balls, he could remember every sensation as if it was happening
to him again.

   The head in his lap was bobbing up and down slowly, giving him pleasure
that he had only imagined before.  The hushed voices around him, the
flickering of the movie screen all added into the excitement.  The
experience was so unlike him, so out of character that he felt like a
different person as it happened.

   The teenage girl's mouth picked up speed now, coaxing him to react, and
cueing him that the end was coming.  He could feel his cock surge in her
mouth; feel the mushroom tip of it start to balloon.  He felt the warm
blood rushing down his body, setting every nerve of his groin on fire.  For
one brief second, he felt so sensitive that he could identify individual
molecules touching his cock.

   Then the warm explosion as he came, filling the girls mouth.  There was
a sound of slurping, a swallow he could barely make out over the background
noise of the movie.  Not the sound of disgust he would have expected his
wife to make, if she ever lost her mind and decided to do this to him.

   He could see the girl look up at him, his cock rapidly deflating next to
her face.  Her fingers wiping the sides of her mouth.  The grin on her
face, like she was proud of what she had done.  Like she had enjoyed it.

   He stared at the face and knew it was the source of all his panic.

   He couldn't imagine what his wife would do if she found out about this.
Probably divorce him.  If not that, she'd probably spend the rest of her
life reminding him about his transgression.  Not a day would go by that she
wouldn't remind him that she was staying with him out of the kindness of
her heart and that by all rights she should have kicked him to the curb.

   And that was just the least of his worries.

   He knew, just by looking at the girl, that she was underage.  He could
try to pretend that he had no idea.  The movie theatre was too dark and he
hadn't gotten a good look at her.  That if he had known, he would never
have even though about it.

   He doubted that he could be that convincing.

   He could tell them that it was her that approached him.  That he was
just minding his own business.  Chaperoning his daughter and her friends to
the movie theatre.  That this whole affair was entirely the girl's idea.

   Then it would be her word against his.  And whom would they probably
believe?  The innocent teenage girl or the balding, middle age, round
around the middle accountant with dirty old man glasses?

   And still that wasn't everything he had to worry about.

   He recognized the girl from the movie theatre as being his boss's
daughter.  He remembered seeing her at a few company functions.

   Divorce.  Public shame.  Unemployment.  Being accused a child molester.
Possible jail time.

   He had heard stories about what they did to those kinds of people in
jail.  The kind of person that he was now.  He doubted that he'd survive
more than a few days without getting a knife in the back.

   He distracted himself for a second as he tried to remember what they
called knives in jail.  He'd seen it in enough movies.

   Shiv.  That's what it was.  He'd probably die with someone's sharpened
pudding spork sticking out of his back.

   These were the things that kept circling around in his head, all of them
orbiting his memories of the forbidden oral pleasures he had enjoyed.  Each
of the little nuggets of panic would zoom by his head, sending his thoughts
flying into almost panic attacks.

   But he still couldn't help remembering how much he enjoyed the moment
when it had happened.

   He opened his eyes slowly, trying again the clear his head.  He peeled
his fingers from the steering wheel, his fingernails inadvertently having
dug into the faux leather covering.

   He tried to move as calmly and as normally as he could, even though he
felt like he had to think about each movement as he made them.  Willing his
right hand to retrieve his briefcase from the passenger seat.  Making his
left hand unlock the driver's side door and push the door open.  He felt
like a robot, watching his body move on it's own.  Disassociated from life
and reality.

   He stepped out of the car, closed the car door, and started the short
walk across the asphalt of the parking lot.  The front door of the building
loomed in front of him like Sisyphus's boulder.  Threatening to fall
forward and crush him with little or no effort.

   He climbed the cement steps and pulled open the glass door.  A gush of
air-conditioned air rushed out to meet him, almost enticing him to turn
around and run.  Luring him to retreat back to his car and hide.

   But he shouldered forward, skipping the elevator and instead climbing
the stairs up to the third floor.  He was relieved not to have encountered
any one else along the way.  He wasn't sure that he would have been able to
make it through the typical Monday morning small talk.

   He walked through the hallway of the cubicle farm where he spent most of
his daylight hours.  He sat down in front of his small desk as he set his
briefcase to the side.  He stared at the black screen of the computer
monitor as he tried to collect his thoughts.  Tried to remember what it was
that he had to do this morning.

   The ringing of his office telephone startled him; almost sending him
into a shock induced cardiac arrest.  He wasn't sure how long he had been
staring at the screen.  Probably only a few seconds, but he couldn't help
but hope that it was already five o'clock.

   He picked up the receiver with a shaky hand, bringing it to his ear as
his voice broke.  "Hello?"

   The awkwardness of his own voice shook him back to reality, knocking him
back into his routine.  "Amalgamated International, Accounting Department.
How can I help you?"

   "Arnold?" The male voice on the other side of the line asked, sounding
unsure.

   "Yes, this is Arnold.  How can I help you?" Arnold was happy that the
routine of his dialogue had gotten out of his mouth before his brain
recognized the voice on the phone.

   Panic overtook Arnold's mind again as he realized he was speaking to his
boss.  He had to restrain himself from slamming the phone back down.  The
father of the girl he had allowed to do those things to him.  He felt his
eyes tense and worse, the cubicle seemed to be trying to spin around him.

   All he could think is what he'd do if it were the other way around. 
What he would do if he was the boss and found out one of his employees had
touched his daughter.

   "Just making sure." Mr.  Lo replied, the unsure tone of voice slipping
away.  "You didn't sound like yourself for a minute there."

   Arnold recognized that his boss was waiting for some sort of reply, some
acknowledgement.  But he found himself unable to speak.  He wasn't even
sure if had taken a breath recently.  He barely managed to murmur a sound
of agreement.

   "I thought I saw you come in a minute ago.  You're just the man I want
to see." Mr.  Lo went on to say.  "Could you come down to my office for a
minute?"

   The cubicle managed to tear itself free from the confines of gravity. 
Spinning around Arnold now, threatening to make him loose the contents of
his stomach.  He barely managed to make another sound of agreement.

   "Great." There was a click as the line went dead; presumably it was Mr.
Lo hanging up.  But Arnold couldn't help but imagine it was the FBI turning
off their recording tapes.

   He hung up the phone slowly, fighting off the urge to cower under his
desk in a fetal position.  He just sat at his desk for a long moment,
trying to collect his thoughts and having very little luck.

   Like a moment of clarity, everything seemed to just click in place for
him.  He wasn't going to hide.  He was going to go straightforward and
confront whatever it was that was waiting for him.  Come hell or high
water, having a conclusion seemed less painful then the endless waiting and
guessing game.

   Arnold stood up and walked out of his cubicle, marching with intention
between the rows of shoulder high makeshift walls.  As he approached Mr. 
Lo's door, he wondered if this newfound strength was a sort of false
resolve that death row convicts felt.

   As he approached the open office door, he tried to recall a saying in
his hide?  Pride before a fall?  Folly before a fall?

   The phrase still escaped him as he cautiously knocked on the open door.

   "Arnold!" Mr.  Lo actually sounded happy to see him.  "Come on in."

   He felt like he had just stepped into the Twilight Zone.  Why did his
boss sound happy?  This couldn't be good.  Something was wrong and he felt
like the ignorant lamb being led into slaughter.

   Arnold glanced up and down the hallway before stepping through the
threshold of the office.  His eyes glancing around the small office as he
took a chair.

   No sign of the police or the Human Resources Department.  Or even the
Security Guards.  Not the slightest hint that anything was amiss.

   "Are you feeling okay?" For the first time this morning, Mr.  Lo turned
his attention fully away from his computer and onto Arnold.  "You look kind
of pale."

   Arnold, in a moment of panic, quickly shook his head no.  "No, I'm fine.
I'm just...  tired.  I didn't get much sleep."

   Mr.  Lo nodded slowly, seemingly sympathetically, as if he understood
exactly the predicament that Arnold found himself in.  "Well, I was hoping
I could ask you to do me a favor."

   "A favor?" Arnold blinked in reply at his boss, unsure of what reaction
he should be having.  In none of his panicked mindscapes did anything like
this happen.

   "I have the Peterson meeting this morning." Mr.  Lo replied, what looked
like a hopeful expression appeared on his face.  "I came in yesterday to
try and get this presentation done, but this spreadsheet just isn't adding
up."

   Arnold nodded slowly in reply, still off his mental footing from the
surprise of the conversation.

   "If you could get the numbers from last month and get them into this
spreadsheet..." Mr.  Lo waved his hands at the computer screen in a gesture
that bordered on rude.  "Well, you'd save my life then."

   Arnold nodded as an afterthought, his mind distracted by other matters.
Maybe he had been mistaken was the only thing he could think now.  His eyes
ventured across the small office, spotting some family pictures in a frame
on the desk.

   Maybe he was mistaken or maybe it was just his imagination, maybe the
teenager was not actually related to his boss.

   Mr.  Lo glanced down to see what it was that had attracted his
sub-ordinates attention.  A prideful smile appeared on his face when he
realized it was the pictures.  He reached to pick up the frame, startling
Arnold back to the here and now.

   "I-" Arnold mentally stumbled for a reason why he was interested in the
pictures.  "I never noticed those before.  Is that your family?"

   Arnold mentally smacked himself in the head for saying something so
stupid.  "No, actually they aren't." He imagined Mr.  Lo saying to him.  "I
liked the picture that came with the frame so much that I just left it in."

   "Yes it is." Mr.  Lo smiled as he looked at the picture himself.  The
picture had been taken last summer, when they were on vacation in Virginia.


   After a second, he turned the frame around and held it out to Arnold. 
Offering for him to take a closer look at it.

   Arnold reached to take it as slowly as he could, doing his best to hide
the shaking of his hands and appear as normal as he could.  As he looked
the picture over, he could hear his boss talking about where and when the
picture was taken, something about the beach and bad weather.

   But none of that matter to Arnold, instead he just focused on the
teenage girl wearing the red bikini.  It immediately crystallized in his
mind that he hadn't been mistaken.  The girl was definitely the same girl
as yesterday.  He could feel the panic nibbling away at the edges of his
calm exterior.  Threatening to overwhelm him.

   Despite this panic, he couldn't help but remember what it felt like to
be in her mouth.  He stared down at the picture, imaging that face in his
lap, her tongue teasing his skin.  The feel of her lungs sucking the air
from her mouth, pulling the velvet soft inside of her cheeks against him,
making his cock grow to fill the gaps.

   Mike might have noticed his employee's preoccupation with the picture,
but his mind was equally busy on other matters.  The sight of Cat in her
bikini brought images flowing back to mind.

   Mike remembered walking in to her bedroom and seeing her lying on her
bed.  Just watching her.  Knowing that she was only pretending to be asleep
as she exposed herself to him.  Just staring at her forbidden skin with a
lust he hadn't dwelled on before.  Knowing that she was enjoying her little
show.  The feel of her mouth as he put his cock to her lips.

   Arnold swallowed hard as he held the picture frame in his hands.  Hands
that wanted to shake like leaves in a storm.  He had to concentrate just to
keep them steady.

   Despite sitting across from his boss, the father of this, well, child,
he couldn't help but wonder what else she was like.  What was behind the
episode in the movie theater?  Was that how she really was?  Or was she
just showing off for the friends he saw in the back row?

   Mr.  Lo coughed, clearing his throat and mind at the same time.  The
sharp sound cleared Arnold's thoughts just as quickly.  He felt like
somehow his boss could read his thoughts and he knew what he had been
remembering.  He quickly held the picture frame back out to his boss.

   Mike actually felt somewhat embarrassed now as he retrieved the picture.
"So how is your family?  Your daughter must be getting ready to start
school soon."

   "She started last year." Arnold managed to squeak out through his dry
throat.  "She's six now."

   Arnold cut off his own words, about to say that he had taken her to the
movies yesterday.  But immediately realized it might not be such a good
idea to admit to having been in any sort of proximity of his boss'
daughter.

   "They grow up so fast." Mike commented with a sympathetic smile,

   Even during the small talk, Mike still found himself somewhat
distracted. Imagining climbing into bed with Cat after their secret affair.
Feeling her warm soft skin against his older body.  Being able to wrap his
arms around her, hug her tight against himself.  His mouth finding hers,
his tongue pushing it's way into her mouth.  His cock trapped between her
young thighs.

   Rolling her over onto her back as he knelt between her knees.  Looking
down at her young body spread out before him, the fruit of his loins
craving for him to enter her.  Her pale skin almost blending into the even
whiter sheets.

   Feeling her hands grasp his cock, pulling him closer.  Bringing him down
on top of her, guiding him between her virgin lips.  Feeling her pussy
stretch to accommodate him.  The wince on her face as pushed in, feeling
himself so deep inside her.

   Arnold felt incredibly uncomfortable as silence gripped the room.  He
could see that his boss was distracted.  Or maybe he was just testing him?
Playing with him?  Seeing if he'd crack under the pressure?

   Mike shifted in his seat as his mind lurched out of imagination and back
into reality like a backfiring car.

   "I'll get right on that spreadsheet." Arnold said as he stood, taking
the lull in conversation as his chance to escape.  He left the confines of
the office as quickly as he could, hoping that his rapid exit would appear
to be an eagerness to accomplish the task set to him.

   As he returned to his cubicle he found himself wanting to be a teenager
again.  Wanting to be able to ask this young woman out.  To pick her up at
her door, a flower in hand to present to her.

   To take her out for a meal and just be able to spend the evening
enjoying her company and stare into those mischievous eyes.  To be able to
walk her home under the moonlight.  All the way there being able to have a
conversation with out having to say a word.